“Shush, you,” he growls. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Which means I’ll be punished for making him endure the years he’s spent caged away in the back of my mind. This is most likely the beginning of it. Because just as I know his thoughts and deepest desires, he knows mine. He knows who I care for, what my weaknesses are, and what will piss me the fuck off.
“Now…” He swivels his neck eerily. “Where was I?” His gaze drifts, lazy, assessing, over Pollock’s face. Bringing our blade closer, he rests the tip under Pollock’s eye.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” Pollock bucks once, hard, until the pressure increases, and his blood begins to spill.
Lazreth chuckles. “Oh, I dare, princeling.”
Don’t—
“I said shut it,” Lazreth snaps, voice dropping to something colder, meaner. “Or I do much worse to him.”
Pollock’s face is already darkening, breath strangled off. He shakes his head—barely—fighting for space, for air. Letting go of his sword, he attempts to pry Lazreth’s fingers away.
“One… of… these days…” he grinds out, each word scraped raw.
“You’ll what?” Lazreth’s grin spreads, ugly and pleased. “Kill me?” He laughs—low and vicious. “I don’t think so.”
“Kahill… will find a way to be… rid of you.” Hate and fury lace each word.
Lazreth grins as he leans closer. “If I die, so does your sweetheart.”
Pollock's free hand shoots up, delivering a jab straight to Lazreth's throat. Bones fucking break on impact. Pollock's features distort with pain. He jerks his hand back with a hiss, curses spilling from his lips.
“Oh… did that hurt?” Lazreth coos. “You poor, poor thing. Let me see.”
Pollock tries to pull away—too late.
Lazreth snatches his hand, and I shout obscenities at him while every fucking bone in Pollock's hand grinds to dust.
Pollock can breathe now, but his unholy screams undo me.
Just you fuckin’ wait. I’m going to make your endless existence miserable.
“You already have,” Lazreth snarls. “This, this is how I make you realize there are consequences to denying me what I want.” He pulls the blade back, spins it once in his palm, then drives the hilt into Pollock’s side. The hit sends Pollock curling over, his kidney destroyed by the blow.
Hell spawn?—
“Yes, and don’t you fuckin’ forget it.”
When I get free?—
“How about you sit back, shut the fuck up for once, and let me have my fun.”
I will fucking end you. Whatever it fucking takes.
As if he no longer hears me, he shoves Pollock’s shoulder back to the dirt and resets the blade beneath his eye—close enough to promise he means it.
Lazreth!
If you keep threatening me, I’ll burn him from the inside out.
The sincerity with which he speaks binds me as nothing else can.
His tone softens as he speaks with a reverence that hints at the vileness to come. “Such pretty irises. The marking of one of His acclaimed reborns, yes? A filthy, disgusting human turned angel. You wouldn’t mind if I kept one, would you?”
Pollock renews his struggle once his hand has fully mended. His actions are a nuisance to Lazreth, nothing more.
