51

The prison was far more pleasant than Damien had been expecting. Warm, bright and clean, with only a faint whiff of urine and despair. Unlike the werewolves, he had no heightened sense of smell--a fact he was grateful for. It was the single advantage they had over him. He had a plethora of psychic powers, was a hundred times stronger, could fly and in his shifted form... could breathe a fire that burned hotter than the sun's surface.

Adrian's face lit up when he saw Damien approach.

"I told you, didn't I?" Adrian boasted. He was always boasting. "I said I could get you any girl you wanted. I bet she's just eating out of your hands."

Damien smiled as he sat opposite his friend at the white plastic table.

"You are the master of manipulation." Damien flattered him. “But is that really what you wish to discuss?”

He gave him one of those, 'Really, bitch?' looks until Adrian’s face fell, his chin wobbling for a second before he shut up and looked down.

“Why did you eat Tom?” he muttered