Alistair Owen-James Ivory

Name: Alistair, Prefers Lis.

*•*•*• vampire. manipulative asshole. former club owner. current entrepreneur. born c. 1874. •*•*•*

I took a deep inhale on the cigarette between my lips. Smoke curled, clinging to my lungs and billowing out as I exhaled. Blue eyes looked in front of me, the pile of wood growing and growing the more that was thrown in.

I lifted my hand to stop them, turning to grip the gasoline can. I kept the cigarette between my lips as I tossed the flammable liquid all over everything. Brows furrowed, eyes taking in the scene.

“Now, get the fuck out or you’ll go up in flames, too. And I’m not jumping in to save you.” I smirked, listening to them slipping out of the house without question. Lackeys, friends? No. Just two little baby vampires who needed someone to please.

I twirled the cigarette between my lips before I tossed it onto the pile. Underneath, at the very bottom, there were two bodies. I caught the twisted features of the first man, his hand outstretched. He’d been killed easily, too fast that his body had frozen in that terrorized stare. His friend had not been afforded that same fate. No, the other man was struggling against heavy chains, trying to move from under them. He cried out in pain as the gasoline- infused with wolfsbane - dripped onto his skin and into his senses. His mouth catching a few drops. Pain, so much pain.

My lips twitched as I crouched down in front of him, twirling the cigarette between my finger tips. “I told you that you talk too much, Tommy. I warned you to keep her name out of your fucking mouth. I warned you about spewing some bullshit fucking story. And I warned you about trying to pull one on my fathers.” I looked at him in distaste, nose scrunched up like he was a steaming pile of dog shit. Which, he would be soon.

“Please, man! PLEASE.” Tommy begged for his life as I’d expected him to. Fucking weak. My hand reached between the piles of wood on him and I slapped his face, hard. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

“Nah, that’s right, baby, you didn’t think! You were given more than enough chances. You know well enough that my dads don’t play around.” I lifted my finger to emphasize my point, shaking my head. “What- did you think they wouldn’t ask for retribution after your little stunt? Did you think you would be safe because you’ve worked for them for six years now? That was a stupid thought, wasn’t it?”

I took a step back, tapping the ash off the end of the cigarette and inhaling the last of it. “You knew better and you tried to fuck my family over anyways. You’re just lucky that mon père isn’t the one dealing with you. And that father would never dirty his hands with the likes of you.” I glared at him, pulling another cigarette from the pack.

“Sebastian Leroux-Ivory would have tortured you from the inside out, making sure you felt everything down to each nerve ending and he’d probably have heightened the sensations. You’re lucky he sent me in his stead.” I shook my head, scoffing at the sobbing werewolf. “You’re a fucking idiot. And a message. Don’t fuck with my family. Or you’ll end up in ashes.”

I lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply before tossing it at the wood pile. The flames lit up immediately, orange and red and white dancing higher and higher. Tommy’s screams filled the air, my lips curling at the smell as he began to burn. Eyes darkened and I turned on my heel, walking across the opening towards the two figures leaning against the car.

My fathers came into view. Alec’s arm wrapped around Sebastian’s waist, lips curled up in a smile. He stepped away from his husband, moving to cup my cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Always protect your own.”

He stepped away as mon père wrapped his arms around me, always the more affectionate of the two. He held me tight before stepping back, eyes bright. “They’ll understand, Lis. Just as you said. Don’t fuck with our family. We won’t go quietly.”