DOFAB#3

Chapter Sixteen

~ TRISTAN ~

There's a saying among us devils. Hotter than the sun of hope burns the temptation of sin. Being 'good' can lift the heart, make the angels sing and Zeura rejoice as one pats themselves on the back for being nothing more than a decent, kind, compassionate individual to those around them. But being 'bad' sets the soul ablaze, turning us into an inferno of unapologetic self-serving animals who make this rock we live on a more tolerable place.

The devout judge while devils live life as our truest authentic self. That's the way the balance spins. Predators aren't made to catch feelings outside primitive needs. And there's an uncomplicated, morally just biological explanation for this. If we did, we'd cease to exist.

"Enjoying the party?" Talrek comes up to the bar, placing an order for the same thing I'm drinking—a piping hot flask of 97.8 fresh mortal in a bottle from the wine yards of Cistoca.

"Immensely." I set the empty flask down and pick up another. A row of nine total ready to sate what I can of my ravenous appetite.

"Anyone ever tell you, you look almost identical to Thron?" Talrek asks, puzzled by my resemblance to the legendary Great Warrior whose blood we share.

"Those brave enough to approach me."

A copper tang infused with the likes of acidic fruit slides down with ease. I discard my second empty flask and pick up another, scanning the crowd for the eevie I can still taste on my tongue. Her minty fresh mouth doesn't go well with blood.

Talrek leans against the bar, facing out as he unscrews the cap. "I'm not sure what to say to the vampire who stole my talaya besides, congratulations. You won the lotto. The angel's not a bad consolation prize."

"Is that what I've won?"

"Please, like you don't know," Talrek scoffs. "Glitter puff will be entertaining enough, but one of the rare and elusive temple maidans of Rien. Pocket-sized and feisty such as Kinley. She's the kind of toy you sit and spin for hours."

Seems I misjudged Talrek. He knew precisely why he was selecting my flower though Nadora had no idea. He hasn't changed. He still has a type—the unobtainable and Kinley fits it like a sword to a sheath.

"And here I thought the angel and you made a fine couple."

"A fine couple of walking a tightrope hoping not to get splatted over the next four years because her charge has the hormonal disposition of a succubus." Talrek takes a swig of our Nadora approved refreshments for the evening.

I open another mortal-in-a-can. This talk of Kinley making me extra thirsty. Baby thorne's causing me to rush my plans. Instead of months, I've got a few days to make my petite floralette weep in blissful ecstasy. Truthfully, I didn't think I cared one way or the other. She was supposed to be the blossom that led to the missing appendage I favor most. But seeing my talaya flower in her dress, I'm certain. If I'm going to share my body with someone, it's going to be with her. Odds of that happening after I retrieve my weapon? Negative a trillion.

Though—I crush the silver carafe in hand after downing it—I hadn't counted on the eevie kissing me back. Petalface certainly did return my caressing affections, albeit timid at first. Few more seconds of her struggle for air and I'd have found the spike the belated Prince of Darkness was always threatening to place my head upon.

"I miss the days functions like this would end in massacres. Instead, we have to prance around and suffer through a stuffy dinner until midnight strikes." Talrek stares down into the opening of his drink as he sloshes the bottle-fed blood against the container in boredom. "And whatever fun you plan on having doesn't count because our pat'nas' minds are erased. One night to indulge and the rest four years of living in shackles pretending to be a broke house cat. Our damn food has more freedom than we do."