#requiem bates

But those were all excuses to a truth that she did not want to admit to herself. A truth that, if she was staying with this honesty thing, was as far from the reality she wished to live.

  Her chest rose and fell, a heave to the motion that she could not stop as the shutters ran up the length of her spine. Those fingers moving again to loosen the blindfold, her eyes locked onto multicolored eyes that she never wanted to see again. A face of an angel, perfection personified, with the heart of a devil underneath stared back at her. Those eyes deceiving as always, something soft swam behind them. Something warm and inviting, something she wanted to fall into, and could feel herself lean into that hand. Those fingers that moved under her chin only to make her peer up directly at him.

  A low whine pitched somewhere in her chest, as those eyes took her in. A plague of emotions behind those lids, confusion, worry, and something else. Her heart was hammering as he pulled her up, her blood screaming at her when those fingers once again caught her chin, his thumb finger running right underneath the split in her lip. Those eyes lingering before drawing back up to her own eyes. There was actual concern behind them. A feat that she did not need to fall into but easily did.

  Everything hurt, everything was sore and singing in pain. But she wouldn’t tell him, would not allow her dignity to drop so low as to admit to the leech what he more than likely wanted to hear.

  She had not noticed her own eyes until this moment, of which she hadn’t realized were brimming with tears. The burn that settled behind her eyes seemed obnoxious now. She was terrified, her body shaking in his fingers even though he touched her so softly, his words nothing less than heaven on her ears. But still, her heart was in her throat, her teeth clattered as she swallowed, trying to push some of the pride she had, the little bit of dignity she still owned back up to the fore front of her being.

 “Lucky?... That’s what you call this? Being bound and gagged daily? Being beaten, watching the person I want to protect be beaten? Sitting and waiting and wondering when or how our deaths are going to take place?”

  But god, he smelt, good. His hands felt heaven sent against her flesh and his eyes had her almost melting on sight. There was something lying underneath it all, something screaming at her to fight him, something screaming at her to revolt, retaliate in any way just to get away from the man. He had done terrible things, left her to die and only decided in the last seconds of her life to spare her. No this was a man that would take her life without a second glance, a man that would tear into with a smile gracing those perfect lips.

  Then there was the part of her that was yielding, yielding to nothing but the desire of his touch. Yielding to the comfort that was brought along by his being.

  “In all respect, fuck you, your majesty.”

 -----

  The first thing she heard was footsteps. It was her first clue, besides the voice that had shot out, had answered the men who had brought her here with a hardened voice that resonated with the shiver of a leader. Instinctively, Ashlin’s head snapped up, eyes that could not see turning toward the sound of approaching footfalls, each thump matching another of her heard, every rhythmic sound sending her nerves into a frenzy. The sound of them stopped before her, Ashlin not9ing that though whoever it was did not touch her, kept a careful distance of a few inches between them, she could feel them, sense them like she could sense the coming of a storm, all cool wind and soft breezes along her body. Their body was warm, close enough that she could heard his breath, the slow intake of air as he looked down at her, her lips pulling into a thin line as she lifted her head slightly, a slight effort to look more dignified than she felt. Her throat burned, her body ached and her head pounded with this unknown poison racing through her veins, but she refused to let it show, refused to allow it to show on her Face

 That is, until he touched her.

 The next thing she could feel was fire, bright hot need, burning and vivid along her skin as she felt his fingertips run, lightly, along her skin. It was a soft touch, hardly anything notable but it stung like she had been slapped, the brush of his skin lighting up her skin like fireworks. She stiffened, feeling as he ran his fingers through her her hair, to find the tie that held the cloth over her eyes. She marveled, silently, at how he made quick work of the knot on the back of her head, the cloth falling away to reveal closed lids, ones that she moved, opened slowly as she swallowed thickly enough for everyone in the room to hear. Her gaze remained steady on the floor, violet eyes locked on the chaos of the man before her, taking in every stitch, every slight shuffle as he stood before her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he forced what he wanted out of her, before she would have to look up at him.

 Her gaze traveled, moving up his legs, his hips. His waist, taking not that though clothing blocked her view of his naked for, it did little to hid the strength that slide under his skin. She could see it in his broad shoulders, wide chest, his arms and legs thick with muscles that could easily annihilate her with a single twitch. He seemed easy in his kin, something that warned her that he was used to having power, and he must have been used to using it, considering he held no hesitation to his movement, simply went in for what he wanted, paying no mind to consequences he might have or may he simply didn’t see her as a threat

 Ashlin believed it to the later more than anything.

 Ashlin was not…. Strong, not in the common sense of the word.  She was small, weighing only about 100 pounds soaking wet and standing at 5’3, that was incredibly small. Her body sported little to no muscles, and he didn’t strike a very intimidating picture when you first met her. She had always been… willowy, waifish in terms of body, but it had never held a problem before, for her aim was more than enough to make up for any physical limitation she may have had. People say her as an easy target…. But you could not kill what you could not touch, and Ashlin’s aim always rang true.

 But her aim did her no good here, and the man before her didn’t seem worried that she might retaliate in the slightest.

 Her heart pounded, exasperating the headache that sang through her veins and made her whole-body ache, made her whole figure shake with some unspoken need, something in her calling, harsher now that he was close, louder now that his hands were on her and that she could feel his breath brushing over the tops of her hair. Her knees felt weak, wobbly, as she trailed her eyes higher, past his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Before she found herself staring at his face, dark blue locked with vivid violet as her eyes widened, and that need she had just barely been managing to keep contained exploded past her hold.

 “A-a….”

 There was no uncertain amount of distress in her voice. No uncertain amount of terror on her face as she realized the words would not come, her lips refusing to form the words that should have fell easily from her tongue. His thumb brushed over her lip. Drawing a sharp breath from the girl who usually had such good control over what she did, had a commander hold on her own emotions.  She stared at him, his features, his face, all new but somehow she knew them, knew them almost as well as her own, and she was absolutely drowning in them, hair as brown and thick as the oak of her home town, eyes bluer then the darkest pits of the ocean.

 Ashlin turned her head, yanking her chin away from him as she breathed in, not realizing she had been holding her breath. She meant to get away from him, to take a step back. But her body betrayed her, instead of moving backwards like she wanted, the moment she began to move she tilted, like something had pushed her, straight into his hold, between his lifted arms as her fore head pressed against his chest, her body shaking hearing his hammering heart just under skin and bone. It matched hers, at the very least.

 She wanted to talk, to say something articulate to make it seem like she wasn’t just throwing herself at him. But there was something in her, something strong, powerful that refused to unbind her mind, pulling tighter against her thoughts the more she struggled against it. This need… It was overwhelming, and there was only so much Ashlin could fight after five days of constant attack from this poison in her veins, the one that refused to go away. Everything hurt, her body, her mind, her soul, and just being near him… seemed to make that pain edge.

 “It’s Ashlin…. What have you done to me?”

 Her voice was dry, hoarse from disuse and pain. She felt both like she was drowning and like she was dying of thirst, her senses overwhelmed as her head pounded with his heart and her mind, not nearly as sharp as it was before, not nearly as calculated as it had been before.

 “What’s wrong with me? What did you do?”

   ------

 Later, he would account his unraveling to the little whine, that little hum of despair that fell past her pretty pink

lips as she leaned into his hand, leaned into his touch like it was her only lifeline in a sea of despair that she could not escape. The sound…. Did something to him, tapped into the similar feeling that had been boiling in his chest for… days now, the aching feeling of needed blurred the lines between each day so that he could not accurately give a number as to how many days had passed in the blur of need, but hearing, hearing her desire something in him with just as much desperation as he had for her.

 It was enough to make his blood boil.

 It took everything in him not to take her then, to not take her at that tiny little sound and to keep his hands still. The feeling of her skin was heaven, silk, satin, lace and everything he equated with sensual desire and longing, but here it was, wrapped up in this tiny human slip of a girl, in one of the few humans he knew he would never be able to have as he truly wanted. Most vampires, who found a human they so liked, would take them, keep them as their own personal living blood source and servant until the end of their days. It was a fairly common practice, one his own court, their blood, their families were not immune to. Aiden himself had taken one long ago, and while Carson had never looked down on him for it, he had never really understood why it was Aiden, of all people, had decided to take a little wisp of a human in as his own, or as they were formally called in Court, as his pet.

 Now he could, and he figured he owed an apology of some sort to the red headed bodyguard, but if he was going to be honest, Aiden would never hear it.

 The only difference was, unlike Aiden’s, who had a long term dependency on him and seemed to wilt whenever Aiden would leave, who thrived when he showed her any bits of attention, despite the need that ran as rampant through him as it did her, this one seemed to despise him, hate his very being with everything she had even as her body was calling for him. There was a look in her eye, he mused as mismatched brown caught hold of watery blue eye, sparkling lakes in a thunderstorm that was the emotions she held, that screamed of her disdain, that cursed his name without even knowing it. It didn’t matter that her body was craving him, that she was leaning into him with the impatience’s of a lover, Requiem’s mind was far from broken, and that brought Carson a bright, vivid burst of joy.

 That joy was quickly diminished by the sudden anger that surged in his gut, burned his throat and eyes as her voice, pure, soft, perfection, filled the space between them.

 She chose to selectively hear what it was he was saying, answering only a part of it as she snapped her answer back at him. There was something seriously wrong with him. He knew, because her words on any other occasion would not have brought such a reaction out of him, and as much as he wanted to think logically, his mind burned, hazed over in rage and he could hardly see through the red fog that had built up around him. His hand moved, steadily, purposefully, catching either side of her face to press viciously into her jaw, feeling as her jaw was forced open, her cheeks, skin and fingers between teeth as he lifted, pulled her up, up up, until she was fighting to stand on her tiptoes, his eyes flashing with a warning most others did not see.

 Carson’s lips pulled back into a snarl, his eyes narrowing as he held himself back from simply tearing into her like he wanted to. He watched her struggle for a moment, a second before his words came sliding through snapping teeth and bitter tongues, his hand crushing her jaw just slightly as he pulled her to him. Her breath was on his skin, and her lips brushed over his for a moment as he spoke, and really, it was the only thing keeping him grounded, from flying off the handle

 How strange that she made him so furious yet calmed him at the same time.

“You’re lucky, because I haven't found it in me to kill you yet. No doubt you’ll make some smart aleck reply on how that is your wish, how you want to die, but you know very, VERY little on what I can do. You’re scared, your fear is all over your face when you look at me, but compared to what I can do, what i am able to do… What I exposed you to was nothing. Death by a vampire is gruesome, but Death from a king is a whole other game. We don’t play nice, we don’t have mercy, and if you think I’ll stop at you, you're dead wrong. I had to stop because One motion I made almost killed you, and You are lucky that something in me made me save you.

 “You are alive simply because I wish it, you are here because I wanted you to be.  I suggest, if you like the privilege of seeing your little friend again…” He turned her head toward Ashlin, the little human now in Abram’s grasp, close enough that she couldn’t run, even if she wanted to, jerked it sharply enough to draw a gasp of pain from her, which only enticed yet another snarl from him, “You’ll start appreciating what it is I’ve done for you. Any and all inconveniences in your life are drawn from your nasty little habit of attacking every vampire that comes your way, so, in tandem, Fuck you, Princess.”

