“You son-of-a-bitch,” I spat at him through gritted
teeth. “One of these days, I will be the one to kill you.
Mark me.”
“My dear, sweet Aya. I don’t think I have to worry
about dying at your hands.” Lazarius reached out with his
slender right hand, grabbing the side of my head. “You
will never have the ability to destroy me. I am your creator
remember.”
I tried to shake free of his touch; ‘Oh how my life
keeps repeating itself.’ I thought.
“Go to hell!”
“No. That’s not a trip I’m planning. Sorry, my
dear.” His grip tightened briefly on my skull, not enough
to crush or injure, but I could feel his power rushing into
me. My mind racing, trying to formulate a plan to break
free, I looked into his cold, sardonic eyes for an answer.
‘Why does he keep defeating me?’ was my last thought
as the darkness overcame me and everything went black.
When I began to notice my surroundings again, I was still
lying on the ground, my assailant standing over me. He looked down
at me, smiling. Raising his pale wrist to his mouth, he sank those
vicious canines into it, tearing the skin just enough so the blood
flowed freely. He bent to me, placing his wrist against my mouth. I
turned my head away with the insignificant bit of strength I had been
able to muster, disgusted; but he forced my head back and pushed his
bleeding wrist into my mouth. Hardly having any force to fight
against him, the warm metallic taste of his blood ran into my mouth
and down my throat. It was not the taste of normal blood (such as
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