REAPERS QUEEN

Isabelle’s outstretched hand blocked Benjamin from coming any closer, making all of this so much harder for him. What he needed right now was a friend, someone he could trust with his secrets. But, Isabelle’s current disposition wasn’t the kind of reaction he was hoping for. Although, it made sense. Isabelle wasn’t his to lean on. She was Killian’s. Which was still riddle in itself. Killian was a psychopath and from what Benjamin gathered, Isabelle was not. But maybe that was the allure? The idea of being loved by someone who doesn’t love anyone. It could have been that. Or, she could have used him to get to Killian. Their entire night together could have been nothing more than a trick. A way for her to get to the boss. If so, it worked. She was a Queen now and her friends were Reapers. 

“So that’s how it is? I’m on the outside? What’s going to happen to me, Isabelle? Are you going to sew me up and send me to Tombstone City for caring about you?” There was a burning pressure behind his eyes now, as they filled with tears. He turned his face, blinking a few times so she wouldn’t be able to read him. But Isabelle never needed an emotion to be obvious, she could read a person better than a polygraph test.

“Oh yeah, he would never hurt you? He put a knife to my face, Isabelle. He trashed the party you put together. He’s unhinged! He’s a fucking psychopath.” This wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to have with her, but he couldn’t stand seeing her this way. She was bleeding last night, and when she emerged from Killian’s office (wearing his jacket), he could tell her dress had been cut off. How was any of that warranted? It was clear, Benjamin had no idea just how strong, capable, and feisty Isabelle truly was. He saw her as an innocent girl, who was in way over her head. Which, is the way most men viewed her. Killian was the only person who could see past the cliché princess, trapped in a tower, and waiting for a prince. Princes were for girls who are too afraid to slay their own dragons. To Killian, Isabelle was a warrior queen, not a damsel in distress.

“Something is wrong,” Benjamin whispered, “—I am stressed.” With every soft plea, he moved closer. Isabelle seemed less rigid now, and so Benjamin took advantage of it by placing his hands on her hips. “I need you, Isabelle.” The rest of their conversation could come later. In bed, and tangled up in the sheets. Benjamin would rather wait out her resolve, before confiding in her. He needed to know he could still trust her, and what better way to prove it than by giving into him, one last time.

“I trust you..” he promised, despite knowing she’d see right through him. Isabelle was gifted in a lot of ways, her ability to see through people’s bullshit was just the tip of the iceberg. “Do you still trust me?” As Isabelle dragged his jacket back, he rolled his shoulders. After it landed on the chair behind him, he sat down and reached for her hips again. “One last time..” Benjamin pleaded, and then pulled her down into his lap, “Please?” 

No amount of genuine force could have kept Izzy from rolling her eyes. No one said anything about him being banished or punished for loving her. If, assuming, that’s how he felt. These days Izzy didn’t know if was her, per se, that he loved or the chase  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her fingers twitched at her sides. Maybe with nerves? Maybe with anxiety. It was anyone’s guess, really. “I would never banish you to Tombstone City and I would never allow him to do so either. So, let’s not even talk about that as if it is a possibility.” As far as she was concerned, they both needed Benjamin. His skill set extended far beyond their personal dealings. He wasn’t just an adviser or friend or casual ex-hook up. He was their canary, for a reason. 

“How can you even say that?” It was Izzy’s turn to get emotional. Her nostrils flared and the hair along her shoulders swayed back and forth as she shook her head in utter disbelief of the words shockingly flowing from his mouth. After the blood bond, Izzy was plagued with this very real and very raw, in depth understanding of Killian. It was as if she could wear his shoes now and understand the monster behind the madness. “Better yet -- why don’t you mind your tongue?” Everything about Izzy was different. From her clothes to her hair to her natural state and standoffish demeanor. Killian was teaching her to become a queen and in order to do that, she had to shed some of the old skin. Like a snake after it hibernates. She was bloodthirsty now and the weight of her new responsibilities, made her heart and head, both heavier. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about--” His assumptions about her weren’t entirely wrong but, they weren’t entirely right either. Regardless, Izzy let Benjamin continue before his fingers latched onto her sides and his hands found purchase along on her hips, pulling her down into the forbidden comfort of his lap. “What we want or what we need, is not always what’s best for us.” Izzy wanted and needed a mother growing up. Doesn’t mean, the one she had was good for her or it would’ve made any difference. Maybe it’s true that life has a way of figuring itself out on it’s own. These were the cards they were dealt and they had to make due with them. Izzy was Killian’s, he was hers, and Benjamin was on the sidelines. That’s just the way it is. Although, he deserved better. Even if Izzy didn’t want to accept that his version of better required a life not with her. Or happiness that she couldn’t necessarily bring him anymore. 

When Killian decided to stay at the Steele Manor and take over the Reapers, he indulged in all the forbidden fruits that came with being King. He lost his virginity to a stripper, thinking he would feel something but he didn’t. He was afraid that after killing his father, he would become numb and he had. In order to feel something, anything, he stopped trying to find love in sex, and then it became about control. He liked holding girls down and dominating them. He enjoyed their nails being dragged down his back and their panting breaths in his ear. But that’s all he enjoyed. Being aggressive and on top. There was nothing else there – until he met Isabelle. They connected in a weird way. She was the only person to ever give him butterflies in the stomach and goosebumps on his skin. She provoked these feelings that moved him beyond a desire for power. She hexed him with affection and made him give sex another try. Sex, not fucking. 

The night of their first time, he came in shudders that unraveled his dark soul. That night, when he went to sleep, he wasn’t plagued by his demons. He didn’t have a single nightmare. She brought him to a safe place where his father’s ghost couldn’t reach him. That morning, Killian cried in the shower with relief. But then he realized how terrified that made him. So he planned to kill Isabelle for making him feel human again. But when it came time for him to end her life, he couldn’t.

Now, he was stuck with all these emotions. Killian didn’t even know what jealousy was until he saw the way Isabelle would look at Benjamin. She had a soft heart for him, and his guns were filled with cupid’s arrows for her. It didn’t take a genius to see the connection between his canary and queen. The thought of losing Isabelle to Benjamin is what provoked Killian into pulling her hair back while slamming his hips into her ass, leaving her cheeks blood red with every thunderous clap. As if that wasn’t enough to satisfy his depraved hunger, Killian continued to slap and fist her ass after every few strokes, reminding her in bated breaths that she belonged to him.

“You’re mine, reina!” When Isabelle stretched her arms back to grab onto his ass, aching to get a decent grip on him, Killian captured her wrists and pinned them above her lower back. If she wanted to hold onto something she could hold onto his cock with her pussy. She could clench down on his thick girth and hold him still, while he plunges into her with defiant strokes, forcing her to take every burning inch of him until he cums. 

“Mi reina!” Killian growled and then he pulled her head back. His office desk was ruined as Isabelle remained bent over it with her boobs half hanging out. They knocked everything over and the paperwork he left out was now crumbled and wet. Including two invitations to the Mayor’s Ball which Killian had yet to share with her. The event was tomorrow night but Killian wasn’t so sure she would make it. For as his hips stirred lazily against her ass and his abs flexed with every labored breath behind her, Killian unsheathed a knife from the inside of his red blazer.

With Isabelle’s hair still knotted around his tattooed fingers, Killian raised the knife to her throat and began kissing the back of her neck, up to her ear. “Can I confess something reina?” Killian breathed, labored and gasping. “You make me jealous. And I really don’t know how to process that. What really bothers me is, half the time I don’t know what you’re thinking or feeling. You shelter your heart and I know why. Because hearts make us weak and in here, weakness is death.” Killian remained still inside Isabelle’s heat, as he toyed with the idea of slitting her throat. “But there is a way for us to connect our hearts and entwine our souls.” With soft words came tender hands, as Killian pressed a palm over her back and slowly removed himself from her pussy. 

Killian needed her to pay attention to him for this part. So he lightly dragged the knife down her breasts and over her stomach. With her beautiful dress still covering her even more beautiful body, Killian cut a strap off her shoulder and then the other. His eyes were blue, yet dark enough to appear black behind the shadow of a thriving fire only a few feet away. “Have you ever heard of a blood bond, mi reina? When two people share blood and become bonded for life?” Before its reputation had been distorted and corrupted by teenagers at slumber parties, blood bonding was used by ancient warriors. The Aztecs, Vikings, and Samurais would bind themselves to their loved ones, therefore inheriting a part of their soul. The Lycans then adopted the sentiment from werewolf folklore, where mated wolves would bite into each other’s necks during sex, thus solidifying a bond for life.

“The ancients believed the act of sharing blood would allow one the unique ability of being spiritually connected to your soulmate. The Lycans borrowed the concept and a select few, the ones who are committed, consume their lover’s blood during sex. It’s supposed to open a gateway, which allows you to feel each other’s emotions and communicate telepathically. You know, the way twins do. I’d be able to feel your happiness, love, angst, and suffering. And you’d be able to feel mine. There would be no more secrets between us. I’d be yours and you’d be mine. Because, you can only do this once. If you were to do it again with someone else, you’d take in too much and go crazy. Your body wouldn’t know how to process all the different emotions.” Killian knew it was asking a lot. It was close to a marriage proposal. She’d take on his crazy and hopefully he’d possess some of her good heart. They’d balance each other out. And if she were fucking their adviser, he’d feel it.