 Carson Dropped her face, letting her go so she could stand on her own two feet again. His hand moved, slid into his pocket to pull out a knife, the blade flicking out and gleaming in the low firelight.

 “Stay still.”

 Carson moved, grabbing her arms and pulling her closer, the blade sinking straight into the ropes that bound her hands and cutting them, letting them fall to the floor in an unceremonious heap. His expression never changing as he spun the blade between his fingers, a little flourish before he closed it and pocketed it once more.

 “My name is Carson, and you have been claimed by me. Meaning your life is in my hands, if you die, it will be by me. I would say you don’t have to worry about it, but you also seem to have a habit of running that pretty little mouth of yours and getting under people’s skin. Not a bad trait, I like a girl with a back bone, but I warn you, there’s only so much I will put up with.”

 ------

 Her hair fell across her face in a silky fall of brunette strands. Faintly shocked that he could see the individual colors, Abram could only stare at her hair. For one moment, he couldn't think, couldn't even breathe, drag air into his lungs. It was impossible, yet the hand he raised to the fall of brown hair was smeared red with blood. Blood that he wiped so tenderly off those lips. Red, not a muddy gray. His fingers brushed her hair back over her shoulder with exquisite gentleness, an instinct bred into his bones, exposing the line of her neck to him. She didn't seem to notice, working meticulously on trying to keep herself up right. Her skin was soft and inviting. Like satin. He bent his head forward, slowly, steadily, the fangs lengthening, the demon roaring, his body clenching. Her breath was warm against his skin. His teeth almost touched her pulse, that vulnerable pinpoint beckoning seductively.

  Her blouse gaped open, revealing exquisite breasts, lush and full and soft enough to pillow his head. He wanted to slip his hand inside her shirt and hold warm flesh as he bent to her neck. Her heartbeat more enticing than any he had ever heard.

  Her words were a melody on his ears, dancing through his mind as his fingers gripped the silk strand of hair, pulling back on them with enough force to snap her head back. His nose ran the length of her neck, his body crying out for hers as he pressed himself against the soft curves of her body.

  “Calm, Khaleen. I won’t let anything more happen to you. It’ll all be explained”

  She made a sound, frowning, still absorbed in her steady work, of steadying herself. Abram inhaled, taking the scent of her deep into his body. He didn't have control of her mind, and he was too enthralled to waste what was left of his control on working out the intricate puzzle. There was a nagging in his mind, screaming for him to claim what rightfully belonged to him. Something telling him to tie them together. And apparently when it came to his one he was a weak-willed man. He whipped up his arms, locking her body to his as his teeth sank deep into her neck.

White-hot pain lashed through Ashlin's body, danced like a whip of lightning through her bloodstream, heating her body so that every nerve ending was alive and pulsing with fire. The pain gave way to a dark, erotic, slumberous ecstasy she was helpless to resist. Abram was certain she struggled, but he was like iron, her softer body battering itself against his hard one, and he didn't seem to notice to the outer world. Didn’t seem to notice the screaming girl in the same room, he was internally lost. She felt the strength growing in him, spreading through him, even as her own strength seemed to slide away from her. There was a part of her that seemed to be separate, standing apart, watching and feeling in a kind of horror. There was fire in her blood, moving through her body, muscles clenching, tightening, going boneless, pliant in his ironlike grip.

  Abram glanced up at the camera trained on him, his mouth twisting in a humorless smile, flashing his white teeth. With his eyes staring straight at the lens, he lowered his head and stroked a caress across the pinpricks on her neck with his tongue. That look would tell them everything. He knew each of them, knew their scent; he knew his enemies. Their stench was in his very lungs, and he was a hunter. He had gone from prey to predator with one small infusion of blood. It wasn't enough to close the bond, but it was enough to allow his fate with hers to entwine. They wouldn’t take her from him, they would not be taking the one thing in this word that he already considered precious.

  He lifted the Ashlin's limp body easily bridal style, moving with a graceful show of strength. He had every intention of drawing his enemies to him and away from his family. But first he would destroy everything they had built out in the world. They hid their laboratory away from prying eyes. They hid their hideous torture chamber deep within the forest, thinking they were far from the law, far from justice, but he would show them who owned this part of the world, who had owned it for a long, long time.

  Ashlin erupted into a wild struggle, attempting to squirm away from him.

 But Abram only tightened his hold on her.

"Stop it," he ordered. "You have no way to escape. It is impossible. Lie still." His voice was a soft, menacing command.

  Ashlin lay quietly, feeling the enormous strength in his arms. She fought down her panic, trying desperately to think. Her body had become lead. It was an effort to lift her arm, make a fist, pound on his chest. She was dizzy and sick. His emotions were swamping her, a wild swirling of dark danger beating at her. She had never come close to feeling such overwhelming emotions. They welled up like a volcano, explosive, violent, very intense. She sensed something wild and untamed, a predator without equal. Her neck must have throbbed and burned as she wondered what manner of demon she had unleashed.

 He knew she felt the strength gathering in him. Felt it.

  Carefully, he helped the small slip of a female, retaining possession of the woman by holding her body close to his, until they made their way to a nook in the room. He felt her. Every inch, every curve. Her skin was unbelievably soft. He bent his head to her thick mane of flowing hair, inhaling the scent of her. It took a tremendous amount of self-control not to bury his face in the silken strands.

  She was very frightened, the fear swamping her despite the fact that he had tried to soothe her. Her brain patterns were different, the most difficult he had ever encountered. He caught her chin firmly in his hand and tipped her head back so her strange eyes were forced to meet his gaze. Her eyes were shaped liked a cat's, a deep violet in color. Her lashes were long and inky black color. He stared down into her eyes, a simple hypnotic technique that should have calmed her instantly, but instead he could hear the frantic rhythm of her heart pick up.

  Ashlin tried desperately to regain her energy. Her legs were very heavy, her arms still leaden and he knew this without even having to touch her mind. He was the only thing holding her up. She was dizzy. She blinked rapidly, trying to find a way to regain her ability to think clearly.

  "What's wrong with me?" Her mouth was dry and her voice sounded far away to her own ears.

  “I took your blood Khaleen, and I took a lot.” His knuckles brushed over her cheek bones, his thumb moving to trace over her bottom lip as he watched her every movements.

  Abram answered softly, honestly. "There is no need to fear me, I will replace what was lost." His arms tightened possessively, his body sliding over the length of hers so that he could watch those eyes that drew him in.

  Her eyes widened with horror as he stared at his hands, the wrist pressed against his own mouth until he bit into it, enough to draw the blood she needed in her system. Ashlin drew in on herself, stifling a gasp as he tore a long cut in his own wrist. Blood dripping as she watched in a fascinated horror. His own mouth working over the wound to draw more of the life-giving sustenance from himself.

  He bent his head to hers, her breath warm against his skin. His lips grazed over hers for a moment, before he moved his mouth against hers, nudging her lips open and pressing his tongue inside. She tasted hot, like spice and secrets, like warm summer nights and a midnight rendezvous. He found himself nudging her lips apart and pressing his tongue inside to get more of her, swallowing her grunts as she tried to push against his form.

Truthfully, it didn’t matter what he chose… It never did. No matter what he chose he knew that he would not be able to leave, that he would stay, despite all of his minds clamoring and pleading and despite the itch under his skin to find the nearest exit, Carson would not leave until the fire of every single light wilted and dimmed and cast the ballroom back into darkness. All it would take would be a look from the man who had turned him, one look from him to root the Vampire King in his place.

 Carson didn’t fear his father. Oh, He was a man to be feared, that was for sure. His Father was ruthless, cunning, showed no mercy to his enemies and held soft spots only for those of his own blood and those who had known him long before he had come to be known as the Lord King. He was a hard man to get to known, all sharp edges and jagged wires stopping those who would wish to harm him from coming too close. He could cut you with a single glance, chips of ice hardened from years of betrayals to match the scars his body bared, but there had never, not once, been a moment when he had turned those glassy dead eyes toward his sons. He had been stern, harsh at times when he trained them but his father had been nothing but silent support in all his years of training. Carson could say that he looked up to his father, and that was why a single glance of disappointment could rip through him harsher and more ravenous then the worst of lectures could do.

 And so the band played on, and he was still here, the wall flower in all its glorious splendor, blooming along the edges of the castle walls to add that dark splash of color along its painted walls. The wall flower would never move of its own justification, and so, neither would he. Until he proved himself, he would be forever a pawn to his father’s rule.

 Which was what made tonight so special.

 He could feel it, a subtle shift in the air as one couple passed by him, The scent of their over fragranced bodies twirling to mingle with the scent of fresh blood that poured smoothly, silently from the necks of those humans still suspended against the wall. His gaze shifted, from the cup in his hand where the dark red clung to the sides in patterns that almost formed the silent screams that were written over the faces of the sill just yet alive humans, their eyes hazing and dimming as they watched his king move to delicately pick up a flute of the life wine they so craved. There was a hum, a low sizzle of energy that had yet to reach the surface of the masses but was growing, the flames edging higher, higher, higher… until he could see it written over the faces of those most familiar to him, the faces of his blood brothers, and the masses that surrounded them.

 It was almost time. Even with no prior knowledge of the events about to unfold, the people in the ballroom could feel the shift in the energy that surrounded those who would wear the crown. Carson moved, his body responding to the call of need that rose in his throat as bile, for this was it, the moment he would prove to all those who would whisper his name under candied tongues and falsely flashing eyes about his incompetency, how he was too soft, to kind, too gentle to be a true king…. This was to be his moment when he finally proved there would be no room in his court of those with far too much kindness bubbling in their hearts.

 Carson watched his father move, a vision of ease even as the room’s loud rumble of laughter and song dulled into whispers of sinister intent, his smile clean, precise and not an ounce of the friendly nature he knew laid behind that gaze. He spotted his mother, turned away from the masses and directly facing his father, a small movement from her enough to entice his father to reach a hand out to her, tan fingers curling around her smaller lighter ones to entwine them with his. He rose her hand to his mouth, lips brushing over her skin as he invested his whole attention into her, the room silent as they watched the King recognize his Queen. If anyone had something to say about it, the words were not found as Soven pulled her to his side,  his hands never leaving her skin, even as he turned to finally address the hush fallen crowd.

 “Welcome! Welcome, my precious friends, dear comrades, I welcome you, to the celebration ball. I know, that many of you hold grievances toward me for the blatant short notice of the ball, but it seems that no harm was done… not many of you could resist a good party, now could you?

 His voice was dark velvet in the night, a rumbling purr that made shivers run down Carson’s spine. His father looked around, a clear disgust flashing in his eyes as he turned his ice blue eyes toward the masses that had gathered despite the protests of it being to sudden and the complaints of inconsiderate timing.

