─═ڿڰۣڿ♚ڿڰۣڿ═─♥︎─═ڿڰۣڿ♚ڿڰۣڿ═─

Two halves. One dormant, but aware of the other. The other dominant, though innocent and unaware of its shadow self. Or, at least, that's what James assumed.

But that posed another question. Ling was not a child. How had he survived so long without leaving a line of human husks? Cambions, like their parents, fed off of sexual energy and enticed others to take part in sexual acts. Clearly, this atypical cambion had been taking some creative liberties when no human could supply it with instant gratification. Most of these types were able to draw the process out for weeks, either moving onto other prey when the current one became too weak. Or until the human was dead.

Though Ling's...shadow self was evidently unpracticed in control. And so the cambion had soon drifted into a slumber – most likely unused to being able to assuage their hunger in one session. Ling obviously was not aware that he had been the one to kill that man at his nightclub, as well as the one in Cross Avenue, yet he wondered if the fashion designer would remember this.

He supposed he would find out.

James re-clothed the sleeping – and now reverted back to his human appearance – Ling and carried him in a flurry of ashes back to his place. His next objective would be to find out who his little prize was trying to visit at this time, though if the previous victims included a man who accosted Ling in a bathroom and another that had been stalking the young man—or rather, mystery demon, than this third would-be victim had probably done something untoward also.

James already disliked this person he'd not met. But more than ever, with angels circling like carrion birds, he needed to keep Ling a secret. Especially since he did not know yet, exactly what Ling was.

Yes, he was a cambion, though they were the spawn of an incubus or succubus and a human. With the rouge-haired man's inexplicable mask dropped, James had sensed nothing human about him. What had the incubus/succubus procreated with to produce the anomaly he currently held in his arms?

Rather than obliterate the door, James snaked a tendril under it and turned the handle from the inside when he arrived at Ling's. Then, as silent as the Grim Reaper, he carried him upstairs to the bed that held Ling's nectarous scent and placed him gently down. Another young man – whom James thought might have been the Wyatt that had greeted them at his car – lay on a haphazardly placed mattress on the ground at the foot of the bed.

Something must have happened. Perhaps it had something to do with tonight's sleepwalking episode? James soon ignored him again in favour of Ling. He drew the blankets back and put them over the deceptively fragile form. Well, in this state Ling certainly appeared to be. Currently, it must've only been his shadow-self that held inhuman strength.

James was unsure what had driven him to act so rashly. Whilst the easiest and quickest way to sate a cambion was through sex, he still could have simply rendered the young demon-hybrid unconscious. Though interrupting a meal only to deprive them again seemed cruel. Or perhaps he'd just let himself be tempted by Ling.

James chuckled to himself. He would never claim to have a righteous set of morals. Honest until Judgement Day.

Lying's a sin too, Prince. Before the morning light dawned, James left Ling to his rest, though not before brushing those feathery rouge strands from his forehead. If this young man had been alive during The Renaissance, he would have been every artist's muse. And James might never have met him.

He did not very much like the sound of that. As it was, the Valentine Demon and one of the seven Princes of the Inferno Plane, had no intention of letting go and sharing this lovely little creature. He could only imagine what the King, or even the Empyral Plane might do if they discovered this anomaly.

James caressed Ling's lip with his thumb. "Sleep well, Ling."

✦

Ling stretched lazily as he slowly woke, bumping into something in front and behind him. He flinched in alarm and opened his eyes, but it was only Wyatt and Logan.

Fuck sake, for a split-second, he'd thought Xavier might've returned. Ling took a few, calming breaths and sat up. Wait, why the fuck was he sandwiched between Wyatt and Logan? He knew that Logan, Rigby and Logan's dormmate Josh had come over, though Ling did not recall bringing the whole ass sleepover to his bed. He wasn't that much of a hoe.

Ling slid out of bed, grabbed his phone and snapped a quick picture of his two friends in bed together without a barrier now, and went downstairs.

It was a little after 7 a.m., and he thought he might as well make breakfast seeing as everyone had made the drive all the way from campus. Ling felt guilty but was still thankful. Then last night's events all came flooding back, and he almost dropped the pan. Xavier barging in, forcing him against the table, trying to take his shirt off, pressing his lips to Ling's neck. Hitting him.

