cupid clearly hates me.

[ 25 ]

☆ Alastor's POV, present tense

I have Adam pinned against the ground. My palms are pressing into his arms and my knees are on his thighs.

I just punched him, and it truly felt amazing. I grin down at Adam, savoring the expression on his face like it's a cold glass of water at two in the morning. His eyes are wide and watery, darting around like the eyes of a small animal trying to get away from a predator. At this point, I think the roles are perfect. I'm the predator, and Adam is the prey.

I laugh. "Not so cocky now, are we?" I ask as I slam my knee hard into the uber-sensitive spot right in between Adam's hips.

He grits his teeth and groans, his muscles tensing beneath my hands. "I'm going to fucking murder you! A-And then Eve's going to give your little, slutty, Pureblood bitch to Lucifer and he's going to kill her with his bare—"

"I've had enough." I lift my hand from his arm—but only for a second—so that I can grab my knife out of its usual spot in my waist pocket. I then quickly place the sharp edge of the blade on his lips, making him stop talking.

"Hush, little boy," I drawl. "I'm going to kill you now, but don't worry. I'll make your death nice and quick and painless, okay?" He says nothing, probably because my knife is digging into the soft tissue of his lips. I laugh, once, then drag the knife down his face until it reaches his neck—and I'm not gentle about it. Speckles of blood pop out of his skin, trailing behind the line that my knife had made down his chin. "I wish I had time to make you suffer, but I have a fair maiden to rescue."

"Al, buddy, you don't want to kill me." Adam smiles, and I know it must take a lot of effort. His chest is shaking like a shivering puppy's, and his eyebrows are drawn close together. I notice a bit of blood on his tooth. It must have come from his lips. "We can work this out. She's a Pureblood. You don't want to talk to her. This is for the best—"

"Oh boy, have you learned nothing?" I snap. With that, I take the knife and slice it hard across his neck, creating a cut that must be at least two inches deep. Adam immediately starts to choke, his chest convulsing as blood bubbles up from the freshly opened wound. The arm that I don't have pinned flies up and whacks me in the cheek.

I pause to rotate my jaw in a small circle, absorbing his hit as if it was nothing. Then I grab Adam's shoulders with both hands, lift them up, and slam them against the dirt so hard that it creates a crater around his torso.

Then I release my hold on one of his shoulders to take two of my fingers and stick them in his pearly blue eyes. I am rewarded with the sound of blood gurgling it's way past his throat, his already cut lips, and his punctured eye sockets.

After a few seconds, Adam stops moving. I stand up and wipe my bloody hands off on my suit jacket. My knife finds its way back into my pocket—after I wipe it off, of course. Killing people is so spectacularly satisfying, but right now, I can't soak up the content feeling that's rising through my veins, because I have more pressing matters to take care of.

The sound of skin hitting skin floats through the empty air from behind me. Clapping. It is slow and taunting, like the sarcastic clap that the villain in a movie always gives after the hero does something... well, heroically stupid. I turn around to see Rosie, a small smile on her dark lips, her hands held out in front of her.

"Rosie, you know that I hate asking questions. You're really putting me in an uncomfortable position here."

She stops clapping. "What do you need to ask me?"

"Why are you doing what you're doing?"

Her smile quickly pulls itself into a shocked gape. I find it quite amusing. "Because of that... that girl, Al. She doesn't belong here, and for some reason, you think that she does."