 “But I assure you, this is one party, you will be glad you attended… for those of our community still resting their heads at home, they will miss out on what might possibly be one of the greatest entertainments, this era has yet to see… Bring them out…”

 The last words a snap, an order to be obeyed, and the doors on the far end of the ballroom swung open with a soft and almost silent creak. They moved as one, ropes binding their hands and arms to their back, and even from here, Carson could see the painted red across their flesh, the bruises and wounds that spoke of a fight they had not long since lost. The taller one, her brunette hair tumbling down her back, walked with a sort of desperate limp as her body struggle to keep herself upright, her body trembling and falling into her captors hands more than once as she attempted to make the walk from the door to the center of the room on her own, all pride and dignity stripped away as she let out a muffed call of despair. The other was in no better shape, her pale skin covered in a network of bruises and pretty patterns of slashed flesh. Her ink black hair tumbled over her shoulders, obscuring her face from his sharp vision and she moved slowly, jerkily, as if something inside of her was dislodged and pushed into the soft tissue of her organs. She was drawing shallow breaths as she was forced to walk, blood spilling from her lips, her nose, her arms…

 She was the most stunning creature he had ever seen.

 Carson couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Not for a moment, an instant. It was a marvel, really, at how desperate a man could become in a moment’s notice.

 “I would like to introduce, The leaders of the Rebellion, from right here in Heaven’s Falls, USA. We weren’t able to capture them all…. But the leaders…. They decided to drop in for a little bit of entertainment…. Which My son and Nephew have happily offered to lend them a helping hand….”

 Carson moved, finally stepping from the masses of people to step into the little walk way of the clearing they had created, leading up to the center of the room where the girls now kneeled. He sighed, breathing in deeply as he ran a hand over his slicked back hair and straightened his suit jacket.

 “The black haired one… She’s mine Abram…”

 --------------------

 How had everything gone so wrong?

 This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

 Day, she could recall, days where she had spent countless hours pouring herself over the plans for the riot and the battle plan that she had her sister had settled into place. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a simple supply restock. The riot was meant to distract, to pull the vampires toward the source of the violent out break and to take their eyes off the little pharmacies and stores just at the edges of the town.  All they had needed was some medicine, some medical supplies and possible a little bit of information, but that was supposed to be the end of it.

 The plan had been perfect. At precisely 12:22, she, from her parks stake out station just next to the stores, the police radio in her car sounding off to give a Perfect description of Her friends, the ones place in charge of exposing the riot and fueling the embers of a slowly growing fire, one that, even without the hand of the rebellion, Ashlin was sure would grow into a burning wildfire. At 12: 30, she had stepped out of the car to meet with her Sister, stepped out to see the bright pink of a metal baseball back swing into the air, a low ‘pop’ from her darker sister’s gum more than enough to warn abbot her presence. Ashlin herself simply pulled out the handgun she had strapped to her back loops, a simply caution, not one she had felt she really needed. It was just a simple withdrawal.

 She had been wrong.

 Ashlin’s mind raced, throbbed with pain that exploded like fireworks behind covered lids, every resounding significant beat of her hear sending yet another fresh wave of pain straight to her temples. Her whole-body trembled, shook with the effort of trying to carry herself on bruised and surly twisted ankles, unable to see the darkening bruise, but she could surely feel them as they screamed their presence with every step she took. Every throb was another desperate scream she swallowed, thick and heavy and bitter as a pill, until finally she felt the jerk, the sudden snap of her body being pulled to a forced stop as fingers that circles her upper arms tightened and pushed, pulled and manipulated her to where they wanted her to go. They pushed down, making her already weak knees buckle, the relief she felt as he legs slammed against the ground and she finally took the weight off of her hurt legs was something of a catch 22.

 The pain was only a reminder, an echo, a hint of the pain that had made its way into her veins, visions of it burned along her skin and flash and soul, something she knew she knew she would never forget. It was nowhere near as bright and vivid as it had been in the moments that she had opened the door, only to see an ambush, siting, waiting, who had spared them no mercies as they launched into their attack. They had fought back, of course, and tried to escape and make it out as valiantly as they could, but there had been fore, fire and screams and pain that wove their chains around her neck and squeezed, dragging her back, pulling her into bright white light before all she could see was the darkness of their souls, the hole where their hearts used to be, the blood that was tainted back.

 It wasn’t until she was thrown, carelessly, the laughter and mocking jeers of some vampire waking her from her pain induced come, that she felt her heart start to pound, the panic settling in around her. Her hope that her sister, her stronger, more athletic, far more suited for fighting then she was sister, had gotten away was bright, until she could hear her, hear her muffled cries and her feet slamming against the doors to make them give, a futile effort, and all that hope turned to a black sludge that sank into her gut.

 She had wondered where they would take her…. If they would simply just kill her when they reached the ostentatious castle the Lord King of all that went bump in the night called his home, or would it be public, a spectacle, the thing to see on this particular Friday night, that her death would be met with popped soda cans and popcorn was a thought that made what little pride she held shrivel and die. They would not give her a funeral, this she knew, and they would not give her time chance at last words, especially now, not here, not in this place….

 She could not see, but Ashlin was no fool. She had heard his voice, time and time again as he addressed the people of the nation, the world, Soven Dhouti, King of the vampires. If she was here before him, her chance of making it ot alive had dropped, shattered like the so many hopes she had for her race.

 She didn’t hear him after that, tuned him out as she closed her eyes, even behind the blindfold, and rested against screaming knees to will her boy to stop trembling. God, she wished she could reach out and graze of requiem’s hand, that she could touch her, draw from the bottomless pit of strength and determination her sister had, but rope and chains biting into flesh was a hindrance she could not break, and so she settled for listening, hearing her sister’s breath, little short pants of pain.

 Footsteps came closer, and that breathing hitch, turned into a muffled scream as the sound of gritting teeth and hair bunching together filled the silence that had surrounded them. She could feel it, another one so closer to her that the body heart from him was almost scorching, a strange though as she had always believed vampires to be frigid like winter, no hearts to beat the blood they needed in their veins.

 “I will unblindfold you….” This voice…. It was new, sudden, one she had never heard before. It didn’t come from the one near her, but instead from a foot away, the sound of shifting fabric accompanying it.

 “I want to see your eyes…”

 The voice was so soft… Almost affectionate, but she could hear Requiem’s muffled screams as something slid along the floor, movement making her head turn, though she could not see it, and a muffle yell rip from her bound lips.

 “Let the world see you for who you are…”

 ------

   He was shaking. Unadulterated panic fueling that fire that was sparking in his gut. The room was stark quiet, the audience waiting in awe for what the Kings Son and Nephew would do. Their eyes were on his back, burrowing holes into the clothes and straight through his chest, though he knew logically that the same thing was happening to Carson, but he felt alone in his panicked world. Nerves weren’t supposed to get to him. No to a Lee. Not to one of the Kings sons. But here he stood, his eyes on the brunette that kneeled in front of him. And he could hear the blood rushing through his veins, the roar behind his ears causing the room to sound like there was an uproar about to happen. His heart beat so wildly against his chest he felt as if his sternum might snap.  He watched every movement with precision, watched as the girl’s chest rose and fell with each breath. Watched her even as she snapped her attention to the girls beside her, watched those thin fingers clench and unclench behind her back. There was something about even the tiniest motions she made that made it hard to pull his eyes away from her.

  His movements were slow, calculated in their attempts to cover certain motions. His body crouching over to catch himself on the balls of his feet, elbows catching onto his thighs as his blue eyes moved over the small girl. It shouldn’t be taking this long for him to buck up he knew that, he knew what he had to do.

  Carson’s words sparked some sort of interest in the gathering crowd, their attention shifting to his cousin. But his own attention did not shift, instead he took the open opportunity, his fingers moving up to catch the girls chin, his thumb running over her bottom lip as he leaned forward, enough to feel her breath against his own skin. Her trembling caught him off guard, that panic that was filling him turning, molding into a sort of soft resignation. The small hitch of her breath made his heart yank, and he could hear as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. But his hands moved, lingering on the skin of her cheeks as he untied the bound around her eyes.

  He could feel the low rumble starting in his chest as he looked into her royal eyes, vivid purple irises staring back at him with unshed tears. His thumb brushed over her bruised cheeks, his own eyes closing as he pressed a kiss to each individual eye, tasting her tears on his lips. The beast in him roared, fought to claw its way out, even as he pressed a finale kiss to the top of her forehead.

  Nothing was going to happen to her. Death would not find her this day. But. There was still the matter of pleasing the courts.

  “Calm, Khaleen… You’re going to have to bare through this, for me. ….Shhhh, calm, the faster we get started the quicker it is over. ”

  There was a moment of woeful silence, and the only thing he could do was suck in his breath and start. His fingers  stroked the tendrils of brown silk, letting his thumb run across it for a mere second. Before the reality of the situation had to set in. and with a ragged breath Abram stood, his fist twining around the hair to drag her across the marble floor.

 ----

 ‘Fuck,… fuck. FUCK!’

  The word echoed repeatedly through her mind as the footsteps edged closer and closer to her. Her heart was out of control, thrashing wildly in her chest, warning her to run. Warning her to do something to protect herself. But what could she do with a blind fold on, a gag in her mouth and her hands bound behind her back? The answer? Nothing. There was no retaliation. Not in the presence of what she could only assume was hundreds of vampires. Not in the presence of the vampire king, which if Soven was here, Alder could not have been far.

  The person was too close, she could feel the heat radiating off their body, she could feel their gaze as it dragged over her in what she could only assume was disgust. Could not say she blamed them though, she probably did look a hot mess. And she could not say she would not have looked at them the same way. Even through all this, all it did was prove the worth of the leeches. And just to put it into perspective, that worth, was useless.

  Air escaped her lungs in a desperate cry as she felt the hand fist into her hair, yanking her head back in display as those words were spoken to her. The tone not matching the actions at all.

  “I will unblindfold you….”

  Requiem fist clenched behind her back as tears began to burn behind her eyes a sign of weakness she did not want to give to any of these leeches. Even in her past few days of torture, the shame that accompanied those tears was detrimental to her ego, her pride cracking just a bit more with each instance.

  “I want to see your eyes…”

  The sudden onslaught of the fluorescents caused her to flinch slightly, her eyes squeezing shut at the bright world around her. It took a second for her to force compliance with herself, to force her overly sensitive eyes open to the world around her but all she could see was a world of darkness in a set of multicolored brown eyes. She could feel the tremble wrack her body as she looked him over.

  The moment was short lived however, an instant later she felt those fingers dragging her by the roots of her hair. Her hands jerked, trying to snatch at his hands that had found a home in the black tendrils.

  “Let the world see you for who you are…”

  “FUCK YOU!”

  The words were muffled around the gag, her hands yanking on the bounds still.

  -------------------------------------

 It was her voice, a muffled, tiny, strangled little thing, that made him give pause to his actions, a low burn of curiosity in mismatched as he turned his head slowly, languidly toward the now struggling, writhing girl at his feet. He watched her, eyes giving nothing, lips spilling no words as he took her in, the furious bite to her bright blue eyes and the scowl he could see even past the cloth that bit into her cheeks, kept her from speaking freely. His hand was still tangled in her hair, black strands curling around his fingers like they were unwilling to allow him to go, unwilling to part with him for even just that moment. This was something he used to his advantage to yank her to her feet, ripples of pleasure running over him at the sound of her voice, her screams as her head throb, at the sight of her tears starting to spring to pretty lashed eyes.