In spite of how it looked or sounded to the outside world (including Benjamin, lingering behind the door), Isabelle was thoroughly enjoying herself and this moment with Killian. He might’ve threatened her life and that of those she loved on more than one occasion but when it came time to end it (or theirs), he didn’t. That showed true restraint and in its own twisted, fucked up way, it showed love. Killian loved her. Despite his better judgment and despite how scary that four-letter word was to say. He loved her. Through thick and thin. Before and after... he loved her. And for Izzy, that was enough. In fact, it was more than she’s ever gotten from anyone else. 

“Yours--” Izzy breathed, between battered moans and broken breaths. Her ass was a blistering shade of red now, and it stung. But, at the same time -- it felt kinda nice? Like embracing a cold breeze along the gulf of Mexico, where Killian promised to take Isabelle as soon as the reapers were under control. Which wouldn’t be for a little while. Or so, she assumed. “Don’t---” stop, she planned to say. But, her voice got caught in her throat as Killian snaked an arm around her midsection and then cradled her neck and jaw in his other palm. It looked like he was holding her hostage against his chest but in reality, Izzy obeyed the direction he lifted her body into. Her back was now pressed snugly against his sweaty chest, meanwhile the front of her hovered above his desk and his stack of papers. Just to hold some of her own weight, Izzy had to spread her legs again and in doing so, she gave Killian more access to fuck her from behind as he held her neck in a chokehold and talked in harsh whispers against the shell of her ear. 

Though, she couldn’t see him with her own two eyes, Izzy could hear the faint sounds of Killian rustling around in his pockets. The hand he had draped over her stomach had fell away so he could retrieve a knife from the hidden compartment of his red blazer. This wasn’t the first time, Killian had ever held a knife to her throat. Knife play was a common go to on their long lists of kinks. “Always.” Intrigued by the preface of Killian’s confession, Izzy encouraged him to keep going as she wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and her head, just in order to keep his mouth so close to her ear. The way his breath tickled the shell of it, caused Izzy to tremble and shake. With delight, not necessarily fright. Killian was in a much better mood, now that one hunger was being properly sated. 

Or so she thought... because as he continued talking, his thrusting had slowed to a desperate minimum. (Meaning, she was desperate for more -- not him) Killian was too busy trying to get his point across as the knife’s jagged edge gently grazed the side of Izzy’s neck. Like a deer caught in headlights, Izzy froze -- offering up no sudden movements until it felt safe enough to do so. 

“Ugh!” Following her gruff sigh, Izzy felt her body being forced to turn around so she could look up into the eyes of her King head on, as he finished punctuating his heavy-lidded thoughts. A lot seemed to be on his mind, she noticed, as she reached up to cup the right side of his cheek while he talked, and had even dragged the knife down the center of her chest, between her breasts, which were still half-hidden behind her lopsided dress. Izzy was beginning to feel stuffy in it and was glad when Killian decided to cut the straps off so her chest could be free. 

She made no attempt to hide it afterwards, knowing he’s seen it all before. “What?” All Izzy heard was the words “blood” and “bond” in the same sentence and knowing Killian, and his thirst for red, Izzy felt her stomach drop and her shoulders tense up. She learned not to fear too much anymore, having seen it all. But, there were still some instances when Killian said or did something that ignited Izzy’s flight or fight response. He scared her. And yet, he turned her out at the same time. It was very confusing. “I’ve heard of rituals where friends or loved ones cut themselves and merge the blood, if that’s what you mean.” Little did she know, his version of it was a lot more extensive. It wasn’t as quick or swift as it sounded at slumber parties or outside of campfires. 

On the contrary... the way Killian described it.. was a lot more in depth. As expected, of course. Killian wasn’t a surface-minded person. He lived in the trenches of his own traumas and experiences. He believed in acting fully rather than half-assed. Which is probably why he was so successful. “Kill,” -- Izzy reserved the shortness of his name in rare moments, such as these. When topics or actions became too heavy and she needed him to slow things down a bit. He was talking about drawing her blood, drinking it, and then.. consuming parts of her soul? It was a lot to handle. But, what scared her most was the vulnerability that came with it. Izzy didn’t keep a lot from Killian, except her heart and her traumatic experiences with her mother. She talked about them to him, of course. He knew the story but, this was different... it wouldn’t just be words or stories anymore, he’d get to feel the memories of her past for himself and she would feel his. Izzy wouldn’t wish her pain or Killian’s on anyone. They’ve been through hell and back. Could they really take it on again?

 “Okay... Tell me what happens though, if I say no?” She wasn’t technically saying no. She was just curious of what he’d say or how he’d feel if she did. Because it was asking a lot. He was practically proposing they stitch themselves to each other for all eternity. “And how will we know if it works? What exactly are you asking me to do?” She needed him to explain it further, make her understand so she could decide whether or not it was the right thing for them. At least, in her eyes. She loved him. Despite her better judgment, she was in love with him. Which is partly why, she was scared. Paloma was her burden to carry, not his. She was her scars, her past, her demons to fight. Killian had enough of those on a daily basis. 

While Isabelle went one way, Benjamin went the other. It was important for them to blend in and remain subtle, especially after what took place last night at The House. Killian’s violent outburst was a wake up call for everyone, Benjamin included. He’d never seen him so angry. Usually Killian was more poised, even in his executions. Behind all his childish tormenting and sharp-tongued sarcasm, was a brilliant strategist. Seven years in the military, and Benjamin’s never seen anyone like him. He was skilled in making people suffer in ways that couldn’t be taught, not even by the most well-versed persecutors.  

After a minute alone, Benjamin unlocked the door to the master suite and entered the room with a few deep breaths, meant to calm his racing heart and unsettling nerves. It wasn’t long after until Isabelle stepped in, triggering his flight or fight instinct. If he was smart, he would tell her to forget about it. But something about Isabelle made him foolish. She had that effect on most guys—and girls. Isabelle was beautiful, in ways makeup and Photoshop couldn’t imitate. Her beauty was more than skin-deep, she had this supernatural aura around her that could make even the strongest of men crumble at her feet. Killian was no exception, he decided to share the Reapers with her when he didn’t have to. He could have ruled alone like his forefathers did. Instead, he changed the game and added a Queen to the board. Isabelle wasn’t just a Queen, she was the first-ever Reaper Queen.

“What I have to tell you, it’s big. It could cost me my life, Isabelle.” Benjamin decided to drop all formalities and address her the way he used to before she became his superior. He wanted them to be the same people they were inside his pool on the night they met. They were more honest with each other back then. They stayed awake in his bed for hours, talking, making out, and having sex. Benjamin thought he knew every inch of her but lately, she’d been different. She seemed cold and distant. Killian was changing all the best things about her.  

“Look, as you know,” Benjamin removed his mask and set it aside, before meeting Isabelle in the center of the room, “I don’t have many friends. But I consider us…friends? At least I want us to be.” He actually wanted to be more than just friends, but what were the chances of that happening now? “I wanted to start off by saying, I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry I got you in trouble.” Benjamin reached his hand out to touch the cut on Isabelle’s neck. He noticed it last night, bleeding when she emerged from Killian’s office. He wasn’t sure what went on in there, but it sounded violent. Benjamin thought of barging inside quite a few times, but knew he’d no longer be alive if he did. “What did he do to you, Isabelle?”

“Don’t --” She really wished he’d just stop. Stop with the apologies and the sad eyes and the estranged looks. They were getting harder and harder to resist or deny and Killian was beginning to notice. As he addressed such concerns last night before they took out their aggression and love for one another on his desk. “Stop--” The warning was soft, much like her hand as it reached out to separate them. The purpose of her out-splayed palm on his chest was meant to serve as some sort of barrier, a line he shouldn’t cross or go over at the risk of their safety. If word got back to Killian that his queen and canary, both went MIA together at the same time, it wouldn’t end well. And would only fuel his previous suspicions regarding their prospective affair. As far as Killian knew, it had ended the moment he came into the picture and until a few days ago.. it had. But, then Izzy let herself succumb to Benjamin’s charms as she sat on his face like it were her own throne to rule. 

“You should know better than anyone, not to ask such incriminating questions.” A bit aggravated now, Izzy shooed Benjamin’s fingers away from her neck so he couldn’t touch the scar that was starting to form there. “And anyway, he didn’t lay a finger on me that I didn’t otherwise ask him to or warrant. He would never.” Any touch, whether soft or aggressive, Izzy welcomed from Killian. He never forced himself on her. “You have no reason to worry about me, I’m fine. In fact, I’ve never been better.” Along with Killian’s more depraved and ruthless traits, Izzy was beginning to adopt his invincible and godlike mentality. She felt unstoppable and ontop of the world. And she had no one to thank but their reapers’ nonbenevolent king. 

