A Game That Destroys ✓

12- The Third Free Day

Author's Note: An update! Yay and it's only Monday :)
Picture above is of Dragos Manor, Za'yaal's ancestrol house. This chapter dedication goes to dangerousnerd!
Anyway, the reason I updated so fast is because I want your honest opinion in whether or not I should continue this story. I'm not sure if you guys do so comment and give me love cause I'm not feeling it, sorry. If I don't get a good response in the chapter then I'm sorry. I give regular updates and all I want is feedback in response. So yeah . . . If you guys could do that, that'd be great :D
Anywho, on with the chapter!

Za'yaal dragged himself towards the kitchen, his palm pressed against his forehead. He had a splitting headache and his skin felt clammy. He hadn't bothered buttoning up his shirt and his casual black jeans rode low on his hips. What he craved was a good, large cup of bitter black coffee.

'Must've been all the yelling last night,' Za'yaal thought dourly.

Shifa had returned from her little break and Midas, being the big idiot he was, had proposed again. One thing Za'yaal had learned over his years of living with the young maid was that you just didn't repeat things for her. When she decided something, that was that. She wouldn't change her mind even if a bazooka was held to her head. And Midas had made the mistake of bringing up the one thing she had gone to try and get over.

She had cracked and screamed at him to leave her alone. She was already down in the dumps as it was. Midas had begged, she had shrieked and he had finally snapped and yelled back. Za'yaal was already facing his inner battles and he didn't need more stress. In the beginning, he had stayed shut, glancing at the clock occasionally because it was already one o'clock past midnight and he really needed to sleep. However, when Shifa called Midas a rather crude seven letter word and insulted his parentage, he had glowered at her and stepped in. Midas did not deserve the shit she was piling on him.

Shifa, of course, had been shocked when Za'yaal had growled for her to shut her mouth. He had told her to take back what she said, ask for forgiveness, or get the hell out of his building. In all the years the trio had spent together, the Heir had never intruded into their bickering. Hearing him now, speaking to her in such a tone had caused her to nearly burst into tears. She had apologized hastily and ran out of the room. After that, Midas broke down.

One of the many reasons not to trust women; they didn't think twice before wrenching your heart in many little pieces. Za'yaal, being the best friend around, had soothed him, comforted him and taken him downstairs to the pub so he could drink his sorrows away. They had returned to their rooms at five in the morning and Midas had occupied the bed, spluttering nonsense about always being there for Za'yaal's kid. Za'yaal had managed to finally fall asleep on a guest bed at six o'clock in the morning and had woken up three hours after by his stupid alarm which he had forgot to turn off.

To sum it all up, his life sucked at the moment.

He had called a free day after that and lugged his aching body to the kitchen. Much to his chagrin, he noticed Irsa about to enter as well. She was still in her mid-thigh, bright red nightgown with her hair pulled up to reveal her nude back. Za'yaal rolled his eyes. The woman really needed to stop displaying all she had to offer.

He blinked twice at that thought.

Za'yaal had always preferred those kinds of women; women who didn't hesitate before revealing themselves, who didn't care for modesty. He really disliked having to chase after someone to get what he wanted. He couldn't stand for pure little priestesses.

Before, that is.

Now, he wanted someone who was only for him. Who no one had touched, no one had seen. Someone untainted.