 God, he loved that sound. He didn’t even know there was a sound he could love as much as he loved hearing her shout just for him. He wanted more, needed more of the siren’s call, and Carson was not a man who just allowed what he wanted to flutter away…. Oh no, he was a man of standards, of power and position to reach out and take what he wanted.

 And he would do so…. All it would take was a little effort.

 Carson didn’t flinch as he slowly detangled his hand from her hair. The girl before him was nothing less then what he expected out of a leader of the rebellion, strong, poised, the kind of girl who took no shit from anyone and would not back down. She was the kind of girl who hated showing weakness, something he could perfectly understand of course, as he was a man of many enemies, and weakness, in any sort…. Would be fatal. She swayed on her feet as he took his hands off of her, determination flashing in her eyes as she looked at him, chest moving, in, out, in, out, in short shallow breaths, anger pulsing through her so painfully he could almost taste it from where he stood. She didn’t want to show him, of all people, any weakness, and Carson only admired her all the more for it.

 She such a will full little thing, he mused, watching her struggle to maintain her stance with some dignity, but ultimately, she failed, stumbling as her knees gave out and she fell, just as he knew she would, right into his chest. His expression remained cold, distant, but inside, Carson was drowning, burning in a sea of hot ice that seemed to steal his very breath and set his heart racing with electric touches.

  but that just made it all that much sweeter, he supposed, to hear the sound of his fist striking along the already swollen and darkened flesh of her cheek, a bright string in his knuckles as she screamed, involuntarily, of course, and hit the ground with a heavy thud. He gave her a moan, a moment filled with groans and screams as she rolled, stopped only when she hit Carson’s leg, her hands grazing over the black suit of his jacket before he leaned down, reaching out to grab hold of her chin forcibly, harshly, yank her head to the side to face him.

 She would look at him.

 She would look at him until her dying breath. Of this…. He would make sure of.

 “You will respect a King. If you do not find that in you, that’s fine….” He hissed, growled as he lifted her again,

 “I will carve the reminder into you. Now say yes, Master.”

 His fingers moved, trailing along her body deftly to find the cloth that rested between her lips. He took his time in removing it, allowing his fingers to play over pretty swollen lips and to imagine, to memorize the feel of them against his skin. Such a fascinating girl, beautiful, strong…. Things he had never associated with any female, and yet she had his memories with the abyss in her eyes and the way she snarled. He removed the gag, watching her breath hitch, her lips part to reveal white teeth stained in red, a pretty tongue…. And she spit in his face.

 Carson didn’t move. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t think as his brain fizzed out and his thoughts struggled to catch up to him. He was taken back by the action, no doubt, and there was a moment as he simply blinked,  his gaze dropping down to her, her body kicking against what might as well be a immovable statue, watching her chest heave and expanded with each scream and curse she flung his way. He whipped away the pink tinted wad of spit, his hands shaking slightly, before his heart hammered once more, his eyes narrowing as he brought his head back and slammed it into hers. Her screams filled the air as he dropped her, his heart hammering with a vengeance and his breath starting to shallow as pure rage filled his being, a kingly pride in him wounded and such a thing was nothing less than a death penalty.

  He was angry, infuriated, utterly pissed that this bitch of a leader dare sit at him, but there it was, that strange fascination that was bubbling under the surface. He moved, standing as his hands let her go, dropping her to the floor as he turned away again. His hand moved back to his cheek, touching the still wet spot on his cheek as his eyes widened. Everything was blurry, the whispers of the ghouls around him nothing to his tunneled hearing, the snarl ripping past his lips matching the unhinged look in his eyes.

 “You were given fair warning.”

 Carson turned on heel, his jacket now open, and he wasted no time in crouching down next to her, his decision made. His fingers found her hair once more, dark black tresses like silk on his hands, yanking her, pulling her into the crowd that’s seemed to stunned to know what to do, only gaped at him as he reached the first like, the people in the very front who were holding one other’s arms in alarm.

 They had never seen him like this.

 Good.

 They would all soon see what happened when you disrespected him.

 “Move!”

 And order from a King was not to be disobeyed.

 The people moved, making a mall path way as he walked, stormed really, his footsteps sure and heavy as his mind wrapped in the darkness that encased his soul. It was only her screams keeping him grounded as his eyes flashed and his mind flickered with vengeance, his whole body and air seeming to change as the man they knew, the Prince they knew as Carson Dhouti unraveled before their eyes.

 He made it to his destination, a pillar lining one of the ways toward the stage his father sat on, someone already adorning it. He didn’t mind them, inconsequential, not even worth any last words as he moved toward them. His hand moved to the jacket of his suit, eyes widening as he pulled out the black bladed knife he favored so heavily, a blade about three fourths as long as his forearm and a wooden handle, personally engraved with his name. Walking up to the human still hanging, watching his every move, he threw the small girl against it, at the floor but allowing her hurt side to hit the stone. Her sobs were music, involuntary and sudden, and if he had to he would take everything from her without her consent. There was a magic about it, something about making this girl break that had him on the edges, threatening to tumble over.

 His hand moving to the human’s neck, the blade singing as he lifted it to their flesh. It wasn’t anything, a motion he was all too familiar with, something he could do in his sleep, and he slit them, ear to ear, their screams quickly turning to gurgles moans even as his attention moved, to the wrists bound above them, the blood spilling down their chest causing nothing but a mild dull burn in his throat, one that could be easily ignored.

 It was this, he mused irritably, that was the hardest part. He hacked, slitting wrist and nerve and bone, until their arms fell, the body dropping like a marionette with its strings broken. He only spared a few moments with it really, picking them up by their hair, the feel of it nowhere as nice as the one he got from the girl at his feet, using his strength to throw the body, unceremoniously, into the crowd.

 “A little viewing snack… Before the show really starts…”

 It was only after the mummers had died down before he turned to her. She looked up at him, eyes wide, her body still but he could see the fear, lingering, just there in her mind…. There was not much you could hid from a Dhouti, and truly, what a sight he must have been….blood soaking his hands and arms, on his face, dripping from his hair… but there was not an ounce of him that cared.

 His hands felt like they were itching for her, like they were calling for her. They were up before he even knew what he was doing, before he even knew what it was he was reaching for, and He lifted her, until she was standing on her very tiptoes, his knife finding the ropes that held her wrist, cutting through them like butter. Her hands fell to her sides,  almost useless with the way they thumped against her legs, but before she even got the chance to move them, even just a twitch, Carson was already on her, his hands finding hers to yank them up toward the now free bloody cuffs.

 It seemed she didn’t take to kindly to the idea.

 The instant she seemed to realize what was going on, It was like someone had resparked her, the fire in her heart and eyes blazing with a sudden fierceness that made her eyes shin and cheeks flush a pretty pink, something that surprised him with the amount of blood she lost. Her body sprang to life, and suddenly she was kicking, scratching, pulling at him, anything she could to try and wrestle his hands away, her teeth finding him as she screeched her displeasure, which sent a bolt of hot vivid lust straight to his dick, and he just barely managed to bite back a moan from her body grazing him.

 What was she doing to him?

 “Fuck you! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING LEEC-”

 One of Carson’s hands let her arm go, and in a movement too quick for her to stop, almost too quick for her to see, the back of his hand went stinging across her face to draw a sharp gasp and cry from her. Her eyes snapped open, her body freezing before she started again, this time silent, as he was sure he split her lips and tongue on his hit.

 “You’re lucky I want to hear you scream so much, Little one…” he growled, before he finally managed to clap her in the cuffs. He moved back, his eyes narrowing again as she dangled there, watching as she breathed again, his hands playing with his knife, thumb running over the still bloody blade.

 She was such a picture. A blue and black and red….

 The girl didn’t say anything, only glared as he pulled the knife to his lips, running his tongue over the blade, his gaze never once leaving her as he slid his tongue across its length, a slow grin starting on his lips.

 “Filthy….” He muttered, moving to her, crossing the distance with a few quick steps to grasp her throat, Fingers finding home on her skin curling to find the flutter of her heart under thin skin along her neck, a pules like butterfly’s wings. His knife ran along her legs, grazing over her inner thigh, and it pleased him, like no other, that she could do nothing about it.

 She was his to do with as he pleased.

 “Will yours be any sweeter… Or are you nothing but Filth as well?”

 “You disgust me.”

 It was the first words she said to him that weren’t a yell, a shout, and there was logic, somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him that he should not be responding like this to such a thing. His lips shouldn’t be splitting into a more wicked grin, his eyes locked on her, his vision tunneling, and that laughter shouldn’t be boiling on his lips like bile, threatening to spill, he leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers as he used his thumb to tilt her head up toward him.

 “Oh Baby, Just you wait, If I disgust you now, Let me show you absolute repulsion…”

 His fingers danced as he spoke, trailing and lightly searching, until they found it, the light bump that was her rib, displaced, painful and all of that showed on her face. He never allowed her gaze to leave his as he started pressing, pressing… pressing…. The sounds of the bone snapping and slicing, ripping through organs and flesh making him shiver. Her scream filled the air once again, music, madness, but he wasn’t done.

 He pulled away, watching her as she sobbed, her breath sputtering and a wave of blood spilled past her lips, into her fresh wounds and vaguely he could see the darkness creeping around this pretty little creature. She was dying, death was closing in and with it something like dread, a cold stone in his gut, began to build. He ignored it, ignored this disturbing vison he was seeing of her, dead, gone, lifeless, as that was supposed to be what he wanted right?

 He did… He did want this… He had to!

 Carson sank the blade into her leg, in that soft skin just above her knee, pale flesh begging to be stained red, not so deep that he caused any real damage, but enough, enough that she could feel it, feel it as he began to pull it up, slowly, slowly, cutting through her, higher, higher, digging deeper as he went.

 His knee snapped up, hitting her directly on hers, and there was a delightful feeling as he heard her bone snap, crack under the force of it and to hear her curse his name to the high heavens was a sin he never wanted to end. But he could see it, could see that life se so wanted to break fading from her eyes, the life she had, the vigor, fading with each new wave of blood spilling from her lips and ever degree her body lost, was leaving, fading, and now his whole body was shaking, but with a whole new purpose.

 Carson hissed, leaning his face closer to her face, lips brushing over hers for that barest hint of a touch, as he spoke to her, one last time.

 “Take your time healing…. I’ll be back to visit you soon... pet.”

 And his lips crashed to hers.

 His teeth found his own tongue, slicing it to spill rivers of blood into her open mouth, her body shaking as she tried to reject his gift. He didn’t allow her however, nipping at her lips as she tried to pull away and spilled more blood into her, before he ripped away from her with a harsh yank, a grin twisting on his lips to look directly at his father.

 “She’s better of to us…. Alive.”

 His tone was breathy and harsh, over exerted. His father made no motion to move, only watched his own son before his eyes flicked to the other he thought of as a son, and he simply nodded.

 “As you heard all. The show is over…. I hope you enjoyed yourselves, as the show was truly… quite spectacular.”

 Soven moved easily, a king through and through. His hand reached for his wife, pulling her closer and walking the few steps down the stage, along the red carpet. He glided like a true god, a being so ancient the powers themselves feared him. Carson watched as he walked up to him, and Soven placed his hand on Carson’s cheek, his speckled eyes narrowing as he murmured to him, forehead resting on his.

