• Asmara felt like twin swords were being stabbed into her neck. Her palms were splayed across his bare chest, trying to be rid of his grasp. But he stayed latched on to her neck. She felt like he was siphoning the life out of her. She had always heard horror stories all through her childhood about the horrific experience of being bitten by a dark angel. She had thought that it was just to keep our mind prepared for the worst. Her mother had once told her that being bitten by a dark angel was worse than death itself. She was right.
    She was paralyzed in place, eyes wide. Her magic reacted immediately to the urgency of the situation. She couldn't do anything but channel her magic and that is what she did. She could feel the magic coursing through her veins. The magic pulsed and then set her fingers ablaze. Ezekiel hadn't noticed. He was still fixated on his food source.
    Before she knew what was happening his fangs were wrenched from her neck and she and Ezekiel were thrown in opposite directions. She flew backwards into the tree, her shoulder blades digging into the bark from the impact. Her head had rocked backwards completely ajar, throbbed painfully. She had to sit down. She held her hand hard against her seeping neck wound. Finally her dizziness subsided and she got up and ran. She didn't know where she was headed but she did know one thing: she couldn't trust Ezekiel anymore. One minute they were catching their breath from an intimate kiss and trying to calm their stomachs the next, one of them was trying to kill the other. Or at least eat his companion until he was satisfied and then leave her to die or get killed. One way or the other it would never be the same.

    * * *

    All Ezekiel knew was that he had been having the greatest meal of his life, the sweet rich blood of an elf of royal decent. It was true; the elves of royal blood were the sweetest nectar of the bunch. He stood enjoying his meal, mesmerized by its sweet narcotic taste when the next thing he knew he was snatched away from his happiness by an unknown force and was flying through the air in the opposite direction.
    He was knocked into a tree so fast that it nearly was ripped out of the ground by its roots.
    He groaned in pain and fell to a crouch at the tree's base, shaking away the groggy sensation, looking over at the tree where his prey had once been. Then he realized who that prey was. Asmara! His mind screamed with realization and sorrow and he scanned the nearest trees for her. She was nowhere in sight. He sniffed the air trying to trace the smell of her blood. She had headed off in the direction of water. He had to get to her before something else did. He followed the scent, leaping into the air, engaging himself in a pursuit by air.

    * * *

    Asmara looked around her. She had sworn she had seen that gnarled stump before. Her heart quickened in panic. She spun in a narrow circle, quickly taking in her surroundings. She was thirsty, tired and light-headed. She slumped down on the stump with a sigh, against the frantic warnings that screamed at her from the depth of her mind telling her to stay on her feet, which the bloodthirsty demon would come after her.
    She felt safe from harm despite the uneasiness that gnawed at the back of her conscious. A squirrel scrambled clumsily up a neighboring tree. She jumped and a scream stifled in her throat. She all of a sudden had a need to find her way out of the overbidding forest that she felt was suffocating her. Her fear had gotten the best of her. She felt nausea for civilization and got up desperately.
    Her head spun so rapidly she didn't know which way to turn. The ground spun underneath her and fell. Her head came down hard on the compacted earth and leaves, the smell of her own blood overpowering. She heard the sound of powerful wing strokes as they sliced the air getting louder and louder until they finally abruptly stopped almost right above her. Her heart fluttered off beat. Dirt caked taloned feet stepped in front of her and then she saw Ezekiel's worried face hovering over her.
    Her mind reacted fast. It was just a lie, her mind told her. She sat up quickly, ignoring the sickening feeling in her stomach and her dizziness. He reached out to steady her but she cringed away. From his touch. He pulled away. His worry turned to sorrow and she felt her heart pause in response. She pushed the feeling away got up on shaky knees, turning to run.
    She felt sharp claws dig into her shoulder -but not enough to break the skin- to spin her around. She looked up in caution, ready to run if she needed to. But when she looked up at him, into his face, bile rose in her throat. There was not a trace of hostility or thirst on his face.
    Asmara gasped clutching at her neck, blood flowing freely over her palm as if it were a useless dam. Her lips trembled and she looked up horrified into Ezekiel's eyes before burrowing her face into his chest. Her body slumped weakly into him succumbing to fate.
    “Am I going to die?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest. She trembled in fear when he didn't answer.
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