Joined : 2007-01-03
|Subject: Bloodshot November 18th 2013, 7:24 pm|| |
Lunar was a well known and popular nightclub. It's glowing neon blue sign buzzed almost merrily in the darkness. The line of patrons wound like a serpant behing the black velvet rope that sectioned off a part of the sidewalk for them to stand and not crowed into the street, Abaddon walked; with purpose in her movements, past the vastly long line that was a mix of Shifters, Humans, and even Vampires. Her long jet black hair was pulled back into a single tight braid that trailed down her back and stopped at her narrow waist. Her pale grey, nearly white eyes were exotically shaped and vastly alluring, able to pull almost anyone into their depths as if she were a Vampire herself. The features of her face were evenly proportioned and full of a near ethreal beauty that was almost as mesmerizing as her eyes. Her lithe and agile body moved with the fluid grace of someone who was trained in both dance and martial arts. As a child, Abaddon had taken ballet classes and in her teens, she had started training in various forms of martial arts. Her leather jacket rustled with her movements. Beneath the worn black leather coat, she wore a long sleeved black shirt that was a few sizes too big. Her dark grey jeans were faded and ripped in various places. Semi new black work boots finished off her attire. She could feel eyes following her movements as she approached the two bouncers at the door.
"Hey, Abaddon." One of them called out in greeting as he checked the ID of a young looking red head in line.
"Hey, Tank." She replied, stopping for a moment once she reached the large towering man. He had to be at least seven feet tall; or close to it, and built like a bull. His head was clean shaven and shiny enough to reflect the light of the street lamps and the nightclub's blue sign.
"What are you doing down here, girl?" He handed the red head her ID back and let her pass him into the club before moving onto the next customer.
"Got a meeting with your boss." She answered, sounding less than pleased she had been called here. She tried to avoid coming here whenever possible.
"What for?" He sounded confused about that. Tank knew she didn't like his boss. Can't say that he blamed her really. He could be a pushy bastard when he wanted something.
"The usual. To bug the shit out of me."
He laughed. "Well, good luck with that."
Without a replay or snappy comeback, Abaddon passed the two bouncers and slipped through the door. Music loud enough to shatter the ear drums pounded from speakers hidden somewhere along the shadowed ceiling. It was some kind of heavy metal band that screamed more than singing. She snaked her way through the gyrating and bumping crowd, surprised that not one person managed to elbow her or spill their drink on her. It was certainly a first. Normally she always left here with some kind of drink remanants clinging to her. She slipped into an empty booth at the back of the club and slung her black leather back pack onto the bench seat beside her.
"What'll it be?" The waitress asked, having approached her table with less cheer and enthuasim than normal. Apparently she wasn't happy to be here tonight. Peachy, neither was she.
"Rum and coke." Abaddon replied almost automatically, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a fairly thick, ancient looking book.
Abaddon turned her attention away from the Book of Shadows that was laying open on the table in front of her. The rum and coke she had ordered remained untouched, sitting on the little black coaster with the nightclub's logo, a silver wolf howling up into a full silvered moon. Nearly everyone that worked here was some flavor of Shifter. Slowly, Abaddon allowed the tips of her tattooed fingers to hover over the ancient and brittle pages. Unlike a Witches Book of Shadows, this one contained information on various types of preternatural beasties. Normally the Book was locked safely away in the vault of the Bloodstone Court, the cities local Vampire Court. She had borrowed it; with permission of course, in hopes of tracking down her latest target. It seemed that she was being partially suicidal being in a nightclub full of Shifters. They knew exactly who she was. Abaddon was a well known War Mage and assassin for the Bloodstone Court.
Her attention had shifted from the Book because a familiar shadow was currently blocking what little light there already was in Lunar's dimly lit interior. There was no real dress code here and it catered to everyone from Goth to the business suit wearing types.
"You make a better door than a window, Dorian." Dorian Dragonette stood at the end of the small black laquered table closest to her. It had been a bad move on his part. Abaddon had one of her custom made silver knives out beneath the table and pointed in the direction of his family jewels. He was one of the Enforcers for the local Werewolf Alpha and the man she had come to meet, Cade Davinyoung.
"You were invited here by my King. Do not forefit your safe passage for being foolish." Came his growling baratone voice. A voice that would have been sexy had it not been attached to a Shifter. Abaddon had make it a rule to never get involved with someone that could chew your face off. She would slice and dice before she had a chance to become the Werewolf's midnight snack.
"If you so much as twitch, I will take my chances." She looked up and into Dorian's semi shadowed face. He was strinkingly handsome in that wild, feral sort of way. He held a near primitive aura in which he always seemed to carry his Beast close to the surface. His dark brown hair was long, falling to his shoulders and framing a strongly chiseled face. His dark eyes seemed endless but she knew that they could flash wolvish amber at any moment. Dorian was dressed in the Pack's uniform of biker chic. Faded and ripped blue jeans with a long chain hanging from the left pocket were held onto his narrow waist by a black leather belt complete with a stainless steel skull belt buckle. A black long sleeved Harley shirt clung for dear life against the bulk of muscles that was his upper body. Worn black boots finished off the look.
"Where is your King?" Abaddon inquired taking her hand away from the Book of Shadows. It abruptly closed as if two giant hands had slammed it shut. The Book levitated off of the table and floated into the open flap of her back pack.
"His King is right here." Came a slightly husky voice from behing the Enforcer. The voice was thickly laced with a sexy Cajun accent. "It's alright, Dorian. She can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt her."
Shit. With a sigh, Abaddon slid the knife back home into it's empty sheath strapped to her forearm beneath the jacket. One night, a few years back, she had allowed herself to break her one rule and she had ended up in Cade's bed. She still bore his mark along the flesh where her neck met her shoulder. Apparently by Pack standards the mark meant she was his Mate. Hell, the shirt and jacket she wore had been his. Abaddon had left the following morning and never looked back. The moment her knife was tucked away, Dorian stepped aside. Her breath slammed nearly painfully from her lungs. She had never forgotten how utterly sexy Cade was. His presence alone screamed primitive danger, and his liquid green eyes burned with a raw possessiveness that nearly made her squirm. His short black hair was styled in a way that made it look similiar to James Dean. He was always a mixture of Dean and biker. Beneath the black Harley t-shirt and black ripped jeans was a powerfully enticing and tattooed physique. He had been an MMA fighter before he became a Werewolf and it showed in the way he moved as he took a seat in the chair across from her.
"So that is where my jacket went." Cade let that sinful mouth of his shift into an amused grin, almost as if he knew the effect he had on her. "It's been a long time, Abaddon."
"Not long enough I'm afraid." She replied almost casually. "My shirt and jacket were ruined." Ruined had been an understatement. Cade had virtually shredded them in his haste to get them off of her.
"I remember." His voice had lowered, letting Abaddon know that he wouldn't mind doing it all over again.
She resisted the urge to squirm.
"What do you want, Cade?"
He sighed. "What is it that you hate about my kind so much?"
Her anger almost instantly surfaced but she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm her rage.
"That's none of your business." She replied in that calm quietness of hers.
Cade was silent for a moment, watching the expression on her face. While it remained blank, he did notice the flash of anger in her eyes.
"I am asking because I care, Abaddon, not to be nosy."
"You really want to know?" She asked angrily, standing abruptly from her chair. She pointed a tattooed finger at Dorian. "Back off!" Perhaps it was the fierce look in her eyes, or the rise of power in her aura. Whatever it was, Dorian wisely stayed put standing by the bar some ten feet away. Abaddon shrugged off her jacket, tossing it violently onto the booth. She turned her back to face Cade as she pulled up her shirt just enough to reveal the massive scar on her back nearly between her shoulder blades. The back of her black sports bra covered a portion of it. It looked as if something had tried to get to her heart through her back.
"Why didn't I notice that before?" Cade asked, his voice so soft it was just barely above a whisper.
"I hid it with a Glamour Spell."