Ling hurried back upstairs to his en suite and splashed water on his face. Oddly, Ling felt his cheek and found it didn't hurt. When he opened his eyes and took a proper look in the mirror, there was no bruise, no redness even. That was weird. It was a hard hit. But then again, Ling had always been pretty quick to recover from scrapes, sprains, honestly any injury. He'd never really even been sick.

Ling remained leaning over the basin for a little while longer before returning to the kitchen. He made chocolate chip waffles with a side of whipped cream and strawberries, as well as brewed tea and coffee. It was eight by the time he'd finished and the sound of the coffee machine stirred everyone else awake.

In his few more seconds alone, Ling mused over how he actually felt pretty good. Not weak, shaky and aching as he thought he might have been, but strong and well-rested. The wrist Xavier had grabbed didn't hurt either. It had still been fucking scary though.

"Hey, Ling Ge," said Wyatt, squeezing the back of his neck affectionately. Nevertheless, the shock made Ling drop a plate and the porcelain smashed on the ground.

"Shit, sorry," apologised Wyatt. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, it's fine," said Ling, embarrassed as he crouched to pick up the pieces. Thankfully, the plate had only smashed into a few big shards. "I literally heard you coming. It's my fault."

He could see Wyatt frowning at him as the other helped pick things up, though seconds later, a 6-foot-one-tall frat boy in track pants and a tank top came bolting onto the scene with a metal baseball bat.

"Logan?" questioned Ling and Wyatt at the same time.

"Uh, hey. I heard shit break...so you weren't throwing things at Xavier who came back?"

"No," said Ling. "Wyatt and I were playing frisbee with the plate. Next time we'll practice on the carpet." He still smiled at how quickly Logan had come down with a weapon to help after thinking something was wrong.

"Oh, cool," said the athlete, offering a goofy smile.

Wyatt put the shards in the trash while Ling set the table.

"I made breakfast. Come and sit." Logan happily did, propping his bat against his chair. "Logan, why were you and Attie in bed with me? You weren't when I went to sleep."

"Right. Well it was only for a couple of hours. You must have been having a nightmare or something, and me and Attie were the closest. But I did start on the floor next to the bed." The way Logan concluded made it seem like he was confused about the bed part too.

"Dude, you have issues with sleepwalking," said Wyatt, returning. "And you just wanted to get in bed with us."

"Hey," retorted the accused, his mouth full of chocolate chip waffle. "It's not gay if it's your homies."

Wyatt snorted whilst Ling just shook his head.

✦

Logan, Rigby and Josh had since left, and Wyatt, the prick, was still insisting on the whole restraining order ordeal.

"Attie, you really don't have to. Let's just go home," complained Ling in the car. He was of the mindset that if he ignored the problem, it would go away. He'd had worse trouble with several other exes, though they had eventually left him alone.

But his taller and stronger asshole friend was having none of it, and dragged Ling out of the car and into the police station.

When they were called over by the uniformed policewoman at the front desk, Wyatt spoke up in front of a sulky Ling. "Hi, we were wondering how my friend over here would go about filing a restraining order against a violent, trespassing ex?"

As the woman started asking circumstantial questions and going through options, a young man with fair features in a suit walked down the stairs with a couple of others. They didn't wear police uniforms, though they had guns and badges holstered and hooked near their waist, so they must have been detectives.

Ling didn't pay them much mind, as this was a bustling police station, but when he glanced over again at the same time that young detective looked up, he locked eyes with Ling and froze. Ling looked away, not wanting to be caught in an awkward accidental staring contest.

"Ling?" blurted a male voice from across the chamber.

Ling and Wyatt looked over. It was the young, suited man. He came over.

"Is your name Ling?"

"Uh..." Ling looked over the man who was around the same height as him in confusion. "...yes, I am?"

"Right, uh, sorry. I'm Detective Alexander Brandt. Do you mind if I take you upstairs and ask you a few questions?"

"Why?" asked Wyatt curtly.

"Don't worry, it's not an interrogation or anything. But do you know a man by the name of Nicholas Wells?"

You mean my crazy ex that tried to set my apartment on fire who I thankfully haven't seen for five years after hearing he was locked up? "I do. Why?" 

─═ڿڰۣڿ♚ڿڰۣڿ═─♥︎─═ڿڰۣڿ♚ڿڰۣڿ═─

~ Daci