Mortal Wounds

Chapter Six

Davian's POV

Heavy metal beats the walls and Reapers scream and sing at the bar like a choir of dying whales. The bar has an 80s diner feel with checked tiles, black stools at the mahogany bar flanked by black booths. All I want to do is hide in my dorm and binge-watch anime. I didn't plan on babysitting two brats, especially one who holds the candle for the 'hate-Davian' campaign. Now at 10 pm I'm stuck watching Beau and possessed Virgil get drunk.

"I am sooooo drunk!" Beau sings alongside the Reapers who cheer and take another shot.

I wipe my hand down my face. Gods, if I didn't have ethics, I would ditch him with the demon. I recommended this bar run by Reapers in case the demon pulls a stunt. My father used to come here with his mates. After he was admitted into a psychiatric ward, my brother came here a lot to get wasted and get into fistfights. I carried him to his apartment around here with his best friend, Cosmo, a demon who works at the bar. Mortals do not suspect is a place for more immoral reapers takes up mercenary jobs. He cannot get away with suspicious behaviour here. Speaking of the demon, he beckons Beau to a booth with a rosy glow on his face.

"I told you the alcohol would hit you once you stood up," the demon laughs at him, "First time drinker, huh?"

I sip water unable to figure out his angle. He's a little too interested in getting Beau drunk.

"I'd ask if they're friends of yours, but you're watchin' 'em like they pissed in your milk." I cringe when I hear a deep voice with an Irish accent.

He clears his throat. I roll my eyes and turn to the familiar face. The downside to the bar is I would most likely run into Cosmo, an incubus who uses his charms to bang at least one customer per night. Even though it's not my thing, I can see why guys dig him. He looks straight out of a Calvin Klein magazine. Midnight black eyes stand out against his burgundy hair tied in a bun and his two o'clock shadow. One look at his muscles and I feel inadequate for not having a ripped body.

"So, what you been up to? Goin' to school? You must be about twenty-two around about now," Cosmo asks, as usual, not catching the hint I don't want to talk to him, "You should consider tappin' into your powers and begin your life as a Reaper."

I ignore him and Cosmo sighs in exasperation.

"When are you going to quit playin' mortal? While you play pretend, the all other reapers are busting their asses trying to maintain the natural order."

Cosmo knows nothing about the corruption amongst Reapers. Nowadays it's not about balance. It's about money. In recent years, most Reapers have set up businesses that pay reapers to use their powers a certain way. A lot of Reapers couldn't care less if you live a relatively moral life, they will leave souls to wonder the veil unless they're paid to do otherwise. The popular excuse is every soul is not without a sin.

"Jeez, princess. The world isn't going to slow down for you to toughen the f**k up," he lectures, his face hardening with experience. "The angel of Death created Reapers for this purpose. It is a fate you can't escape. You're better off accepting it as soon as possible."

"I want water, not a lecture about my future," I say, rolling my eyes.

This must be the twentieth time he gave me life advice. I doubt it's for my benefit either. More like to get in the good books with my brother, who I'm pretty sure he's been trying to screw ever since they've became roommates. Considering this guy is still trying to lecture me, I'd say it didn't work. Good to know my brother doesn't have low standards.

He shakes his head in disbelief, "I honestly don't know how anyone can be this lazy. If every reaper refused to do their job like you then nothin' would get done."

"I don't want to watch humans die without being allowed to help them. Is that so insane?" I snap.

"You were created for that," he scowls as if my question is ridiculous, "Even your brother is contributing. Right now, he's in Syria while you're ordering water."

"Syria?!" I demand.

His smirk deepens, amused by the fact I don't know. I never know where he is, what he is doing, or what jobs he takes. I'm always thrown out of the loop while Cosmo always seems to know more than I do. It makes me want to glass them both.