“Now, Benji--” In spite of Izzy’s hot and cold demeanor as of late, her next move was warm and welcoming as she clasped a hand over Benjamin’s left cheek. Like putty, he melted into her hands and Izzy marveled at the sight of his resolve crumbling, before her very eyes. His foundation was much weaker in her presence. Like she stripped away his walls and refused to let him put them back up. They were friends, despite the ulterior doubt. Whatever he had to say, she would never repeat. Even if he told her, he wanted to take down Killian and build a new empire with her on his arm, she wouldn’t rat him out. Although, she wouldn’t necessarily join in the act either. “Something’s wrong.” Izzy could sense as much, without Benjamin having to tell her. It was like her spidey senses were tingling and the closer he got to her, the stronger that feeling became. He was in trouble, that much she knew. But how? And to what extent? Was beyond her. “You seem stressed.” She felt obligated to assuage that by clasping her fingers around the collar of Benjamin’s jacket. She held onto it for a moment and then slid her fingers underneath to relieve it’s weight from his shoulders. 

Ben chuckled at his sister’s exaggerated uneasiness at the mention of Xavier’s name. “Fine. Your Romeo.” Because if Isabelle was his Juliet, then Xavier would be Lo’s Romeo. They were both caught up in the same sticky situation. Benjamin’s interest in Isabelle was a death wish, and Lorelei’s relationship with Xavier was the reason she had a target on her head. Though, as far as Killian and the reapers were concerned, their trusted canary took care of her. Which technically wasn’t a lie. He was taking care of her by letting her stay at his luxury, beachfront penthouse.

“Well growing up, people did assume we were twins despite the age difference.” Benjamin declared, once they were tucked away in a private corner, distanced from anyone who could be eavesdropping. The two of them didn’t look identical on the outside, but on the inside they were one in the same. They both idolized their father, lived for thrills, and were dealt shitty hands growing up. They were also a complete disaster when it came to dating, apparently. Their parents could take the blame for that one. They hated each other, which would explain why Lo and Ben were both caught up in toxic affairs.  

“Lo. No. That is not true. I’ve been under a dozen girls since Isabelle and it doesn’t work.” For some of those girls, he meant that literally. His dick would just not get hard for them. They tried sucking his cock, giving him hand jobs, —drugs, but nothing would happen. Isabelle put a fucking curse on him and he couldn’t break it. What happens to a player once he’s been taken out of the game? Benjamin felt like a benched has-been. The only fathomable solution he could see working, was closure. He needed to get Isabelle out of his system one last time. She promised him as much but lately, she’d been acting shadier than normal. Maybe she was finally starting to see Killian for the monster he is.

“Okay, you might be onto something. The one thing I haven’t tried is baiting her. If I flash the right kind of girl in front of her, she’s bound to come around. Girls are territorial.” Benjamin removed the toothpick from his mouth and finished off his glass of bourbon, while Lo tapped a new number into his phone. He didn’t waste any time shooting her a text message before Isabelle appeared at the bar. It was like she could sense it – Him texting someone else. She had amazing gifts, but Benjamin never believed they were real until now. Did she know he was conspiring against her? His intentions may not have been malicious, but they were still self-centered and dishonest.

“Get a ringing in your ear or something? Is that how your powers work?” Benjamin teased as he stepped out into the open. With Lorelei gone, there was no longer a reason for him to stay hidden in the shadows. “Look, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some things. They’re important. Though, not exactly important enough for everyone else to hear. It’s more of a private, personal matter. Still, I’d like it if you could hear me out?” He already sent a text to Samantha, but that was before Isabelle showed up. There was no reason to parade another girl around, if he could get her to talk to him without the tricks. “If you can or if you want to, meet me in the upstairs suite.” The room was off-limits to the guest, but Benjamin already swiped the key earlier. He planned to hide Lorelei in there, if things went south, but so far the event seemed relatively tame, with the exception of Killian riling up a few of their rivals. It was as if he couldn’t help himself, and no word of advice from his hired adviser (Benjamin) seemed to matter. 

“Excuse me?” To be fair, Izzy was only partially listening. She had a lot of things on her mind and quite frankly, she was frustrated. Both with herself and with Killian who seemed to have disappeared into thin air. It was harder to keep a close eye on him when he was nowhere to be found. Then again, the distance gave them both an opportunity to test out their new blood bond and see whether or not it actually worked. 

In the meantime, Benjamin’s question seemed to make more sense as Izzy recounted it. And at first, it didn’t dawn on her that he was referring to her acute intuition rather than the ritual she and Killian performed the other night because how would he even know? He wasn’t there for it. “I’ll take another glass of bubbly please --” Beside her, Benjamin carried on while the bartender refilled her empty glass and slid it back towards her. Izzy was prepared to take it and leave but found that she was now anchored to Ben and hearing him plead his case. 

“Five minutes,” she answered with a sigh, before downing what was in her glass and leaving it behind at the bar. She was giving him five minutes to meet her in this upstairs suite. If he was late or didn’t show, she wouldn’t feel inclined to give him another. 

“By the way, you look dashing.” Ben was no stranger to wearing suits but, this particular one seemed to suit him well. Along with the mask. Which Izzy definitely noticed as her hand brushed his in an all too intimate gesture and she left him to make a quick stop at the ladies room. She needed a few seconds to breathe before she ascended the left-wing and met him in the upstairs suite as planned. 

Of course, as soon as the door closed behind her, Izzy peeled off her mask and set it aside along an end table before meeting Benjamin half way across the room. “You said this matter for you, was personal? What’s it about?”

Location: Masquerade Ball — The Riveria Estate  Status: Open @gowstarters​

The night was rather young but that didn’t stop Carmen from grabbing, what would be her fourth, glass of champagne from the circulating drink tray. Taking a sip, the woman readjusted the mask adorning her eyes as azure hues scanned the room for anything, out of order, so to speak. Sure it was pessimistic to think that something could go opposite to plan but, with two rivaling clans drinking, dancing and conversing in the same space made Carmen uneasy. The theme of the night made it especially unnerving for not being able to make out the faces in the room put Carmen out of her element. Carmen could remember the days when she actually enjoyed such affairs such at this, even thought of throwing one of her own at one point but, that was before she lost her meaning of contentment in an abandoned warehouse. Long story short: Times were different now, much different. With what happened to one of her father’s operations and the deaths of many of their his people, attending an extravagant function that just so happened to be thrown after such an event seemed a little, odd. 

Carmen wasn’t exactly involved in the happenings of her father’s organization but that didn’t stop her inquiring mind. Unfortunately, her many questions would have to wait until the night was over unless her father’s right hand man decided to make an appearance which Carmen would surely work to her advantage. Apprehension aside, if anything were to go left at the party, Carmen knew she could count on the hidden gun holster strapped snug around her thigh, her customized pistol tucked inside, hidden by her ankle length dress. A lady is always prepared. Setting down her drink, a sound of annoyance escaped her lips as she readjusted her mask yet again. “Note to self: Custom is not synonymous to comfort. Beauty is pain, beauty is pain…”

“Beauty is pain, in deed.” It wasn’t exactly hard to overhear the irritated rumblings coming from the other woman. She seemed to mirror Izzy’s thoughts rather meticulously. In spite of the theme of the night, Izzy was sure the true intentions of this here’s ball was hiding right there before them, in plain sight. All it took was some surveying the crowds and some sweet talking the Mayor to put two and two together. The true culprit wasn’t the pig who plastered his name and face all over flyers and posters which littered this city day in and day out. The mayor was neither that smart nor that cunning. So, it begged the question of who’s party this really was? 

Needless to say, Izzy was on a mission to find out. And rather than teaming up with Killian, who would’ve just turned the entire party into his own bloodbath, she resorted to acting alone. This way, she could prove to him, to herself and to their people that she was worthy of being called their queen. Afterall, her initiation into the reapers was much different than the average joe. She didn’t have to circle the edge of death while hyped up on grim, have her face rearranged during a cage fight, or bleed herself dry over Edgar Steele’s bones. She had to prove herself to Killian and his most trusted advisor, (or as their people referred to him as: -- the canary) in different, more obscene ways. Only then, could she move onto her next trial. And then so on and so forth... 

At the unfamiliar voice, Nik raised his gaze from the book and towards the woman that had just walked in. A spike of irritation, like wildfire, coursed through his veins even if his features remained carefully trained in a look of vague recognition. These people fed off their infamy, off anger and recoil, so a reaction was something they were going to be declined, even if it cost him a few years of his life. “I did not know it was you.”, for a moment his eyes fell back down on the book in his hands, as if unperturbed by the unwanted presence, his voice a pleasant, stately thing, “But we’re not animals, are we? I haven’t changed my mind - please, help yourself.” He gestured towards the pack of cigarettes, a sleek, silvery thing, as he carefully placed the book back into its spot. It took all what remained of his frayed restraint no to shove it back in and turn to sneer at the woman. 

