My Angel -septiplier

Chapter 1

  Sighing, I place my empty glass back on the counter, signaling the bartender to bring me another. I down it quickly, and call her back over to pay my tab. She turns me towards the door, though. "You've already been paid for, honey," she says, smiling slightly. "By who?" I slur, my head buzzing from the alcohol. She turns me back to the bar and points to a man sitting alone at the end.
I gasp, staring at him. His gorgeous raven locks perfectly frame his chiseled jawline and cheekbones. Just then, he looks up, his eyes, meeting my blue ones. He smirks, and I realize my mouth is hanging open. I snap it shut quickly.
My eyes widen as he slides off the stool and starts toward me. I look to the bartender for support, but she has left, probably to return to her post. I turn back to the stunning man, and find that he has stopped a few feet in front of me. His posture is relaxed, and one of his hands is tucked in his pocket.
"Are you really going to drive yourself home?" he asks, slight concern evident in his voice, which is as beautiful as he is, rich and deep and sensual. I smirk. "Why, are you offering to take me back to your place, handsome?" His eyes widen; my response was clearly not what he was expecting. "I might have to take you up on that..." I slur, stumbling a few steps closer to him.
I can see my vision beginning to get fuzzy out of the corners of my eyes. I blink, and suddenly the floor has separated itself from the rest of the building and is hurtling towards my face, rather quickly, I might add. I close my eyes again, and a pair of hands is wrapped around my shoulders. I open my eyes to find him just a few centimeters from me. "I'm fine," I mutter, as the entire world turns black.
--
The world sways back and forth. Something hard is wrapped around my back, and another under my knees.
--
An engine rumbles underneath me, and the only other sound is a quiet orchestra filling the silence. I try to open my eyes, but the world is tilted on its side , and my eyes slide shut again.
--
I awake to a pounding headache in an unfamiliar room. I groan, holding up my hands in a weak attempt to block the bright sunlight flowing in the window. I roll to the edge of the bed and, sitting up, throw my feet over the edge. The small movement makes my head throb painfully, and I scrunch my eyes shut.
As the pain subsides a bit, I open my eyes, quickly spotting the notes on a small nightstand beside me. Propped against a with two pills in it was a small , "Eat me." Next to it was another paper that said, "Drink me," leaning against a tall glass of water.
Grimacing, I knock gently on one of my temples, almost letting out a moan at the resulting wave of pain. I look at the pills, figuring they can't have any effect greater than the one ravaging my head. Shrugging, I grab the pills and toss them back, taking a big gulp of water.
Suddenly, my entire body is burning. I open my mouth to scream, but I can't make a sound.
Just as soon as it's started, it's over. My headache is completely gone; actually, all the pain in my body is gone, save for a slight tingle across my forearm, just across my old burn scar. Rolling up my sleeve, I gasp in astonishment. The scar that I've had for ten years is gone. That's impossible.
Eyes wide, I slip out of bed, only to stop, realizing I'm in nothing but my boxers. A slight blush dusts my cheeks (A/N: The ones on his face, perverts. Get your minds out of the gutter, it's dirty in there.) and I look around the room, hoping to find something to wear. Sitting on the end of the bed, freshly washed and folded, are my clothes from yesterday, with a small note reading (let me guess) "Wear me."
I pull them on, noting my phone and wallet in my pockets, and leave the room, entering a small hallway. Now that I'm out of the room, I can smell something amazing. Following my nose, I walk down a flight of stairs, ending up in a spacious kitchen. Standing with his back to me is the man from last night. I think he's making breakfast, pancakes maybe? (Try not to spill any, Mark!)
"Good morning. How did you sleep?" he says quietly, without turning around. "Very well, thank you. What was in those pills?" I ask. "Oh, those? Just some painkillers I had left over. I thought you might have a pretty bad hangover this morning." He smirks at me, handing me a plate of pancakes.
"Thanks," I say, surprised. "You didn't have to." His expression changes, quickly becoming serious. "I know. But I could not just leave you there last night." He gestures to the doorway into the next room. "Come, sit down and eat."
I follow him into the living room, looking around in amazement. Two of the walls are glass, looking out over the skyline. The third wall is a rich cream color accentuated by the dominating it. Various chairs are sprinkled throughout the room, and I go sit in a pink beanbag by one of the windows. "Hey," he complains, "you stole my seat!" I chuckle as he drags over a green beanbag.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before the man speaks up. "How are you so comfortable with all of this?"
"What do you mean?" I ask. "Well, you woke up in a strange man's house, I gave you pills that completely erased your headache, and now I am feeding you. You do not even know my name!" He laughs dryly. "I trust you," I respond shyly. "That is a bad idea," he mumbles.
Confused by his comment, I ask, "Well, what is your name?" He looks up at me. "Mark."
"Your full name."
He looks at me for a second, narrowing his eyes. "Do you speak Korean?"
"A bit," I reply. His eyes roam over me again, and slowly, he says, "My name is Mark Eodum-Ui Cheonsa." I pause for a second, trying to translate.
"Mark... the angel of darkness."