"Mhmm. He's transporting souls from one of the hospitals turned into t*****e camps," he leans over the bar, resting his chin on his palm, "A lot of death caused by war and conflict. You've got humans claiming to be angels torturing and killing prisoners of war. It's got me wondering what the hell mortals talk about in dictionaries when they give the word 'humanity' meaning."

I wince at the idea of my brother being there.

"Can't you talk him out of being there? I don't want him—"

"Someone must take those souls to the other side. It's like a taxi service. Seriously, what's the big deal?"

I scull the water and turn my back to him. The demon ditched Beau to dance with a few Reapers. I barely see the demon past the intense violet and indigo lights as he dances, lost in the music with a couple of energetic Reapers.

"Considering you're an incubus, are you related to that demon?" I joke, thrusting my thumb at him.

"You know, just because we're both demons or whatever it doesn't mean we are related," Cosmo deadpans.

I shrug. I guess it is like asking someone if they know each other because they're both Italian. He follows my gaze before giving me a puzzled look.

"Isn't that a human?"

"There's a demon possessing him and he claims to be a cambion."

He arches his brow in disbelief.

"The last cambion that I know of is dead. Trust me, if there was a cambion alive, I'd know about it. Those things take a s**t load of effort to conceive and keep alive. My relatives would have invited me to a week-long fiesta to celebrate. I would rather lose brain cells than listen to them bragging about bringing another brat into the world. I've been around enough kids to the point that their crying gives me PTSD."

Note to self: bribe a kid to cry to this guy.

"What the hell is with your smirk right now?"

I clear my throat.

"What makes it so hard to conceive cambions?"

"It depends if the kid ends up with stronger demon genes. They're born stillborn and normally stay dead if their genes are predominately human. If it's mostly demon, then they have a chance of survivin'. The creatures are livin' dolls until they're around 7 years old. They can barely talk, learn, or feel. You can't even feel their heartbeats. If they get past that stage, they're pretty powerful."

Great, if he's not a cambion, what is he?

Beau stills at the table, shaking with adrenaline while the demon makes out with a male Reaper. Swaying and laughing, he lets me drag him away from the crowd.

"Beau saw that," I hiss at him.

The demon laughs louder.

"Jesus Christ, you seem more annoyed. Did something happen?"

"Yeah. It finally sunk in I am babysitting both your asses—"

He drapes his arms around my waist and yanks me against him. His eyes flash. His body is warm against mine and he smells of fresh pine.

"It's a shame you would let yourself be toyed around," his breath skims my ear.

"Morgana and I made a mutual agreement. Respect that," I snap at him.

"You went along with it because it gave you human connection. Is that correct?"

"No!" Yes.

"That loneliness reminds me of someone."

He taps his lip thoughtfully before he turns away and stumbles back to the booth. Thankfully, Beau seems completely oblivious to what happened.

"Sike me up! I'm going to ask that lady to dance," Beau tells the demon, reaching over the table to shake his shoulder.

I glance at who he's gesturing to. I take one look at a female Reaper and laugh. She looks like she would break his hips in bed with the sheer power of her thigh muscles.

"I don't think she'd be into underage boys," I comment.

"I'm twenty," Beau scowls.

"Could have fooled me."

He shakes the demon's shoulder when he dozes off, "You think I stand a chance?"

The demon gazes at the bottom of his empty glass like it's the most disappointing sight of his life. He claps Beau on the shoulder.

"If the human in charge of naming this galaxy could only think of the adjective 'milky' and didn't get fired, anything in this world is possible."

"Right. Thanks," Beau chirps, jumping up from the booth to approach the woman.

I check the time, betting he will be rejected within the next five minutes. The demon sits back up and rests his head on the table. The alcohol seems to hit him because he begins to call his empty glass Bob and ask it if it's real. Disturbed, I pull it away from him.

"No more drinks for you."

