That strange incident, coupled with Cherosh's more than unsettling reaction, made Matthew doubt his decision seriously. Sure, there were a lot of advantages of having a servant, but if it was one barely to be controlled in any case, and a halfblooded vampire on top of that, it became an unnerving balancing of every of his actions. Matthew just knew that wouldn't got well for a long time. But what was he supposed to do?
The halfbreed needed to be taken care of, that far he had gotten already. But how was he supposed to do that? After all, he may could push Cherosh back to Hell, but, then again, he wanted to give it another shot. After all, this 'tall, dark and handsome' type wasn't easy to be found. Even when having his flaws, the halfbreed was damned close to his imagination of an ideal individual of this type.
The gaze the other had casted at him when having acted like this after the sketches, however, had given him the chills having lasted for several days. He hadn't talked to Cherosh, and had tried to actually avoid the halfbreed as long as his needs didn't become too prominent. But in the halfbreed's case, it was close to impossible to keep away from Cherosh.
Sighing to himself, Matthew was indecisive about how to approach the halfbreed any longer. Cherosh was showing more and more signs of having lost it completely. He was acting irrational, had this strange absent moments several times a day, and overall acted completely out of person. If it had helped with feeling safe, he would have been glad. But in this case, the tension just increased.
Nothing could ease the climbing tension of their 'relationship' (Matthew wasn't even sure if he ever could call that), which made both of them anxious. Still, it needed several weeks before something happened. But this time, it escalated.
It was in the evening once more, when they sat in the kitchen. Cherosh had drunk some blood, and now was watching Matthew with an unreadable expression. "Is something the matter?" the necromancer finally asked, having a bad feeling about this. "Just wondering how you could guess how I get rid of my victims."
If there was something he didn't want to know, then it was about the halfbreed's treatment for his victims. "W-what?" Matthew stammered, not wanting to hear what would come next. "Your sketches. They showed pretty well how I disposed of all of those bodies. Slicing them, carrying them into the grave they dug themselves..."
Without answering, the necromancer rose, panic now rising inside of him. If Cherosh was talking about that, would that mean he soon was to join those unfortunate ones having been killed by the halfbreed? He had known before that vampires weren't exactly decent about such things, but then again, it was unsettling, more than unsettling, to listen to Cherosh talking that easily about it.
"Matthew?" Cherosh sounded surprised, and a bit worried, approaching Matthew slowly. He was close to the other male now, but the necromancer immediately backed away from the vampire. "No, don't..." Matthew whispered, his chest heaving, panic now clearly on his face. The taller male's claws were just a few inches away from Matthew, and now, they were twitching with what either was anger or indecisiveness.
"I see. I was too sure that you would trust me." Cherosh hissed, his hand darting forward and closing around Matthew's throat. He wasn't choking the necromancer yet, but he was damned close to that. A frightening, much too calm expression was spreading on the vampire's face, giving the smaller male the feeling he was close to meeting his doom.
"Now listen closely, little necromancer..." the vampire purred lowly, voice silky, but nonetheless very threatening. "You were planning to send me back to Hell, weren't you. You don't trust me any longer, and therefore, you want to get rid of me. But you won't lay a finger on my life, am I being clear about that?"
Matthew nodded only very slightly, tearing up at the feeling of those razor-sharp claws on his neck. He was scared he would get sliced if he moved too much, therefore he made a point of not moving in any way. Cherosh smirked now, seeming to be satisfied with Matthew's answer. "I'm going on a little hunt now. And when I come back, you will welcome me like a good necromancer."
Again nodding, the smaller raven-head whined until Cherosh finally had let go of his throat. Still too scared to move, Matthew didn't flex a muscle until he was sure the other male had gone. Only then, he gasped for air, threatening to break down. Up to this point, he had been confident he would be able to control Cherosh, but after this warning, he was positive about all of this going out of hand.
Steadying himself, he hastily looked around. He couldn't kill Cherosh like that. It was risky to send back a soul to Hell without having a clue where the body was at that time. Then again, he couldn't do nothing at all. He wanted to at least be sure the vampire wouldn't get back inside the house. In that case, the sunlight and maybe a spell could take care of Cherosh.
He had to be fast, so the necromancer immediately began to work on a protection ward for his house. Feverishly muttering, Matthew weaved the spell around his house, feeling Cherosh coming back again already. The connection with the halfbreed was useful as well as putting quite some pressure on him. I will do it... I will keep him outside...
