Andreas frowned, seeing Asalia bring Koda more chicken but not him. He lifted some rice up to his mouth, bracing himself and shoving it in. A moment passed and a long shiver traveled all the way up his body and he promptly spit the stuff out into a napkin. He scowled. There was no way he could force himself to eat that stuff, so he would have to just deal with not having sex for two weeks. “You know, there are some demons who really can only eat meat,” he muttered. The trouble was, since demons could have offspring infinitely different from themselves, there was no telling which demons<span style="font-style: italic">couldn’t</span>eat veggies and which<span style="font-style: italic">wouldn’t</span>. Asalia seemed to have decided that he was the latter.<br/><br/>Andreas couldn’t hear Saint howling. They were too far apart, there wasn’t a chance. However, he had one of his “moments,” and he just<span style="font-style: italic">knew</span>something was wrong. For the moment, thoughts of hunger and sexless nights were abandoned. The demon stood up so fast his chair tipped over backwards and he started sprinting out the back door toward where he knew Saint’s pack to be. As he got closer, the sound of howling reached his ears and he knew his instincts had been right. He was there in less than a minute; record time, even for him. He saw Saint, beaten and bloody. Of course, Andreas was a demon; he knew nothing of emergency first aid. Instead he asked, with murder in his eyes, “Which way did they go?”