Ignoring my tone, he rests his chin on his palm, watching the mini-mosh pit that's taking place on the dance floor. We watch Beau attempt to ask the Reaper to dance. Currently, the jackass flushes a darker shade of red, cheeks hitting the territory of blood red tomato. He scratches the back of his head and stumbles over his own words. I glance down at my watch. Three minutes.

"I have a brother who guides souls to the other side. Good bloke. Horrible hoarding issues. He's a Valkyrie."

"Valkyries are all female."

"Identifies as male. He picks certain souls amongst the ones Lilith strike deals with an either sends them to her or sends them to Valhalla. The latter is rare as Hell. I don't think he found anyone heroic enough to be sent there in my lifetime."

"Right. And why are we talking about this?" I ask but by just looking into his eyes I can tell he knows what I am.

He couldn't have heard my conversation with Cosmo. No, he was sitting too far to hear, especially with the pounding music and obnoxious people who are trying to scream along to the lyrics to Bring Me The Horizon. He touches my hand and I immediately move away from him. He laughs before striking me with an amused smile. A smile which looks far too inviting on his face. It's funny because I have seen Virgil smile at school to just about everyone, but he did not smile quite like the demon does. There's a shimmer in his eyes which makes him seem more alive.

"You're not jumpy like most reapers are when they first start collecting souls. You're not dead inside either. You haven't taken a soul to the other side yet, have you?"

I bite my lip as last comment gets under my skin. The saddest part is this guy is far more accurate than the psychologist I have been seeing past three years combined.

"I talked to an incubus and apparently the last Cambion died two years ago."

He sighs at my comment and undoes a few of his shirt buttons, appearing flustered. I can't help but watch him expose more of his chest. I blink rapidly and gulp down my glass of water.

"So, it's fine when you ask me personal questions but you won't answer any of mine?"

"He did die two years ago."

"Then who are you really?"

Before he can answer, Beau returns drenched in red wine. I burst out laughing. Beau glowers at me, unamused by the fact I laugh for five minutes straight. People even stopped singing and screaming to stop and watch me laugh. Beau's face is as red as a pomegranate.

"Shut up. What gives you the right to f*****g laugh at me? You're nothing compared to who I am," he snarls.

"Mate, you're the one who got rejected."

His eye twitches and slams his hand against the table and gets in my face.

"Repeat that again. I dare you," he warns me with a disorientated slur.

"R-E-J-E-C-T-E-D!" I laugh.

He grits his teeth and the demon whispers, "fight, fight, fight" under his breath.

"You're not on the same level of value as me to even laugh at me. How much of a difference would it make if you disappeared from town? None. How much of a difference will it make if I disappeared? I can reasonably say a hell of a lot more than you."

All the humour from the situation drains away and I stare at him in irritation.

"Watch it, kid."

"Why do you bother attending school? Everyone is afraid of you, especially after the creepy stunt you pulled after I met you," he slurs, leaning himself up against at the table. He sneers in my face, "I wonder how long it would take for even Morgana to throw you away."

My eyes widen, caught off guard by the comment. I glare at the demon.

"I ain't no snitch. I said nothing," he huffs, appalled by my accusing glare. "The kid is probably stalking you. It would explain why he keeps glancing at you."

Somehow Beau's cheeks manage to become redder.

"He's a f*****g witch! Like, look at him! I bet he hides in his room all day selling his soul to Satan for, like, churros or something useless like that."

"To be fair, that sounds like something I would try to do," I admit.

"Is your soul even worth that much?" the demon drawls.

"My, you're making it so easy to hate you."

"Shut up!" Beau interrupts us, making us both glare at him, "I mean it! I remember the time you predicted my death! That wasn't normal! You're a ticking time bomb. Maybe the town doesn't see it clearly as I do and you're just as insane as your dad. I'll be there when you slip up."

My fists tighten and I struggle not to lose it. I don't want to start a fight here. It will be unfair for this business plus I don't want to be the one to start the fight. Beau has tonnes of money. If I throw the first punch, he can sue me and bleed me dry of the fifteen dollars I have left in my wallet. I need that to pay a kid to traumatise Cosmo.

