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Show me the way to the next whiskey bar
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Though Heath was able to find the humor in the situation, however twisted and distorted, it was obvious that Haven did not. The tawny male stopped his laughing, however soft and cynical it may be. Seeing and feeling the rage that wracked through the other male’s body Heath couldn’t help but catch the contagious emotion. Fingered curled along the bottle tightly, letting the alcohol that filtered through his system take his emotions up and down like a rollercoaster. Thinking again about what he would be, the role he could so easily slip into. The more he thought about it the sweeter the revenge would be. It would be easy, his drunken mind was convinced, that he could take the life effortlessly. But what it would make him was the question, not how he would do it or even if he would do it.
Them. The answer was simple, ever so easy to say and give the other male. If Haven was hoping to have an excuse, some reason or justification for killing the males that had sired them and then took so much from them, he wouldn’t get it. Not from Heath. The real question is if you can live with what you’ve done, and become. His vodka saturated mind was so oddly clear, like the things that he filled his mind with moved aside, purges and replaced with the clear liquid and because of it translucent form he could see right through it.
Though his head felt light, his eyelids heavy and his entire mouth was numb from the harsh liquid. But his mind was clear.
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