The priest seemed to notice that Michael's patience was beginning to disappear. His struggling became more frantic for a moment, but instead of trying to break Michael's grip again, one of his hands hurriedly rose and made several gestures toward his mouth.
Michael hesitated. Then his fingers loosened slightly.
The priest immediately sucked in a breath. Normally, supernaturals at his level wouldn't be affected by something as simple as a lack of air, but this bastard had done more than just strangle him. His fingers had been coated in mana, digging into his skin and causing damage.
"I only wanted to talk." The man's voice was hoarse and shaky, like speaking caused him pain.
Michael said nothing.
The priest glanced at his expression before continuing quickly.
"I had no intention of fighting you. But… it seems you're not in the mood for a conversation right now."
That was an understatement. Even saying those words made the priest nervous.