"Or you lash out at him because you feel like you have control over him, and you need control because of the lack of it in your home life," the demon drawls, watching Beau like he's a specimen, "Or you have the hots for Davian here."

I nearly choke on nothing. Beau splutters and turns his anger to who he thinks is Virgil.

"Shut up! I never liked you anyway. I only pretend to give a s**t about you because my brother thinks you're cool."

"Oh look, is that your wallet on the table?" the demon asks.

"What?" Beau asks thrown off by the random question, leaning forward to look at the table.

The demon yanks his tie down. Beau's forehead slams down against the end of the table before collapsing on to the floor.

"What the s**t?!" I exclaim, getting over to Beau who lays face down on the floor, groaning in pain.

The demon shrugs.

"It's part of the night out package. You get drunk, you dance, get PMS, you get knocked out then wake up to throw up s**t you don't even remember eating."

"This is serious," I snap at him, beginning to sit Beau up.

He then vomits on my shirt. I scream in disgust and drop him back onto the floor with horror. The vomit seeps through my shirt and gives off a horrible stench that presses on my gag reflexes.

"I guess in Beau's sake it's PMS, fight, throw up then get knocked out," the demon comments thoughtfully.

I shoot him a death glare and advance towards him with the intention of wiping vomit on his smug, painfully attractive face. I'm stopped when I feel a hand clamp on my shoulder. Cosmo shoots me a warning look.

"You and your friends are causing too much of a scene. You all need to leave," he commands in a no-bullshit kind of tone.

"Cut me some slack. I'm covered in vomit and this i***t is passed out," I growl, tending to Beau who lolls his head around as if he's seeing stars. I glare at the demon. "Look what you've done! You're carrying his fat a*s back to town, you hear me."

I expect a smart-a*s response but to my surprise, he falls silent and fakes interest in the table. He doesn't even give me eye contact. Cosmo turns to him, scanning him from head to toe.

"Davian says that you claim to be a cambion," Cosmo states, pressing his hands on the table, "Fake being one again and I will hang you with your own intestines next time I see you. This is your only warning."

I give Cosmo a puzzled look, unsure if he's lying or being dead serious. The demon doesn't respond. Cosmo rips his head up by the back of his hair, black claws extending against his scalp. Most people in the bar stops to watch. I see some beginning to bet in case this turns into a fight. The demon doesn't respond. He only stares at him appearing paler than before. The alcohol is probably making his brain slow.

"Listen, he was probably trying to scare me, ok? He likes to mess with me. It's nothing to get this worked up over," I explain, trying to rip his hand away from him.

Cosmo ignores me altogether, glaring menacingly at the demon.

"Did I fuckin' stutter, kid? Don't you fuckin' dare pretend to be one ever again," Cosmo barks.

To my surprise, the demon's eyes glisten a little and there is a catch in his throat.

"I'm sorry," the demon responds with a sincerity that surprises me.

Cosmo glares at him without any idea how to respond to the apology. With a frustrated scowl, Cosmo releases his him and turns to me.

"Take them and leave."

I cannot carry Beau back to town without getting caught and I strongly wish I could ditch Beau on the floor of the bar. Sadly, I have morals. At my hesitance, Cosmo curses under his breath and fishes for something in his pocket. Moments later keys hit my face and fall on the floor.

"Spend the night at my place for all I care. Just leave."

Before I can say something, the demon carries Beau over his shoulder and heads out of the bar. I swipe the keys off the floor and catch up with the demon. He rounds the building to get to the parking lot behind it. I wince as the icy wind hits me. The cold makes the vomit on my shirt colder. I'm never going to feel clean again. I shed my shirt and toss it into the nearest dumpster.

"I didn't expect him to spaz out like that. Jesus, the guy has a f*****g screw loose," I grumble, unnerved by my brother's taste in friends.