Blood dripped onto her foot, and she watched in an utter fascination as each drop slipped past the gag. She had a split lip, her tongue coated in a tint of her own blood. She really would not be surprised if Ashlin did, not with the moves she had made when they had come to get them. Not a single word was spoken to them as these men dragged Ashlin out of her cell, their lips stern and their eyes lacking any emotion other than a pure rage. They ignored her as she asked on a sort of repetition what they were doing.

  Still there was no answer, and she wasted no time as the cell door opened, the stem of that goblet so beautifully crafted tightened in her grip as her hand slung out, slamming the glass along the wall so that only the stem remained. The first guard made his move pulling onto her arm and she swung, the stem landing its hit directly into his neck. Blood sprayed as she yanked back, taking the glass with her. There wasn’t much room for scuffle when the rest burst through taking her down in a mirage of movements. The only things she could feel was the pain wracking after just a few seconds of fighting back.

  Next she was walking, watching the blood drip from her gag and straining to hear any clue as to where they were going.

   “They are going to get us killed. All of us. You know their little human friends are still looking for them.”

  “Quiet, do you think they won’t take you out for speaking ill?”

  There was sudden pause in their footsteps, The hand resting on her arms squeezing and pulling her to a stop infront of what she could only imagine was elaborate doors, both swinging open with a creak.

 ---------------------  

 God, everything hurt.

 At this point, this was nothing new to her. Pain had become something of a constant, a forever faithful companion that never seemed to leave her side, even in the night when all she wished for was sleep. It clawed her now, dragged its nails along her skin and spine, pulling at her with every step. Every movement she made a fresh wave of pain, a new throb against her temples, a headache that would not fade.

 She supposed a little of that had to do with how she was greeted this morning, or what she assumed was morning. There was something people didn’t tell, or just didn’t realize was something that happened. When you were held prisoner, time passed differently. Everything seemed…. To slow, or speed up to the point she could no longer keep up, all sense she had of being part of the normal stream gone with the light of her days. She had her window, had the glass planes that separated her from the churning skies to tell the da, the time the hour….

 Ashlin had barely managed to fall into sleeps hold, had just managed to allow sleep to trail it’s way past her fitful shakes and trembling hands, when a sudden noise woke her, making her body snap up in instinct, skidding along the floor as she pushed herself backward into the shadows, the only comforting place she had now.

  The doors to their cells were opened with an unceremonious bang, loud, reverberating through the … what she assumed was a large space. She snapped up, eyes wide as she watched them file in, one, by two, by three, until it was all she could see, all she could hear was their voices, snapping at her, telling her to stand, to get on her feet now.

 Ashlin blinked, too surprised to comply.

 That hadn’t sat well with them.

 One had reached out, ignoring the way she flinched away, to grab a fist full of hair to yank to her feet, pulling a strangled yelp from, a desperate sob as she heard her sister calling, pleading with them to tell her what was going on, her voice gaining in desperation as the lifted the brunette to her feet.

 It happened on instinct, a quick surge of desperation and anger that mad her pull back her leg and swing, paying no mind to the pain of being held solely by her hair, the weight of her body dangling on the fistful of stands one of her captors was holding. Her feet planted firmly into the chest of one struggling to get a hold of her, and in that next moment, all she could feel was an exploding white pain behind her eyes as something slammed against her face.

 There was no fight from her after that.

 She tasted blood, she mused as she had walked, solemnly down the halls, guided by a stiff hand and the whispers of those around her, low mummers, hints of a conversation she could not follow. Her eyes were covered again, a blindfold tied tightly around her temples to block her from seeing. Her lip throbbed as she bit more harshly into the gag, blood, or drool, she really couldn’t tell, dripping down her face as she strained her hearing to pick up anything useful.

 “They’ll get us killed…”

 “Still searching…”

 “Don’t see what’s so special…”

 “Wouldn’t talk for five days, why start now…”

 The words, though ultimately useless to her, were heard, stored away in her mind as she tried to place together what was happening. She didn’t know much, but she could gather they were taking er somewhere important, and they didn’t like it, that there seemed to be a general air of tension and discomfort toward the whole situation.

 How curious…

 The doors opened, old hinges on even older doors, the creak of it making her back straighten and her body tense again.

 “Lords… We have the girls…. Per your Request….” There was a stiffness to the mads voice, one she could feel as the hand on her arm tightened to pull her in, toward something warm and homey, smelling vaguely of wood and smoke and cinnamon.

 “Drop them.”

 The reaction was slow, a reluctance that wasn’t there before, but slowly, the fingers left her skin, left her body and she was left to stand on her own two feet, a little wobbly but ultimately, fine.

 “Requiem… tell me you’re okay…”

 Her voice was low, soft, and she knew she risked much with just those few words… but she hadn’t heard from her since that scuffle, and her heart pounded with absolute fear.

  -----

  Honestly, the fascination at just seeing her again burst an emotion he had not felt in thousands of years through his heart. Relief washing over him even as he stiffened in his chair, his pointer and thumb rubbing together in a sort of contingent, the motion soothing an insufferable need to get up and touch her. To make sure for himself that she was fine, to look her over himself, to unbound her and drag her frail frame against his. To whisper apologizes into her ears. Even if they were to fall on deaf ears, how could she have forgiven what he had done to her.

  Though to his defense he was exclusively softer to this brunette that Carson had been to the darkling sitting next to her side. Carson made a move from his side, trying to move towards the two women and Abram pulled on the sleeve of his jacket, his opposite hand coming in a motion of pause. Blue eyes flicked over the girl, her lips moving around the gag in her mouth to speak to what she could only assume was her friend, her colleague. Either way some one of importance to her. Her voice threaded with worry, but spoken so low that even someone of his race would have had difficulties hearing the chime of her voice. But he was a Lee. There was no hiding anything from him.

 “Fine. I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”

Abram’s head cocked at the interaction, his eyes flashing to the guards that still stood in the room. His hand waved towards them, once again motioning for them to leave a hint they did not seem to grasp. The room was silent besides the foot falls of the guards and the slow creak of the doors closing behind them.

  “You… you don’ think… it’s the kings again do you….”

  He watched as the darkling spoke, her head jerking to the general area of his brunette. And he could feel his own heart pick up with hers. Her heart thundering at the mere mention of them.

  “I don’t know.”

  Abram stood from his chair, his fingers splaying against the mahogany wood of his desk. There was a tick to his blood as he heard the chime in her voice ring again, fear underlying every note. A secret obsession he could not get over, though he had just found it. The sound of her voice touched him like he imagined her fingers on his skin would. A caress of sound. The woman's voice - throaty, husky, erotic - held the promise of satin sheets and candlelight. It played over his skin and sang a song of pure magic in his soul, tantalizing, enticing, sinful. It mesmerized him easily, and he wanted nothing more than to sit here and hear her voice speaking whispered words to him; it haunted and captivated. The notes danced, pure and beautiful, weaving a spell of enchantment around Abram.

  After long, empty centuries, in a single moment, everything had changed and it was all thanks to her. He could feel. He could see the brilliance of the colors in the world. His body was alive with needs and desire, not simply the ever-present gnawing physical hunger for blood. Power and strength ran through him, sang in his veins, flowed through his muscles, and he felt it.

  His feet fell to the ground in a low thump, his eyes on her filled with a desperation that he could not hold out on. He moved with the grace of a predator towards her, his whole humming as he approached. His fingers worked quickly, soothing back stray hairs as he untied the blindfold, then the gag, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip in a motion unstoppable even if he truly wanted to.

  “What’s your name?”

----------------------

 In the moments before they entered, Carson had found himself standing at the large windows that decorated one side of the large den that the cousins had claimed for themselves, the fire roaring to one side of him, behind the chairs they had placed there to form a semi-circle around the fire place. His body was ridged as he stood, arms crossed over his chest and one hand lifted to his lips, thumb brushing over his lip, Brushing over metal to play with the lip piercings absently, languidly, his mind a thousand miles away as his body remained here in the present.

 “Did you consume her blood, Carson?”

 That same line, over and over and over, ran through his mind, a record on lop that he could not stop. His father’s voice drifted over him, pulling him back to his father’s office, when he had entered along on his father’s request, his heart hammering in his chest as he thought about what it was his father could possibly have wanted.

 It was clear that Carson had disappointed him. It was in the way his eyes had narrowed when he had answered his previous question, in the way he had shaken his head and looked away from him for a moment before he had started to speak, his voice low, stern, almost harsh as he told them they could have the girls they so desperately sought. Carson’s stomach, already battling this strange nausea that just would not leave, did somersaults in his gut, his hands clasping behind his back, a sign of respect as well as a way to hide the trebling of his hands, both a nervous tick and a symptom he could not control.

 The question hit Carson as odd. After all, he had expected a lecture of some sort, had expected his father to simply tell him how disappointed in he was, to tell him that he had disgraced the Dhouti name last night and that the position of king would not be handed back to his Eldest brothers, that he had taken both his and his twin’s future away from them with a single mishap. A thousand possibilities had run through his head, but this…. This had not been one of them.

 Carson froze, his mind going, straining to remember that moment, the feeling of her lips against his something he could not forget. It overpowered almost everything else. Her lips were so soft, petal pink with a coating of bright blood red that caught his easily. He could remember the feel of them as he had forced her lips to part with his own tongue and lips, his tongue nearly bitten in two to give her enough blood to back track the damage he had done to her body. However, He had to push past that, tried to see past her lips and her low grunts into his mouth that he had swallowed gratefully…. And still, Carson found that this answer, as well, escaped him.

 Another disappointment.

 “I don’t know.”

 His father had released him soon after that, a simple warning to not take things lightly and to not allow his temper to get the best of him again. Carson had nodded and left, his mind hazy still, and now swimming with even more question.

 Why had his father asked that? Was he trying to see if had taken her blood because he was afraid he would control? Was he saying there was something wrong with her? Did he not trust him?

 Of course he didn’t, Carson had lost that trust when he had lost control.

 “Stupid.” The word was spoken softly, too low for anyone to really hear, but his thoughts were halted as he heard the door creak open, and Carson turn wide, multi colored eyes toward the door, taking a few steps to get closer to Abram as they were led into the room.

 And there she was again.

 God, seeing her was like getting sucker punched right in the gut. She was… absolutely stunning, the most enticing girl he had ever seen, and he had seen many, MANY girls in his very long life. He’d chose her, again and again and again, any day, over any of them, as she was more inviting they any of them could ever hope to be. . In five days, he had nearly forgotten what she looked like, had forgotten how tiny she truly was. She couldn’t have been taller than five foot, if that, her long ink black hair falling, tumbling around her face and body, nearly hiding from view the wounds that covered her body, wounds that Carson knew should not be there.

 Any and all wounds he gave her would have been healed with the amount of blood he had given her, so the blood dribbling from her mouth was not of his hand, and that in and of itself was unacceptable.

 Anger ripped through him, his mind racing as he took a step forward, a step to go toward the girl, but there it was, a light pressure that worked better than ten thousand men when it came to a Dhouti. The hand of a lee was a powerful thing, as they all hand the Dhouti family eating from their palms like tamed attack dogs. Carson stopped, froze in his tracks as he waited, watched their little interaction with a mind interest, his mind and duel colored gaze never leaving the girl as he waited.