“No we haven’t. A shame really - I was wondering when I’d be offered the honour.”, it was all saccharine words, a bit too pleasant not to be a hidden blade sharpened to a point by the usual affront being a Lycan entailed, and the fact Nik was seeing red after everything that had gone down tonight. He busied himself with his cigarette as she took off her mask, only a faint trace of a sharp smile in the corners of his lips as he watched her over the red, glowing tip of his cigarette. Bold. Fair enough - he might as well play along. “Yes, quite a change from wet dog. I must admit, you’re more original than your beloved.”, his mask slipped off easily enough, even if the figurative one remained as he offered his hand. It was a dare, rather than custom. “Yes, Nicholas. A pleasure, Isabelle.” 

For a moment his attention turned to the ashtray, to tap the ash away before his gaze slipped across the vastness of the room that surrounded them, its shameless luxury. He spoke, even as he turned away from her to make his way around the room, “Let’s not play coy Miss Samson, neither of us is even remotely close to it - either you’re here to taunt and distract me while Killian pulls some shit downstairs. Or, you’re here to snoop around and I just beat you to the punch.”

So much hostility, anger, and contempt. It was clear, if not by the Alpha’s greeting than the manner in which he spoke that Izzy’s presence wasn’t welcome. Or at the very least, it had made him wary. Perhaps, even curious of what she wanted. Most likely to toy with him, is that it? Killian gets his fill and then right after, Izzy’s expected to follow? On the contrary -- it was neither this or that. But merely, mutual persons of interest. Surely, the Alpha suspected the same things they did. That this ball, it’s guests, and probably its hosts were a trap. And like rats, they all fell into it. Although, who would get caught first? Him? Her? Her beloved? One of their people? The list was endless. And they neither had nor could afford the luxury of playing cat and mouse right now, with whoever deemed tonight’s event a little game. 

“There’s that southern hospitality.” Wolves were pack animals were they not? So were the Lycans. If history served them correctly, they started their group out of a desperate attempt to salvage their people and protect them from the jaws of their now sworn enemy. Izzy wasn’t around 30 years ago when the war between the lycans and reapers got started. But, she had Killian, who’s father and grandfather led the same group he now took over. Killian taught Izzy everything she knows. And likewise, she was starting to rub off on him too. They fulfilled one another’s dark holes and although no one would ever understand it.. Izzy loved Killian. They were bonded now. Even if she was plagued with doubt now, there was no turning back. Their blood ritual couldn’t be reversed. So alas, why not embrace it? Being Queen wasn’t easy. In fact, Izzy was still learning how to fulfill the role that’s been given to her. Given -- being the keyword. As some would argue, she hadn’t earned it yet. In time and in her own ways, Izzy wanted to prove those disbelievers wrong and make the role she was cast to play, her own. By doing it her way and in her own time. 

“And they say you wolves aren’t smart,” She scoffed. But, he seemed to acknowledge that her presence was an honor and, a gift. Something to take advantage of and maybe, just maybe... make allies with. That is if he could set aside his pride and work alongside an enemy to defeat the wrath of another. “I would apologize on behalf of Killian but in doing so, he might just inflict his ill mood onto me.” Izzy was compassionate but not exactly selfless. She was an only child, spoiled but not so incredibly so that she couldn’t recognize the value in certain fortunes. 

“A pleasure in deed.” After eying the gesture for a good minute, Izzy assessed that it was harmless. And in addition, a challenge and therefore: accepted. Or rather, was it a general rite of passage? If she denied formalities, she’d give off the impression that she suspended herself too far above him. And despite the way nature painted them now, they weren’t really enemies. Afterall the enemy of thy enemy was a friend. The only question is... where did he fall in the spectrum? And were her initial suspicions misguided? Was he the mastermind or just another one of the pawns on this obvious, real, live, chess game. 

“You caught me,” Izzy purred, behind a tight, red-lipped smile. “The jig is up.” If that was sarcasm on her tongue, it was up to him to decipher it. She wasn’t going to make it easy or obvious on anyone. Where would the fun be in that? 

 “Although, it is rather insulting that I would be cast as a, -- what was it, again? ... distraction?” Insulting but typical. Pretty girl, pretty face. Why not act as the human smokescreen? “I assure you there’s more to me than my kittenish looks and pretty face.” This wasn’t Izzy tooting her own horn. Her beauty was often misconstrued as her only weapon of choice. But she had others. Many. Most of which, her opponents had never saw coming. “But--” As her shoulders beared a shrug, Izzy drifted closer and allowed her fingers to softly comb through the array of books, admiring their marksmanship and the stellar collection, “On the contrary, -- neither. You see, we have a couple things in common. This may come as a shock to you, Mr. Sterling but, -- I am here to help you. That is, if you and I can set aside our differences of course.” She knew, in time, she would have to elaborate but for now, Izzy wanted to give him a chance to either: A -- hear her out or B: -- directly decline the offer. In which case his life, and his people’s lives would no longer be this city’s concern, or hers. And no regrets would weigh heavy on her heart because at least, she tried. Plus, with the lycans wiped off the map, it left more territory for the reapers to conquer. 

Location: Riveria Estate, the study  Status: Open @gowstarters​

He stood beneath a colossal bookcase, a grand piece of mahogany with carefully crafted golden etchings and rows after rows of books, neatly tucked away and seemingly untouched, the spines of finely bound leather free of that wear and tear all beloved books are marked with. Someone had cared enough to dust them off regularly, but that was the extent of care they were provided, a shame, considering the collection. Nik took a sip of his champagne, allowing the silence to hang between him and the person who’d just walked into the study for a stretch of a moment before he spoke, “Seems like such a waste, doesn’t it? It’s an astonishing collection.” A crystal ashtray stood on the expensive-looking end table beside him, and Nik tapped the ash from his cigarette into it, before taking a slow drag, “If you’re here to tell me I’m not supposed to be here - I’m going to have to argue you’re here too.” His fingers, still carefully gloved in fine black leather, reached for one of the books and pulled it out, and he ran them absentmindedly and gently, as if to caress it, along the golden letters, “There are cigarettes here on the end table, help yourself.” 

"How very chivalrous of you. Even to someone like me.” Izzy was referring to the smokes left out on the end of the table as she crossed her arms over her chest and slipped with mindless ease into the estate’s, boundless study. She was made very aware of her companion’s presence from the moment he stepped foot into her periphery downstairs. In fact, Killian had made it his mission to taunt the Alpha all night. If only to see what he was made of. Sticks or stones.

Izzy couldn’t say she agreed or disagreed with any of the contention that went on between them. On behalf of her not being present for most of it. She was elsewhere, taking care of personal matters.  However, she got a weird feeling about tonight. And taking into account that she had a gift for these sorts of things, she felt it was safer and better for them all, to survey the enemy herself. Just one on one.

Like Killian, she suspected the party was a trap though. Alas, she didn’t know who set it or why. Granted, she planned to figure it out on her own. She always could tell when a person was being forthcoming or if they were lying straight through their teeth. Even if they were absolute strangers. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.” Instead of hiding her face behind her mask like some sort of coward, Izzy peeled hers off in a sign of good faith. Now her eyes, a deep shade of brown, shimmered under the golden chandelier hanging above their heads, turning them a new sparkle of amber. “Isabelle. And, I believe it’s Mr. Sterling right?”

Killian didn’t know how to properly answer Isabelle’s question. The truth of the matter was, he didn’t know what to think of her yet. He’s never met anyone like her before. Isabelle was strong and fierce, yet completely vulnerable. She was everything he wanted in a Queen. If she was monstrous, he wouldn’t have trusted her. And if she was too pure, she wouldn’t have fit in. Isabelle resided somewhere in the middle of it all. She was the kind of girl he could have had a real relationship with, in another life. They could have gone on dates to the movies, rode bikes on the boardwalk, and made out on the front step of her father’s house, while he waits up for her on the couch. That wasn’t their life, though. Killian was a psychopath and Isabelle was dormant. She came from war and madness just like him. Her father made a living off the very bullets that were piercing this city’s heart. And her mother’s mood swings were deadlier than any of the artillery hoarded at Samson Inc. Violence and chaos was in their blood. 

“What if —I wanted Benjamin in here mi reina?” Killian mused, as he undid his slacks behind her. He didn’t honestly want to bring their canary in to watch them fuck. Benjamin didn’t deserve to see their queen stripped down to nothing. Though, he has once or twice before, things were different now. Isabelle was his. She belonged to him. He made sure of that when he raised his hand above her ass and then wailed down on her cheeks until they were bright red.

Afterwards, he reached down into his boxer-briefs. He was already hard, so when he pulled his underwear down, his cock sprung up and hit her pussy. “Ughmm.” It was no secret by now that Killian was somewhat of a sadist. He derived pleasure from Isabelle’s pain. But only when he was the one inflicting it. If anyone else were to ever harm a hair on her head, he would maim and kill them. “You don’t have to worry…” Killian leaned over her back, so he could talk against the side of her face, “I’m not going to bring him in here. You’re mine, reina. I don’t need an audience to prove that.” With his mouth pressed against her ear, Killian pushed himself inside of her without a condom on. Then began slamming his hips off her ass, while holding her hair around his fist. When it came to their fucking, Killian was an animal, though there were certain times when he’d fall into a more sensual rhythm with his queen. However today wasn’t one of those days. Killian wanted Benjamin to hear them outside. He wanted it to sound like he was murdering her so Benjamin might barge in and try to stop him. 