"Don't say that. He's gone through more than you know," the demon defends Cosmo to my surprise.

"How do you know?"

He strides forward with purpose and knowledge of where Cosmo lives. I'm convinced he knows Cosmo from somewhere, but he did not recognise him in the body he is in.

#

Ten minutes later, we make it to Cosmo's apartment, which looks like a bachelor pad version of the Adams family house. Everything comes in the wide range of colours including charcoal black, jet black, oil black, onyx black, and demonic black. It creeps me out how dark it is. Then again, so does clowns, dolls, children, and carrots after I watched an episode of 1000 Ways to Die. The demon dumps Beau on his couch. I place a bowl beside Beau who groans and murmurs something about throwing up. A deadly silence has taken the demon's lips and I take a shower to avoid it. When I come out, I see the light from underneath the spare room door. It looks like the demon already took that room. s**t, the only other bed that's available is Cosmo's and the guy might skin me alive if he catches me in it. With a sigh, I head to the couch across from Beau. I spend a few minutes trying to find a comfortable position. I sigh in relief when I find one, only to glare at Beau when he snores. I admit defeat and walk into the spare room.

"There are no other beds so we're sharing this one," I announce only to pause when I see him standing by the window. He snaps out of his thoughts and turns to face me. I pause, taken off guard by the irritated red of his eyes and his flushed cheeks. He cuts me a murderous glare, but the glare is forced. His eyes even seem unfocused as if the alcohol is still active in his system. I can't tell if he's been crying or rubbing his eyes.

"Listen, I'm going to head back to town. I'll be sure not to get caught for sneaking off," he states, beginning to stumble past me. I catch him by the arm.

"You're drunk and it's dark. I don't trust you to get to Virgil's house without hurting his body."

"It'll be fine," he responds curtly. All the playfulness I'm used to hearing in his voice is gone.

"Wait, why? Don't tell me Cosmo scared you."

"Move."

"No. Look, if he bothers you too much we'll leave early in the morning. Virgil's body needs to sleep off the alcohol—"

"I can't be here! I don't want to be here!"

He shoves me I grab his hand when he starts for the door.

"You can't go back drunk. Get some rest."

His slender fingers slip from my grasp.

"Call me stupid, Reaper, but I'm going back."

"Wait." I grab his arm and he shoves me again.

Then he shoves me again, his touch weak as though he doesn't want to really hurt me. I dodge him and he falls onto the floor, then he gets up to hit me. I catch his elbow and I throw him onto the bed. He drunkenly splays onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling with an empty expression. Then something in him snaps. He's stiff and whispering, "It's too dark."

His breaths become deep and rapid with panic. I turn on Cosmo's Himalayan salt lamp, and its warm glow, he kisses me.

"I'm alive," he whispers to himself.

Excitement runs through me and I blink rapidly. I'm frozen yet captivated by the kiss. He pulls away, sucks his lower lip before our lips collide once again. Our hands are all over each other, stripping our clothes off our bodies.

"I'm alive," he whispers again, spreading his hands over my chest, "Warmth. You feel like sunlight."

I bite my lip and push him onto his back, hovering over him, observing his red eyes. They remind me of supernovas. The emotions trapped within his eyes are crashing against his irises, ready to break through the glass, ready to explode. Part of me wants to see them explode and rain down with the answers to every question I have about him.

I suck his lip and run a hand through his hair, captivated by the way he moves beneath my body. The way he breathes is poetry, and it steals my breath away. He takes a moment to calm his breathing, our foreheads pressing against each other. There's a profound beauty in the way he rests a hand against my cheek.

"Distract me from the darkness."

"What darkness?"

"Just kiss me. I don't want to be alone. I don't want it to consume me," he pleads, shaking his head, "Please. I need a distraction."

Distraction. Just the same reason Morgana wanted me. A distraction seems to be all I'm good for, before I'm tossed aside again.

