He had only a bare second to realize that scent touching him was not actually Zoryn before he'd drifted swiftly unconscious.
Sometimes he'd nearly wake, feeling more touches on him. They hadn't felt threatening, soft and steady and even earning a hum in his throat when they passed over the most sensitive parts of his overly-sensitive skin. Goddamn, an angel of death must have been tormenting him, singing him into complacency like a siren and occasionally touching over the skin that flared up all kinds of heat inside him. Really sexy kinds.
"Mmmm.."
Fuck. His Dagger was gonna kill him.
Well, he was dying today anyway so that's cool. Get in line.
No, he was kidding. Don't remember that part.
He might have lost consciousness again, but he was back at that familiar growl. A warmth cooler than his hot skin pressed behind his ear and he startled with a small jerk and a grunt. Then he softened and groaned. Zoryn. "The angel comes to take me away," he mumbled helpfully. But wait. An angel would more likely kill him. Do they kill stuff? He frowned. Well, fuck. Now he was confused.
Zoryn's teeth drug over his skin then his voice sounded far away as he addressed someone else. Oh yeah! His angel. Or not-angel. Maybe his reaper. Do those sing? They definitely kill stuff. Pretty sure.
"That's mine," he said with a little scowl, eyes still closed. She'd come here for him. She can't take Zor, no way. Kill Dov instead.
He grunted again as someone started fuckin' shoving at him. Fuck! Rude. Trying to sleep here. Or trying to die here. Either way, this would end today and it would be so wonderful. Goddamn, there must be three or four of them. They seemed fuckin' strong. A hell of a lot stronger than Dov was even when he attempted to scoot up to a sit for appearances. See? He was trying.
He was definitely gonna lay back down when they left.
"Just a little nap, though. Up later."
He still couldn't find the energy to open his eyes, and his head hung limply. By some miracle or curse, he'd managed to prop up in a way that no longer took an effort to hold himself that way. Mm, good. Nap time.
"Mmk, Angel," he mumbled as if she'd said something to him. Had she? Possibly. He was pretty sure. "That's mine," he repeated once more because it just made sense to.
we're slaves to any semblance of touch
Lord, we should quit but we love it too much