Abaddon let her shirt slide back into place and sat back down. Her face had gone deathly pale and Cade found himself wanting to comfort her, to take her into his arms and not let go.
"I ws eight when it first came after me. My mother and father had both been powerful Mages. I don't know the full extent of what happened. Perhaps my parents knew something or saw something. Some sound had awoken me that night. It sounded like screams. Death screams. I was terrified, but I ran towards the sounds. The kitchen was a mess and I slipped in the pools of blood on the floor. The back door was open, crimson stained snow leading out towards the slaughter of my family. My mother, my father and my nine month old sister were all torn to pieces. I never saw it coming. It all happened so fast. I remember something hitting me from behind like a freight train."
If Cade thought she had been deathly pale before, he had been wrong. She was so white now that she was nearly transparent. He wanted to tell her to stop, that she didn't have to continue but something told him that she was too far gone into her past to stop now.
"Next thing I know, I've got my face pushed violently down into the snow. I can barely hear the rip of my clothes with the snow in my ears, but I can feel the cold all the way to my bones and I know that most of that cold is sheer terror. Then suddenly, comes the pain. Blazing hot agony that chases away that terror. I scream but choke on the snow. The pain grows as it feels like my attacker is trying to touch my spine, my lungs, pushing past them to get to my heart. To rip it from my body. I still couldn't see who or what it was. I could smell him, like a mix of wet dog and old death. I would know that smell anywhere."
Abaddon trailed off, her pale smokey grey eyes finally focusing onto Cade's face.
"How did you escape?" He asked, his voice still soft.
"Apparently my parents had worked for the Bloodstone Court for several years. Mircea had come to discuss business with my father. What he found was a massacre and me nearly dead face down in the snow. He took me in and nursed me back to health. He hired the best to train me in martial arts and combat tactics as well as how to harness my powers as a War Mage. The rest is pretty much history.
"You're a Shifter then?"
Abaddon shook her head. "No. Something about my Magick makes me immune to the Shifter virus."
"You're Mircea's Familiar?"
A Familiar could range from a Mage to a Shifter. It depended entirely on the Vampire's preference and if he was more powerful with his Magickal or physical abilities.
"I haven't officially been made his Familiar but it is a topic of discussion with the Court."
Cade sat back away from the table. The expression on his face changed to one of smug satisfaction. "You can't be made a Familiar if you wear the mark of an Alpha."
Last edited by Draven on November 21st 2013, 1:28 am; edited 1 time in total
Joined : 2007-01-03
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 18th 2013, 8:26 pm|| |
Abaddon slammed into Mircea's private office. Her aura nearly crackling with the extent of her anger. The Master Vampire that ran the Bloodstone Court sat behind the large antique oak desk. It was darkly stained and well kept. There was not a scratch on it's surface. He glance up from the stack of paperwork in front of him.
"What is wrong, Abaddon?" Came his soft concerned voice. Whereas Cade had a fairly thick Cajun accent, Mircea had a subtly soft Irish one that would only get thicker the angrier or more aroused he became. His curly dark brown hair fell just past his broad shoulders. A faint goatee perpetually outlined his full sinful mouth. Those dark eyes of his seemed to go on forever, drawing her in. Her anger was momentarily forgotten when her eyes locked with his. She took a moment to simply stare at him, taking in the masculine beauty. His strong cheekbones and jawline that she yearned to nibble on. To her he was more beautiful than Cade.
"I want Cade's mark gone."Abaddon finally replied, dropping down into the over stuffed leather chair across from Mircea's desk.
The Vampire arched a single dark brow as he set aside the paperwork. There was a slightly amused expression that passed over his face for a brief moment before he composed himself. He knew of Abaddon's brief fling with the Shifter, but it was him that she had come running to in the end. He was always aware of Abaddon and her feelings. He knew she vauled her freedom and it seemed that Cade was trying to put a leash on their little War Mage.
"What has the Werewolf done now?" He asked, steepling his fingers in front of his face, elbows resting on the arms of the leather desk chair.
"Every single one of those fleabags are controling, manipulative sons of bitches." She nearly growled in response. "He seems to think that spending one night in my bed several years ago gives him the right to tell me that I can't be your Familiar if I bare his mark. A mark in which I never knew the meaning behind until you told me last year."
"I think, perhaps, the mutt is panicking. He fears to loose you as an ally and as his woman."
"I was never his woman, Mircea." Abaddon corrected, giving him the cold glare that the comment deserved.
"Yes, we both know that, but it would seem that Cade has it stuck in his head that he has a prior claim."
"As appealing and amusing as it would be to watch you remind him how wrong he is, we still have a treaty with his Pack. If they now know that you are going to be my Familiar, they weill see any hostile action against them that you commit a violetion of that treaty. Werewolves are territorial and possessive creatures by nature as you well know. They may attempt to start a war for that mark alone."
Abaddon arched a single, perfectly sculpted brow. "Tell me you don't want me to keep it?"
"Absolutely not. I want it done just as much as you do." He let jis gaze wander over her for a moment as he grew silent.
"What?" She asked, catching the all too male expression on his face.
"I-I would like for you to bare my mark instead, Abaddon."
Her brow arched even higher. "What?"
Strangely Mircea looked embarassed, something he almost never did. She remained silent as he stood. He moved across the room with that deadly predatorial grace that all Vampires possessed. She found herself hypnotized as she watched him come to her. He was beautiful, sexy, dangerous, thoughtful, generous, and caring all rolled up into an immortal package. He knelt down in front of her, taking her tattooed left hand in his.
"There has always been a connection between us, Abaddon. One that I never thought possible. After nearly a thousand years I believe I found my soul mate. The night I found you, I had wanted to speak with your father about taking you to Court, to become your Guardian until you were old enough to Imprint."
"Imprint?" She asked, feeling her heard beginning to race at his words.
"It is the process in which a Vampire Transforms their Familiar."
"You mean into a Vampire?"
He nodded once; up then down, almost as if he were afraid to answer. "I would never do anything without your permission. I would be content for you to simply be my Familiar but I would love to continue with my original request."
It wasn't everyday that a girl got a confession for undying love. Mircea may not have said it directly, but she knew it was what he meant. She could read it in his eyes, feel it in the way his hands held hers.
"You have as much time as you need to think things over. I will not pressure nor force you into it. I will wait for as long as I need to. I want you to be happy, Abaddon. It has been such a long time since I have last seen you truly happy and I would love to be the one to endure that happiness."
Don't cry. She told herself. Don't cry damnit! Slowly, she reached out and let her fingertips hover over the strong line of his jaw. After a few moments, she finally closed that distance and touched him. Mircea let out a sigh, his dark eyes closing as her touch. His free hand rose up, tangling in the thick braid at the back of her head. He leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against hers.
"I can make his mark go away." He whispered softly, his lips merely a few inches from her own. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes." Abaddon didn't even have to think about it. She realized that she not only trusted him with her life, but what was left of her darkened heart. He had been the only thing that had kept it from turning completely black. She was finally realizing that she loved him and had for as long as she could remember.
With an expression that was pure bliss, Mircea captured her lips. His hands moved instinctively to lightly frame her face. She wasn't expecting the kiss to be so loving and tender. This nearly fragile attention released the hold she had on her tears and they slipped free, gliding down her face and mingling into the kiss. For years she had felt isolated, alone. It had been one of the reasons why she had let herself be seduced by Cade. He could talk the Devil out of Hell if he wanted to. He had exploited her moment of weakness, using it against her to gain an advantage. Now Mircea was trying to heal her, to make her whole again.
"Trust me." He whispered softly as his lips burned a path of fire along the side of her neck, directly above the pulse and the unwanted mark Cade had left behind.
"Yes." She said once more, her voice a whisper that nearly caught in her throat when Mircea's tongue caressed eroticly across her skin. She felt herself relax just a moment before his small, razor sharp fangs pierced her flesh. There was a brief moment of pain, but it was quickly replaced by a pleasure so profound that Abaddon found her fingers automatically tangling in Mircea's hair. Every never ending felt so alive, almost as if they were being caressed by thousands of tiny fingertips. Reluctantly, and much to Abaddon's disappointment, he pulled away, his tongue swirling almost lazily along her skin. There was a warming tingle that followed a moment later before that too quickly faded. She was nearly breathless. She never knew that a Vampire feeding could be that pleasurable.