Cherosh indeed noticed the ward around the house, and his most primitive vampire instincts immediately reacted to it. "Fuck, this moron really...?!" A choking feeling burned down his throat, and he lost himself completely in the rage of the half vampiric side awakening to it's worst degree. Killing and destroying were the only purposes of this side...
Matthew yelped as he was thrown against the kitchen counter, a sizeable hole having been smashed into the wall. The kitchen table had been split in half from the impact, and with a whimpering sound, Matthew reaised that at least three of his ribs had been broken. His self regeneration was already starting to operate, but that wouldn't be enough by far to safe him from the raging halfbreed.
But then, something most confusing happened: something seemed to emerge from Cherosh's shadow, and with a yelp, the halfbreed was smashed against the floor, not before hitting his head hard against the edge of the broken table, knocking him out. Matthew took the chance, snatching a bag of salt and whining as he drew a jiggly circle around the halfbreed. As soon as that had happened, Cherosh whined in his unconscience, some blood pooling around his head.
Needing something, anything dead to help himself with, Matthew bowed down as far as he could (the ribs were giving him Hell, but it was necessary to fuel his self-regeneration. The blood was half dead already, so it was a pretty good energy flash already. His ribs healed far enough to not hurt with every tiny movement. It may was more bearable now, though the knowledge of Cherosh having been close to killing him was making his stomach protest.
The vampire never had uttered such a threat, but it was clear from the halfbreed's actions. With a whince, he summoned ghosts to take care of the damage having been caused in the kitchen, before he left Cherosh in the salt circle. No way he would have the other male have his way any time soon again.
It took quite some time for the vampire to move again. His head hurt more than the rest of his body, and the knowledge he was the one being responsible for the damage his surroundings had taken wasn't making it any better. I just hope Matthew is okay... I could use some blood and a good fuck now...
But that thought wasn't an honest one. He would have thought like that honestly before he had met the necromancer, but at this point, he couldn't help but to have grown attached to the necromancer. It was hard to find anyone accepting a halfbreed, much less love. And he almost had totally screwed that up.
For the first time in years, he felt regret for what he had done to Matthew. He was positive about the other having lost any trust in him – and he was understanding perfectly well. Had their positions in this relationship been exchanged, he would have felt the same way. After all, a halfbreed was instable. Too instable to trust after such an incident.
After a felt eternity, Cherosh was able to move. Thirst was burning in his throat, and with a groan, he staggered on his feet, going over to the sink and gulping down quite some water to get rid of the thirst. After that hunt, and his almost kill of Matthew, he didn't feel like drinking blood in a while. Which could go wrong just as anything else.
Placing his hands on the kitchen counter, the halfbreed tried to become calm and focussed again. But as soon as he heard Matthew's panic-filled whimpering, he couldn't have become still any longer. Looking up hesitantly, he locked eyes with the necromancer. What should he say? He wanted to regain Matthew's trust into him, but that would be a damn hard piece of work.
"Wait..." The smaller male froze, just as he had wanted to back away again. The halfbreed straigthened up a little more, biting his lower lip and trying to not sigh, as that would have been a way of making himself the victim, not the criminal. "Please, I want to apologise. Even if that is quite for naught, I guess."
Matthew whimpered still as Cherosh approached him, his chest still hurting a bit and giving him trouble. "You almost killed me." the necromancer muttered, sounding accusingly. "You broke into my house and my body in the course. Why... why didn't you tell me about your vampiric side, how uncontrolled it is? I could have fixed that!"
His former fear had become anger, and now, Matthew had hit an important point. If Cherosh truely wanted the other to have trust into him, why hadn't he mentioned this crucial bit of information? "I'm sorry. I thought I could control it this time, but apparently, it was stronger than my rationality again."
That didn't help in the least, Matthew still was fuming. "I don't care if you sleep down here or outside, just don't come near my bedroom!" With that, the necromancer had gone upstairs, leaving a quite surprised halfbreed. "Oh great." Cherosh groaned, pacing around the living room. Now he had screwed up for real, he just felt it. But he surely didn't want to go back to Hell.
When he was pacing up and down the living room, though, he noticed something under the couch. Blinking in confusion, he crouched down and pulled a leather collar with strass stones from under the furniture. "Maybe I can use this as a good enough excuse?" He had a faint idea what he would do about it already, and he hoped it would work out.