It was actually, quite typical of Killian, to provoke an unfair fight. Then again, no man or woman -- whether Lycan or Reaper, was of any match to the King of the Underworld. Killian’s shed more blood than Jack the Ripper, himself. He put every other serial killer and even his predecessors, to shame. No matter if those before him, were responsible for killing thousands. Because, sometimes it wasn’t the number of kills that set his bar so high. It was the gruesome tolerance and the unruly methods, in which he went about them. Killian would either murder and maim his victims with a smile or he’d make it quick and swift. Really, the circumstance determined the eventual punishment. And, the recreation. 

In Isabelle’s case, she wasn’t sure what spectrum Killian currently fell on. He was consumed with suspicion and doubt. Unable to really make sense of Isabelle’s mercy towards their canary. While, she could assure him until she was blue in the face that her feelings for Benjamin were professional and platonic, it would take more than words to inevitably convince him. He would need to see or feel that proof for himself. And what better way than to take back what was rightfully his? Or do so, so loudly that Benjamin dare not, try to intervene. Or risk putting Izzy in even more danger, or at the very least, in the crosshairs of Killian’s violent temper. To which, she was no stranger of. Albeit, he served her lessons in more carnal ways.

Not that Izzy was complaining. In fact, the sound of his zipper unraveling or his slacks pooling around his ankles was a welcomed symphony to her ears. Izzy embraced his hands and his dick as it smacked against her slit, as if tapping some metaphorical door and encouraging her to open up for him and let him in. In which she did, by spreading her legs wide open as he whispered with sharp convictions in her ear. Like his skin, his breath trickled hotly along her flesh causing Izzy to shudder. Though not with a sense of fear now but with delight. As frightening as Killian was or he could be, he was just as irresistible. Her ass could take a beating from the relentless pounding of his hips (and it did) and she would enjoy every, sadistic second of it. She wore his bruises and bite marks on her skin, like declarations of love letters. In Killian’s twisted world, that’s precisely what they were. Every thrust, every whisper and every thunderous clap said; I love you, you’re mine. Killian never needed to say those words though, in order for Izzy to understand or decipher them. It was unspoken, just like their attraction for one another. And just like Izzy’s glee as she struggled to formulate coherent sentences. Instead, the sounds she made were a mix of harsh cries, aggravated whispers, and hoarse curses.

“I know it’s difficult to wrap your head around, but fear has been an effective tool since the beginning of time. People betray those who are forgiving and merciful. Why wouldn’t they? What consequences would there be if they decided to rebel? It’s human nature to prey and feast on the weak. Have you ever had someone in your life, who you did everything for, stab you in the back?” Killian has. The day he broke into Tombstone City to free his father’s prisoners. He thought they would thank him but they tore him to pieces. Augustus was still their King. In the end, they knew it was better to follow him than some teenage boy. No matter how much courage he had inside his heart.

“Once you find out who your real family is, they’ll respect you without the fear. They’ll respect you because they worship you. Those Reapers out there, do not love us, mi reina. They love the money, chaos, and refuge we provide for them. If they thought we were kind and benevolent, they would overthrow us. They would make a throne out of our bones. They’d take what they want ‘cause who would stop them?” Even God had to be feared. He was the one who appointed the Devil to torture all those bad souls, wasn’t he? God has always been the marionette. Yet people worship him. Why? Because they fear if they don’t, they won’t get into his all-exclusive club. They’d have to walk in limbo or dance with the Devil. Was that worship not controlled by fear?

“Oh, I plan on it, reina.” Killian was just getting started with the Reapers. That’s why it was important for Isabelle to represent him better. If people saw their cute dimpled faces, smiling behind cake, and celebrating holidays, they’d mistake them for people instead of Gods. People die. Gods live forever. And you don’t want to get on the wrong side of a God.

“There’s only one thing stopping me. A question. A concern actually.” Killian stepped behind Isabelle and released his fist from her ass. Then he grabbed onto the back of her neck and pushed her chest against his desk. There was something bothering him. It was the way she ran over to Benjamin. They developed this annoying habit of defending one another. Killian was aware they were intimate once. Was she still into him? Because that would be a problem.

“I have this nagging feeling that there’s something still going on between you and Benjamin.” With Isabelle’s ass somewhat showing from the position he put her in, Killian slid his hand under her dress, and twisted her underwear around his fist.

“My mother left my father when I was still a kid. That screwed me up. Big time. So did my grandmother, actually. You see the pattern?” As Killian waited for her to answer, he grabbed the back of her neck to keep her from moving, and then tore her panties off. He let the material rip away slowly, before bringing the tattered pieces up to his face so he could smell whether or not she was turned on. He was like a hungry shark, pacing around its prey after getting a whiff of something delicious. “Should I call Benjamin in here to let you choose? Because Reina, you’ve been good to me. So I’ll let you decide. Just this once.” To further coax her into an answer, Killian brought his middle and ring finger into his mouth. He sucked on them purposefully and then wedged them between her open thighs. “No tricks, no strings…” With one hand teasing her clit, the other ran through her hair. He loved how silky smooth it was and how strong it felt as he pulled her head up into his fist. Killian didn’t want the desk to muffle her cries. He wanted someone else to hear them. Benjamin, who he knew was outside the door, making sure Isabelle was safe from their King’s nasty temper.  

Every word that Killian spoke was eerier than it’s last. Izzy could feel the chills run down her spine. Which was, kind of ironic really. Considering the conversation that just unfolded not a minute prior, about fear. It pegged the question of whether or not Killian intended that? He preached about one subject only to find that, Izzy gets roped into experiencing it. Of course, it would make sense. Killian was a gifted mastermind. Part of the reason why he was so successful was because of his acute, acumen. If there was one thing his father, had never taken from him -- it was his mind. Though, plagued by demons and nightmares when nightfall neared, Killian was still as sharp as the knives he used to carve people up.

“And what’s that?” There it was again... the fear returning. Rising up in Izzy’s stomach like a volcano threatening to explode. If she wasn’t careful, Benjamin would have to come in and clean her guts up off the floor after they implode all over Killian’s desk and luxurious-skull emboidered carpet. “Don’t be silly, mi amor.” Izzy’s attempts to laugh off her King’s worries were shoddy at best. They could’ve used a little more practice. But, quite frankly she was caught off guard by the suspicion. Right away, she started thinking back to the events that led up to this moment. She tried to recall when her eyes might’ve lingered on Benjamin a little too long, or her touch might’ve appeared too affectionate. Being kind to Benjamin came as natural to Izzy as breathing. He was someone, both of them had trusted with their secrets, knowing he’d take every last one of them to the grave. In the end, Izzy came up short. Unless.... saving Ben from having his face ripped off, was some sort of declaration of love? Then Izzy didn’t know how or why Killian came to such accusations. 

Needless, it didn’t matter how or why. He still wanted an answer. Or rather, he wanted affirmation that she wasn’t cheating on him with their canary. She wasn’t. At least, not today of all days. She had more respect and decency than that. “Mmm---” A strangled cry got caught in Izzy’s throat as she felt Killian wrap his fist around her underwear and tug. Enough to where her body was pulled in the direction of his hand. Of course, Izzy didn’t mind it. She loved and preferred her King when he was most depraved. His ire was attractive and sent a fire through her belly that she couldn’t quite explain, no matter how hard she might’ve tried. “Is that what you think of me?” That, she was like his father’s whores. Or the mother who abandoned him? It was insulting really, but, Izzy knew better than to make this matter about her. It was about him. And what he needed to hear. Which was that, she only had eyes for him. And he could bend and break her to his will and she would thank him ever so kindly for finding her worthy. After all, it was an honor to be his chosen queen. And many women would’ve killed to be in her position, quite literally. Killian wasn’t just a criminal mastermind. He was profoundly godlike in many other ways that extended far beyond his gruesome psyche. He was beautiful and decadent. Born with baby, blue eyes and a sex drive that would put even the dirtiest of nymphos to shame. 

“Mi amor--” Izzy could hardly contain herself. She didn’t have to see Killian to know what he was doing behind her back. Her senses could pick up on the sounds of him inhaling her scent and sniffing the sweet aroma of her pussy juices from the burgundy red lace of her underwear. No doubt, a gift from him to make up for something. Like, missing dinner or for throwing a tantrum that landed her in his crosshairs. “That won’t be necessary--” But rather, calling Benjamin in, would only pose as a distraction. And why wait? --Was the way that Izzy chose to look at it. Who knows how long it would take Benjamin to get there. 2 seconds... 3 seconds, 5.... Every little bit of time counted. “I choose you. I always choose you. Now, will you do me the honor mi amor, and quit stalling?”

Esmeray had never felt quite confident on her own in a bar unless her best friend was working behind the counter, or she was in the company of friends. However, when those two options failed, she often made her way to the house. Though she knew of its affiliation and would have normally stayed away, all had come to change a few years ago after the birth of her twins. Their father at the time, and still was, a reapers. Therefore, most tended to know her and extended their protection. At the sound of the woman’s voice at her side, she eyed the queen taunt a fellow patron.

