Azazel's eyes were clamped shut as daylight broke. There was no way in hell he was going to get up from his current position any time soon. As the night progressed, he slowly sobbed up, lifting him out of his trance state, but his body just didn't want to move.
Hangover symptoms were always something he disliked, but this was the worst case he ever experienced. It was as if his body's response was amplified tenfold.
"Hello?" He heard a small voice call out.
"...Later." He managed to reply as he rested his arm across his forehead.
A voice... Oh, shit.
Vague memories began to flood back to him via his tastebuds. He had tasted human blood. The sweet taste lingered in the back of his throat. It was as if his instincts didn't want him to forget the most delicious meal that had ever graced his tongue. Though he hadn't lost total control, it was enough.
Suddenly, he felt worthless.
If he had kept himself away from alcohol, he wouldn't be in the mess. But how was he supposed to know the profound effects of the drug? It didn't even assist with a certain non-limp issue.
"Wake up!"
"I'm not asleep," he muttered.
"Then open your eyes."
"...No."
He recognized the voice speaking to him. It was the girl he had stolen the meal from. Stolen might have been an exaggeration, as the woman had practically begged for him to feast upon her, but it didn't help him feel any less complicated about it. If he hadn't fallen on his ass, he probably would have done more.
"Oof."
Azazel felt her frame jump on top of him, and small hands poked at his cheeks.
"I am not opening my eyes!" He growled, his headache's intensity growing by the second.
"You may want to, because your buddy is looking at you from the doorframe," Natasha purred as she stroked his cheek.
Azazel turned his head to the side, squinting toward the towering figure.
"Oh my God..." He burst out laughing.
George #2 stood in the doorway with his arms crossed against his chest. The black ink was all over his face.
Azazel had forgotten about that part of the night.
"..."
"..."
"..."
Another laugh roared within him as he looked at the hulking man. He couldn't believe they got away with defacing him.
Before he could react, he saw a face directly in front of him. Natasha had leaned down, looking at him directly with her yellow eyes.
I thought her eyes were blue.
"Please let me up," he frowned.
Azazel sighed. He stood up and brushed off his black clothing. His throat stung as he took a sniff, recognizing the blood coursing through the woman.
Then it hit him.
He looked at her.
She... changed.
Another facepalm.
"I remember!" Natasha purred, inching up to him.
Of course, she does. She was pretty much no longer a human. Somehow, he had infused her with some of his demonic essence during the bite. It was something he wasn't aware could happen. It did, however, explain why, when he would drink the blood from an animal, it would turn into the living dead. The damn BokeBall was a corpse container. It did nothing on its own.
Except this girl was not the living dead, but now a demon herself. Her new pair of red horns and glowing, yellow eyes immediately gave away the idea the idea that drinking the blood of a human was a bad idea.
Azazel coughed, pretending not to react to her new appearance as she clutched his arm. "Do you remember feeling anything when I bit you?"
She tilts her head back. "Yes, it burned."
"Burned?" He looked down at her. Somehow, the situation had made her features even softer and prettier than before. Thankfully, he had guilt from the ordeal, so he would never allow that to happen a second time.
"I felt something running into my veins," she nodded seriously.
"Venom?" Azazel was mostly asking himself out loud.
"Oh!! Am I the first human you bit?"
Azazel frowned at her and blushed. He gave himself away.
"That's so adorable," she said, nudging her face into his arm. "I am yours forever now! Azzy!"
He felt like he was going to puke.
"Master Azzy~!"
Vomit-inducing words.
With a sigh, he approached the door with Natasha still hanging onto him. As he made it to the exit, George leaned forward, punching Azazel cleanly in the face.
The demon raised his hand, rubbing his forehead as Natasha freaked out. He needed a minute.
He allowed the two of them to bicker, though George was silent the entire time as he thought about why he was punched in the face.
Emma. That's why.
"It's not like I slept with her," Azazel smirked toward George.
George punched him again.
Azazel got the hint after the second punch. Emma was going to either not give a shit or be devastated when he bit this girl, and her brother realized it before he did. He was sure George realized which way it would go, but he was essentially mute, so it did the demon no good.
"I will apologize," Azazel sighed. He already messed up after just two days of their not-so-thrilling love affair.
Azazel stepped outside; the rays of the sun were way too bright. He was going to puke from there now.
The demon turned around, peering at Natasha. "So, where's the carpenter?"
"Here," she simply stated.
"Where?"
"Right here."
"Okay, but where?"
Azazel frowned again. He didn't have the patience for these antics.
Natasha looked back and forth between the two men. "Here," she pointed at herself.
If he had it in him, Azazel's jaw would have hit the floor. If she were a he, he would have socked her one in the same manner George had him moments prior.
Instead, he sighed. "And why didn't you just tell me this last night?"
Natasha grinned mischievously, running back to his side. She wrapped herself around his arm. "I wanted you, master."
This little witch. "Is that why you encouraged me to drink?"
Natasha grinned up at him. "Yep."
"Well, you failed." Azazel looked back down at her, his brow furrowed in disbelief.
"No, I didn't," she smirked. "I took your fang's virginity."
I want to die now.
Slowly, he walked to the edge of the mountain. He gazed down, thinking of how his body would splat into a puddle of goo as it hit the rocks below. It was a fitting death for a king. It was better than being a war prisoner, at least. There were worse ways to die.
Before he could move again, George picked him up, setting him back down next to Natasha.
Natasha ran inside. She retrieved several sheets of paper and a quill, handing them to the hulking man. George scribbled on the paper, then held it up for Azazel.
"Deal with it like a man, bro."
Azazel stood there with his eyes closed as Natasha pranced around him. He knew he had to face the consequences of his actions.
As he was lost in his thoughts, the woman had scaled his side. She pressed her lips against his ear.
"I will take the other kind of virginity, too, master!"
Azazel tried to grab the rascal of a demon, whom he was not entirely convinced he had made into a demon, but she was too nimble to catch with her heightened agility from the infusion of venom.
"So, are you willing to be our carpenter?" He sighed. He almost just wanted to go back with empty hands. Surely, another carpenter could be found. He didn't want to present this girl to Emma and Granny.
"Of course, I am your loyal servant now," Natasha beamed a bright smile and a thumbs up in his direction.
George held up another sheet of paper. "Nice going, bro."
He felt it was a backhanded compliment.
However, he was pleased that he now had a way to communicate with the man. He didn't know why he didn't think before trying to use a pen and paper to speak with him.
Azazel shrugged and stepped forward. It was doing them no good to stay there. Even if he told her not to follow him, he knew Natasha would pick up his scent and follow them from a distance.
The trio headed down the mountain. Azazel was not the quickest on his feet after drinking over half a bottle of moonshine, but he would make do.
On several different occasions, he made them stop so he could hurl off the side of the mountain. Now he understood why he had never heard stories of demons consuming copious amounts of booze. This was one feeling he would never forget, no matter how long he lived.
There was nothing quite like blowing chucks off the side of a mountain.
Azazel was suddenly not in a hurry to get back, which was amplified by the disgusting feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The little demon made it difficult for him to be excited to tell the ladies waiting for him that he found success on the mountain—in more ways than one.