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Trust would ultimately be their undoing, caution a distant thought each night they flew to the temple and back into their lovers arms. Fate was the wind beneath their ebony wings, they allowed it to carry them without hesitation into his embrace. They had both grown accustomed to this life of secrets, bliss and peace. They hoped it would last.
However, fate was fickle and cared little for the whims of others.
Neither did the White Wolf, holder of his peoples misplaced hopes during the tides of war. Hidden behind honeysuckle he lingered just beyond the grove, allowing his anger to fester until it boiled over. Millions of wicked thoughts crossed his mind as he watched what was his in the arms of another, a Seraph. It was wrong, it was twisted.
And Thiago would tear it apart until not a trace was left.
Hushed laughter turned to screams of pain as they were torn from each other, every desperate attempt to be one again in vain. The White Wolf reveled in it, to have the Seraph pressed into the mud whilst Kamaria was forced to their knees before him, the leopard fur that tapered off at their mid thigh growing clumped with mud. His claws slid through their thick hair as he kneeled beside them, forcing their head back and pressing his fangs to their throat.
Their wings spasmed in a pitiful attempt to get away, that was also in vain. Thiago merely tightened his hold, their blood slipping between his fingers. The Angel screamed his own protest at his loves distress, still fighting for them and their shared hope of peace.
It made Thiago sick, growling as he ran his cheek against Kamaria’s throat with comical tenderness. They squirmed and the Seraph hissed, fiery wings flexing before being forced closer to his back. It brought Thiago indescribable joy to reduce them both to this.
“Perhaps,” he purred, “sweet bird, you could show me how deeply sorry you are."
He had no need for a sword, his claws and teeth were damage enough as Kamaria’s blood proved, but he carried one on his person anyways. Mostly for show, to rally his army and his people, but it was still intended to slaughter any Seraph between him and freedom. He dropped it before them, pressing his mouth to Kamaria’s ear,
”Kill him.“
And he dropped them into the dirt, Kamaria barely keeping themselves held up.
With the kish-mish of the disturbed Evangelines behind them, Kamaria didn’t even give the shining sword a passing glance. Fury and defeat, love and grief spurred them on, turning to face Thiago with all the ferocity they could muster. Blood ran down their brow, dripping across their left eye and onto their hand.
And they spat in his face.
It was answer enough.
Wiping away their saliva, Thiago took a moment to compose himself, nostrils flaring before slamming their head into the ground. The Seraph screamed into the night as Kamaria went limp, wings splaying across the ground in their fall from grace.
Even now Thiago found them beautiful just as he always had, his pretty bird that was stolen away. He had to temper the desire to sink his teeth into their vulnerable neck.