"It's gone." Mircea said softly, his voice husky and seductive. He leaned back, giving her some space.
"We're not done yet." Came her growling reply before she reached out and grabbed a handful of his expensive French silk button down shirt. The buttons went flying as she all but ripped it open, revealing the perfectly taunt, pale muscled expanse of his upper body.
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 19th 2013, 9:20 pm|| |
He seized Abaddon by the wrists and pulled her into his arms. Her skin was scorching hot against his exposed chest. He could feel her heart beating rapidly, and could hear the blood coursing through her veins. She was so fragile and so beautiful. He dipped forward and caught her mouth. He slid his tongue past her lips, savoring the heat radiating from her. She was responsive, matching his aggressive kisses, digging her nails into his cool flesh.
Their lips parted with an audible smack. Mircea disengaged from his lover, slipping out of his ruined shirt, unbuckling his trousers. Abaddon pulled at her leather jacket, letting it crumple to the floor behind her. Her bright eyes remained locked with his. He reached for her, catching her by the collar of her dark shirt, yanking her against him. She pressed the palms of her hands against his chest, slowly sliding them down his body.
Mircea shuttered and groaned as Abaddon caressed the front of his pants, her fingers tracing along the growing bulge. He slowly trailed his kisses over her jaw and down to her neck. He ran his tongue over her fresh wound, lapping up the last droplets of blood. She tensed, her fingers squeezing his engorged manhood through his clothing. He moaned into her neck, his entire body trembled.
She pulled at his zipper; the soft clicks of the tiny metal teeth separating were drowned out by their heavy breathing. Her warm fingers slipped beneath his loosened waistband. He felt them slide further down, grazing his throbbing member. She grasped him gently, running her fingers over the swollen tip.
Shivering, “Wait,” he breathed into her ear.
She withdrew her hand and wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her onto the desk. He stepped around her and swept his arm across the surface. Paperwork rained down around them.
She leaned back, smiling, using her arms to prop herself up. Mircea planted himself between her opened legs, and tore her shirt open with ease. He leaned forward, kissing the swell of her breasts before lancing her bra with his sharp fingernail and tearing the fabric apart. Her full breasts swung free; she threw her head back and thrusted her chest forward. Mircea kissed her neck, his lips hovering over her warm skin as he slowly moved lower. His lips grazed her collarbone.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Mircea drew her stiff nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around.
Another knock. Louder this time.
A growl caught in his throat and the immortal reluctantly withdrew from his lover. “Not now, Proctor.” He called to the man on the other side of the door. The handle jiggled and the door creaked open. A hulking beast of a man entered the room.
“I’m sorry, sir, but your visitor was insistent,” Proctor seemed unperturbed by the scene in front of him. He completely ignored the half-naked Abaddon, instead choosing to simply stare over her head, his meaty paws clasped behind his back.
Mircea pushed away from the desk, “Fine, I will be down.” Proctor nodded his satisfaction and quickly took his leave.
“His timing couldn’t be any worse,” Mircea turned to Abaddon. “I’m sorry.” He reached for her and gently kissed her soft lips. “Make yourself comfortable, this shouldn’t take long.”
“You’re a fool, Mircea.” The raspy voice was bitter. “You make yourself a target.”
Cradling a snifter of cognac, Mircea watched his guest pace the room. He was nestled comfortably in his favorite high backed chair, one leg casually crossed over the other. Before joining the visitor downstairs, Mircea had quickly changed into a pair of Brioni suit trousers and a clean dress shirt. He had decided against wearing a tie, this was an informal visit, after all.
He thoughtfully sipped the amber liquid.
“You have nothing to say?”
Mircea smiled, “You really should try this, Edward.” He indicated the untouched glass on the server tray. “Smooth finish.”
Edward paused, gobsmacked. He sank down into one of the many chairs arranged throughout the plush sitting room, “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been called worse,” Mircea quipped. He finished the glass and handed it to Proctor who had been standing close by. Mircea sighed, quickly tiring of his guest, “I can take care of myself, old friend. Though I do thank you for the friendly warning.”
“You shouldn’t be so cavalier, Mircea,” Edward persisted, “These are viable threats against your life.” The older vampire finally stood, realizing that he had failed to impress the seriousness of the situation upon the handsome immortal. “You’ve been warned, Mircea. The Court wants nothing to do with that witch.” He glanced over his shoulder as though someone was standing behind him. “As long as she remains chummy with those fleabags, we don’t want her around.”
Mircea effortlessly rose from his seat, “I think it is time for you to go, Edward.” His arm snaked out, motioning toward the door, “Proctor will see you to your car.”
Mircea quietly watched as the black SUV peel down the driveway, nearly ramming into the wrought-iron gate that blocked the end. From somewhere in the house, Proctor actuated the gate’s mechanism, and it swung open on well oiled hinges. The SUV’s tires squealed as Edward made his undignified exit.
Mircea remained at the window.
“Shall I activate the alarm system tonight, sir?” Proctor appeared out of nowhere. For a man of such great size, he was surprisingly nimble.
“I think that would be for the best, Proctor. Thank you,” Mircea nodded at his loyal manservant.
Joined : 2007-01-03
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 20th 2013, 7:27 am|| |
"For the record," Abaddon said softly, standing in to doorway to the room that Mircea had entertained his quest wearing nothing but one of the Vampire's expensive button down silk shirts. "I am not friendly with the Shifters. They murdered my family. Why would I want to be friendly with the very kind who destroyed my life?" The shirt was unbuttoned save for one button that kept her lower private bits from showing. It revealed a long line of pale silky flesh that was taunt with subtle muscle definition. The body of a dancer.
"I didn't meant to listen in. I was passing by to get to your bedroom and the most magnificent shower but Edward was speaking loud enough for nearly the entire mansion to hear." Mircea's home was a lavish castle-like mansion set back far enough on a private road to be secluded. "If you need them, I can place Wards around the house."
She walked into the room; swaying with her graceful swagger, on bare feet. "He is afraid. You are Head of the Court and your word is final. You are old enough where they can't overthrow your rule, but if you want me gone, then I will leave. Your saftey is more important to me, Mircea. I have lost way too many people I love in my life. I do not want to loose you too."
Abaddon stopped in front of him, her fingers reaching out and untucking his shirt from his trousers just before they snaked their way beneath the material to touch the cool skin of his taunt abdomen. "If you do send me away, I only ask one thing of you. Let me stay here with you tonight. Make love to me." It was only eight o'clock. They had the rest of the night and yet it still wasn't enough time. She wanted; no needed, more time. Perhaps if they used Mircea's own room with the blackout curtains they could very well continue until the next night.
"Make me yours, Mircea."
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 20th 2013, 2:33 pm|| |
"For the record…”
Mircea turned from the window; he quietly watched her enter the dimly lit room, enjoying the subtle sway of her hips. The silk shirt was far too big for her petite frame, nearly slipping from her narrow shoulders.
"I am not friendly with the Shifters. They murdered my family. Why would I want to be friendly with the very kind who destroyed my life?"
Mircea waved his hand dismissively, “You do not need to explain yourself.” He knew she was still associating with some of the local Shifters. Whether she was on friendly terms with them or not made little difference to the Court. They saw her as a potential problem, and wanted her gone. Mircea had removed Cade’s mark, presenting another potential problem for his kind. If Cade were to ever find out, their tentative peace treaty could be jeopardized.
"I didn't mean to listen in. I was passing by to get to your bedroom and the most magnificent shower but Edward was speaking loud enough for nearly the entire mansion to hear. If you need them, I can place Wards around the house."
Mircea smiled, “That won’t be necessary, my dear.” As though on cue, a series of soft beeps sounded over the hidden intercom, signaling that his state-of-the-art alarm system had been activated. “You see? It has been taken care of.”