Even if she remained ignorant about who was affiliated with who, she could tell by the woman’s stance and tone that this person was less than welcome. Guilt and pity for the patron blossomed in her chest and she did the only thing she could think of. “Hey,” she touched Izzy’s arm gently with a smile. “I got you a drink. it’s your usual.” Hopefully it would be enough of a distraction for the male to make a quick getaway. @reapersgoddess​

In the beginning, when Izzy still struggled with her intuitive mind.. she kept quiet or to herself. She hardly ever spoke to outsiders unless otherwise intended and for the most part, was cordial. Tonight was different. She was unusually on edge and her temper had been flared. Leaving her to taunt a patron at the bar who she saw as a potential threat. Having noticed him scratching at the paws of their sworn enemies, the Lycans.

Izzy was three seconds away from turning her live mouse into a dead one, when her focus had been interrupted by a woman at the bar. While, she noted the intent behind the gesture -- she also witnessed her prey get away. Affiliated with the reapers or not, Izzy was angered by her soiled attempt at teaching Lycan sympathizers a lesson. “That’s kind of you,” Izzy turned towards the reaper-affiliate with, immense poise. “But a drink won’t make up for the fact that you just cost me my meal.” Izzy supposed she’d have to return the favor. “It’s Esme, right?” It was partly her duty to recall certain faces, to help keep track of the litter and all. “How are the twins? Still alive, I hope?” These days, who knew? Even children had become collateral damage. It came with the territory. Not that Izzy favored that fate. Kids were off limits. It was the adults who were not. Or even the parents who were responsible for raising them.. surely, she thought about that? If not now then sometime after giving birth?

“I know.” Killian tossed a hand in the air and then let it drop. He understood why she threw the party. There wasn’t any malicious intent behind it. She just wanted to surprise him with something nice, but that felt foreign to him. He didn’t know how to react. Should he cry? Smile? Walk around the room, shaking hands and giving those awkward side-body hugs everyone likes to do? Was he going to open gifts, smile and tell everyone ‘Oh I love it!’ when he really doesn’t? Ugh it would just be so exhausting. So he threw a tantrum. Tantrums he understood. The adrenaline rush of throwing things around and getting people riled up. He really loved that feeling.

“Do you really think I take pride in killing people?” He had to think about that for a minute. Oh, he does! He wasn’t sure at first. But yeah, killing people is awesome. “Okay, I do. But it serves a purpose, mi reina. These people aren’t innocent. They signed up to be a part of this life. And when it comes down to it, they’d kill us too for the right price. We’re not living in a civilized world anymore. The Reapers, Lycans, and the Cartel…it’s a different spectrum. I know you want something normal, something sane. So do I. You see, I grew up obsessing over those idealistic dreams, too. And one day, my beautiful reina, we will have those things. But only after we make our mark. These people, they have to respect us. And nothing demands respect quite like fear…” A slow smile crept over his lips as he stepped forward, and placed an oddly gentle hand against the side of her face.

“We don’t ask for forgiveness. It’s just there. You’re the only person I trust. I know you don’t always believe that, but I’m pushing you to be your best self. Others want to tame your inner strength, they want to put your feet in shackles, and your face on a pedestal.” Killian folded his fingers into his palm and caressed her cheek with his knuckles, which were only soft for her. “They wish to subdue you. But, I want you to be free. You shouldn’t be afraid of your dark passenger. Let it guide you. Befriend it. Seduce it. Then take its power and use it to step over the throats of all those who tried to make you feel different, unloved, and abnormal.”

With his hand against her cheek, Killian slowly moved it down to her throat and then tightened his grip to exert his dominance over her. “I know I expect a lot from you, but a larva bee has to shed its skin to become the queen.” Leaning forward, Killian dragged his tongue over her lips and then rolled the muscle into her mouth. “It can be painful,” he breathed against her lips with his eyes shut, “but the dark must prevail to bring forth the light.” After a moment of silence, he closed the gap between their bodies and kissed her. His mouth was rough, full of teeth and tongue. If he wanted to, he could have killed her with his hand around her throat. The thing is, he didn’t. Because in some weird and unexplained way…he was starting to believe he loved her.

“Birthdays aren’t really my thing. Meaning, mom and dad never believed I was worth one. I was a trap baby. And my bastard of a father never let me forget it.” Killian let her throat go, but instead of giving up complete ownership over her, he reached around and grabbed onto her ass. “My father only had me so that my mother would stay home and out of his spotlight. The Reapers worshiped her. My father, however, didn’t know how to obtain both respect and reverence. He couldn’t find that balance. I guess I’m struggling to find it too.”

“Do you really think I take pride in killing people?”  -- Was that question even a question? Of course. And the answer was certainly yes to both. To which, Killian expectedly confirmed not a minute later. “So, what you’re saying is... in order for them to respect us, we must make them fear us first?” Killian’s ideologies were strange and peculiar to someone like Izzy but, she also recognized that both were strongly effective. He knew what he was doing. He’s been reigning a lot longer than anyone else might’ve thought he’d last. Some Reapers, at least those that Killian kept, didn’t have much faith in Augustus’ son. They thought he was a spoiled, no good, tyrant who would run Edgar Steele’s legacy into the ground before he ever came close to topping it. Of course, Killian proved many of them wrong and made an example out of the rest. Anyone who wasn’t on board with his plans, or who didn’t accept him as their appointed King didn’t have to stick around and watch. Although, they did as punishment. Some even witnessed their loved ones get slaughtered as a price for their rebellion.

For Izzy, these occasional reapings  (otherwise known as spontaneous killing sprees) were still new to her. She was continuously learning how to condition herself to fulfilling the role of his Queen. It didn’t come without its own price or some sort of sacrifice. A sentiment that many women who would’ve killed to be in her position, didn’t truly understand. Killian might’ve been an entire underworld’s devil but, he was still battling his own demons. Many of which, he expressed as he went into a tangent and life lesson for Izzy. All it took was some reading between the lines. He wanted her to shed the old skin, to not let those who have smothered her, keep her from transitioning into the kind of woman he knew she could become. But, she was afraid of for her own reasons. Letting in certain parts of herself, or letting her guard down.. meant opening herself up to past traumas that she’s kept under lock and key for nearly a decade now, or ever since she was 13 and she witnessed her own mother’s gruesome (self-inflicted) murder.

Killian never had the same privileges that she did. His scars, unlike Izzy’s, served as reminders of what was done to him and what he could dish out ten times as worse. Instead of cowering in a corner, he raged war with his demons and a majority of the time, he won. It was admirable, really. And not at all an easy feat. Izzy realized that and she wished she had the same rigorous spirit inside of her that he did. Little did she know, she did... she just refused to tap into it. Her fears were what were holding her back.

“Kill,” His nickname rolled off her tongue with mindless ease. She was torn between speaking with caution or affection but right now, she felt more nervous than anything else. Though, not necessarily in a bad way. Because, although Killian forced her to face him by holding onto her throat, his tongue still felt warm and enticing as it skirted over her lips. Right before he kissed her, of course. She had no choice but to open her mouth so he could invade hers and mark his territory. Izzy welcomed his tongue only because she knew not to argue with it. And well, -- she enjoyed the way it felt. Killian was never careful with her (except in rare instances). He ruled with an ironfist and he held onto Izzy the very same way. No part of her was off limits. The moment she vowed to be his queen, she signed over any rights to her body. Killian could pleasure and take her in any which way he wanted without consequence. She was his to devour and drink up before the rest of her went dry.

“Ugh!” When the time inevitably came where Killian let go, Isabelle was forced to turn around and offer her ass up to him. She let him fist her cheeks between his battle-hardened hands through her dress. Quite frankly, Killian’s annoyance and persistance, turned her on. Izzy could feel herself growing wet at the thought of Killian hiking up her dress, ripping away her panties, and then bending and fucking her over his desk until she’s screaming or she can’t walk. Ultimately, the decision was his... it always was. “Maybe you ought to show them then. In my experience, talk is cheap. You taught me that. If it’s respect you want, take it.” Though, they were talking about something else -- Izzy still felt inspired to reach behind herself to push on one of Killian’s forearms. He was squeezing her ass so tight that, she was sure it would bruise when his hands fell away. “You always take what you want, so what’s stopping you now?”

“You may…” One by one, Killian lifted his fingers until the switchblade was successfully taken from his hand. He wasn’t sure what Isabelle had planned but he figured, why not sit back and enjoy the show? She had already proven herself worthy in so many other ways. Yet, here she was, surprising him again. He half-expected for her to draw a bloody line down Benjamin’s face to show him whose side she was really on. When she didn’t, he thought she might take the punishment herself and cut into one of those adorable little dimples on her cheeks.

