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“My goodness, what a mess.”
Seth knew that voice.
Unfortunately.
Valter tsked his tongue, and the sound of his armor rattling as he hit the ground made Seth grit his teeth in frustration. “Oh, Seth, Seth, Seth...may I call you Seth? I think we’re on a first name basis, don’t you?” He wanted to bite out an insult, curse, or both and then tell Valter where he could go stick his head, but breathing—let alone speaking—was nearly impossible in his current state. The footsteps came closer, and Valter sighed as he crouched just in front of Seth. “You really are in quite the state.”
The rustle of cloth and the clank of armor, and Seth flinched as he felt Valter reach out, lift the underside of his breastplate, and then gasp as if surprised.
“Seth, you’re injured!”
Seth finally opened his eyes, teeth still grit, and found Valter staring down at him. The man was grinning , and blood flecked his face, spots of red on his lips and cheekbones. His pupils were blown so wide they swallowed up his eyes into darkness, and he lifted his fingers to his mouth, pressed them behind his teeth, and slowly licked them clean, eyes closed in delight.
“You’re delicious. So very ripe.”
“Go to hell,” Seth whispered each word making his gut wound ache, too much air wheezing out of him.
“This is hell,” Valter replied, bent to Seth’s chest.
And began to feast.