"We don't have to do anything s****l. We can just lie-down for a moment."

I'm surprised when I look up at him it's not cockiness or outright l**t I see. It's desperation. It's longing.

"You're drunk and not thinking straight. Secondly, that's Virgil's body," I remind him, although a part of me yearns to take his pain away.

The loneliness, I managed mine through connecting with Morgana. I loved the way our bodies moved in rhythm with each other. I loved the warm, but it was comforting, soft. This is intense. I'm breathing heavily, and as though my body is acting on its own, I kiss him again and like they are as fragile as petals of a rose, I bruise his lips.

"I never done it with a male before."

"Neither," he whispers and laughs, before cupping me through my jeans, "But I know you want me."

And with the way he touches me, I can tell he wants me too. I touch him too, relieved I'm not the only one with a hardon. A more responsible part of me wants me to slap myself on the wrist and leave him to pass out. Nothing good can come out of this. In the morning, I will regret doing anything with him, won't I?

"It's my body for this month. Virgil consented to that."

"Still—" My words turn into an unwanted moan as he slowly grinds against me.

I shamefully melt under the pressure and rock against him. Butterfly kisses tickle my throat, tongue skims the shell of my ear and I grip his arms unable to decide whether to shove him away. It feels unbelievably good. The layers of this f*******n mess heats my skin and I ache for a release, but something more than physical. I'm not sure what.

"You're not thinking straight."

I moan as his hand slides into my underwear. He laughs softly and he runs his fingers up and down my spine, raining kisses down my chest.

"No? Maybe I don't want to. I have the feeling you don't want to either."

"You'll regret it."

He grips me and I gasp. He smirks.

"Let me."

He slides down my pants and I shift self-consciously. When Morgana saw me n***d for the first time she gawked with discomfort. She wouldn't even put her head near that part of me. Yet, the demon pauses, gazing up at me as though he's drinking in the sight of me. I smile a little, feeling a little special, something I didn't feel with Morgana. I felt expandable, like she could replace me at any moment.

My eyelids flutter shut and I melt into the kiss. Heat rushes through me, a wildfire spreading to every inch of me as he works me. I gasp loudly and curse when I feel something warm and wet envelop me. I watch him intensely, in the mood to make love when I see his body, slim and milky white, a stark contrast to my dark skin.

"Tell me. Are you going to blame it on the alcohol?" he muses, straddling me and I hiss at the warmth of us touching each other, bare to each other.

I run my hands over the groves of his body. I never imagined doing anything like this with a boy, but I guess there's a first for anything. He grips both of us in his hand before fluidly grinding us together. My legs tremble. His hands are so hot and tight, I can keep my voice in or keep my hips still as I move to meet his rhythm. I swear I'm going to go insane from how violently he's making my heart race. Unable to think straight, I grip his hips and help him move.

He pants softly. I sit up and push him backwards. He gives a look of confusion as I climb on top of him and it's my hand against him, squeezing him tightly. I bury my head against his neck and gnaw at his ear.

"If you're going to drag me into this, aren't you at least going to make some noise?" I murmur.

He groans and sinks his nails into my back. Beautiful moans spill from his lips when he reaches his c****x. He arches his back and my hips buckle. I fall on him and I pant for air. f**k, this is one of the most intense moments of my life. When I catch my breath, I look down to see his eyes shut. I wait a moment to check if he passed out. When he doesn't respond, I conclude he's resting. I move him so he's lying on the bed properly, finding him a lot less intimidating now he's like this. I do the same. Well, I guess that I'm not as straight as I thought.

"Thanks. I needed to make sure I'm not back there," he murmurs.

I stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Instead, he goes still and drifts off to sleep. I give him an odd look, admitting to myself that he's not at all I expected a demon to be like. I thought it was all mind games and Paranormal s**t with them with jump scares for days. Now I can't help but wonder who he really is.