A Bladed Valentine

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind" (A Midsummer Night's Dream, 1.1.231-2)


{Time became meaningless, sitting here in the darkened space, contemplating my next move, the emotional chill clinging to the air around my body infiltrating the shadow drenched colonnades of the Primale Temple. Even without the locked doors, the frigid air of menace hanging over the place was enough to keep the timid Chosen at a distance, barked dismissals scattering them like doves to the winds when they sought to attend my 'needs'. In time, their attempts dried up completely and they left me to my own devices. Judging by the heavy stubbled beard growth darkening my jaw, and the growling of my hollow stomach's attempts at cannibalising itself, numerous days had passed without a disturbance...until now...Glowing white irises lifted in the direction of the doors, senses acutely attuned to the subtle, rippling disturbance in the frost-bitten atmosphere heralding the presence of another within the Temple's walls. Rising from my reclined position on the bedding platform with cat-like stealth, shirtless in only my fighting leathers, bare feet a whisper to marble, a ninja shadow, slipping through the puddles of darkness spilling from beneath the hulking columns, astute diamond eyes sweeping over the dark recesses, pausing, shoulders hugging the icy stone of a fluted pillar, ribs expanding silently to fill my lungs with floral scented air, no mistaking the ritualistic unctions and salves the Chosen used to prep themselves for my use, they layered on that cloying scented shit like Rehv's girls trowelled on make-up, and probably for the same reason... war paint, armor against the emotional fallout of the cold, emotionless sex they plied. Fangs bared on a warning growl, my words echoing a rumble into the frosty silence} I know you're there, Chosen {Rounding the pillar to plant feet square in front of the hooded female, towering with menace over her robed form, hands slung on hipbones protruding from the waistband of my low-hung leathers} I don't know how you got in here, Chosen, but I did not call for you. Like I told your sisters before you, you're not wanted here, true. Now leave...
*Leave? How many times can one male dismiss me from his presence with such cold anger? I can feel him, a fire in this temple of ice, scorching my skin with waves of annoyance. I'm just a female to him, to be cast aside, until it suits him, to be altered to his pleasure and his pleasure is isolation. Not a single one of my sisters may lay their gaze upon him now. Though their punishment, a case of serious sexual withdrawal is kinder than the fate he laid upon me. But something is caressing me, something deep in the darkness is purring loudly at the sound of his voice...and is silenced with the sudden swarm of hatred that overwhelms and drowns, a tidal crashing force strangling the uncontrollable pleasure that lights up in his presence with memories of the agony, the sheer excruciating pain that left me sightless and ugly....no pleasure was worth denying the wrath that ripped into me with razor blades of spearing detestation, and the spurs of rage kick their sharp tips to the flank of my aggression and guide the growling blind assault that has the blade torn from its sheath against my skin and aimed at the Primale. Pinpoint movements, I am moving with the shivers in the air, locating the massive tower of his freezing fire presence as it dwarfs the smaller flame of my anger, and lashing out, cobra quick, to strike, seeking blood with a hungry blade...out of my depth perhaps against his strength...but I can bet to the Dear Virgin Scribe that the Primale did not expect a Chosen to draw blood, on a fast lunge of balled up female fury no less....The Primale will never tell me to leave again*
Fuck..{Blind-sided, the blade glinting cold steel from beneath the Chosen's robes, slashing a crimson line across my chest before instinct engages and my spine flexes back, narrowly evading a far deeper gash from the female's disturbingly accurate mark, despite the hood depriving her of sight. The blade arcs in her fisted grip, slicing this time through nothing more substantial than thin air, blood a hot trickle to ice cold skin, with it unleashed a rush of violent emotion. This fragile, unfledged female no match for centuries of honed warrior reflexes, her slender wrist manacled, body wheeled about roughly, a body slam of warrior muscle mashing her hooded cheek to the cold marble of a column, dagger arm cranked up her spine, wedged between rock and a hard wall of living, breathing unyielding warrior, brutal pressure on delicate wrist bones forcing the hilt of the blade from the Chosen's palm, stubbled jaw grazing the silk of the hood covering the Chosen's ear, Inhaling the fear like a drug, light headed, the words a twisted snarl} Are you afraid of me, Chosen? You should be...You think I won't kill you as I killed her? {gloved hand cupping your throat, cranking your neck into a taut arc, your heartbeat fluttering frantic as a trapped bird in the crook my hand, your life in my palm} Didn't your little sisters and your precious Directrix warn you of my reputation, all the nasty things I like to do to innocent, untouched females just like you? {Fuck, but the latent sexuality of the situation, wrong on so many levels, is un-fuckingdeniable. My cock a thick hard ridge shaped in tight leather, wedged tight to the lush curves of the Chosen's ass, the leather grip on her throat tightening, voice savage} were you going to let me fuck you, Chosen? Just to ahvenge your precious Directrix... tell me why you deserve more mercy than you showed to your sister Serhenity?
