quite eradicated
He had not intended to react in such a manner, but he was a creature of fire and had no control over the internal whims of a lion anymore than he could pull the moon from the sky. It had been an accident. A single, stupid accident and his world had crumbled. This was perhaps inevitable; his constructed walls rested on unstable ground and were subject to a swamp of emotions that had been bottled up for months now. When the stone collapsed, he was left raw and alone. This too, did not surprise him. Who could he turn to now? A woman that wanted his blood, another who never challenged him, and those lesser beings that came in and out of his life yet like shades.
All it had taken was seeing her face and his world had been set aflame.
Ezekiel did not remember where he had found the vodka. Perhaps her home, when he had gone there out of desperation. She had been a terrible drunk for so many years, and even now, he did not understand why. The clear fire-water did not make him feel better; it only filled his head with red fog and stole control from his body.
Being drunk, as he was now, was not entirely foreign to Ezekiel but he had spurned such things for so long that his tolerance collapsed with the same speed of the castle. He had traveled far west, carrying the painting, carrying the bottle. No weapons joined him, only the bag, because he had been smoking since he had first knocked over the image and seen the ghosts of what once had been.
So in his madness, this thing caused by poison and smoke, he did not think of repercussions. He thought only of his fury, his sorrow, the grief he had not faced. Gabriel had been faced with a hurt, but recognizable, loss. She…no she had stabbed him in the back and dug into his back, as if this might one day open a path to his soul. He had killed for her. He had thrown away everything he had once had to please her.
He used the vodka to start the fire, and he had watched it burn with hate in his heart. They faded into flame, a boy now lost to this beast, and a girl who had chosen to flee from the only person who loved her. Had she but asked, he would have gone with her. It was a devotion unworthy of all others. Ezekiel might have, if she had asked, crossed a line even he did not realize was fading between them. Her eyes burned and he felt an uncomfortable heat in his loins. Did he really think of her in such a way? Perhaps. Who else could he have? The women of Inferni were nothing like the crimson siren who alone had been able to ease the torment within him, even if she was at its heart. She was the eye of the hurricane and as long as they were together, the rest of the world could be destroyed.
He took another swig of the burning liquid and grimaced, lips pulling away from yellowing teeth. For as intoxicated as he was, a peculiar amount of physical control remained—he was certain of his body, if not his emotions, his mind. So when the voice rose, slow and deep over the tide, he bristled visibly. The Hunter, the dark hybrid who so challenged his right to rule, approached. Ezekiel turned to face him, naked in the moonlight, and showed his teeth in a mask somewhere between a smile and a snarl.
“Come, Lord of Thistles, come and greet me as you should!” He called into the night, and laughed. It was a raven’s voice, a hysterical and raw sound that did not belong to him. The smoking had aided in turning his voice raw over the years, but it was doubled now by the amount he had consumed tonight. He laughed because this false royalty was all they were; savages and primitive men donning crowns and titles when they were nothing.
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