She glided across the large room, her bare feet silent on the ornate rug.
“… Your safety is more important to me, Mircea. I have lost way too many people I love in my life. I do not want to lose you, too."
Mircea cupped her face in his cool hands, “I do not want you to worry about any of this. Your only concern should be which precious jewels you want to drape yourself in next.” He smiled, “I will take care of everything. You needn’t worry yourself.” He gently kissed her lips. She pulled out his shirttail, running her long fingers up his torso.
"If you do send me away, I only ask one thing of you. Let me stay here with you tonight. Make love to me."
He wanted to tell her that he could never send her away, but the words caught in his throat. The heat radiating from her lithe body, drew him in – muted him.
"Make me yours, Mircea."
He lifted her effortlessly, her shapely legs wrapping around his waist. The shirt slipped from her shoulders, pooling at the crooks of her arms. He kissed her delicate collarbone, sliding his hand up her exposed back. A low growl rumbled in his throat, he felt his teeth lengthen into sharp fangs.
He pulled back, trying to control his hunger. Mircea concentrated on her willing mouth, feverishly kissing Abaddon as he carried her across the room. He set her down on the cream upholstered fainting couch; she leaned against the hand carved back, her legs parted slowly. The silk shirt slipped between her thighs – covering her.
Mircea quickly disrobed, tossing his tailored clothing onto the floor. He knelt down in front of her, fingers easily releasing the last button on her shirt. He slid the silky fabric out of the way, exposing her most intimate place. Leaning forward, he kissed her inner thigh, his tongue darting out as he neared the apex of her leg. He pulled away and did the same to her other thigh. He paused – teasing her, his lips brushing against her sensitive womanhood.
Mircea finally dove in, his tongue slipping passed her velvety folds. Abaddon’s legs involuntarily closed around his head and he gently forced them open. His nails bit into her skin as his hunger grew. Her heartbeats thundered in his ears.
“Lie back,” he breathed, pulling away. Mircea pushed her onto her back and positioned himself over her. His engorged member pressed against her inner thigh; his entire body shuddered at the sensation.
She reached for him.
“No,” he growled firmly. He grasped her slender wrists and quickly pinned them above her head using one hand. “Trust me.”
He guided his swollen member with his free hand, pressing the head into her. He paused and released her hands, supporting himself over top of her with both arms. His fangs gleamed in the sparse light and he dipped his head down, sinking his teeth into her shoulder.
Mircea groaned, thrusting roughly into her. A small stream of blood trickled into his mouth, and he greedily drank her in. His body began to warm and his efforts became more feverish. He pulled back his head, releasing her shoulder. A droplet of blood clung to his lips. His eyes had gone black as her blood coursed through him, making him feel alive.
His powerful thrusts continued and the chair quaked beneath them. “Drink,” he commanded breathlessly. Balancing on one arm, Mircea quickly sliced his shoulder with a sharp nail, a razor thin line of blood suddenly appeared on his alabaster skin. “Drink. Please.”
Joined : 2007-01-03
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 20th 2013, 4:27 pm|| |
He didn’t want her gone. The surge of emotion she felt was nearly overwhelming and she felt her throat burn. Any words she would have spoken were cut off when he lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist automatically. She could feel him hard, swollen and eager even through the material of his pants and it made her squirm, rubbing her body against his. The silk of his shirt whispered down her shoulders, sliding across her still sensitive flesh as it pooled at her elbows. His lips feathered delicate kisses along her collarbone as one of his hands slid up her exposed back, following the path of her spine. A low growl trickled from his lips and vibrated against her skin, making a soft gasp slip from her mouth. His feverish kisses continued as he capture her mouth, carrying her towards the expensive cream colored sofa that looked like it was something straight from a Roman palace. Knowing him it probably had in one of his various travels.
Abaddon leaned back slowly against the hand carved wooden back. She felt posed, exposed and seductive at the same time. She watched him with heat in her eyes as he nearly hurriedly undressed. His clothing was tossed nearly unceremoiously onto the hand woven rug that was also Italian in design. Mircea knelt down in front of her, and the sight of him between her legs was nearly enough to snap her control. The look her gave her was so sexy and utterly possessive that she felt her skin flush. Feather light kisses were pressed against each of her thighs and the sensation made her breath hitch, but it was nothing compared to the hot velvet stroke of his tongue.
“Oh God.” She muttered softly, her legs involuntarily tightening around his head which he only forced open, attempting to open her fully to his attention. Instead, she tangled her fingers in his hair almost as if she were holding him to her body when in reality the sensations had made her reach out to hold onto something with their intensity.
“Lie back.” He breathed softly and she found herself nearly whimpering as he pulled back from her. Then his face appeared in front of her semi blurry vision and she scooted down until she was in the right position. She shuddered when she felt his member against her thigh and she reached for him instinctively.
“No.” He nearly growled firmly. His took hold of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. “Trust me.”
He knew she did. There was no need for him to say it and yet he had given her the choice. In that moment it meant more to her than any kind of fancy diamond. With his free hand, he guided himself into her. The sensation of that first pressure made Abaddon cry out and it had nothing to do with pain. It felt so good that she had nearly came right there. Reigning in her control, she allowed her body to arch, causing her hips to press down. The movement had caused his body to slide even deeper with such a slow movement that Abaddon squirmed.
“God, you feel so good, Mircea.” She groaned. It turned into another near shout of pleasure as his fangs sank into her shoulder. Cade had been her first but he had been no where near as good as this. Mircea had had nearly a thousand years to practice afterall. The moment her blood hit Mircea’s mouth, he groaned and thrust roughly and deeply into her. She cried out again, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him further into her. Her body tightened around his which only seemed to spur his powerful movments. She could hear the faint creak of the furniture beneath them.
“Drink.” He said softly, almost so soft that she had nearly missed it. He reached up and quickly sliced his shoulder. A thin line of blood appeared on his pale skin. By Vampire standards, sharing blood like this was more binding than marriage. Looking up at him, as his body fused with hers so deeply that it seemed they were one body, she realized that she truly loved him.
Without a word, her tongue slid over the wound, caressing it almost lazily just before her mouth closed over his skin. She drank and his blood tasted sweet to her and addictive at the same time. It was at that moment that her body betrayed her control, tightening and shuddering in a release so powerful that she felt liquid warmpth between their bodies where they were joined.
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 20th 2013, 7:32 pm|| |
She had, all too willingly, licked his wound clean. Abaddon’s warm lips against his aching flesh, and the intense sensation of her feeding, shattered his self-command. His thrusts were unrestrained and her body drove him closer and closer to his sweet release. Mircea felt her tighten around him; he kept the frenzied rhythm, pushing her to climax. Her body suddenly shuttered; he felt her warm release. Mircea drove himself deep inside of her with one final thrust. His nails pierced through the upholstery and he let out a low groan. His body shivered as he finished inside of her.
“I love you,” he whispered into her ear. They remained joined together, her body naturally milking him dry.
“He was... unwilling to listen to reason,” Edward, elbows propped on top of his desk, addressed the small group that had gathered before him. “We are, unfortunately, going to have to do something about Mircea before all of our hard work goes to shit.”
“This isn’t a democracy, Edward. We can’t just vote him out.”
“I am aware of that,” he responded, his frustration evident in his voice, “I am not suggesting a vote.” He pushed himself up, out of his chair, and began to pace the small office. “I am, however, going to suggest that we handle this situation as quickly and as efficiently as we possibly can.”
“Edward, you old fool, get to the point,” a woman, long brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, crossed her arms over her small chest. She was wearing a cheap business suit and sensible black pumps, her dark eyes narrowed into slits. “We don’t have all night.”
Edward nodded and licked his lips, “Since Aldora is in such a hurry, I will get right to the point.” He stopped in the center of the room, where all three guests could see him. “Mircea has a weakness for this witch. She has put blinders on him, making him incapable of seeing how detrimental their relationship is to his own clan.”
