Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader

Chapter 62 - blood and cards

Alastor woke to the abrupt ruffle of covers and the shift of the mattress. He opened his eyes in barely enough time to see his soulmate disappear into the attached bathroom.

A smell filled his nose, a smell that made his veins tighten uncomfortably. He rubbed his face into the pillow to fill his head with your scent instead. And it worked, his mind dipping back into the darkness of sleep.

You returned a few minutes later, though, drawing him out of sleep again as you slipped under the covers. He peeled an eye open to see you on the edge of the bed facing away from him.

The air in the room had been lightly disturbed from your soft, quiet movement. A simple gust carried the smell to his nose again. He tried pressing his face into the pillow but now he had smelled too much. Concern and hunger battled for the front of his mind as his throat went horribly dry and his lungs seized.

He let out a silent, shaky breath. "Darling?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," you replied, still facing away from him.

"It's alright, but...are you injured?" He felt out of breath.

There was a long, heavy silence. It stayed for so long that he wondered if you hadn't heard him.

"Why?" you finally asked.

"Well...because I can smell your blood."

Your shoulders tensed. He wanted to reach out, to comfort and relax those muscles, but he feared doing so would cause the exact opposite effect he was trying to achieve.

"Yeah, sorry. I healed it."

It was such an obvious lie. As much as he wanted to make you feel less uncomfortable, he was too curious not to ask questions. So he moved his presence around your shields, making sure not yet to push past them. He didn't want you to feel his crushing hunger.

"What was it?" he tried first. Asking you directly about why you lied to him might cause more problems than answers. If you had healed it, he wouldn't be able to still smell it. His muscles were painfully tight and his claws punctured the mattress under his pillow.

Nifty would fix it later.

"Just a cut from dinner. I accidentally reopened the wound. You can go back to sleep."

Why were you attempting to avoid the conversation? Why were you still bleeding? Why hadn't you actually healed it? And why were you being discreet about the injury?

"I am concerned, darling." He hoped the strain in his voice was evident. It was getting hard to breathe. His mouth was watering the more he looked at your soft, smooth neck.

"I'm okay, I promise." Your words sounded like a wince, like a whine.

He propped himself up on one arm and gently rubbed the back of his claws along your back. You tensed, still refusing to look his way. He was desperately trying to keep his concern ahead of his hunger. Your safety needed to come first.

"My love, there is something more."

He realized, when you froze, that his voice had dropped an octave. His head felt full and the drumming of his heart was pounding in his ears. Could you hear it too?

He was swallowing his saliva too often. "Enlighten me, dear."

You were very obviously struggling with an answer. You had one hand covering your mouth while the other kept the sheets pulled tightly around your shoulders. He could feel the speed at which your heart was moving at, and it matched his own.

His presence was around your shields, still sitting comfortably on the edges but never invading. He knew it was smart to express comfort, but what he really wanted was for you to pull him into your mind so he could search for his answer; so he could satisfy the craving.