“This was your idea?” Well he should have known she’d be too childish to be his equal. Isabelle was still hungering for acceptance and friends, but The House and The Reapers were not hers to play dolls with. If she wanted to do something nice for him, she should have done it at the Palace – in private. Not in front of a hundred bloodthirsty criminals who could be plotting his downfall at any given second. If the Reapers thought he was a nice and benevolent king, they’d take advantage of him. He had to keep them in a constant state of fear, not singing happy birthday around a reaper cake as if the whole damn thing were a joke.

“Of course, diosa. I’m sorry.” Benjamin whispered, with his back against the wall and his hand on his face, checking to make sure he hadn’t been nicked. He’d been on the wrong end of Killian’s sword before but never like this. There was something truly twisted in Killian’s eyes. They were black and void of emotion. The kind of look you might see on a feral animal right before it kills another. “You heard her! Take this shit down and clean the floor!” Benjamin began shouting out orders once Isabelle managed to pull Killian away, behind closed doors. He may have been punked out in front of everyone but they knew better than to cross him. He may not be Hades, ruler of the underworld but he was Thanatos, and without him half these people wouldn’t have jobs, because it was Benjamin who vouched for them before Isabelle took over. Now she has the last word.

“What was that all about, mi reina? I was just about to pop Benjamin open like a human piñata. I thought you wanted me to have some fun?” Killian was deflecting because he didn’t know how else to process his emotions. Sarcasm and dark humor were his only outlets. When you spend enough time locked in dark closets with bruises all over your body, you eventually befriend the voices in your head. Killian’s were always evil. They’d say things like: Kill him. Kill her. Light the house on fire, Killian, it’ll be fun!  They were right. It was fun.

“I know you were just trying to do something nice. A part of me can appreciate that. But you have to understand something, reina. These people—these Reapers? They can’t be our friends. One day, they’ll all be singing happy birthday to me, then the next they’ll be asking me for a favor. They’ll think of us as their pals. When we have to be like Gods to them! Otherwise, they won’t fear us. What I did out there, it needed to be done to rectify the mess you made. I wasn’t really going to cut his face off…” he rolled his eyes with a half-grin, “Probably just an ear. What? He has two.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Isabelle chided her king. Though on the contrary, he was not. Killian would’ve stabbed Benjamin to death and cut out his eyes before he ever laid to waste in front of his reapers. His methods, she might not have always agreed with but, they got the job done at the end of the day. Or at the very least, they kept him in power. No one dared to challenge Killian. Because they knew they couldn’t win against him. He had everyone running scared. Even Isabelle herself, at times.

His mood swings were just as unpredictable as his punishments. So, despite him vowing never to hurt her. That didn’t mean he couldn’t make her regret her decision to throw him a party, or find other ways to ensure she makes better choices next time. Izzy was terrified of that. She was nervous and fearful of Killian. Yet at the same time, she loved him all the same. It was an odd feeling, really. How she could fear for her life and find him irresistible at the same time.

“I just wanted to do something special for you.” In retrospect, Izzy probably should’ve settled for a handy in Killian’s limo. He would’ve been more thankful probably. Especially if that gesture lead to something more depraved. “And perhaps, spend one night together that doesn’t end in a filthy bloodbath.” Truth be told, Izzy was still getting used to finding Killian cloaked in his enemies blood. His wicked sense of humor was also an acquired taste and took some time adapting to.

Feeling defeated, Izzy crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against his desk, before she ultimately stood again in front of her king, awaiting further complaints or punishment. It was only a matter of time before either surfaced. “I’m sorry for ambushing you, just now. I made a mistake. But, I’m hoping you can forgive me?” She supposed she’d find out one way or another whether that was even possible or not.

“You never told me it was your birthday. Were you ever going to? Or have I not earned those secrets yet?” Izzy was trying her hardest not to get greedy where he was concerned, but she couldn’t help it. She was smitten with Killian. Proof of that was standing before him right now. He just confessed to wanting to dismember Benjamin, (who Isabelle had a soft spot for) and yet she stood by him, no matter what. She’d welcome the brute force of his hand on her skin or his fingers around her neck if it meant, just an inkling of his kiss. She’s danced with her devil and it was only a matter of time before he drank up every lost drop of her soul.

Killian wasn’t a big fan of surprises, least of all ones that are orchestrated for him. In spite of his hesitance, he dragged his feet beside Isabelle until they reached the club’s doors. Is this it, he wondered – The part where they walk in on an army of reapers with automatic artillery? For all Killian knew, Benjamin and Isabelle could be in cahoots. He was the one who reintroduced her to him, after he dismissed her friends the night of his private auditions. From what he gathered, they were also quite smitten with each other before he stepped in and won the vixen’s heart.  

But instead of blood and bullets, there were balloons and cheers of merriment, “Happy Birthday!” they all screamed and Killian would have preferred the alternative—His death. He could have respected that… This? It was downright sickening. Who in their right mind, would make him a cake and celebrate his existence? He was a monster. He didn’t deserve any of this. Least of all Isabelle. She was too good for him. Too good to him.

“Isa—rei—why—why would you do this?” Killian turned around to face her. His eyes were cast under the strain of his eyebrows, yet if she were to look close enough, she’d see that they were glistening. He was touched, truly. And that’s what he hated the most. That she affected him somehow. His heart was cold and his soul had been sold to the devil a long time ago. He wasn’t supposed to feel….these feelings, —whatever they were. “Is this some kind of SICK JOKE?!” Killian flipped the table upside down and the cake splattered across the linoleum, now covered in heavy bouts of cream and icing. “If you guys really wanted to show me you cared, you’d hide your fucking heads in the dirt!” Killian didn’t want to see or hear anyone, from here on out. He knew exactly what this was all about. Killian spent YEARS trying to make his father less angry, he kissed his ass in every possible way, hoping he would ease up and not want to beat the skin off his bones but he did anyway, every fucking night! There was no reason to celebrate him… He knew that. This was all just a ploy and he wasn’t going to go along with it.

“You—!” Killian turned towards Isabelle with his hand held up. He was two seconds away from wrapping his fist around her throat when he realized, he shouldn’t demean her in front of everyone. No—the Queen was to be respected and revered. But Benjamin? He was at fault here and would pay the price in the only way Killian knew how. To take his pretty face and ruin it. A switchblade was revealed and then pressed against Benjamin’s cheek, as Killian held his body down against the nearest wall. “Tell me, do I look like the kind of guy who would string on a paper-cone hat, sit around a long table with my closest friends and eat cake? As my adviser your job is to advise. And well…you took a few wrong turns down candy cane lane…Now it’s time to pay the price.”

Isabelle knew going into this celebration that, Killian would react in one of two ways: he would either A: revel in the attention and enjoy it while it lasted, or maybe just long enough to make it look like he appreciated her warm gesture. Or he would B: turn around and do the complete opposite, and make her pay the price for even considering the thought of doing something nice for him. Evidently, he surprised her by carving out a third option. The one she feared most, just seconds after they walked through The House’s opening doors.

At first, Izzy braced herself for the blow that would undoubtedly be brought on by Killian’s anger. Although, instead of closing the gap between her throat and his hand, Killian changed course last minute. He decided to turn the blame onto Benjamin, a complete and innocent bystander in all of this. He wasn’t deserving of the blade that threatened to carve away his most desirable and dominant features. Izzy knew, it would be up to her to stop Killian. Or at least, draw a wrench in his plans. Although, the question of how she was going to do that became the most tricky.

“Mi amor,” Isabelle’s nickname for him was soft and developed smooth, like silk. Although, when it didn’t give, she made the brilliant and bold decision to reach up and curl her fingers around his knuckles spelling out the letters K-I-L-L, while stilling his hand from making any irreversible incisions upon Benjamin’s pretty face. “May I?” It wasn’t a question but, a meek request. She aimed to pry the blade swiftly from his grasp. “It was my idea. I assure you, Benji didn’t know anything about, what was happening.” If there was one thing Killian could trust, it was that Isabelle had never lied to him. And it was true, Benjamin did not know what she had planned. She didn’t want to risk him trying to stop her either. Because, she stupidly thought that if Killian saw the surprise party for himself, he might  just come around. Clearly, those ideals were misguided and if anyone should pay the price of his anger, it should be her. In private, of course. Killian was smart enough to save her punishment for when they were tucked away behind closed doors.

Dropping Ryder off at her parent’s house for the night left Devyn with little to do except sit around her house, moping and thinking about Myles. As of late, when Devyn wasn’t at work or chasing after Ryder or doing literally anything that kept her mind distracted for long enough, her thoughts always went to her husband. The logical part of Devyn’s brain told her that she was dead and that it was only a matter of time before his body would turn up and it would give Devyn all the closure that she needed. But there was still that part, the hopeful part that told Devyn not to give up, that was enough to keep Devyn’s spirits alive. The brunette had never accompanied her husband to this bar, Devyn doing her best to avoid any and all stare as she approached the bar and ordered herself a drink.

Another woman’s voice pulled Devyn from her own thoughts, chuckling softly at the woman’s words. If she only knew how right she was.

“I think I’m good,” Devyn commented with a small smile. “I’ve never been in here before and I had the night off, so I figured I’d check it out. The whiskey selection is solid, so, that definitely earned a thumbs up from me.”

