Lauraline; Sanguine Song

She’s returned to his side once again.
He doesn’t know how, why, or even what her name is, anymore, but he smiles through the blood streaming from his crooked, bruised nose; she’s here.
Lauraline sits beside him and holds his hand; it’s a sticky scarlet, along with the rest of him.
“Who?”
He has no blood left to seep into the pavement; alcohol, lonely, wanders his veins.
His head lolls back, and Asher replies with a deep chuckle. “Never matters.”
Lauraline makes a strange, sad sound that gives Asher the impression that she’s forgotten how to weep.
Her hands moves under his neck, moving him up, so that when he cracks open his bruised, purple eyes, her baby blues are the first thing Asher sees.
“Who.”
He is compelled, violently, to open his mouth and allow her to draw out the answer through his words. “Ian’s guys. They’re still trying to collect Damien’s last few payments- figure with him being dead and us being broke, and all, that Satin would serve just fine.” He half laughs, half coughs, and blood bubbles past his lips like syrup.
“I told them they couldn’t have her; they didn’t really like that.”
Lauraline presses her finger to his lips, and his words stop as if he’d been struck.
She stares across the back wall of the bar’s outside, towards the laughter of several men, who are chatting up an equal number of skimpily clad women; thugs never move far from their victims. In this town, they never understood the merit of fleeing a crime scene. She glances back down at Asher and the effort of remaining causes a vein to pulse in the hand that lays across his face. She darts in and kisses him gently on his forehead; when she withdraws, her lips are painted with the red.
“I’m proud of you.” She reminds him, smiles effortlessly, and rises. Her stilettos are soundless against the pavement as she moves towards the men; her tongue traces her lips, savoring the blood gratefully. The taste of Asher’s dishonest nature is heavenly, but she reminds herself she will drink her fill of corruption over the next few minutes.
The first man is turning, and running his eyes over Lauraline’s black minidress; he smiles.
Lauraline smiles back before leaping, eyeteeth drawn, and closing her jaw on the man’s neck.
Savory deceitfulness fills her mouth.