Blood Donor | Dark Romance | MxM [COMPLETED]

6.3

I wake up in his bed, sitting up straight instantly just to fall back into the sheets with a groan. My head hurts. His scent's all around me, causing me to tense as I remember him standing in the foyer. Just now do I realize the anger on his face. It was like nothing I've ever seen before. And I think he held back. He was actually ready to kill the guy. 

Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice Dael sitting down on the edge of the bed and flinch.

"Don't be afraid," he says softly, moving closer, one hand extended towards me. The one that had held the bloody stump. Suddenly, the image is clear in my head. His fingers wrapped around the crushed wrist. Sighing, he moves back again. "He's fine."

I stare at him blankly, sitting up. What a stupid thing to say. If he's not traumatized for the rest of his life, he's lucky – and still one hand short. That's not fine. Not even close to fine. I open my mouth, but can't find the words to express my disbelief. Instead, I chuckle mirthlessly, completely overwhelmed.

"Come on, you know I'm not that much of a nice person," he grumbles, averting his gaze to stare at his own fingers that rest entwined in his lap. This has nothing to do with being a nice person or not. I can't even call him an asshole.

"You ripped off his hand!" I exclaim, not knowing what else to say. That fact alone should explain everything else, so I doubt he gets it. Shit. He can read my mind, but I still doubt he'll be able to understand.

"It's just a hand. It was his own fault," he says with a shrug. I don't think anyone could do anything to deserve being mutilated. Okay, that's not true. But I doubt he actually did one of those things. "He talked bad about you."

I gape at him. That's a really lame excuse. I'm too stunned to feel properly. Like, disgust – or fear. Something along those lines would be appropriate, I think.

"I told him to shut up. He didn't," Dael explains further, watching me out of the corner of his eyes. He's serious. He thinks it was completely fine for him to do that. It was not.

"You ripped off his hand!" I repeat pointedly, still not sure what else to say. This is madness. He's mad. And I just agreed to move in together. So not going to happen. He narrows his eyes at me. "You seriously expect me to live with you after seeing that? You'll kill me!"

"What?" he asks, sounding incredulous as if that was the stupidest thing he's heard in his whole life. "It is! Believe me, you've managed to make me angry plenty of times already. Meaning if I were to kill you at some point, that would've happened already."

"You fucking ripped off his fucking hand! Like, what the hell is wrong with you?" I stress, a bit louder than I intended. Don't think anyone can blame me for shouting. Dael scowls at me.

"So you're taking his side?" he growls threateningly, causing me to gape at him in disbelief. Something's seriously wrong with him. Like, he doesn't get it. This has nothing to do with whose side I am on. "It has! You're either with me or not."

"That's not how it works," I reply flatly. So, the first emotion I can grasp is mild annoyance. Not what I would have expected. "If you screw up, I'll have your back. But that wasn't you screwing up. That was you going all evil-vampire on someone, simply because he's got a different opinion."

"I told him to shut up," he snarls as if that's an excuse. I think it's incredible how he's able to not get this even though he knows my mind. But I guess knowing is still far off from understanding. "Well, you refuse to understand me as well!"

"There is nothing to understand. You can't just go around doing things like that. It's not just illegal, but immoral."

"I'm a fucking vampire, I can do whatever I want," he spits in defiance, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Fine. If that's his argument, then I don't think there's anything for us to talk about, because it's like saying you're fat because you're hungry. Things don't work that way. I throw the blanket aside, satisfied at the surprised look he gives me.

"Yes, I'm leaving," I comment dryly, already getting out of bed. Then a hand grabs my wrist, pulling me back roughly. I fall onto my back – and suddenly, he's sitting on top of me, pinning me down with his hands at my shoulders. I narrow my eyes at him. "You can't keep acting like this."

"I can," he declares flatly. "And I will."

"We've been at this point before," I reply, exasperated.

"Yes. And I'm not going to let you leave me again."

"I'm not leaving you, I'm just leaving," I stress. His grip softens. He seriously thought I was breaking up with him. This is so annoying. Sure, he did something terrible – and I still don't know if I'll be able to handle this, but right now, I'm just angry. He removes his hands, sitting up straight, eyeing me warily.

"Maybe I overreacted," he admits slowly.

"Right now or previously?" I scoff, raising my eyebrows questioningly.

"Both times," he grumbles. "Will you stay now?"

I can't help but laugh at that, even though it causes him to scowl at me. He's too cute. And I doubt he actually he regrets anything. Neither ripping off the poor guy's hand – because he deserved it -, nor getting ready to force me to stay with him – because if I leave him, it's over anyway.

"So what? Will you stay or not?"

"Until tomorrow, yes. But if you really want to live with me, you have to stop acting like it's all about you. It's not. I'm here as well and if you're ready to threaten me if I decide to break up with you, we're not going to work out. And I want this to work," I explain honestly. He sighs.

"I don't want to lose you," he admits quietly. "Not again."

"Didn't the last time teach you that you can't keep me with force? You want me to like you, not endure being around you."

"Liking's not enough," he tells me, looking at me accusingly. I sigh, closing my eyes. Somehow, I'm not sure what he wants from me. He wants me to be with him out of my own free will but is ready to hurt me if I don't comply. And he wants me to love him. I was in love with him – and it's more than simply liking even now. Still, after what I saw today, it's a bit more complicated. "It's not. I'm still the same person I was before."

"But I didn't know," I reply weakly, feeling slight pain throbbing inside my chest. My throat constricts, making it hard to breathe. Shit. I want to be with him. I want this to work out. But I can't get the images out of my head. Floor tiles painted red by blood. His fingers holding on to the hand. And the only expression on his face was anger. Suddenly, his weight rests on my chest. His nose nuzzles against my neck. He's tense, holding on to my shoulders tightly. I wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him even closer.

We're both hurting. Because I'm not sure if I can love all of him.

_____

GET READY FOR THE SAD CLICHE BACKGROUND STORY :D

Also, I had a blast writing that dialogue. I love their interaction; they can be so ridiculous at times.

XOXO

T.