Thrill. Lust. Agony. Emotions roll through his head like a hurricane through the vulnerable south. His eyes tell differing stories to that of his mouth. Lies pour from his pouting lips, making his eyes seem much more reliable. To pick a fight with a lycanthrope, to find himself dead in an alley. Would either of these make him any less demon? From birth he has been alienated. Injected with the blood of his mortal enemy. Torn between two sides of himself:both angel and demon. But neither are true.