#billskarsgardoneshot

[starshipsofstarlord]

Don’t Do This | Roman Godfrey

There was a lust inside of the Godfrey heir, not only for sex, but for power, to have somebody’s blood running from his perfect lips, tainting whatever expensive shirt that he was adorned in.

It was a mutual agreement, to have him contact strange men that allowed leeches to hang carelessly off of their old and corrupt bodies, it was no surprise that the odd diet was no longer satisfying him.

The realisation was always there, closeted in the back of your mind, however you refused to let it out. There was no other option than to believe in him, if you didn’t then who would?

Peter was gone, he ran with the wind when Letha had been confirmed as dead. Now it was just you and your up stuck friend Roman, fighting for his will and whatever else came your way, such as his rights to his inheritance.

That didn’t change him much, but his best friend leaving had. The young man became somewhat colder, refusing to wrap his long and clinging arms around your exposed frame once you chose to spend the night every now and then.

It was some kind of distraction for the both of you, and god knew that the green eyed monster was in dire need of it. The entanglement of your bodies was nothing more than a nightly escapade, one to clear minds and keep hearts remaining locked. However it wasn’t exactly so simple for you.

Oh no, it was far more complicated than that. There was love and hate, both casting opinions about your upir bed mate and business partner, conflicting the matters of your heart and mind. If someone were here, whether it be Peter or Letha, they could help you solve these flooding emotions.

There was no denying that you didn’t want to feel any of them, but they always returned each time that you saw the giant. Even now, as he stood before you, a recognisable tint of red upon his pout.

“You broke the deal.” You stated, choosing not to grow angry. If his inner beast was hungry, it didn’t matter if he cared for you, the monster wouldn’t consider that factor. It would rather sink its launching teeth into a vein that have a tame conversation. “Who was it?”

His head tilted to behind the island of the kitchen, his thumb coming up to wipe the leftovers from his mouth. “Some delivery guy, funnily enough, he had a letter for you.”

He plucked the paper that had blood stained fingerprints over it, picking out the contents and opening them, cleaning his throat before he began to read the letter aloud.

The thought had you squirming, there were many things that you kept from Roman, whatever this was being one of them.

“Dearest Miss (Y/N),” he began, the introduction already having you on edge. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as it wasn’t anything from Peter, if Roman found out that you were in cahoots with him, well, you weren’t entirely sure how that scenario would end.

“I am writing to you, to give you the information that your blood has the ability to keep Mr Godfrey alive. Seeing as you queried on the behalf of this, I can also see it possible for you to be a supplementary food source, however the idea will need to be tested first, in a practical sense, from Yohan.”

Nodding your head at the contents of the letter, your action only seemed to infuriate Roman thus more. He bit his lip, trying to refrain from speaking his mind, but it was well known in his bloodline that it was hardly manageable.

“Look, I can explain...” it was a gesture of good will, offering answers to someone that sought them, but still, even as you had tried to diffuse the tension, it only seemed to thicken it.

“Explain what?” He barked rather harshly, coming to stand before you as he peered below, his envious pools boaring into your human soul. “Explain that you were willing to let Pryce play doctor, just so I could, unknowingly may I add, drink your tested blood?”

As his words hit home, he raked his hands through his locks, tugging on them, trying to relieve some of the stress. Sex wouldn’t cut it this time, that was a one way ticket to distraction, and he by no means wanted to disregard this matter at hand.

Your lip quivered as he spat words, Roman wasn’t scaring you. He was making you realise how inconsiderate you had been by not consulting him in this ploy. But even if you had, there was nothing to say that he would react any better.

“I’m going to kill him.” Roman stated, air seething through his clenching teeth as his hands formed infuriated fists. “I’m going to have Pryce’s fucking scientist head for this shit!”

“Don’t.” It was a plain argument, that did nothing for demotivating him on his planned hunt. “It was my fault, it was my idea.”

“He agreed to your stupid fucking idea though!” He yelled, grabbing his keys as he was intent on reaching the door, that was until your hand grasped his elbow, tugging him back with the effort of all of your weight. “Let me go.”

