Hellbeast

7

1102 words

•———————•

The air was more chilly than it was a week ago, definitely subzero. Horus shivers, and pulls his new thick scarf around his face. Money was fairly tight, but he couldn't afford to get any sicker. He was already weak. It wouldn't be long until the hunters caught him. It seemed every time he was able to outrun three, seven more found him. He was tired, not only of running, but just being alive. His head pounded from the freezing temperatures. Frost fell on his lashes, and ensnared his hair.

He barely managed to get away from the edge of a river he'd passed, before crashing onto the ground. A thought flashed briefly, 'Is this how I die?' Had he really survived this long just to die from winter? The fire-breathing red demon, dying of cold, because he doesn't know how to use his powers to generate heat. This would be joked on someday in the future, maybe whenever they found his body and identified his face. Maybe they'd never know. He fell asleep, snow piling up on his body, Surrounding him in a cocoon of ice, trapping his heat.

•———————•

It was a new day when Horus woke up, and his first thought consisted of, 'Seriously? If this is another hag i'm going to freaking smash her skull into her own damn pot that she plans on cooking me in.' Slowly, he blinked open his eyes, only to be momentarily blinded by the sunlight beaming in from the nearby window. The room was cozy, wooden and laden with fur rugs and books lining the shelves. A painting of a bluejay hung beside the door.

He gingerly pushed the blankets off, fingers grazing over the warmth of the sheets, before standing up and shivering almost immediately. The floor was cold, and he hurried onto the brown fur in the middle of the room, looking hesitantly at the door. He hoped that his luck would finally kick in after all these wasted years, and he wouldn't be drugged, poisoned, assaulted, or murdered as soon as he stepped out of this comfortable room.

Outside, the rest of the house was just as cozy. Glass cases displayed different antique hunting gear, and on the wall were assortments of pretty hunting knives. If things got ugly, Horus was relived to find weapons all around for his disposal. He tiptoed to what seemed to be the living room, pausing when he noticed a body slumped on a plush fur couch. It was a man, not much older than him, sleeping soundly with a book in hand propped against his chest. Horus blinked. He'd never been kidnapped by a pretty stranger before..

He returned to the other room and grabbed a blanket, coming back to adjust it over the stranger. As soon as the quilt touched his soft looking collarbones, the man's eyes flashed open and he grabbed Horus's wrist tightly and pulled him roughly. Horus fell onto him. His grip was hard, and Horus flinched. They stared at each other for a few seconds before the guy noticed Horus wasn't trying to harm him and hesitantly let go of his wrist. Horus slowly let go of the blanket, letting the edge fall onto the man's neck.

A clock in the background ticked idly, second passing by like water flowing down a mountain. Horus swallowed and leaned back, whispering a soft, "Hello." The man beneath him was generously beautiful, dark brown locks curling on top his caramelized skin and at the middle of his neck. Long dark lashes hid dark green eyes that bored up into him curiously. Horus could barely focus on his eyes and not let his gaze wander to those luscious pink clouds some might call lips. "Hello."

His voice was deep, with a note of a husky drawl that gave away he wasn't really from around here. Maybe he was in the west now? It's hard to know where you're going when you're running around without a map or sense of direction. Horus quickly climbed off, bare feet stepping onto cold wood as he scampered back, warily eyeing the weapons on the walls. "Thanks for your help- uhm- I should be going now."

Instead of trying to make him stay which is what Horus expected, the angelic-man just shrugged and gestured at a table behind him. He turned around and hastily picked up his bag, numbly waving at the guy before going to open the front door. A flood of snow flopped onto him. He yelped, warmth seeping away as the cold took ahold of him, before strong arms dug him out of the pile and pulled him up. "Can't go. Blizzard." 'What luck I have,' Horus thought sarcastically.

He picked up very fast that this mountain man didn't talk much. And when he blessed him with something, it was only a word or two. Either he had the brain of an infant or he was a caveman. The striking beauty left him quiet though. He had learned his name was Damen. His inner beast had purred. 'Sounds like the name of our future children's father to me.' He had to excuse himself out of the room for a few minutes to calm down his flush. He had no idea where that though came from, but he didn't appreciate turning into a tomato right in the middle of dinner.

If Damen thought anything of Horus turning red every time they were in the same room, he said nothing about it. His ever-stoic face remained stony, but soft. If stone could be soft, maybe chiseled marble? Horus thought if he met any more beautiful men he might just have a heart attack and die. How did royals handle this? Then he numbed. Royal. What were the chances Damen was a royal? What were the chances he was a warlord. He didn't have pale blue skin, as Mer supposedly had, which only left one other category. Shifter.

He slowly turned to face the quiet man in the corner reading a book about some kind of animal. wolves. Horus's blood ran cold. "Damen?" The dark brown curls lifted, revealing that sculpted dark face adorned with leaf-green eyes. "Are you by any chance a shifter?" Damen tilted his head, looking at him quizzically. Then, to Horus's absolute horror, nodded. The air got trapped in his lungs and he nodded back silently. Words wouldn't form. Thoughts jumbled around. He mindlessly got up, striding to take a few steps out of the room before he tumbled down. His head slammed into the cold floor and a sickening crack echoing..