*Someone is going to die if I find what I think I'm going to find in the beautiful, dark, kinky Penthouse suite we made our home in, and it isnt going to be pretty. No clean cuts, no protecting the females I fought for, they submit to my male, they touch him, feel the hunger I know is winding him up to something more than feral...they'll die...if he uses them, instead of me...they'll die. Fuck...I'm even dressed for the occasion, all assassin in leather, sleek hide molded to now pretty much taut curves, corset buckled around the holsters of my daggers, delineating every inch of my body in the exquisite mold of a predator...Might as well be pretty for my victims, since I never get the chance to wear it anymore...spit-up and leather dont mesh well...this 'run to the store' may take longer than anticipated if he really is keeping females in the Penthouse...or even if he isnt, isolating the scents and tracking the females down could take a while.
The young left in the capable hands of their father, asleep, fed, a shitload of diapers and milk on hand if I'm not back, I'm thinking I wont be missed as I materialise on the balcony of our home...God I missed this place. Black silk sheets over a giant bed, the rack, the wall of toys, the splotch of purple paint covering a good portion of black wall...our scent, his bond, on every surface...if it smells of anyone else...Growling as I push the thought from my mind and take the step towards the doors...eyes widening on a shimmer of tears. For the Penthouse is not empty, there are...inhaling deep, senses flared out...five of my own kind in there...males. My heart stutters, hammering so loud against my ribs I am sure it can be heard through the sliding glass door. So...I guess it isnt considered cheating if it is with the same sex..no betrayal if it isnt with a female...is that it? Have I neglected him so much that a mere one wont satisfy, he has to work them out in multiples? A quiet snarl, all predator, all silent grace and lithe lines of violence, the air freezing as it touches me, chilled by my rage, the glass doors parting, not daring to deny the flex of my will, bidding me enter the cool suite...and ultimately flattening up against the hard wall of a male chest, a soft 'oomph' leaving my lips as I back-peddle, canines elongating in a warning hiss, exposing bright pearly daggers* Who the fuck are you?!!
*Falling easily into a battle stance, the lethal silver of my blades glint the beams of moonlight to refract off a face paler than my own, not even porcelain, a shade lighter than anything I've seen, translucent in the glimmer of mercury kissing my palms, hilts flat to my wrist...apparently my daggers are just as eager to slice something tonight. With his hair slicked back, a platinum blond rarely found anywhere but a dye bottle, eyes a blood red, flashing amusement and annoyance down at me, the male looks like some sort of mutated Brother lesser...a threat, maybe, trying to intimidate me with the loom and silence. Eyes rolling on a derisive snort. Only ever serves to piss me off...or in V's case, turn me on...to act as though you can possess me. And this male is, his eyes narrowed to shrewd slits, gaze appraising my every leather encased curve, alighting with a quickly hidden flash of interest on the twin blades kissing my skin...I'm not naive. The countless females I have found who bowed to the wrong Master...and he is nothing if not a Master, good or bad. The arrogance, the slight camp air to his demeanor, the self-assuredness that comes with knowing he can get most anyone on their knees...and make them like it. It raises hackles that haven't been raised in a while and as I wait with the ever growing urge to kill him, a voice from inside cuts into a silence rife with promises of pain* <<Master, should we stop?>> *the response is quick* <<No, Markhas. Just a female with the most beautiful emerald hell-fire in her eyes. I believe I can handle her. Continue. This is a special request. Do not fuck it up!>> *there must have been an answer of some kind but it is lost to the white noise clouding my thoughts with insidious murmurings, Caith's voice the incessant niggling trying to convince my soul of something it refuses to acknowledge*
<<Let me guess...*my eyes track with feline slits of green, the circling of this male, his voice deep, crimson eyes scanning the length of my body* You must be Tory. No wonder his scent flares so strong and he retired...when one has such as you surrendering to him, any male would give up his fancies for one try at bringing you to hand>> *a compliment? Maybe...but the snarl that rips from my throat is anything but submissive. I like to think I'm logical...but if V is keeping these males for, whatever...I dont trust my voice, it feels too raw, too on the edge, too desperate and as the words spill, his expression changes...from interest to sympathy* I am his...In the world you know, he is my Master, my lheage...to me, he is that and more...he is my soul, my world, my hellren and I need to know...*God, it feels like everywhere I turn people are forcing me to let my soul speak. To let out the things that were ours alone...to prove my love for V, to fight for him...as though I should have to. Fuck it. Vishous is MINE! Shaking his head, the male answers before my question can be spoken and my soul can die, his tone softening, calming the beast in me with a deep, accented rumble* <<Dear, dear, female...such violent possession...*his head cocked, eyes meeting mine, debating what to tell me* you dont like secrets do you? I am sworn to the most solemn of oaths...and I have no desire to meet the consequences if I break from that vow. He is not doing what you have been led to believe he is doing. Trust someone who has no reason to lie to you. Trust in your hellren...go back to your young, and stop brandishing those pretty blades at someone turned on by pain>>
*well that shuts me down and my hand knocks from its threatening position, point of the dagger once pressing a glare of anger to his stomach, sheathed to my hips. Refreshing to find someone who isnt spewing bullshit that in all my post-natal insecurity, sounded plausible...even if everything else screamed it a falsehood. Damnit this strange male with his lesser looks makes sense...and I hate him for popping the bubble of my anger and uncertainty with the pin of his resolute belief. Absently peering around the bulk of his body to the bustle and clang shimmering out through the parting in the doors, my murmur low* I trust only V ...*But instead of screaming and raging, of killing, torturing...I allow him to shoo me from the doors with a flourish of hand and leather crop, the glass silently sliding shut behind him as he returns to the black of the suite, leaving me to stare out over the twinkling night of the Caldwell skyline...my mind a little more at rest, my curiosity replacing the homicidal urges to kill anyone that may have been willing to answer V if he called for someone to sate him. Scrubbing a hand down my face, hair pushed from my eyes, the thick waves whipping my ass with a sweep of air rushing the corner as I demat to my soul and the squirming bundles of miracles that no doubt are cuddled with their father on the white linen expanse of our temporary bed*
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