Paragon

⊰❉⊱ 27 ⊰❉⊱

"I wish you could see me now
I'm at the doors, I'm knocking loud
I'm perfect on my surface
But it's worthless if you're not around"

– Roam With You, Grabbitz

I paced around the penthouse.

This is exactly why we should remain in separate living quarters. There were too many opportunities for slip ups–especially when a certain lawyer started strutting out of bathrooms in nothing but a towel.

I sighed through my nose and raked my hair back.

My phone vibrated in my back pocket. I tore it out and answered curtly.

"Yes?"

"Ms Fletch– excuse me–Demarcus, are we still on track for take off tomorrow morning?"

I smiled as my pilot struggled with the norm of my ever changing identity. I paused my pacing and considered this. Looking around the room quickly and making the decision in less time.

"No. Move it up, get clearance for tonight. Update me if that will be an issue." I added, looking past the curtains as the sun dropped between skyscrapers.

"Of course. We'll make preparations for departure with air traffic–"

"Perfect." I interrupted briskly. "See you shortly." I hung up and took another measured breath. I looked down at my damp clothing that I had walked straight into the shower in. It wouldn't do.

I called concierge and ordered a fresh change of clothing. I added another to Quinn's room and glanced at the front door. She wisely had kept her distance for the last few hours since our heated encounter. I was more than grateful for it. My mind was running around the same thoughts of her body all afternoon.

She didn't yet realise how much it took to drag myself out of pure instinct and an urge to spill her blood. It was as second nature to me as breathing–but how could she understand. To her she just saw me avert my eyes and clench my jaw and assumed that was all it took.

I slumped into the sofa heavily and shut my eyes.

I thought of the first fateful mortal that had crossed me the day we had won the war. The day I was left bleeding out in a medical tent and drifting away... Only to come back into the world with a burning hunger that demanded nothing but blood.

There was so much of it around me available. I drained two men who were on beds nearest to me when I woke from my haze. Life seemed out of focus–in black and white. Then the rich crimson entered me and I was endlessly strong. Fast. Aware.

The humans who had seen me end many that day had assumed it was an acute form of PTSD from the war.

I was rampaging through France when Paragon had found me. Ordered rather than told. Commanded rather than asked. The members of the elite mortals were stronger than I ever had a hope of being and much older. Then had captured and lectured me. They did not care whom I killed, only that I did not get caught. I could walk this earth doing as I pleased as long as I did not make the mortals aware.

That and I would present myself when summoned. As all immortals would. There was no negotiation. When you were needed you came. I hadn't been needed in ten years but that could change in a second. A single phone call. One I was always ready to answer.

There was a knock on the door and I flinched in the seat.

I swept my hair over my head and walked to the door. When I opened it a maid dropped me a bob and a smile–staring in slight shock at my face and damp clothing.