*My strength is overpowered in a few quick moves that spin my body to dizzy weakness and trap me into a lock of brutal male and cold marble...but blood scents the air, rich and potent, satisfying. So my blade did bite into the Primale's flesh, it made a home in his skin on the first strike but refused to make contact again, and left me open to this pinning humiliation. I squirm, I writhe and kick and growl hisses of feral protests as the Primale's words filter through the silk of the hood, his questions striking chords within me that demand I fight back....but against this? Against the rough hand dragging my throat into a vulnerable column? Against the hard male aggression that threatens sexual domination at my back, a pressing masculine presence that hammers fear through my veins and catches my breath against the fabric of the hood. I'm inhaling silk and it is choking me. Not just his words that do not spin right, there is a tone in the last snarled question, a lilt that confuses me as my mind grapples to piece his question framed answers together through the riot of fury and fear warring for my attention. He....killed the Directrix? He....would punish the Chosen for not aiding me in my punishment? I....cannot breathe. The slightest give in the manacle of hands capturing my wrists, twists free of your hold to snatch at the stifling silk hood, gasping in lungfuls of chilled air and a scent that was all Primale. The words are a hoarse snarl, constricted by the hand still craning my jaw up...but my anger is dying, leaving me grasping at tendrils of violent heat* You should kill me, my lord...The Directrix left me worse than dead...*I do not know truth from hate, cannot discern what is real and my rage is losing steam, crushed against the mammoth form that had once set my body ablaze and now shudders me with icy confusion and a mist of anger keeping me taut, spine ramrod stiff, hips mashed to marble....anything to keep from brushing against the iron ridge pressing soft curves through a veil of silk...something, that strange part of me, told me to move back, to move into the heavy towering weight of the Primale, as the darkness bid me drop, to slip from his grasp, snatch up the blade and drive it home until the breath left his lungs and my life was ahvenged. But no true answers came from this. His implications stuttered my vengeance plan into blindness and left me faintly numb,  my plans unheeded now, confused, jumbled as I ask the one question that will set my path back straight and get the blade back in my hand* Did you order me blinded, sire?
{With the drag of silk over short cropped black hair, a wave of that achingly familiar scent crashes over me, a sensory bombardment, a mangled raft of conflicted emotions unveiled with the choppy mess of curls framing delicate cheekbones, and once emerald irises, now opaque and utterly blind} You?....it's YOU... fuck... {My body jerks away from you, gloved hand unclasped from your throat, the revelation felt with the physical force of an electric shock, the crushing realization slamming home to a brain playing catch-up with a bonded male physicality that had known all along, had recognised what was All. Fucking. MINE. Hard on its heels the horrible reality of our situation, the pounding evidence of my arousal, the threat on your life, the terror I instilled in you with my attack, a sick insult to your unjust injuries, injuries for which my heart carried a heavy burden of responsibility, gloved palm dragged down a face etched in lines of trauma and confusion at your question, the gravel still deep in my voice despite clearing the knot in my throat} Fuck What? Order you blinded? God no...{brows deep furrowed on troubled eyes} I failed you...and for that I will live with the regret for as long as my heart continues to beat...{running gloved fingers over the slash in my chest} I deserved this...I'm sorry so fucking sorry, Chosen.....
