nowhere to be found. Malachi had thought nothing of it at the time. He’d gone to the training arena and picked up on the exercises he’d skipped out on that afternoon, but couldn’t quite contain the eager anticipation to meet the human man again and very soon.
Over the next year, they’d developed a steadfast friendship, meeting several nights a week to toss back a brew or to visit the village whores. After the first few clandestine meetings, Laziel appeared in the tavern, a frown on his angelic features.
“What the fuck’s going on, Lachi?” The quiet voice had riveted Malachi to the wooden floor beneath his feet. The disapproval ran like leeches over his flesh.
“I’ve made a friend angel. Laziel, meet Vischeral.” He’d been almost belligerent, his black eyes flat. He hadn’t expected the hand slammed over his mouth or his head bouncing off the wall behind him.
“Shut up, you dumb fuck. He’s human.” The voice had crashed into Malachi’s skull and the brutal treatment inflamed his temper. He’d shoved back, his own scathing response flashing into the celestial’s mind.
“No shit, but he’s a friend. So either join us or fucking leave.” Vischeral had intervened sliding a palm against each of their chests and stepping between them. Damned male had never been afraid of anything, and at that moment, his life hung in the balance though he never knew it. Malachi calmed instantly, afraid of hurting his friend, but the angel sneered, his eyes ominous. Malachi feared Laziel would smite the human where he stood, but instead, he’d whirled away leaving them alone.
From that night on, Laziel often accompanied Malachi to the pub or bordello, always staying in the shadows alert and wearing a constant frown. The human became a bone of contention between them, one Malachi hadn’t understood and still didn’t. Every outing drew the two males closer together. Malachi’s respect and admiration grew as did Laziel’s animosity.
Over time, he grew tired of the angel’s continual reminders of the frailty of the human male and warnings about the distraction he brought into Malachi’s life. Laziel tried to scare Vischeral away, and when that didn’t work, he resorted to vitriolic sarcasm. In the end, Malachi’s perverse stubbornness and Vischeral’s absolute refusal to abandon their friendship wore down the celestial’s objections and an uneasy truce existed between the three of them. In hindsight, Malachi should have heeded the angel’s wisdom. It might have saved the human. But, Malachi just could not walk away. Something about the male drew him like a lodestone, and it wasn’t his blood.
In all their time together, Malachi was only tempted to drink from the male on one occasion. They’d been celebrating their graduation from law school, trolling the streets in search of entertainment. From a side alley, a gang of ruffians thought to take advantage of the ‘dandies.’ The filth never actually stood a chance, but neither they, nor Vischeral knew it. The fight had been brutal, but satisfying. Malachi pulled his punches enough not to shock his companion and a short time later, they stood victorious. Vischeral had lunged at him in exhilaration wrapping strong arms around his neck in a celebratory hug.
The split lip, oozing blood, called powerfully to the vampire’s bloodlust heightened by the brawl. The hard body pressed to his own, sweaty and heated from the fight emitted an even more primal call, sexual need. Malachi responded before he could catch himself. Fangs descended, his eyes went crimson and his cock sprang to attention. The human had stiffened, his confusion permeating the air.
“Mal?” He tried to pull away, but Malachi held him close fighting to control the vampiric side of his nature. Vischeral hadn’t struggled, simply waited until Malachi loosened his arms enough he could lean back. Midnight eyes met his own, now the flat black of their usual state. Questions he couldn’t answer
Over the next year, they’d developed a steadfast friendship, meeting several nights a week to toss back a brew or to visit the village whores. After the first few clandestine meetings, Laziel appeared in the tavern, a frown on his angelic features.
“What the fuck’s going on, Lachi?” The quiet voice had riveted Malachi to the wooden floor beneath his feet. The disapproval ran like leeches over his flesh.
“I’ve made a friend angel. Laziel, meet Vischeral.” He’d been almost belligerent, his black eyes flat. He hadn’t expected the hand slammed over his mouth or his head bouncing off the wall behind him.
“Shut up, you dumb fuck. He’s human.” The voice had crashed into Malachi’s skull and the brutal treatment inflamed his temper. He’d shoved back, his own scathing response flashing into the celestial’s mind.
“No shit, but he’s a friend. So either join us or fucking leave.” Vischeral had intervened sliding a palm against each of their chests and stepping between them. Damned male had never been afraid of anything, and at that moment, his life hung in the balance though he never knew it. Malachi calmed instantly, afraid of hurting his friend, but the angel sneered, his eyes ominous. Malachi feared Laziel would smite the human where he stood, but instead, he’d whirled away leaving them alone.
From that night on, Laziel often accompanied Malachi to the pub or bordello, always staying in the shadows alert and wearing a constant frown. The human became a bone of contention between them, one Malachi hadn’t understood and still didn’t. Every outing drew the two males closer together. Malachi’s respect and admiration grew as did Laziel’s animosity.
Over time, he grew tired of the angel’s continual reminders of the frailty of the human male and warnings about the distraction he brought into Malachi’s life. Laziel tried to scare Vischeral away, and when that didn’t work, he resorted to vitriolic sarcasm. In the end, Malachi’s perverse stubbornness and Vischeral’s absolute refusal to abandon their friendship wore down the celestial’s objections and an uneasy truce existed between the three of them. In hindsight, Malachi should have heeded the angel’s wisdom. It might have saved the human. But, Malachi just could not walk away. Something about the male drew him like a lodestone, and it wasn’t his blood.
In all their time together, Malachi was only tempted to drink from the male on one occasion. They’d been celebrating their graduation from law school, trolling the streets in search of entertainment. From a side alley, a gang of ruffians thought to take advantage of the ‘dandies.’ The filth never actually stood a chance, but neither they, nor Vischeral knew it. The fight had been brutal, but satisfying. Malachi pulled his punches enough not to shock his companion and a short time later, they stood victorious. Vischeral had lunged at him in exhilaration wrapping strong arms around his neck in a celebratory hug.
The split lip, oozing blood, called powerfully to the vampire’s bloodlust heightened by the brawl. The hard body pressed to his own, sweaty and heated from the fight emitted an even more primal call, sexual need. Malachi responded before he could catch himself. Fangs descended, his eyes went crimson and his cock sprang to attention. The human had stiffened, his confusion permeating the air.
“Mal?” He tried to pull away, but Malachi held him close fighting to control the vampiric side of his nature. Vischeral hadn’t struggled, simply waited until Malachi loosened his arms enough he could lean back. Midnight eyes met his own, now the flat black of their usual state. Questions he couldn’t answer
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