“If you’re planning on suggesting what I think you are, I don’t want any part of it,” Aldora stood, as did the two other immortals.
“Mircea is a good man, despite his weakness for this woman,” another guest chimed in, “I won’t go against him.”
“You’re all fools!” Edward nearly shrieked, “This witch is going to ruin all of our hard work.” He balled his hands into fists, “She must be dealt with.”
Mircea ran his fingers through Abaddon’s hair; her breathing was soft and steady. He assumed she was still asleep. She had been weak after they had finished their love making, and he had carried her up to his room, placing her in the center of his large poster bed.
He continued to stroke her head, enjoying the warmth she provided. He looked down at her face, even in the shadows she was a beauty. The bite mark on her neck had quickly healed, drinking his blood had sped up the process, and all that was left was two small pink scars.
Joined : 2007-01-03
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 21st 2013, 11:46 am|| |
Abaddon felt light, relaxed and safe. All of which she hadn’t felt in such a long time. It was a releaf to finally let herself go like that. With his fingers running methodically through her hair, she felt herself relax even further.
“If you keep that up, Mircea, you’re going to make me fall asleep.” Having fingers running through her hair like that was always a weakness of hers. She remembered her mother doing it when she had trouble sleeping. She hadn’t been sleeping, but had layed there with her eyes shut just enjoying the feel of him beside her.
“I know the Court does not trust me. I am a tool to them, an assassin that has done their bidding and proven useful until Cade’s attention focused on me. I don’t want any part of what he has to offer and yet the Court still sees me consorting with the enemy. They may very well see me as a threat in taking your attention away from Court matters.”
She knew of Edwards down right hatred for her and she had to wonder if he had hated her parents as well. Was it that he just simply disliked Mages so much, or was there something else fuling his rage? She had no way of knowing, but the suspicion was there. With the exchange of blood, Abaddon had gained the ability to speak with Mircea telepathically. Neither one of them would realize just how important that link between them would become.
Cade sat back in one of the booths at Lunar. His Avaitor sunglasses were pushed up onto his head, furthering pushing his jet black hair back away from his face.
“You want me to do what exactly, Edward?” He questioned, his Cajun accent thicker and more pronounced with his current annoyance.
He very nearly spit his cranberry club soda all over the suit wearing Vampire. “You do realize that she is a War Mage.” He made it a statement rather than a question.
“Of course!” The Vampire replied exasperated.
“She is the most dangerous Mage in the City that has a specialty in Hunting rogue Vampires, Shifters and even Demons. Do you know how many Demons she has deported back to the Nine Realms?”
“I do not keep track of the Witches actions.”
“You should. Abaddon has deported eighteen Demons, killed six rogue Vampires and ten Shifters and that was all in the span of a month. This woman has the highest kill count of any Hunter out there and some of them have been doing it alot longer. There is no one in this City that will do what you’re asking out of fear.”
“And why are you not doing it, Wolf?”
Cade remained silent for a moment. “Let’s just say tha t Mircea and I are wresteling for her affections.”
“Well, he may have beat you to it.” Edward nearly grinned mischiveously. “She was at his place last night.”
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 21st 2013, 3:17 pm|| |
If the wolf had been surprised by this revelation, his facial expression did not show it. Instead, he drained his glass and gave Edward a dismissive wave, “I think it’s time for you to go.” Cade moved to get up from the table.
“Wait,” Edward’s cold hand shot out and latched onto Cade’s forearm, “Sit.” His watery eyes were pleading.
The Shifter reluctantly settled back into his seat, pulling his sunglasses off of his head and placing them on the table. He waited, eyes boring into Edward.
“You want the same thing that I do,” Edward’s voice had lowered considerably, “Correct?” He glanced over his shoulder; he hadn’t remembered passing so many Shifters on his way into the club. The dance floor and bar were now crawling with them. “Peace,” he continued, “Peace between our two families.”
“And how does Abaddon fit into all of this?” Cade’s voice was cold. He couldn’t help but feel an intense sting of jealousy at the thought of Mircea and Abaddon - together. Perhaps she had simply gone to him out of frustration. Cade knew she valued Mircea’s opinion and had often run to him for guidance in the past. But something in the way that Edward had relished in telling him about her late night visit made him think more was going on.
“She is not interested in peace,” Edward leaned forward, “She only cares about herself. She’s playing both sides.” The vampire shrugged, “She lays with you one night and then runs to Mircea the next.”
Cade sunk back into the soft booth. Their night of passion had happened so long ago, and yet he still thought of it often. There was some truth to what the stick thin vampire was saying, Cade thought, she had slept with him; he was her first. That had to have meant something. She had feelings for him.
“I won’t hurt her,” Cade finally spoke. He snatched up his sunglasses and swiftly exited the booth.
“Then kill Mircea,” Edward suddenly offered. His gray bushy eyebrows shot up.
“Feel free to order any drink you like,” Cade responded flatly, “It’s on the house.”
He reached up and knocked again, this time pounding his fist against the iron grate that protected a sliding peephole. A soft scraping sound and the little wooden cover slid back, revealing two small deep set eyes. They narrowed significantly once focused on Edward.
Proctor didn’t speak; he simply waited for Edward to explain this second impromptu visit. The sun was beginning to rise, and the squirrely vampire quickly drew a hood over his head.
“Please, let me in, Proctor,” Edward tried to control the tone of his voice. Hoping the manservant wouldn’t notice how jittery he was feeling.
Proctor didn’t respond, instead the strange man simply watched Edward shift his weight from one foot to the other. The warmth of the sun’s morning rays must have been almost unbearable for the vampire.
Edward felt his heart sink as Proctor slowly slid the peephole’s cover home. Several seconds passed before he heard the telltale click of the deadbolt unlocking. The door whispered open and Proctor ushered Edward inside for the second time in less than 24 hours.
He pushed passed the manservant, and headed for the stairs.
“Ah, Edward,” Mircea suddenly appeared at the top of the grand staircase. He was wearing an exquisitely tailored dressing gown, dark plum in color. It was striking against his pale skin and piercing eyes, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He nodded to Proctor who disappeared into an adjoining room.
“We need to talk, Mircea,” Edward pulled off his hood, “It is urgent.”
Mircea gracefully descended the stairs, fingers tented. He soon joined Edward in the grand foyer, “Shall we stroll through the atrium?”
“I’m sorry, Mircea,” Edward was nearly out of breath as the pair slowly moved through the indoor garden. Proctor had activated the mechanized black-out curtains, shielding them from the morning sunlight. “He knows.” Edward shrugged, “He knows that you claimed Abaddon as your own.”
Mircea quietly regarded Edward, “And how, exactly, did Cade discover this?”
Joined : 2007-01-03
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 21st 2013, 5:41 pm|| |
Abaddon heard the faint ringing of her cell phone. It was a standard ring, even though it was a state of the art smartphone. She always hated the Iphone's and ended up pegging them across the room. She tended to stick with the Android's. Muttering to herself in fluent curses, she fumbled around in the tangled sheets for her phone. Finally, she found it tucked beneath her pillow.
"Hello?" She answered, her voice still husky from sleep. She hadn't even checked the caller ID, if she had, she probably wouldn't have answered.
"Abaddon?" Cade's southern drawl made her stomach clench tightly. It wasn't in guilt. It was her decision in the end who she chose, not his and not Mircea's. Hers.
"What do you want, Cade?" She inquired, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her free hand while the other held the phone to her ear.
"Is what Edward told me true? Did you spend the night at Mircea's last night?" He seemed to sound less than pleased.
Son of a bitch. She was going to kill that fang-faced two-biting no good Vampire. She inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly a moment later.
