So I woke up with a plan.
A really fucked up plan.
But it's so fuckingfun.
She knew something was wrong immediately, which is a good sign. She had goosebumps the second she entered the kitchen today, knowing without knowing that I was watching her from the shadows in the hallway, pitch black in my demon form,watching her through the red haze. I got to see her delicate blood pumping through her veins as her hunter instincts told her to be aware.
She tried to shake it off, tried to tell herself that it was nothing and she's safe here, but her body knew better.
I tried to leap and tackle her into the bed, narrowly missing her. Another good sign. And when I reached out to catch her, twisting in the bed to grab her, I was met with a firm kick from the bottom of her foot, right into my nose and cheekbone, stunning me long enough for her to get to her feet and run.
Now, I just have to see which route her instincts take her. Fight or flight. If she makes it to the door, she could let herself out, but to what end? Whether she realizes it's me or not, her adrenaline probably won't let her stop until I'm a bloody puddle on the ground.
Instead, she takes a right, heading deeper into the safehouse, straight toward the training room.
Good fucking girl.
She's probably going to fuck me up, but I'm going to love every second of it. I've seen how she handles a gun before, and that sent chills up my spine. Now that she's comfortable with them and their power, I'm going to have to keep myself from trying to get in her pants while she guns me down.
Part of me wants to taunt her, to call out her name and tease her as I follow. But the second she hears my voice, the game will be over. I need her to be flooded with adrenaline enough that her hunter instincts drown out sense. If she stops to think for even a second, this ends.
Silently, I stalk after her as she tries to quiet her steps, scrambling down the stairs, the clanging of metal trailing her all the way. I could just cut through the Aether to head her off, but that'll ruin the fun. Instead, I saunter down, giving her enough time to get into the training room and pick a weapon.
I don't think she'll pick the gun. The knives and other close-combat weapons have definitely been her favorites. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, the scent of her fear clogs my nose, the heady smell making desire swell low in my body. I can't sense precisely where she is in the weapon room, and the mystery makes my heart pound.
Listening carefully for her breathing and blood pumping through her body, I follow the sounds, stepping as lightly as possible. She's left the training room door wide open, using the tiny bit of emergency light from the hallway to help her see in the dark room.
Before taking my first step in, I note that the corners are still far enough from the light to be pitch black, giving Isla an easy place to hide if it were, in fact, a mortal after her. Unfortunately, she's dealing with me.
Easing through the door, I close it behind me, hoping to gain the advantage of working in the dark, catching her and keeping her completely blind while she tries to escape me. The thought of pinning her down and watching fear overtake her gorgeous face fills me with a sick glee, knowing her instincts and common sense and self-preservation will be at war while I rip her clothes to shreds and fuck my sweet little prize.
Before I can get the door fully closed, a whoosh alerts me to movement to my left, the swing of a mace coming almost too quickly for me to react. At the last second, I knock the hard stone out of the way, a few sharp spikes scraping across my arm as I do.
Before it even clatters to the ground, Isla strikes again with her other hand, the axe coming towards my chest in a swift arc. I let the blow graze my arm, dodging it and watching Isla as she pulls it back, kicking my stomach to give herself the time to aim again.
As warm blood dribbles down my forearm and onto my hand, I take a couple steps back, letting her get her footing and makea mental plan of how to proceed. She swings the axe in a few circles, both intimidating the foe she can barely see and gaining the momentum she needs to make every hit count.
There's barely any light in here, but that's only a problem for her. I can see every glorious inch of her body, primed to fight like it's what she was built for. Her pupils are blown wide with adrenaline and the dark room, locked on my barely illuminated figure.
If she's pieced together that this is a training exercise, she definitely doesn't show it, throwing the entirety of her weight behind the next blow, her foot connecting with my thigh with aching precision, making my leg shake and threaten to collapse under me. Instead of another arc, she swings the axe sideways, the tip of it slicing into my abdomen, forcing a pained hiss out of my mouth.
One side of her lips lifts in a pleased smirk before she continues landing hits and kicks, knocking me back with each one. But my height has her at a major disadvantage, unable to reach anywhere that would really slow me down.
She must have the realization the exact moment I do, aiming her axe down at my thigh instead of trying to land it anywhere on my torso. Her quick thinking and speed give her just enough time to drive it into my quad, the skin and muscle tearing easily under the force of her entire strength.
A violent, pained growl leaves my throat as my reflexes force me to grip Isla's slender neck. With a yelp, she tries to reach for the weapon still lodged in my leg, struggling to remove it as my healing abilities try to grow skin back around the steel. Warmth cascades down my leg from all the blood draining from the wound, making the floor slippery beneath us.
Isla's feet scramble for purchase as I hold her aloft with one arm around her throat and the other harshly gripping her waist. Her little shoes glide across the blood pooling on the floor, hermission to retrieve her weapon abandoned in favor of gripping the wrist of my hand on her throat.
Rage ripples across her face, and she lifts one leg, kicking it harshly into the axe still inserted in my leg again and again until I finally crumble to one knee, giving her an opportunity to drive her knee back up into my chin. The force of the hit loosens my grip on her, and she spins to run away, seemingly escaping me.
But her victory is short-lived, slipping on the sticky floor with a scream. With one hand, I grab her ankle, dragging her back to me, coating the entire front of her body with my black, sticky blood. I pull the axe from my leg as Isla kicks and screams, still trying to escape my grip.
Throwing the axe far away from her reach, it clatters to the floor. She releases a frustrated scream, kicking at me again until I grip both her ankles in my clawed hand, standing to turn on the light. She's dangling upside down from my grip, wriggling furiously.
I can't help but laugh, honestly. Isla looks so ridiculously adorable now, her gray combat outfit sticky and black, plastered to her skin. Her face is red from exertion, her chest heaving as she glares at me, finally coming back to her senses. I'd forgotten just how small she looks when I'm in this form, rarely needing to use it around her.
"Put me down, you fucking asshole!" she screams.
