BANE OF MY FUCKING IMMORTAL EXISTENCEÂ ANGELICA
He should have been more careful, should have realised he was being WATCHED. She had eyes everywhere, and with modern technology it was getting harder to run. Heâd been planning to move on to the next city in a matter of weeks before heâd become DISTRACTED. That distraction taking the form of a pretty, spirited blonde by the name of Samantha Giddings. Though that distraction had become something a lot more than simply curiosity needing satiating. They were past that, heâd already discovered she was a WEREWOLF, belonging to a notorious pack and it hadnât turned him away. No, the thought of leaving her was unbearable, but he was again reminded of the threat he also posed to her life by STAYING. A thousand years came with a lot of baggage and sometimes that baggage came in the form of spies your mother had planted outside your building. And he knew that was only the beginning. Elliot had been able to dispose of them without hassle but the thought they were there in the first place was unnerving him. It meant SHE knew.Â
So if he couldnât run heâd decided on a different course of action; negotiating. Something he knew his mother didnât often do unless it meant things would go her way, but perhaps he could get through to someone else. If he could endure the meeting without falling under her spell, that was. It wasnât as if Angelica could compel him, he had nearly 500 years on her, but she had something else, something they shared; history. And a lot of unspoken words in between all that.
Hypnotic blues and a gentle, yet weighted, kiss pressed to his cheek are enough to almost make him regret coming. Her eyes carrying an unanswered question, yet at other times the answer to a question no one knew. Was it something others saw, he wondered, or something imagination had conjured in his mind? She was far from the curious, naive human sheâd been when theyâd met. One he had to wonder if she was better off staying. Her heart, once full of wonder and life, seemed hardened, frozen over by time. Elliot knew it was all his fault and he had to wonder if, deep down, she did too. If she blamed him. She had to.
Ignoring the mention of Tyrell, more baggage he didnât want to deal with tonight, and the derogatory comment thrown at Sam, Elliot shifts in his seat, eyes drifting out over the club scene below. âRumor? Is that how you explain the idiots she planted outside my building?â He wonders, pulling one of the mens phones from his pocket, flashing one of the pictures heâd been taking at Angelica before crushing the device in his hand, throwing it away nonchalantly. Greens fall upon the glass of crimson sitting between them, his veins burning for a drop. Especially with all the fresh blood being spilt around them, vampires biting at the flesh of willing patrons in the corners. Though it had taken him a while, his thirst was something he had a handle on, CONTROL of, though decapitating those buffoons had taken a bit out of him. Snatching the glass from the table, he throws the blood back, all of it, chucking the glass over his shoulder once heâs done. Leaning forward on the table, his eyes burn into Angelicaâs. Perhaps itâs the rush of blood but he feels a warmth, simmering into a contained anger. Heâs DONE negotiating already.
 âPlease, spare me the bullshit, Angelica, I know why you called me here. Youâre here to scope me out for her, report back everything I say like the devoted little follower you are.â He leans forward a little more, gaze unwavering. âYou can tell her that if she hurts anyone I care about, Jack will be the least of her problems.âÂ
@badrogues CONTINUED from X