"Not that it's any of your business; as I am an adult and can make my own decisions about my sleeping arrangements, yes I did." Abaddon heard curses that sounded vaguely like a stream of fluent French. "Let me set you straight on something, Cade Davinyoung." She said loud enough to cut through his cursing. "I slept with you once several years ago. You were my first but you are too damn possessive for you own good. You don't know when to cut me some slack. You keep holding the leash tighter and tighter until you're cutting off my air. I am no longer a child. I do not need to be owned. The moment that that finally sinks in, then we can talk like mature adults. Until then, you will give me my space. If we see eachother in passing or even at Gatherings, we exchange a polite conversation. You will not see my choice as a threat against the treaty for Mircea did nothing to harm you or yours."
There was silence on the other end for a moment. "I care about you, Abaddon." He said softly, his voice sounding as if he were pained.
"I know you do, in your own way, Cade. But honestly, I don't know if it's enough."
They hung up still on good terms. She knew Cade wasn't a bad guy. He was just very territorial. She supposed it came to him naturally.
She had to find Mircea, warn him that Cade knew and that Edward had snitched.
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 21st 2013, 7:53 pm|| |
The call had ended rather abruptly. Cade placed the phone on top of his desk, turning thoughtfully toward the one way mirror that overlooked Lunar’s bar and dance floor. His guests were leaving, stumbling toward the exit doors. The sun was rising and his nightclub was closing down for the day.
Cade watched his bartender wipe down the counter. Her long blonde hair pulled back into a single ponytail, full lips coated in a shade of lipstick so red that it could be seen from across the room. She was beautiful, fragile, human - and very very easy.
Cade had slept with her on many occasions, but every time he had left her warm bed, he felt unsatisfied. She had all the right parts, but lacked one very important detail - she wasn’t Abaddon.
Blondie glanced up at the mirror, she knew Cade would be watching. He always was. She smiled and bent forward, giving her boss a good look down her tight shirt. Her breasts, with the help of a fantastic bra, were bursting out of the top of her uniform. She bit her lip and stood back up, slowly pulling her short skirt higher up her leg. She heard the office door slam shut overhead, and knew that Cade was heading downstairs. She stifled a giggle, and turned her back towards the door marked “Employees Only”. She bent herself over the bar and pulled her skirt high enough up to reveal that she had decided to forgo wearing panties to work that night. She heard the door open and shut, the click of Cade’s boots against a waxed floor echoed loudly. She closed her eyes, anticipating his touch.
“Enjoy your day off,” Cade breezed past her, sunglasses on and leather jacket draped over his arm, “Don’t worry about locking up when you leave.”
He sat outside of Mircea’s mansion, the solid black Ninja rumbling between his legs. To refer to Mircea’s sprawling estate as a mansion was selling it short. It was a fucking castle - a giant well-fortified fucking castle. Cade snorted at the absurdity of owning such a place.
Self-indulgent prick, Cade thought to himself as he idled for a few more seconds. Did she want his money? Is that what this was all about? He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose, and took off down the lonely country road, a spray of gravel kicking up behind the powerful bike.
“Thank you, that will be all for now,” Mircea dismissed Proctor with a warm smile. The giant beast of a man nodded his understanding and left Mircea to enjoy his coffee in silence. He brought the steaming mug to his nose, inhaling the strong aroma. The heat from the black liquid warmed his face. Mircea set the cup down, and took up a folded piece of paper.
He stared at it for a few quiet seconds, noting every crease and wrinkle, mulling over the conversation he had just had with Edward. Finally, he slid a manicured nail between the folds and gingerly opened the paper. The note looked like it had been written by a child, the handwriting uneven and lacking any semblance of finesse.
584 Canal Blvd.
The address was located closer to the city, just on the outskirts. Edward had slipped him the note, with the instructions to meet him there on the 24th. Mircea hadn’t been given an explanation, only that Abaddon’s life depended on it.
It was a trap, Mircea knew that much, and he found himself disappointed that Edward, a man he had once considered a friend, would set him up this way.
He stared at the sloppy script for a few more seconds before he folded the paper and placed it on the edge of the silver service tray. An ornate carafe had been placed in the center, full of hot coffee. Two cups with matching saucers sat on either side. Mircea looked over the array of breakfast pastries Proctor had selected for them. Mircea smiled, Proctor always took great pride in his presentation.
He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, enjoying the warmth and aroma. He never drank the stuff.
Joined : 2007-01-03
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 21st 2013, 8:16 pm|| |
Abaddon on the other hand, had a slight addiction to the caffinated beverage. It was nearly beneficial to everyone's health that she had at least a pot of coffee before leaving the house.
"Proctor, you are a life saver. Your coffee is better than any I can get from a coffee shop. I would marry you just for your brew alone." She joked with the large man who proceeded to blush a deep shade of scarlet that had her laughing. It was good to laugh like this again.
She made her way over to where Mircea sat, her hair still damp from the shower and trailing loose down her back for the moment. She would pull it back into a ponytail shortly. Her lithe frame was enveloped in skin tight leather pants and a shimmery black top held in place by safety pins in various places along the back and shoulders. Knee-high black leather boots laced all the way up the front and sported fairly lethal looking metallic spiked heels. Abaddon hardly ever wore makeup. If she did it was simple black eyeliner and mascara and nothing else. She didn't really need it and she hated to feel like her face weighed fifteen pounds.
Abaddon perched herself onto the arm of the chair in which Mircea sat.
"Edward is one slippery bastard." She said after having informed him of the telephone conversation she had with Cade earlier. "He is deliberately trying to play both sides and start a war. He so desperately wants me out of the equation, but why?"
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 21st 2013, 9:46 pm|| |
He listened intently as she repeated the phone conversation that had taken place between her and Cade, his brilliant eyes staring off into the distance.
"Edward is one slippery bastard. He is deliberately trying to play both sides and start a war. He so desperately wants me out of the equation, but why?"
Minutes passed by without a response, Mircea seemingly lost in deep thought. He snaked his arm around her shapely backside, his hand gently grasping the outer side of her thigh. “I don’t know what his motives are, my dear,” he answered at length. “I have a feeling, though, that we shall know soon enough.”
He handed her the folded note.
Mircea leaned forward and gently tapped the glass partition. The window emitted a soft whining noise as it slid down. Proctor, wearing a black chauffeur’s uniform, glanced over his shoulder. His profile strong in the waning light.
“The time, please,” Mircea inquired.
Proctor glanced at the in dash clock, “9:50, sir.” His voice was surprisingly smooth, and lacked any hint of the gravel one would expect from a man of his size.
Mircea sat back, “Thank you, proceed.”
The manservant nodded, and started up the car. The Rolls Royce Silver Wraith rumbled along the deserted road, its lights flicked off. Proctor pulled the vintage car alongside the curb, and killed the engine.
“Stay with Proctor,” Mircea leaned over and kissed Abaddon. She had insisted on coming along, despite his reassurances that all would be fine. He smiled warmly and pressed his lips against her forehead before slipping out of the car.
584 Canal was home to an abandoned warehouse.
“How ominous,” Mircea mumbled to himself, utterly unimpressed with Edward’s efforts. The vampire fearlessly entered the dilapidated building through a makeshift door. The hinges groaned loudly as he pulled it open. The rotting wood slab nearly fell apart in his grasp. Mircea paused at the entrance, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The windows had been boarded, and the only light filtering in came from the crack between the rotting slab of wood and the door jam.
“Mircea.” It was Edward’s voice.
Mircea spotted the traitor moving along the back wall of the warehouse - a mere roving shadow. He did not respond; he remained still.
“Please, come in,” Edward insisted. It was then that Mircea spotted the other shadows creeping around the cluttered room. He counted twelve, give or take a few.
“You said Abaddon was in danger,” Mircea finally spoke. The shadows were moving along the walls, trying to surround him. He stood close to the door, “Why the cloak and dagger, Edward?”
He could hear their nervous breathing, some holding their breath for as long as they could before again gasping for air. Shifters. Only they could be so stealthy and so clumsy at the same time.
“I needed to get your attention, Mircea,” Edward was walking through the center of the warehouse, approaching the Master Vampire. “You wouldn’t listen to me otherwise.”