 It didn’t take long until Abram was up and moving, already heading to the Brunette he was so obsessed with.

 Carson moved slower, no rush to his movements as he calmed himself. Of course, that effort was wasted, as the storm he had thought he had quelled suddenly surged once more, filling his chest with a heated torment, a desert in his throat as he closed in on her. Everything was pain and longing and need, and he needed… something from her, needed something to make this stop, make it fade, and somehow, he knew it was only her that could to it.

 Carson stopped before her, close enough that he could feel her, her heat, her breath run over his skin as he lifted one hand, his fingertips, in such a striking contrast to the last time he had touched her, brushed over her cheek, her skin heaven on his frayed nerves.

 How was it she could make this hell inside him feel like a heaven?

 His fingers found her hair, moving to the gag that was ripping into her split lip, untying it solely, allowing the cloth to drop to the floor with a near silent thump, his gaze on her as his hand moved again, taking off the blindfold as well, before his hand moved to her neck, nails tracing patterns along the hallow of her throat before he pushed her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

 Carson, for the first time since he had met her, allowed himself to truly breath, taking in a deep breath to catch the scent of what he had now claimed as his.

 And Carson drowned.

 Her scent was something he could not describe, a heaven, an addiction, a sinful hell he had fallen into and held no desire to escape. Her scent was heady, heavy and light, secrets that hurt no one, bike rides on stolen time and day walks in the woods. It reminded him of absolutely everything he loved, brought to his chest a surge of desire that he could not recall ever feeling, his breath hitching as he drew in another breath.

 “Requiem.” The name he had heard the other one call her slipped from his lips as he breath, the name shaky, unsure, like he was tasting it on his tongue and was slowly discovering he loved the flavor. He pulled her closer again, her body flush against him, every inch of him screaming with joy, a revolution in his mind as his body called for something, something he knew all too well… Blood.

 This call was so different. It was powerful yes, but instant, needy, almost raging against his chest. The monster in him beat and clawed, roared it’s need but he paid it no mind, ignored it.

 He would not lose control… not this time.

 “You don’t realize how lucky you are, Xanvek… Tell me, who gave you this? Was it one of my guards? How harmed are you, does it hurt much?” the questions flowed through him easily, too easily.

 Why did he care? Why did it matter to him?

 He didn’t know, It didn’t make sense. She should have been nothing, should have simply been a target....

It had been days since she had seen the outside of the small cell she was in. Her only connection to the outside were those vivid purple eyes that stared at her across the bars. Watching her intently, though to an untrained eye she looked stoic, impassive, Requiem could see. See the worry that lie under that expression, the nerves bundling deep in Ashlin. But her own blue eyes flicked back to the small window in the cell, watching the clouds roll with a new-found intent.

  “You need to eat Req.”

  Requiem pressed herself against the cold stone of the wall, slumping until her arms rested limply over her tummy, knees brought up for the mere comfort. She could feel her eyes on her still, feel their worried gaze passing her, over and over again. It was a bit of habit for the momma bird of a leader. Worrying just to worry about something other than herself. One that Requiem could not quite find the heart to put up with today.

  “Can you talk Ashlin? You haven’t touched anything in days.”

  “Requiem… how do you expect t-“

  “Do you think any of them are even still looking for us? Or do you think they gave up? And think we’re dead… I can’t say I’d blame them if they did… I would have.”

  Requiem shifted her leg, dropping it to allow her foot to press flat against the ground. Her body lifted up but not without a pain filled wince. Sure, the leech had healed her, but it seemed her body was unwilling to fully cooperate. Causing ghost pains at movements that should not have caused anything. But still she could feel her organs tugging at a bone that was no longer lodged into her haphazardly. She could still feel that blade sliding across her skin, flaying pieces. She could still feel those eyes on her, that smug smile turned her way. She could still feel his hands on her, it was sickening. Her own hands traced the patterns over her body that he had and in the midst of it she could feel the nausea climbing up her spin, churning in her guts as she swung her other legs down. Only to allow her body to curl, her elbows resting on the tops of sore thighs catching onto her cheeks as she turned her gaze to Ashlin.

   “Sorry… I’m not feeling myself at all. I feel… different.”

 ------

 Different…. That was one way to put what was happening to them, and it was definitely one of the kinder words that could be used. Ashlin watched her, cool eyes never straying from the body of her smaller sister for longer the it took for the thunder to roll above their heads, outside, through the windows that bared them, more torturous then the hands of the vampires had been because the windows were simply a state of freedom no longer in their grasp. Ashlin watched her sister as she moved subtly, trying to not take any offence to the words flowing from the darkling with an archer’s precision, venom laced in each word to make it hurt.

 Logically she knew that she should take no offence to it. Her sister had always been short tempered, the snapping and agitation was nothing new to the brunette. But there was something about it, a similar song playing in her veins as she felt her body shake just that one more time, her breath still invisible but for the life of her, Ashlin could not get warm. Her body ached, screamed, she couldn’t find one comfortable position to sit in or rest and it was starting to show in the bags under her eyes. Irritation was starting to rip at her skin, at the mask she so desperately clung to now. Her mind raced, even as she shifted once more in that futile effort to get comfortable, her gaze lingering on Requiem before trailing down to her hands.

 They did something to them.

 The question was…. What was they had done? Why was it they hadn’t seen them since that day, with all the creatures, monsters, watching as they spilled their own blood and forced them to drink from them. Was it a humiliation tactic? A way to show them they were nothing? No better than them?

 The thunder rolled again, answers in a language she could never understand.

 The storm moved on.

 Ashlin wished she could take it all away, wished she could simply reach into Requiem’s cell, past the bars that had her cages and locked away in this dark sullen part of the Vampire’s castle. She wished she could sooth her fears, could ease the pain she felt, significantly more than hers had been, and she wished that if nothing else they had placed the sisters in the same cell, so that Ashlin could actually feel her sister, sooth her hair back and whisper her thoughts to her.

 But they didn’t.

 “You know better than that, Reqqy.” Her voice was soft, almost horse as her dry throat closed and surged with pain again.

 “If no one else, Perilium and Abby will never stop. And I feel bad for anyone who dares tell them to stop long for us… You say you would have stopped but I know you…. You would never leave a sister behind.”

“I know, it’s just…”

 Whatever she was going to say seemed to fade away, as the words died on her lips. Ashlin’s gaze moved from her once more, to the plate of food, food that really, she never expected from them. She expected gruel, mash, some sort of loaf and water, something that wasn’t made for taste but rather to simply keep her alive. Instead, every day, a hot meal was brought in, served on a beautiful platter and definitely arranged with care, almost lovingly so. It was never anything disgusting, always something that had her mouth watering and begging her to just dive in, but for the past few days, she had held out, refusing to give them the change to off her off silently.

 But there was only so far that she could go, and Ashlin was starting to break.

 “How are your wounds?”

 She changed the subject, partially because she didn’t want to face the growing possibly that her sister were not coming, that she would die here, in this cell, only a window to let her watch as the outside world passed her by, and the other part was to take her mind off the food she refused to eat.

 -------

  “Their fine. I’m just sore now. Don’t worry about me.”

  Her fingers played over the back of her neck, her head dangling precariously between her legs. The motion did nothing to sooth the nausea that was running wave after wave over her being. Though it was on most part due to the fact it was her own hands trying to sooth herself. She needed something, the feeling crawling through her in a sort of dazed manner. It was the only thing she could concentrate on. The only thing her mind could clearly focus enough on to recognize this.

Her eyes grazed over the food that sat in the elaborately decorated plates. But the mere thought of the food had her stomach doing back flips. Repulsed her thoroughly enough to force her back against the cold slab of stone. What was it… What did she want?

  Blue eyes flicked to the goblet that stood so prettily next to the platter. Inviting all on its own. The longer she stared at it the stronger she could feel the itch in her throat, the burning building up in her chest as she stared the silver down. The motions were slow at first, leaning partially to look inside the content of the cup. If only to see the color of the liquid, which from this stance she could see the vivid red of what she could only guess was wine.

  Thunder rolled once again followed directly by the flash of the lightening that had Requiem standing, her eyes never wavering from the cup that stayed stark still. She stared it down as if a single second of her attention shifting would cause it to up and disappear. Pale finger came up to grasp at her throat, the fingers digging into the flesh just as she bent over the cup, her other hand finding the stem.

  Icy eyes flicked to Ashlin, who still had not let her gaze drift or even move. Her sister watched her just as intently as Requiem had been watching the cup. Her fingers pressed into the silver stem as her lips quirked.

  “What about your’s? Are they doing any better?”

 -----

  “It’s been days. Five, if you want to be exact. We can’t just keep them in cages like wild animals. They aren’t sleeping, they are not even eating.”

  “Do you think we would have got the same courtesy if the situation had been reversed, Abram? Whhat do you suggest we do? Let them leave? Place them on probation? No. The fact of the matter is they are leaders to a rebellion. They aren’t going anywhere and they are not leaving these grounds. Not alive.”

  Abram could feel the frustration rising in his gut, the small rumbles already building again as they seemed to do every time he thought about the brunette. Anytime he imagined those tear-filled eyes. God, she had a way of getting to him when she was not even around. And he did not even know her name.

  His father moved from his mother’s as he stood, flattening both on the oak wood that laid out in front of him. And Abram could feel that sickening feeling rising over him once more. Knew the words that were about to come from his father’s mouth even as he watched him part his lips, the words barely on his tongue before Abram cut him off again.

  “I won’t kill her. Do what you want with the other, but the brunette is mine.”

  There was a crash as his father’s fist slammed against the table, his own blue eyes closing in the frustration. Alder sighed, his finger coming up to press against the bridge of his nose. The slow growl that was building up in his throat tumbling out with his words.

“Abram. She is not a animal. You said it yourself. You cannot just keep her.”

“She’s mine. Not a single person is going to harm her, ill snap the neck of any person that tries. And if that mean you Dad, then I’m just going to have to count you as one of the casualties of this war.”

  “Abra-“

  His mom started, her eyes stern as she stood from her husband’s side. And Abram paused only for a second his eyes shifting over Soven and Arber then Carson. He was shaking again, his hands grasping the table to keep a sort of semblance of calm.

  “I’ll take out the whole court if I have to.”

 -----------------------

 “I really don’t think there’s going to be any need for that, tovak.”

 His voice was soothing, calm, and wholeheartedly….a lie. Inside he was boiling, freezing, raging with the vengeance of an army, and it was just barely he was able to keep the trebling from his limbs, sheer force of will that he had yet to break out into a sweat as the fire licked along the ice that was in his veins. It was a terrible contrast, one that had him tossing and turning, sleep avoiding him like the plague, different from his usual set of nightmares, flashes, vision of what and need, nothing new but still something utterly foreign. Where sleep avoid him, The nightmares filled in the void, a living horror he could not escape, and instead, Carson found himself wandering the halls, his body shaking, his stomach heaving up bile as she tried to shake whatever it was that had gotten hold of him.

  His head throbbed, pounded with every bit his heart made and all Carson wanted to do was close his eyes, curl up with Either Abram and Asher or His brother, to sleep it away… but his body ached, and his throat felt dry, burned with a thirst he could not quench. Oh, and how he had tried.