It was an order. It was a command, and at that your grip loosened, allowing him to skulk off, and you’d have to wait until tomorrow to know whether or not Pryce had survived.

[starshipsofstarlord]

roman godfrey

peter rumaneck

[starshipsofstarlord]

One last Call

You were going to hate him.

It was official it would be the end of the two of you, once and for all.

There was nothing he could do nothing he could say that could make anything he did better.

He killed Destiny. He broke her neck in cold blood, ending any possibility of anything being okay.

Nothing would be okay. He had screwed up, big time.

From your hatred.

Roman pulled his phone from his pocket, calling you.

The device was held to his ear and he was relieved to hear that it went to voicemail.

It meant the inevitable was delayed, but that you wouldn't be a problem for now.

"Whatever you hear, I'm sorry."

Peter was another problem, one that he could deal with.

This was never how the rich man thought his life would go. It used to be you and him, and then Peter moved to town.

Things were okay, up until Letha died. If she were alive today, perhaps things wouldnt be so messed up.

He stood over where he had buried Peter. The problem was solved. But his sister was still out there, twisting his words and nurturing his baby.

She was a monster. An upir. And so was he.

So many people had called him a monster and he had denied their accusions. But now he believed them.

His best friend was dying, losing oxygen in the dirt, and you were oblivious to all that he had done.

It would be the last time that he called you. He couldn't stand to hear the innocence and lack of suspicion in your voice ever again.

It was taunting. Hurtful. Even though it wasn't supposed to be.

He got home. And there you were, sat on the sofa.

You were still, and it made him believe that Annie had gotten to you. Deluded your mind with the truth, demanding you run for the hills and away from her brother.

"What are you doing here?" He croaked out. You turned, standing and going towards him.

"I'm here to see you." You told him.

"You shouldn't be here." He told you, heading to the fridge to take out and open a bag of blood.

The way you looked at him put him off his appetite, and so he wiped whatever red residue had stained his lips and put the bloated bag on the side. "Go."

"I need to make sure you're okay. That call was strange earlier."

There was no fear in your eyes. Yet you surely knew what he had done. You recognised him as a blood thirsty monster.

"I'm not okay." He responded, a frown ebbing into his forehead. "You surely know why."

"I don't." He tried walking past you but you blocked his path with your fragile body. 

“Move.” He ordered you. But you were always one to defy his orders, even if they had the intention of keeping you safe.

You were the one person he could never hurt, he told himself. You were too important to him.

“No.” You denied the upir, refusing to take even one step to the left.

“The call meant nothing.” It meant everything. It was an apology to not only you, but everyone else.

“Bullshit!” He could hear the fuming blood beating in your veins. He needed blood, and before he could reach for the bag that he had put down, you grabbed it.

“Don’t.” He told you.

“Tell me what you did Roman.” You pleaded with him.

And then it snapped inside of him. “You know. Annie told you!”

“She hasn’t told me anything.” You taunted him once more. 

Breath seethed through between his teeth. You were driving him crazy. Your arm reached out to comfort him, but he couldn’t control himself.

He grabbed it, pulling you closer and launching his teeth into your throat. Your arm dropped the blood bag, spilling the contents on the ground and decorating the kitchen floor in red.

Your own blood mixed with it, your eyes and mouth were agape as you tried and failed to scream. 

Roman couldn’t stop himself. Not this time.

In the past you had allowed him to nick your skin with a razor and lick what bled. It always tasted delicious and he treated it as though it was a treat. But this was a feast.

Amidst his meal, your phone rang, but clearly you were too busy to answer. Roman was too preoccupied to pay it any attention.

His arms dragged you down to the ground, his mouth removing itself from where it tore your flesh.

He sobbed in shock, the taste of your blood now disgusting him. “No!” He screamed, realising what severe damage he had caused.

Roman shook your body, but it remained limp in his arms. Even dead you were so beautiful.

And then he remembered, your phone. He gently grabbed it from your back pocket, playing the message that the caller had sent.

“It’s Annie. You need to get out of this town. Roman killed Destiny, and Peter’s gone after him. Stay safe.”

You really hadn’t known.

And now like Destiny, you were dead.