Soren's protection
Drawing away like a wolf from its prey, I wipe my bloodied mouth on the back of my hand, all but gasping for breath. There is something about the taste of Azrael's blood that is entirely unnatural, bitter and acrid on the tip of my tongue, as though it is some sort of disease invading my body. There is no hiding the choking cough that escapes my lips as my body heaves and grunts its disapproval of the foreign liquid that has managed to seep its way into my stomach. My insides churn.
"Serena?" Azrael half demands, half frets, his fingers trying to find their way around my arm to steady me, but he misses by a mile. It seems I am not the only one intoxicated by blood. But it would seem that my ailment is a very different kind of intoxication. "Serena answer me please, what is wrong why wont you-"
My feet stumble out beneath me as another wave of liquid seeps up to my stomach, reaching the back of my throat.