It wasn’t unusual for non reapers to visit The House, or take part in all that it has to offer. Starting with its whiskey selection, before then moving onto its dancers, and lastly, ending with its signature cocktail infused with Grim (also The House’s signature drug). If this woman thought the whiskey was good, she hasn’t seen anything yet. “A night off, huh? From what? Or rather, what is it that you do?”

From the looks of it, she appeared rather put together. So Izzy assumed she either cleaned up really well or she had a fancy pants job that she was eager to put in her rearview for the night. If that was the case, The House would be her perfect getaway choice. As it had been for most people. “You should try the Grim Reaper. Two please,” Izzy motioned to the bartender who whipped them both up a glass before sliding each one over, across the bar. “Because you’re a first timer, the first one’s on the house.” Considering, Izzy’s spouse (so to speak) owned the place, she had the right to decide who drank for free. And believe it or not, Isabelle didn’t have many friends so when she could.. she liked to make a good impression. It wasn’t easy being queen. In fact, it was actually, very lonely.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” It was clear from Killian’s tone that he was paranoid. And, given his traumatic past, he had every right to be. Whatever this was— (Benjamin’s secretiveness and now Isabelle’s uneasiness) it was starting to feel like a trap. The thought of his birthday didn’t even occur to him. He never marked a calendar for holidays. They weren’t ever celebrated in his house. There was a few at first, while his mother was still around. But after she left, so did the celebrations. The only person who knew about this, was Benjamin and Isabelle. There were times when he was drunk and talkative, and unfortunately he trusted the wrong people with his secrets, because now everyone else knew. They knew it was his birthday, and he was going to hate it.

“Mi reina.” Killian melted against her lips for the moment, enjoying the sound of her voice and the taste of her velvet tongue as it rolled against his. Isabelle looked beautiful, which so far, was the best part of his night. The saying ‘she was a sight for sore eyes’ had to of have been written about her. She could bring light to the darkest of days, and a taste of sweetness to the bitterest of nights. “Mm—” He pulled from her kiss with gentle suction, and then licked the traces of her lipstick from his mouth. Benjamin, standing off to the side, appeared somewhat agitated as his eyes strayed away from their affection. It was obvious to everyone (Killian included) that he had a thing for Isabelle. Surprisingly though, that didn’t bother Killian. He wanted people to admire and worship his queen. If anything, it made having her all to himself that much more rewarding. Hatred, jealousy, envy – Killian thrived off the negative energy.

“I tried to make it back by 11.” Benjamin admitted behind a lit cigarette, “But this guy doesn’t make my job easy, diosa.” He patted Killian on the shoulder with a tight smirk wrapped around his cigarette. “I’m not amused by this little repartee between you two. So, first one who tells me what’s going on gets to keep their tongue. Ready, set, go!” For the first time today, a smile began to form behind Killian’s lips. Though he could tell not everyone shared the same sense of wicked humor. “Oh, come on, reina. You know I would never hurt you…” Benjamin, however. He was open game. And his tongue was just as important to him as his gun. Without it, he wouldn’t be much of a smooth-talker anymore. He also wouldn’t be able to go down on anyone. Benjamin’s playboy livelihood would cease to exist. 

“Is that so?” Isabelle looked carefully between Killian and their canary. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Benjamin’s word, she was just curious what the two of them had been up to all day. Nothing too relaxing, she presumed judging by Killian’s decorative threat. He followed it up by saying he would never hurt her, although sometimes Izzy doubted that. Least of all, she’d find out soon enough, once they walked through The House’s front doors and he caught sight of what was waiting for him on the other side. One of them was sure to feel the brunt and displeasure of his anger. And Izzy would be damned if she let Benjamin take the fall for something he played very little part in (aside from distracting Killian so, Isabelle could set up her big surprise).

“I have a surprise for you, mi amor.” Isabelle took Killian’s arm and urged him to head inside with her. Where nearly a hundred reapers were waiting to greet their King and the special man of the hour. The second the doors open, their people bellowed out “SURPRISE!” in unison, followed by muffled “happy birthday’s”. The dancers were even on their marks, following Izzy’s cue as they performed a routine that Izzy herself had put together weeks ago. All those nights she snuck off to “go home” were actually spent at The House, training and whipping the girls into tip top shape.

“Happy Birthday, mi rey.” With the two of them standing in the middle of the crowd, Izzy made a show of kissing her King on the cheek, where she left a print of her red-stained lipstick. While, she let Killian take in his surprise, she used her thumb to clean his cheek, the same way she would have whenever he came home with someone else’s blood, splattered on his face. “What do you think?” As Izzy struggled to gauge Killian’s reaction, she looked to Benjamin for further clarification. He seemed to understand Killian’s mindset better than anyone and so if she was in trouble, he’d be the first one to give her indication of that.

Character’s name: ― Isabelle Samson (Though will also go by Iz or Izzy. Never bella) Faceclaim: ― Eiza Gonzalez Occupation: ― Being Queen of The Reapers is it’s own full time job. Age/Pronouns: ― 22, and using she/her pronouns. Hometown/District: ― She was born in Mexico but, raised in her father’s hometown in Upper Springs.

HEADCANONS

trigger warnings: mental illness, suicide, violence

― Izzy’s mother is Spanish and was a dancer in her former life before she met Ronan Samson: arms dealer and Isabelle’s notable father. The two lovebirds got hitched after only a couple months of dating and then eventually migrated back to Ronan’s hometown in Houston, TX.

― The Samson’s come from old money and are notorious for their craftsmanship. Ronan learned everything he knew about building and creating firearms from his father and late grandfather. He mostly deals weapons to the military, black ops, and black market buyers. It’s a dangerous profession but one he takes great pride in.

― When Isabelle was just a baby, Paloma (Isabelle’s mother) was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Her symptoms seemed to worsen overtime and although there were small bouts of hope for her remission, her mental illness only seemed to escalate the more Ronan tried to keep it a secret. Both, from the public and from Isabelle herself. However, there were many times growing up where Isabelle had become a victim of her own mother’s delusional violence. From being strangled to nearly drown in a pool, Isabelle never understood the depths her mother would go to just to see the light go out in her eyes. She was convinced her daughter was the devil and anyone who tried to convince her otherwise, including Ronan (Isabelle’s father) was a trickster or demon.

― At the ripe age of 13, Isabelle’s mother committed suicide. She shot herself in the face with Ronan’s own firearm and instead of Ronan discovering the body himself, Izzy did. For months following the accident, Izzy was put under strict surveillance to monitor her behavior as doctors checked her for traumatic signs. Fortunately, for Izzy she managed to block out the gruesome scene and has hardly ever talked about it since. Any time she does or it’s brought up again, the instance recurs again in her nightmares and haunts her days on end afterwards until she’s able to compartmentalize again. It’s a whole bag of worms, she’d rather keep locked up and hidden away if she can.

― For most of her life, Izzy was sheltered and kept locked inside the Samson estate. She was homeschooled until she entered High school. Where she lived a relatively normal life, with the addition of a body guard attached to her at all times. Her life to general people would seem unconventional and weird and for them, it is. But, it’s all she knows.

― Isabelle met Killian when two friends of hers dragged her to an audition to become reapers and employees at Killian’s club, The House. Their first encounter was brief at best and if weren’t for Isabelle coming back to bargain with Killian for her friend’s jobs, she might have never become his queen. If it weren’t for Benjamin Caruso (the reaper’s canary) she wouldn’t know or have the life and repertoire she now does with the reapers. She’s been dating Killian for roughly 6 months and has vastly grown more and more into herself; a queen and woman destined to lead her people -- the depraved and wicked men and women who call themselves reapers.

― If you’ve read the reapers page then you know part of the reapers initiation, is gaining the queen’s (in this case it’s Izzy’s) trust. Izzy has this innate and borderline supernatural ability to detect another person’s lies, almost like an intuition. It’s one of her best skills and assets. And is the one thing that Killian has always admired and treasured and was even impressed by after meeting and getting to know her so he relies on it, as well as her.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

― HANDMAIDEN/SECRET KEEPER - Similar to a right hand man, this person would be Izzy’s right hand woman. Someone who Izzy grooms in her image and confides in with all her secrets. They could be a reaper or just someone who works closely with them, who Izzy trusts and vouches for but also protects. Sort of like a sister?

― REAPERS - I’d love to have all sorts of varying relationships with Izzy and her fellow reapers. Whether she loves some, mutually tolerates them, or straight up despises them. Although, at the end of the day, she is still their queen and is to be treated with the utmost respect. (As obviously, Killian would tolerate nothing less)

- BEST FRIEND - I’d love to have Izzy’s best friend. This is someone Izzy has an underlying rivalry with. They’ve been best friends for years but instead of this person becoming Killian’s Queen. Izzy got the job instead and since that moment there’s been some seed of resentment. (In previous headcanons and mentions of this character, I also said that she has dated the same guys Izzy has and at one point she was sleeping with Izzy’s dilf father but that’s totally UTP. I’d probably submit this as a more in-depth wanted connection so if anyone is interested in taking up another character, you could always message me about this.)