DAEMON'S POV:
I enter the house. Does nobody lock their doors anymore? Please take note of Joe's horrible situation and lock your doors, kids. It's what keeps people like me from slitting your throats.
I can hear his panicked footsteps running up and down the upstairs landing. I hope he realises that he is mimicking a baby elephant right now and it won't take me long to find him.
"Oh Joe..." I coo, creeping onto the first step. I don't even know why I'm trying to be quiet, it's not like he's making the effort.
I hear him stop, frozen in place as his breathing becomes laboured. Then he seems to shuffle forward slightly, and I smile to myself. I love confrontations. They're the best part of a kill. I quicken my pace up the stairs and get to the middle before I halt in my tracks.
Joe stands at the top of the stairs, his entire body quivering, chest heaving and a blotchy face from the amount of tears he's shed. Not to mention the bruises that accessorise his skin. But that's not what makes me stop. He might be a sight with his swollen and bruised face, but believe me when I say I've seen a lot worse. And for some of those people, that was their normal look. I shudder at the images.
He is holding a knife. It shakes in his grip, but his eyes have turned wild. He lunges at me.
Shit. There is nothing more frightening than a man armed with a knife that has absolutely no idea what he's doing.
I watch him catapult himself at me for a split second, before pressing myself against the bannister. He hurtles down the stairs, but manages to graze my arm with the blade. I curse, my hoodie ripped open at the shoulder and my sunglasses on the floor just behind Joe.
He stumbles to his feet, grasping for his knife and slowly backing up against the door. I wince as I hear a crack beneath his shoe. My sunglasses.
"Oh you've done it now." I furrow my eyebrows, stalking closer towards him as he fumbles for the lock. Once he realises that I'm in his personal proximity, he turns on me, aiming the knife at my chest like it's some sort of sword fight. "Really? Who do you think you are? Fucking Spartacus?" I laugh, my knife dawdling at my side.
He seems confused, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to stand taller and understand why I'm in hysterics. I am dominant. You should never try to challenge me Joe.
My laughter stops dead and I take the opportunity of his preoccupation to grip the knife's blade and tear it from his sweaty palm. My hand is bleeding but what the heck. It's just another alpha demonstration for him to notice my strength and submit as the omega that he is.
"No...please no." He cradles his face with his hands and lets out strangled sobs. I entertain a bored expression.
"Can you stop trying to cry me a river? I've already showered today." I say, and slap his hands from his face. I lift the blade to his cheek as he presses himself against the door. I can feel his entire body shaking beneath me and it makes me smile. How cute. He's afraid. "Aww. It's adorable how nervous you are. Now, I'm going to cut you and if you scream, the blade goes deeper. Understood?" He nods feverishly as a tear escapes down his face.
Slicing into his cheek, I drag my blade skilfully to the edge of his mouth. He tenses and muffles his cries, trapping them in his throat.
"Good boy." I praise, smiling smugly at him as hate and fear twinkle in his eyes. Sweat beads on his forehead as blood drips onto his floor and tshirt. "I would cut your dick off for trying to rape Riley, but she knows you and it'll look very suspicious if you suddenly disappear." His eyes widen at my statement and he instinctively puts his hands over the area in question. Like that would ever protect them.
"So, even though you ripped my hoodie pretending to be a gladiator and got me pissed because it's designer, I'll let you go with a scar. However, if I suddenly end up arrested or you touch Riley, I will stab you for each pound that this hoodie cost. Also, I'm pretty upset about my sunglasses. That wasn't cool, bro" I step away from him and he collapses on the floor at my feet, trying to catch his breath. He vomits. How disgusting.
"I think I'll leave through the back door, since I don't fancy stepping in your bodily fluids. It was nice catching up with you today Joe. Hope I wasn't too much trouble. See you later!" I call, humming along to a tune as I open the back door, leaving him crippled on the carpet. I really like London. Everybody invites you in and wants to be your friend. Or is it more nobody locks their doors and doesn't expect to get murdered? Same thing I guess.
When you think about it, that was quite a justified assault. I'm avenging Riley, so it's okay, right? I'm going to pretend it is anyway. I rip the sleeve of my hoodie off, as it's already dangling by a few threads, and wrap it around the cut on my arm to apply pressure. Hurts like a bitch, but I couldn't admit that in front of Joe. I have an ego, alright? I feel naked without my sunglasses, especially when I'm a wanted man and people can now identify my face. I do have contact lenses in though, if that makes a difference?
I slip down an alley-way and head back to an apartment that I'd found abandoned. Okay, I'm lying. I made it abandoned by killing an old retired couple. Oh c'mon, they only had like three more years anyway. They'd reached their expiry date earlier than expected, that's all. Don't judge me.
-----
I honestly love writing Daemon POV because it flows so much better. But anyway, I thought I would update a little before I leave for South Africa.
Enjoy, vote and comment! 💗
YOU ARE READING
Sweetheart
Mystery / Thriller"The screams all sound the same. But yours? Yours are so much sweeter." When Riley Hewitt meets Lukas Levine, she finds an unlikely friendship hidden beneath their individual flaws and issues. Meanwhile, tabloids are promoting the search for a vici...