 Even now, he could taste the still vivid burst of blood on his tongue, could still feel the thrashing as more than ten people had lost their lives that morning, filling him to the brim, to the point that he felt, should he drink anymore, he might just burst…. And he had hoped that this would be enough to sooth the beast in him that had awaked some night ago, the monster in his that plagued his mind and clawed at his throat to draw the ravenous need to the forefront of his mind, but it wasn’t. No not nearly enough.

 Was he dying? Was he sick? He had never heard of a vampire getting sick, not like this, and so his mind, blurry, hazy as it was, was trying to piece together this jigsaw of a riddle, but it seemed he had more than just a few pieces missing, crucial ones needed to see the whole picture.

 “Dad…” Carson started, watching as His father’s gaze snapped toward him from his position of the edge of His Uncles desk. Soven’s hands were playing with his mother’s hand, running fingers along her knuckles and palm, a clear sign his father was thinking, his mind racing, though his eyes flicked back and forth between the two boys, Abram still staring his father down as Carson took that step forward, his hand finding the brunette’s shoulder to off her a light squeeze.

 “It might be… more beneficial to you if you allow us to take them. Think about it.” He spoke quickly as he saw his father’s lips part to say something, the word no already ringing in his ears.

 “As of now it’s been five days. No one as managed to make them eat, or sleep, none of your best torturers, none of your advisors. As it stands now, you are only going to end up losing to very valuable assets, and any information they would have had is lost. Just give them to us… Abram and I will take full responsibility for them, will take on all responsibility for what they do and the information they give us. We’ll take care of them, as it will sooth Abram’s possessive nature and will give me a chance to work them over, get something out of them this time.”

 “What make you so sure you can even do it, Carson?”

 His father’s words made his words stubble, stutter as he fell silent for a moment in blank shock. His father looked up from his mother’s hand turning to finally fully face the dark haired boy, and Carson could feel his body being to shrink back again, falling in on itself as he felt five and mortal all over again.

 “What?” Carson question, his hands clenching as his father moved, easily, regal without even trying, letting go of his mother’s hand with a light kiss on her knuckles before he turned back to his Youngest son, eyes stern but there was that warmth, the one that had been missing from nights ago.

 “What your asking is a heavy price, Carson. The sway, possibly the very result of this war, will rest solely on your shoulders. That means and casualties, and failures, and wrong information they might give you, that all resides on you. You’re asking us to place the existence of our specie in your hands, when you can’t even control your temper at a little spit.”

 “But-“

 “My answer is no, Carson. I can’t risk them getting the better of you. Abram’s already proved he more than willing to let her live no matter the cost, and you couldn’t even control yourself last night-“

 “YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT!?”

 Carson could feel it, that swell of temper that surged up in his chest and burned its way to his tongue. All he could hear was ringing, all he could see was flashes, those visons again of her, bright eyes and dark hair falling around her face, and his father words ringing in his head. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt but that pain fueled him, pushed him forward as one hand grasped the side of the desk, a low roar falling from his lips as he flipped it, pushing it into the air and sending it flying into the wall next to them. The old wood shattered, splintered into nothing under the strength of his royal blood, but Carson paid it no mind, his eyes wide and focused, solely, on his father.

 “YOU THINK NOT A MINUTE GOES BY THAT I DON’T THINK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED!? I planned to kill her, I planned to do what I was supposed to, But I COULDN’T! Something told me to not, that it would be a mistake, and I followed my gut, like you’ve always told me too. And now your punishing me for it? No, that’s BULLSHIT! Give her TO ME!  SHE’S MINE, Been MINE SINCE THE MOMENT SHE WALKED IN THAT DOOR, MY TARGET, AND You keep allowing FILTHY FUCKS to Touch her! I’ll get the information you need, and I’ll do it without killing her. I’ll get everything you want, just give her to me as my pet.”

 Soven didn’t move, only started down his son, who was breathing heavily, his hands clenched and his body shaking with what Carson could only assume was repressed rage. Carson watched his father look over him, watched as he crossed his arms and finally closed his eyes, rolling his head to look over at his Uncle, who seemed mildly disturbed by the fact his desk had been taken as a casualty. Soven’s eyes flickered with meaning, and even with his training, Carson could not hear the words in their minds.

 “Fucking great.” Alder’s voice snapped, his uncle pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Soven sighed, before he turned his head back to her, blond hair falling in his face as he tilted his head slightly at his son.

 “You fight strongly for her, Ulvar.”

 “I do.”

 “Why?”

 Carson didn’t really know. He could say he did, make up something, but the fact is, Carson could not tell you what it was that drew him to this girl so much. He needed her, needed to see her, there was something drawing him to her and the longer he stayed away, the more it was starting to bother him. His stomach was already screaming, flipping and churning bile in his gut. No words came to mind to explain this feeling, but Carson’s mouth parted. His father wanted something from him, and Carson Strived to deliver.

 “She’s mine. Mine to break, and it feels wrong for someone else to get that victory.”

 Soven narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. Carson’s heart dropped…. He had answered wrong.

“Nice try at scaring us, but if you think anybody is going to fall for that you’re dumb.”

 Brown eyes flickered over to Ankou, taking in the girls who was casually sprawled out around Menzy, her hands in area’s that most friends would find uncomfortable. But Lottie had come to find that most anything was an open book when it came down to these two girls. And really she would have heeded her words if the sound didn’t ring out again. There was no way to be sure what it was. It was not a knock, but there was a shuffling, a movement right out the house that she could just barely hear.

“It might be Lochlan.”

  “It wasn’t even a knock Lottie, it could be an animal for all you know.”

  Lottie shifted pulling up off the wooden floor of the parlor, her eyes already shifting to the door that was completely blocked by a steel plate, the only open part a small slot in the wielded metal. There was a second of silence, the room that held a few of the girls all staring at Lottie as she stood, her fingers brushing over reddened knees.

  “Lottie, we are telling scary stories. You’re just being paranoid. Sit down, we will change the subject, I’m sure Ankou won’t mind.”

  Requiem patted the floor again, her other hand drifting a pink pillow to accommodate what was once empty space beside her. Her small hands fluffing it if to only make it look a little more comfortable. It only served to quirk a corner of her lip, her eyes moving from the beaming grey eyes back to her slippers.

  “We can, I just would rather make sure. It will only take a second; I’m not going to open it unless he is here.”

There really was no keeping her from looking. They knew it. All of them knew her feelings for the tall brown haired boy. They all knew her need for him; they all knew her love for him. Whether they got it from the long phone calls at night, or the constant text messages, maybe the consistent seeking or maybe it was her confessing to them. She was in love with him, adamantly. There was no way to deny it.

  Every chance she had she took when it came to Lochlan Lannister. Any chance to brush her hand over his tanned skin, she took any chance to hear his words directed to her, to have his breath against her own flesh. Most of the time it played into those lingering hugs and those small ‘secrets’ that she just had to tell him. Her favorite was when he would lean into her, press a kiss to her forehead or hear temple, telling her how much he was going to miss her when they both knew the second they got home the phone would glued to their ears. Sure, she felt a little bad that she had known for years now, and still had yet to tell him anything about her feelings.

  But really it was something you worked up to.

  Small fingers pressed against the metal slot that adorned the steel, the metal starting to creak but stopping in the same instant it started. The chime from her phone halted her actions. But her hand didn’t move from the steel, instead her free hand moved into her pocket picking out the slim phone. The screen illuminated to show small text with Lochlan’s name splayed across the screen, the only message written out on it making her eyebrows furrow.

  Open the door Lottie

  There was a second of just staring before she moved her other hand away from the metal of the door, bringing it down to her phone. She moved a little slower than usual when texting him, her fingers hesitating over the screen. He was never generally so demanding. Usually his words were request if anything, but not this. It was a command, one that worried her, but she tried to rationalize it as she typed back.

  It was liberatio. And he was outside of the comfort of any protection, she had to say.

  I was so worried about you. Where have you been?

  It didn’t quite answer his question, and she knew that. But it took a second. Another moment of hesitation passed before she could really answer his question. She wasn’t sure, couldn’t say what it was but something was not right.

 Are you outside? I can’t just open it if you aren’t.

 Yes. Please hurry.

  Her mind went slightly numb to the panic that was beginning to build up in her chest. But she was moving, her hands already coming up to punch in the code to the door.

  -----------------------

 “Are you Crazy!?”

 Up until this point, Cypher had not said much of anything, instead having been the comforting presence beside Lottie as she watched the blond send message after message after message to the boy who just wouldn’t respond. She had remained at Lottie’s side, running a soothing hand through blond strands and along the ridges of her spine, whispering words she herself did not believe, playing into the ever growing unlikely situation that something was holding Lochlan up. Maybe he was caught in traffic, maybe he had run into trouble, or maybe he had lost his phone, It’s okay, I’m sure he’s alright… Just keep trying.

 She hadn’t said a word as she called him again and again and again with no answer, she didn’t protest when she wanted to leave the room to leave another message and had wrapped an arm around her. She had watched as Ashlin tried to sooth her, sliding in that graceful way the Baxter girls had to sooth the smaller blond while Cypher got her blankets and pillows and drinks for the girl whose mind a thousand miles away. She had remained quiet through all of it….

 But she couldn’t stay quiet now, not when Lottie was about to do something so stupid.

 Her body moved, pushing up off the floor and forward in one fluid movement, her hand slapping over the control panel by the door to stop Lottie from placing in the numerical code that would open the metal slate, the only thing keeping them separated from the demons that were running rampant outside.

 “You’re going to open it? Seriously? Without even looking? What is WRONG with you?”

 The words were hushed, a hiss on her tongue as she moved past the small girl, pushing her slightly as her hand moved to the little sliding panel in the door. Pink and purple hair spilled over her shoulders as she rose to her tip toes, blue eyes widening as she opened that little siding panel that was their window to the outside.

 And what she saw made her blood run cold.

 Cypher made it a point to avoid demons. It wasn’t that she had any particular aversion to them, like The Bubblegum twins, but she liked called it ‘common fucking sense’. No matter what the media would like to say and what people would like you to think, Demons were dangerous. They had abilities, powers; things that they could do that could kill a human almost instantly. They fed on souls, flesh and blood and living creatures, and they didn’t have the same morals and standards as Humans did. They thrive on death and murder, on killing and pain, and they didn’t care for the softer parts of human emotion, like love and devotion. And on today, on Liberatio, the beasts in them were allowed to run free. Cypher heard stories, horror tales of humans who had fallen prey to the one day out of the year they were made to feel like the prey the demons always thought of them as, enough to know a state of the fear that could only come with a hunt…

 She had never wanted to taste true fear, but the flavor of it was seared into her soul, and she was sure that she would never forget it, not in this life or the next.

 Then again, the sight of twenty or more demons on a front lawn wasn’t something one tended to forget.

 “Oh God….”

 The words were a whisper as she closed the screen, her eyes wide and unblinking as her heart hammered in her chest. The beat roared in her ears, so loud she almost missed Lottie’s words as she tried to press closer to the control panel.

 “But Lochlan is out there! I have to open the – “

 “He’s Probably DEAD Lottie!”