As though on cue, several Shifters lunged for him. The first met with the back of his elbow, a loud wet crack and the beast crumpled to the ground. The second took a boot to the stomach and then another to the top of his head, smashing his skulls against the concrete floor. The third managed to grab hold of Mircea, only to be rewarded with a broken sternum.
The initial onslaught suddenly stopped. Mircea scanned the room for Edward, the little coward had fled. More shadows poured into the room, all focusing on Mircea.
He heard a soft click, and then felt something slam into his chest with such force that he flew backwards through the rotting board.
Proctor was out of the car, his pistol trained on the ruined doorway. Mircea, lying on his back, struggled to right himself. He let out a strange gurgling sound, but managed to pull himself to his knees.
Shifters began to pour out of the warehouse, quickly surrounding the wounded vampire. The crack of Proctor’s gun was earsplitting. The first bullet hitting its target in the back of the head. The second round winged another mangy attacker; it let out a fearsome roar.
Proctor moved around the front of the vehicle, firing as he went. His hand slipping into his suit’s pocket, producing another full magazine. When his gun had emptied, he ejected the spent cartridge and slammed the fresh one home in one smooth motion. He continued firing on the group pouring out of the building.
The roar of an approaching motorcycle overpowered the gunshots. The bike came to a screeching halt on the other side of the street.
Star Wars RPG Moderator
Joined : 2013-05-22
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 22nd 2013, 6:21 am|| |
"Stay in with Proctor? Like hell." Before she could follow him, however, Proctor locked the rear doors of the limo. The mechanism engaging echoed through the silent night outside the warehouse. She was one of the most dangerous Mage's in the City. She could handle herself in a fight, but for some reason Mircae had told her to stay put. How many times had she saved not just his life, but everyone elses? With a near growl of frustration, she chanted something quick and soft. Proctor had already exited the vehicle, gun in hand. She seemed to be the only one left out of the fray.
Her door lock disengaged and she hopped out of the car. Just as she was about to join Mircea inside, the door; if you could call it that, flew off the building followed closely by the Master Vampire. What she saw nearly flawed her. A fairly large hole resided in Mircea’s abdomen. Obviously someone had terrible aim, and yet the sight of him raw and bloody like that brought that terror back from her childhood. She dropped down beside him, automatically taking off her leather jacket and pressing it firmly to his wound. Shifters began to pour from the warehouse, immediately swarming around them, circling like buzzards. She knew then that these were not Werewolves. They were Werejackals which were not native to the City. They were more native to Egypt and by the looks of their faces they were all Egyptian.
Immediately, Abaddon threw up her shield. It formed a visible shimmering red barrier around her and Mircea. A shot sounded, but the bullet only bounced off of her barrier. There was a frustrated scream and she knew it had to be Edward.
That was when the bike came into view. She knew the sound of it, but she dared not look or take her eyes from the Shifters surrounding her and the wounded Mircea. A moment later, Cade moved like a blur of speed and tattooed muscle, tackling one of the Shifters. They were going to need help. Mircea was wounded and Abaddon was trying to keep him from bleeding out.
“Mircea, I need you to hold the jacket as firmly as you can against you.” She had to help Cade With a faint nod, she pressed a light kiss to his thin white lips. She stood and all hell broke loose..
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 22nd 2013, 3:00 pm|| |
Mircea felt the sudden pressure against his abdomen; his vision had blurred significantly and he struggled to sit up.
“Hold the jacket… against you.”
He immediately recognized her voice – Abaddon. He reached for her, his fingers trembling with the effort, but she was suddenly gone, swallowed whole by the encroaching blackness.
Cade landed another crushing blow, and with the sickening snap of breaking bone, the Jackal went still, its eyes staring blankly ahead. Cade released the mangy creature, watching it crumple lifelessly to the ground. Someone jumped onto his back, strong arms clamping down around his neck. He struggled to loosen his attacker’s grip, but to no avail. Cade let out a strained roar, his fingernails biting into flesh.
He never heard the shot, but felt the attacker shudder and an immediate rush of air filled his burning lungs. Cade spun around. The Jackal, his face covered in blood and brain matter, dropped to its knees and then collapsed into a messy pile at his feet.
Cade spotted Mircea’s manservant, the big brute, kneeling a distance away, his pistol smoking.
“Fucking brilliant shot!” Cade called over the din.
The dumb animals were starting to flee, scattering into the empty streets, running for their lives. Edward slipped out of the warehouse through a rear door, dropping his gun as he fled. Sprinting down a dark alley, the shriveled vampire fumbled for his keys.
Cade was breathless, he grabbed Abaddon’s arm and pulled her out of the way. The Jackals were tripping over themselves, trying to get away. The foreign beasts disappeared in all directions, melting into the shadows. He glanced down, Abaddon was covered in blood.
“Hold still,” he quickly examined her, looking for any signs of injury.
Star Wars RPG Moderator
Joined : 2013-05-22
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 23rd 2013, 5:56 am|| |
A fireball nearly as bright as the sun hurled into one of the fleeing Jackals. It yelped and shrieked as it burned a hole straight through his back and out his chest on the other side. He immediately fell to his knees, then proceeded to faceplant the ground. There was a deep gash on her right side along her ribs that looked vaguely like claw marks but otherwise she was unharmed.
"I'm alright." She said to Cade, taking in his somewhat nearly panicked expression. Did he really care that much about her? "Most of the blood isn't mine."
Abaddon meant to turn away and head back to Mircea, but Cade grabbed her arm and nearly whipped her around. The movement made her hiss in pain.
"You're not alright." He sounded almost angry. "I can smell your blood."
"It's a flesh wound." She snapped back, snatching her arm from his grasp. "I will tend to it after I tend to Mircea."
"Don't be stubborn, Abaddon. Proctor can tend to him. If you pass out you will do no one any good."
"Proctor can't heal him as quickly as I can."
"He can if he donates blood."
"He's Human, Cade. His blood won't heal him in enough time before he bleeds out. I'm done arguing. The more time we stand here bickering, the less time I have." Without another word, she turned from the Werewolf and made her way to the Vampire. She kelt down and lightly stroked his face with the backs of her bloody fingers.
"Mircea!" She slapped his face hard enough to break him out of his uncounciousness.
"A-Abaddon?" His voice was soft, just barely above a whisper and she knew there wasn't much time.
"I need you to look at me, Mircea." It was almost as if she had hit him with a Compulsion Spell because his eyes immediately opened and focused on her face. "You need to feed." She pulled her hair away from the side of her neck.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 23rd 2013, 11:41 am|| |
Cade pulled back, looking dejected. Once again, she had callously brushed him off in favor of that foppish prick, and now she was openly offering herself to him. An expression flashed across Cade’s face, and if the others hadn’t been so concerned with Mircea, they would have recognized it as dangerous.
The hulking manservant, Proctor, swiftly approached his fallen master and helped Mircea into a seated position, guiding his lips to Abaddon’s exposed neck. Cade turned, unable to watch his rival feed. He heard a soft gasp escape her lips, and he felt his stomach turn. The whole scene was revolting.
A moment passed and then something - it could only be described as pure energy - pulsed through the air. It moved through his body, vibrating his organs, only to exit a moment later. Cade turned, his eyes fixated on Abaddon and Mircea. The waves of electricity seemed to be coming from them. Mircea stared back at him, his pupils slowly growing - taking over his scleras - until his eyes resembled bottomless black pits. Soulless. Soft whispers floated through the gentle breeze. Cade thought he recognized the voices as those of Abaddon and Mircea, but the language was unfamiliar.
Proctor had risen and was heading back toward the waiting car. He seemed completely unaffected by what was taking place. Cade watched the curious man open the back door, lean in and pull out a fleece blanket. He returned and stood next to Cade - waiting.
