[i][b]Jackson[/b][/i]

Jackson Grey stood amongst corpses. The sun was just setting and it set a soft light to the carnage around him. This part of the rebel territory was now unoccupied. The Warlocks that had ambushed him had done their very best to kill him, it was a war after all. He had been faintly amused as he killed them, their blasts of fire and bolts of energy slamming against his shields of destructive red energy and failing. It was simple matter then to cut them the fuck down with his katana, the silver enchanted blade singing it’s lethal purpose with every deadly slice. 

One Warlock was completely severed from head to toe, right down the middle. His internal organs and brain matter splattered on the ground. The gory sight of death and brutality delivered by his hands didn’t really phase him. Not anymore anyway, he had seen so much of it in his long years that it had numbed him to it. There came a tsking sound next to him and Jackson’s blue gaze touched upon the gorgeous redhead next to him. Lilith had been with him for over two-hundred years. The demoness was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Her skin was creamy white and he knew from experience that it was soft, her lush curves could not help to draw any man’s eye, and he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was letting his gaze trail over them. 

Her breasts were full and round. Her fire red hair was long and curly, falling down her back and to her waist. Her jade green eyes were cat like and full of almost dark amusement, her ruby red lips were twisted in a seductive little smile as she watched him looking at her. He knew that she had adorable fangs behind those lips. He almost felt bad for looking at her this way, but Rachel had made her choices. Lilith had been with him for so long, she had never betrayed him or lied to him or manipulated him, no matter his state. She helped him and consoled him, she was everything he could want, demon or no. 

Oh people thought demons were manipulative and tricksy fuckers, but it didn’t work like that with them. She was infused with his soul, his very being. She could not hide her thoughts and feelings from him or vice versa. He was an open book to her. Granted she probably understood more about him then he understood about her. She had human emotions, but she wasn’t human. If she took control from him, which she would do if he ever starved or lost control of his bloodlust, she would kill and cause destruction to anyone and everything that crossed her path. It was who she was, it was her purpose and reason for being. No matter how much she loved him, and she did love him, she would do what she was made to do. She had no choice in the matter. Demons did not have free will in the same way humanity and other supernatural beings did. 

“What now, Lilith?” He finally asked her, wiping the blade of his katana on a dead warlocks cloak. She pouted at his tone. Again, fucking adorable. 

“You lacked flair.” Flair. It amused him that in a time of war, she worried about the style of his killing. “It’s a war, babe. Fucking flair is the last thing I need.” She frowned and tilted her head to the side, “What does that mean, ‘babe’? I am not a human child.” 

He wished she didn’t always appear naked. Yes he was the only one who could see her, she was in his mind after all, but still. “It’s a term of affection.” He pulled her to him and kissed her before she said anything else. Her body seemed to melt into soft feminine warmness against him. It was so goddamn real, there was no discernable difference from the real thing. Though to anyone else, he’d be kissing the air. No one really could understand the intimacy of their relationship. She was apart of him in every way, and yet not him. She understood him on a level that no one else ever could or would. It was impossible unless you were her. She was literally a part of his soul, and he apart of hers. Even if their long time intimate friendship took this long to grow into something more, it was probably inevitable. 

So he kissed her amongst the corpses of Warlocks, in a war zone, and he loved it all the same. 

[i][b]ELSEWHERE- Lycan Border House[/b][/i]

The rebel was chained up with magic, and he looked tired. Healthy enough, his healing factor allowed him to heal the majority of his wounds, but he looked tired all the same. The beatings he took weren’t so bad, or at least he told himself. 

“When do you think he’ll tell us what he knows?” One of his captures asked, a short extra hairy Lycan. “Who knows. He probably won’t. I’m having fun anyway,” a Lycan girl with short cropped hair said. 

Their conversation was short lived as there was a huge BOOM as an explosion rocked the building. Shouts of “The Rebels are attacking!” filled the air and the sounds of violence and the smell of fire overtook the ears and nose. The rebel capture smiled and began to laugh. 

[i][b]ELSEWHERE- DarkWorld Faction Recreation Building[/b][/i]

Lancelot drank his ale, or was it called beer now? He wasn’t sure. He drank and looked around and listened. “Just got word, Rebels attacking the Border House over in Lycan territory.” He heard a snort, “They’ll be put down quickly. Lot of them are idiots.” 

Lance took a swig of his drink. They were underestimating these Rebels. It was always unwise to underestimate your opponents. Lance supposed that he should go help, but it would probably be over by the time he got there. Still...He drank.