Half an inch. Roman's life has been taken over and destroyed by half an inch of poison-filled metal. Unable to deny the control Denzel now holds over him, Roman is no better than a puppet, controlled and used in however horrifying way the shadowkin leader orders. He longs for his freedom, an escape before he is forced to kill again, but without the ability to so much as lift a finger by his own choice, the most he can pray for is a merciful end.
Dorian is a Gregorian angel, tasked with witnessing the events of man, yet forbidden to interfere in any way. The consequences of breaking the Gregorian covenant are final, fatal, but something about Roman, the demon he finds imprisoned by the shadow elves, has him longing to break all the rules. Torn between duty and what his heart is telling him is right, Dorian chooses to fall, to touch the demon regardless of what the consequences will mean. He knows he has made the right decision and will happily live out the rest of his life with his choice, for however short that now might be.
The van skidded around a corner, rolling Roman into the legs of one of the rows of passengers. More than one of the Mages kicked him back, snickering as Roman took the blows without a whimper. He stared at the ceiling of the van after another kick rolled him onto his back, praying that one of them just took it too far and ended him. The other guardians had biological parents who spoke to them, helping them in their times of greatest need. Roman had no one. He was a demon, and as such he was the most hated and feared species of the paranormal community. That also meant he was the most outcast. If he had a parent somewhere looking over him, they sure weren't forthcoming.
The van eventually shuddered to a stop. The doors opened moments later and brilliant sunshine flooded the small rear of the van. The light blinded Roman, sent piercing arrows of pain through his eyes and into the back of his skull, but he couldn't even close his damn eyes to stop the pain.
Eydan, the fucking prick, leaned in and winked at Roman, before indicating for his men to pull Roman out. They did so, dragging him out and onto the ground by the chains that bound his body.
The left side of Roman's face and body slammed into the hard uneven ground, stones digging in and undoubtedly piercing his cheek as the bastards dragged him along behind them. The small wounds would heal, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt like a bitch until they did.
By the time they finally dragged him into what looked like some sort of hayloft barn and dumped him on the ground, Roman was sure he had worn off several layers of skin to the side of his face. Eydan toed him in the side, rolling him until Roman was face up.
"You all should be far more careful with my toys," Eydan droned. "I don't like to see them damaged. It means I can't use them in public without raising suspicion." He snapped his fingers toward another of his underlings, pointing down at Roman.
"Heal the face only. He needs to be able to blend in."