A killer kiss
Ethan
Waking up to a white hair beauty might seem like a dream in any other day. With someone else’s life. Not when he was dying, not when she was sucking his very soul. I was so afraid, I was so tired from everything, from just trying to live every day, every hour.
Ethan remembered when he was someone else, laughing, not so cocky, and not so damn alone. Always alone, always running. Running from what? Himself, his heart.
Groaning, he lifted his hand to feel it fall against the bed once more. Ethan didn’t have any strength, anything to hold on to. And suddenly, she was there, kissing his shoulder, his throat. And he could feel again. All he wanted was that, to feel and be less empty. Less alone.
Even as he felt better, because he was not alone. Ethan still felt like dying. Maybe because he was. His body felt like it was on fire, so hot, he could actually heard his blood boil.
“What the hell are you doing to me?” Ethan’s voice felt wrong, rough, and not the usual lazy cockiness.
“Curing you.”
“I’m dying!”
“You are being born again.”
He didn’t care about that, he didn’t care about anything but the next breath. His lungs could burn any second, and all he felt was nothing. Empty. Life was a gift, something he knew could be better than diamonds or rubies. Nothing mattered but living and he struggled to hold on to life.
Then he felt something soft touch his lips. Something hungry awoke from his and he struggled to do anything. But it seemed the small pressure was enough, because the softness intensified and became hot, much like his skin. Everything was on fire, and Veela was kissing him. And if he didn’t kiss her back, he might starve, go hungry for days.
Veela
She was supposed to be curing him, giving part of her own life. And she was- nothing went wrong. Except maybe the kiss. Veela couldn’t hold any fault with that though. It was in her nature to take what she wanted. And oh, sweet lord, she wanted him.
There really was something wrong with this. In mere hours, he would awake again and die. This time, he would be strong enough to kill, strong enough to dream. Nothing was simply wished anymore, both of them would take what they wanted. And that was simple, and beautiful life.
Lying besides Ethan she played with his hair. It was a form of entertainment, and the locks felt soft. She wondered how he could feel around her, surrounding her.
The Devil wanted her—them—To work together and defeat Aro. They could, definitely, win. That wasn’t what was worrisome. What worried her was the fact that God would be angry, angry enough to take it out on the world.
Aro was the Angel of Life, or so they keep saying. But he was an arrogant ass that could easily be replaced. Truth of it all was, he seduced God. Seduced not only with his body, but with secrets.
How much would one of those secrets cost? With a smirk, Veela played more with Ethan’s hair. Soon, they would start a battle, and the fun will begin.
No longer could she feel the blazing cold. Freezing not only her skin but her heart. No longer could she actually look over at her family as they sold her. An alcoholic father that only wanted the gold coins. A mother that was too weak to take care of any of them. They were poor, and she was beautiful. And the prince wanted that beauty, wanted to posses her.
It didn’t matter that there was no love, no chance of happiness. Veela decided that she needed to do something for the weak family. So she took her sister and ran. Her little sister must have been little more than a babe, beautiful and shy.
Nayla was blond with blue eyes, and she was so tiny, so frail, that Veela gave her everything she could. And she, herself, went without. Veela worked for both of them, for their survivals, and for food. Nayla was growing fast, and so was her appetite. Veela took everything for granted, safety, love. She was the only mother for the babe, and so she learned.
That’s when the mistakes started happening. Veela taught everything to her sister, now, her daughter, everything she knew until it wasn’t enough. One day, hoping to pick up Nayla earlier, she found the little school attacked. There was no one in sight, only blood. Blood everywhere.
Screaming, running, she tried finding Nayla. Run every day all over the small village, but no one wanted to talk, no one even looked at her.
Afterwards she thought about asking around the people who lived close to the school. But everyone was stoic, and they did not want to talk.
“My sister! Where is she?”
A lowly Arabian slave girl murmured under her breath, “He took her. The king.”
“The king? What could he possibly want with a babe?”
“He said, his majesty said, that you owed him. Disgraced his crown.”
That’s when everything came to her mind. They had run away but only for so long. The palace could not look away from their own mistakes. And she was next. So Veela waited and waited. Until she couldn’t wait any more and fell asleep. That was the night of her death, and the night of the death Of the King of Siberia.