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
The library had to have been, Cade guessed, at least the size of a football field; the handmade book shelves towered over him, several stories high. Thirty-two ladders, he had counted them, had been placed throughout the massive room, all dangling from a series of iron tracks that ran the length of the shelves. There were four separate fireplaces. Four. All surrounded by overstuffed seating, coffee tables, and some sort of expensive throw rug. Cade, his fingertips gingerly tracing over the irregular book spines, slowly walked along the shelves. Some of the titles were familiar: The Iliad, The Odyssey. The Telemachy in its entirety. Several shelves down, Cade spied The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Sign of the Four, and A Study in Scarlet. Most of the books, with the exception of the ancient texts, appeared to be first additions - all in pristine condition.
He paused, an odd spine catching his attention. He pulled it from the shelf, studying its peculiar binding. It was a familiar peach in color, with tiny holes appearing uniformly across its surface. He brought the book closer to his face, inches from his nose. The cover smelled odd, like cured meat.
“Is that a hair?” Cade mumbled, tilting the book to one side for a better view.
“Could very well be,” Mircea appeared some distance behind him, “It was bound in human skin nearly a century ago.”
Cade spun around, “This is a person?”
Mircea smiled, “Part of one.” He approached and relieved Cade of the book, “It isn’t as uncommon as you obviously think.” He slid it back onto the shelf, the peach spine sticking out like a sore thumb. “Actually, a very common practice not so long ago.” Mircea tented his fingers, “When someone died, their loved ones, in an effort to keep some piece of them around, would opt to have precious books covered in their skin.”
Cade grimaced, “That sounds terrible.”
Mircea shrugged, “Humans have always been odd creatures.”
The two men stood in silence for several moments, each sizing the other up.
“As I said before,” Mircea gestured toward the nearest seating area, “Your assistance outside of the warehouse was greatly appreciated and should be richly rewarded.”
Cade slowly took a seat across from the elegant vampire, “And as I said before,” he mocked Mircea’s tone, “I didn’t do it for you.” He sat back.
Mircea crossed one leg over the other, “As I assumed, which makes me even more appreciative. If anything had happened to her...” His voice halted.
“You should have thought about that before dragging her out there with you,” Cade’s voice rose in anger. “You knew this was an ambush, but you still took her.”
His head tilted to one side, “Have you ever said no to her?”
Cade simply sighed.
The bedroom was dark, shadows dancing across the walls. The windows had been left open, allowing for the night breeze to enter. She was still sleeping, considerably weakened when her blood had been drained. Proctor watched Abaddon rest; Mircea had left to contend with the wolfman downstairs, but not before instructing Proctor to cater to Abaddon’s every need should she wake up before he could return.
Last edited by Delamere on November 23rd 2013, 12:23 pm; edited 1 time in total
Star Wars RPG Moderator
Joined : 2013-05-22
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 23rd 2013, 12:01 pm|| |
Not being fully Human gave her blood more of a kick than most and Mircea had been well and fully drunk on the ride back to his estate; or rather make that castle. He had giggled, actually giggled and she wasn't sure if she found it charming or disturbing. Not once had she ever heard him giggle. Perhaps she found it both charming and disturbing at the same time.
Abaddon was fully aware that Proctor was outside the room, sitting in the parlor. She could hear his breathing. She had been in and out of sleep for a few hours, unable to fully rest. She kept going over in her mind the events that had happened at the warehouse. The Court was now looking for Edward who seemed to have fled the City and they had given permission for her to track him down by any means necessary and dispose of him. He had deliberately went against Court orders and was now declared a Rogue. She wanted to run an idea by Cade but he had been so quiet since they returned that she knew he was upset. Was he really that jealous over watching Mircea feed from her? Blood was quicker to heal a Vampire than Magick. He had to know that. She would have opened a vein for anyone in that condition. She hated that he made her feel guilty.
With a frustrated sigh, she threw the covers off of her and stalked her way over to the bathroom attached to Mircea's room. Proctor had moved all of her things here so that she would not have to return to one of the many guest rooms she would stay when visiting. She was a perminant resident now and Mircea's..girlfriend? Lover? What was she to him exactly? She wasn't entirely sure.
The bathroom was a large black marble affair. The bathtub was big enough to accomidate a small army and the shower itself took up one entire wall. It had large glass doors and resembed something you found in a school locker room with at least ten different shower heads that rained down water like a waterfall. It was relaxing and envigorating at the same time. She was in love with the damn shower. They were all operated by a single control just inside the door and she turned it on as full and hot as she could stand it. The water; as she stepped beneath it, turned pink as she washed the blood away from her neck and side. Mircea had stitched up the three deep claw marks along her ribs himself even though Cade had offered. As generous as the offer had been, she was releaved when Mircea took the needle and thread from Proctor before the Wolf had a chance to.
Abaddon took her time, not really ready to join the Vampire and the Werewolf. There was so much tension between all of them that it was nearly visible. Finally, after stalling for as much as she could, she turned off the shower and dried off with one of the many thick fluffy towels. She padded out into the bedroom and slid into a pair of black sweat pants and tank top.
"Ready or not." She said to herself as she joined the boys in the library.
Joined : 2013-08-27
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 23rd 2013, 1:06 pm|| |
Both men stood when she entered. Cade, his bruised face illuminated by the roaring fire, moved forward. He gave her a once over, “Thank god,” he mumbled. She appeared relatively well after her short rest.
It was Mircea, ever the gentleman, who offered her his arm, “Come and sit with us, my love.” He gently lead her to an empty chair; after she was settled, the hand rubbed leather sucking her in, Mircea and Cade took their seats. The two men watched her, neither speaking a word for several minutes.
“I should be going,” Cade said suddenly. Abaddon was safe and that was all that mattered; he didn’t need to stick around any longer. The Wolf rose and gave Mircea a polite nod of his head.
“As promised,” Mircea quickly stood and gestured toward the door. Proctor, as though on cue, entered, reverently carrying what appeared to be an old violin case. The large man presented the gift to Cade before taking his leave.
Cade frowned, a quizzical look on his face. He fumbled as he tried to snap the hooks open, but eventually managed. He lifted the lid to reveal an elegant violin and accompanying bow nestled in crushed purple velvet. There was a note tucked behind it. Cade glanced up, “Is this a Stradivarius?”
Mircea nodded almost imperceptively, a pleased smile formed on his pale lips, “Actually, it was his first.”
Cade’s eyebrows rose, somewhat impressed; if that were true, this instrument was priceless. Curious, he pulled the folded note free and shook it open with one hand, the paper was thick, almost cloth-like. The short note was written by hand in elegant script and had been addressed to Mircea. Cade couldn’t read it, but did recognize the language as being Italian. He glanced up, “Is this note from Stradivari?”
“It’s written to you,” Cade continued, staring at the paper.
“We were friends,” Mircea answered simply.
“I shouldn’t accept this,” Cade began, a little put off by the extraordinary offering.
“Please,” Mircea urged, “Your actions saved something far more precious.” He glanced at Abaddon. “Besides, I have heard that your... night club?” The words seemed odd rolling off of his tongue, “Plays music.”
Cade laughed, “You don’t get out much, do you?”
Mircea smirked, “I suppose not.”
Snapping the case shut, Cade nodded, “Thanks again.” He looked at Abaddon, silently wishing she’d come with him.
Star Wars RPG Moderator
Joined : 2013-05-22
|Subject: Re: Bloodshot November 23rd 2013, 4:05 pm|| |
"There was something that I wanted to pass by you, Cade." Abaddon interrupted their bit of witty banter. It was good to see them exchanging polite words. She sat down beside Mircea, tucking her legs and bare feet beneath her to keep them warm.
"I have come to know and respect quite a few people within your Pack. The Court has recently given me permission to hunt Edward down. I am going to need help and I was wondering if you would ask among your Pack if anyone would be willing to assist me. I will need the best at Tracking. Mircea is giving me the help of Devil and Angel. Warrior brothers of old from Romania. Though I know he is sending them as bodyguards,"
She spared a quick glare in the Master Vampires direction. He had made her promise to take the two brothers. "Their skills will be invaluable. But they are warriors, not the Trackers I need."
|Who is online?|
In total there are 5 users online :: 0 Registered, 0 Hidden and 5 Guests
Most users ever online was 30 on September 14th 2013, 9:17 pm