*You're gone from me faster than a heartbeat, your body no longer slammed up into my spine but paces away, a tangible agitation roaming at my back and raising hackles of wary fear, a direct response to the sudden freeze riding my skin in ripples of tentative emotion. You...did not order me blind....but the heat has gone from your body at the knowledge. You would have taken anyone of my sisters, even if it was just to punish, but me? You feel a breath away from bolting, disgusted no doubt that the silken length of my hair has been shorn from me and the eyes you admired are pale reflections, milky over the brightness of a passionate soul....no, you still cannot bear the sight of me, you cast me from your temple when I was myself and you seek still to do it now. You leave my body to save me from the chilling lack of arousal no doubt. I cannot stir you now you know who I am* Am I so hideous, my lord, that you must remove yourself from this pinning embrace? Your dominance will not even allow you to savour the fear enough to take me? Here....*anger slowly sizzling with the rising melt of blooming desire...from nowhere it creeps, freed from the restraints hatred had placed upon it, released in the face of your apology. It is not to be ignored, a boiling tumult of angry lust charging numbed veins once more with a fury of fire* Is that it? An apology, but still I am not as worthy as my sisters....they will send another perhaps. One more suited, one more scared. Hood me. I believe the rest of my self is unmarred, it may please you still....*spitting words are hissed, cheek rested to marble, hidden from you even as my face turns to direct the snarl in your direction...I goad, I provoke, but that something that tickled under my hatred, is blooming raw with the passion that lit up my soul at our first meeting...nudging at fury with desiring fingers* Take me to the door if you must…
Hideous!!?? {The word spat out on an angered snarl, laced with bitter incredulity} You think I don't want you, Chosen? {palms curling around your upper arms, fingers biting into tender flesh as I spin your delicate, robed form in a lash of choppy curls, your spine cracking back on the marble pillar with more force than my rational mind intended, the bonded beast seizing the reins of my sanity, driving the surging lust that courses through my veins, breaking from my pores in drugging waves of dark spiced possessiveness, yanking your wrist to shape your palm to the thick ridge of my erection throbbing, straining at the bondage of tight leather} Feel it..Does this feel to you like I don't desire you Chosen? {the words are growled desperation, your cheeks framed in a clasp of rough warrior hands, the pads of my thumbs stroking your cheekbones with tender restraint, fingers knotting into the choppy waves of your dark hair, urging your face up to meet the crystal diamond vehemence blazing beneath hooded lids, locking onto the sightless, milky depths of your eyes, willing you to see what you will not, and when my voice comes it is a hoarse, cracked whisper, a breath searing your lips} How can you be so blind Serhenity? You are utterly blind if you cannot see what you mean to me....I. Fucking. Love. You....
*I am torn into so many different emotions, pieces of my soul scattered around trying to decide how it feels, even as it lights up at your rough touch, your vehement disgust at my own view of myself, spinning me into a fiery darkness that strains through a shadowed sight to see you...just once more to look into those diamond eyes and see the desire I can hear in your voice, layered with desperation, sharp with the bite of anger, but that sound, curls the purrs through my core, drawing my lust to the surface as tears threaten to break the tight hold I have on them and rush to dampen your cradling palms....and I still cannot believe it. You thrust my hand upon you with such force, a need under your skin harshly grinding my palm to shape the steel constrained desire still pressing, still demanding...still wanting...me.... A ploy? A tease? To dissipate my anger and save yourself from my wrath? No....too much tenderness strokes with soft intimacy on my skin, your words too open, too raw to be a lie from a warrior who gives none of himself to anyone. I.....long admitted before my soul went into hibernation, hiding in the darkness of hate, that I love you...with my very soul, with every cell of my being, every breath....it had made my hatred all the more destructive....my lips part, the words tremoring on my tongue....but they are not the ones that come with the slow undulating arch of robed curves* Prove. It.