  Cypher wanted to scream, she wanted to yell and kick and shout at The Small blond because she just didn’t understand that it was important she didn’t open that door. Cypher would admit that she didn’t have the best way with words, that often times her words would fly out before she could even think about them and more often than not it lead to some hurt feelings and painful situations. She had tried to get a hold of it, but in moments of high stress and fear always seemed to loosen that hold she had over her filter, and like now, she would come to regret it. Lottie’s face shifted to that of absolute heartbreak. Every inch of her expression fell as tears welled in those brown eyes, and Cypher cursed under her breath for saying what everyone had been thinking but purposely avoided.

 “There are Twenty something demons on The BubbleGum and The Blackmail twins front lawn…. I don’t think Lochlan is out there.”

 She could feel it, the need to try and backpedal on what she said, but she wouldn’t…. not when it was the truth.

 “We have to move, away from this room, It’s only been three hours and however much your moms spent on this protection, I don’t trust it to last another twenty one hours.”

 ---------------------

 She almost wanted to hit her… almost. There was the fact that she was right, and that was the very thin protection that Cypher was granted from Briggs.

 “That wasn’t Necessary, Cypher…”

 Briggs voice, soft and low, almost raspy with disuse spilled into the now silent air. Briggs crossed her arms as her eyes narrowed on the pink and lavender haired girl, watching as the flush of embarrassment crossed over her cheeks, and she had enough decency to look sheepish and regretful as Ashlin pulled Lottie into her Arms.

 Briggs wasn’t a very loud girl. She didn’t scream or shout or hell, she barely even panicked. Most would say she hardly even had emotions, But there were times, few and far in between when Briggs could feel her temper spark, her eyes flashing with a raging protective streak that only showed for the people who were here in this house.

 Briggs didn’t do the whole ‘social’ thing. It was more than just an aversion to it, more than just dislike. She didn’t like to talk about it, but it was a fear, a knowing constant gut wrenching fear that plagued her since she was small. She hadn’t always been so distant and cold, Briggs mused as her hand moved to touch the scar that ran along her face. She used to be joyful, happy and talkative when she had been in elementary school. She had talked to everyone, had tried to include every student and classmate so they didn’t have to feel alone. She used to be the person who made friends with everyone, the one who everyone knew…. Until she had made friends with the wrong demon….

 Now Briggs was weary, careful about whom she chose as friends. She didn’t talk to people very often, and the few people who managed to worm their way past her shell were in this room. She had a protective streak a mile wide over anyone she saw as hers in some way, and so Cypher knew not to play around when she saw Briggs’ eyes narrow at her and a frown pull even deeper across her features.

 “I’m….”

 Cypher started to speak, but whatever she meant to say was lost as something shuffled just outside the door, low hanging sounds of shuffling feet and thudding footsteps spilling past the steel meant to protect them.

 “We already know you’re in there…. Why don’t you just open the door and make this easier on everyone? Just come to the door Requiem…”

 Briggs stiffened as The growl slipped through the door, the name of the girl next to her on his lips as a slow sharp ring sounded, the sound of claws against steel as they dragged over the door. There was a moment, a heavy silence that seemed to stretch in forever, Before –

 “Oh hell fucking no.”

 Requiem put her hands up, shaking her head as she turned away from the door, vivid blue locked on the hallway next to them. Briggs didn’t blame her, she doubted anyone of them were crazy enough to answer a call like that.

 “Don’t worry, Don’t worry, Req, I got this.”

 There was determination, hard center to the words that Ankou spoke. The brunette moved, ignoring the little whispers of distress that had appeared in the wake of her statement, the only hint that she even heard the words from the other was a little wave of her hand and a smile painted across pretty pink lips.

 Ankou moved to the door, her hands coming to rest on the metal as she leaned against it, standing up on her tip toes so that she could open that small panel, just as Cypher had when she looked out. Briggs couldn’t see her face, confusion rippling over her, her head tilting as she watched her small friend, dusky pink hair falling over light grey eyes.

 “Hello~ I am Requiem, what do you want?”

 …. She was an Idiot. Briggs couldn’t help but slap her hand to her forehead before she ran her hand down her face.

 Ankou was a lot of things, Strong, determined, a little bit strange. But Suicidal was never something she thought she would have to associate with The Miller girl.

 “What the actual Fuck, Ankou, no one is gonna fall for that.”

 ----------------

 Need crawled through his body and pounded out a rhythm in his mind. Music seethed and roared, filling the large spaces of his mind, an edgy, compelling melody as dark and driven as he was. The notes were ripped from deep within his soul, moved through his fingers the man he had devoted himself to, pushing him lightly to take his place in front of the door. The music was one of the few things that reminded him he was alive and not one of the undead. The steel slide back once more, green eyes peeking over the side. Then he heard the woman's voice. Haunting, mystical notes that hung in the air like silver and gold shimmering with fire. He actually saw the notes, saw the silver and gold dancing in front of his eyes. Echo stopped dead in his tracks, shock ripping through him. Her voice never ceased to make those trembles play up his spine. It was something he would never grow used to.  He heard it daily, the smooth tone that wrapped him up. Yet his heart jumped in his chest.  He felt excitement. Hope. Emotion. Real emotion. Colors were so vivid that they nearly blinded him. The sound of her voice played through his body, touched him in places he had long forgotten. His body tightened; need slammed into him. Echo stood frozen to the spot. The colors, the emotions, the physical lust rising so sharply could only mean one thing. The brown haired beauty possessing that voice had to be his. It was impossible. Totally impossible to believe. The men of his race could spend an eternity hunting for the one woman that was their other half. Males were predatory, with the instincts of dark, hungry killers, cunning, quick, and lethal.  Now Echo stood there, unable to do much other than smile, his hands pressing against the cold steel as he lowered himself to her eye level. Unable, in that dazzling moment of emotion and color, to believe he even deserved her.  Ankou's voice was throaty, husky, erotic - held the promise of satin sheets and candlelight. It played over his skin like fingers, tantalizing, enticing, sinfully sexy. It mesmerized anyone within hearing distance; it haunted and captivated. The notes danced, pure and beautiful, weaving a spell of enchantment around Echo, around every listener.  "Oh, I've been waiting for you to show yourself, baby."  "Oh, that's terrifying." Her voice, God did it do strange things to him. Things that he could barely fathom, the shiver still continuing to climb his spine. Even though her voice was childish, almost playful. And his only reaction to the quick slam of that small steel plate was a snicker, and quick thumb over his lip. ------------------ Panic was a strange entity. It could live and breathe, existing in every cell in one’s body. It could cripple, rob one of breath, of dignity, of quality of life. Panic could be the first thing one felt when waking and the last thing one felt when falling asleep. It was an insidious enemy. Silent. Unseen.Deadly. Requiem had decided some time ago not to let the panic affect her.  Hell, she had been followed by a demon prince for most her life.  If she was going to survive, if it was even possible with panic as her companion, she would come to terms with it – and she had. Until this moment. Until panic wasn’t about the physical or the mental, but all about the emotional. That was an entirely different kind of panic, and one she was completely unprepared for.   Her life was one of absolute discipline and control. She planned her every move, and her contingency plans had backup contingency plans. There was never a moment that she wasn’t ready for. There was never a time when anything shocked or surprised her. She stayed alive that way. She had few friends, and she thought of everyone she encountered as an enemy. The few people outside of her own squad she had ever allowed herself to feel even a drop of friendship with had eventually betrayed her, and she simply counted those painful moments as important lessons to be learned. Her Palm itched as she watched Ankou slide down the metal door, her head leaning into the heavy material. Not a small nagging itch, but a full-blown do-something-this-minute-to-alleviate-it itch. Requiem pressed her hand tightly into her thigh and held it there, her heart suddenly beating hard in her chest. Life sometimes threw curves at the most unexpected times – yet she should have known this might happen.  She could hear the shuffling, the muttered words that seemed more growl than anything. And it was the same voice as before, the same one that had specifically called her name to begin with.  "I'm not interested in talking to your little whore, where's Requiem? I already know you're in there, no use in hiding."  And he was right, she knew it. Everyone there knew it. So she did the only thing she knew she logically should.  Not to say she wasn't shaking the entire time she was opening the small sliding knob. She didn't want to look, didn't want to see the demons that were staring back at her. So instead she looked down, grey eyes unblinking on Ankou's.  "W-what.... do you want..."

 --------------------

The instant her voice slipped through that open panel, Carson could feel every inch of his body come alive. It didn’t matter that Echo, with his towering figure and hulking frame was blocking his way, had pushed him aside to look through the tempered glass to see the girl he called for, the moment Requiem’s voice came through that door, wavering and broken and completely unlike her usual tone, he was moving, pushing against Echo to make him fall against the ground with an impressive thump.

 He had been calling for her. His Voice, his mind his heart, all in sync, in tandem with his desire to win his little princess. He sat there for a moment, unable to say anything, not a word, just feeling her, tasting her in the cold winter air. He could feel her, the steel door between them nothing but a mere annoyance keeping him from his woman, his princess, and the growl that dripped from his lips was met with white puffs of steam, little tinges on the practically black metal as his hands, claws pressed against the door to draw little shriek of twisting metal. She hovered just out of reach, just beyond his grasp and sight, but he could feel her, her heart beat like he was holding it in the palm of his hands. What a fascinating feeling.

 He marveled at it, mismatched eyes wide as his forehead pressed against the door. He wondered if she knew what she did to him, if she knew that even though he was a demon, an arch demon with power that could easily annihilate some of the best warriors demon kind had ever seen, and yet here she was, his weakness, his reason for living and breathing and fighting. Did she know she held him, know she could easily command him to destroy cities, walls, lives and he would bow easily under her command? He'd give anything for her, to make her happy. He was her willing servant prince, only ever able to taste true power and his crown when she was near. She owned him... It was only fair he claimed her too. "There you are, princess... Why don't you open the door for me? It would make all of this go so much easier..." "She's not going to listen..." The hiss of his voice caught him off guard, making the large demon flinch in sudden surprise before he turned to the previously silent monster boy next to him. He watched him for a moment, almost contemplating him.

  Lochlan wasn't a talker even in the best of conditions, but tonight seemed to have set him off in the strangest of ways. It was no secret how the Necro Demon felt about the little blond human. In short, Carson would almost call it annoying, the way that even when they weren’t around each other, they were constantly texting, calling, and in-between those times, Lochlan was talking about her, bringing her in to every conversation that he had. ‘Lottie would love to eat here’ or ‘Lottie would love this place’ was a constant on his lips, and truly, Carson almost wanted to deck him every time he said it…. But refrained. After all, his annoyance didn’t stem really from the actions themselves. No, on the contrary, Carson was glad, happy his longtime friend had found the woman he had cared so much for. In his world, it was rare, incredibly so, to find the one woman who owned you in such a way. People spent years, centuries, millennia, like his father had, to find their one, and to find them so young…. It was a miracle.

 No, The reason Carson wanted to punch him steamed from nothing more than the swelling pit of jealousy that had found it’s home in his beating heart.  Lochlan didn’t see it, but he had the love of the blond he cared for so dearly, had her wrapped around his finger and longing for him in all the ways he wished Requiem would desire him. As it was, his own princess publicly hated his very existence, and it had taken him breaking into her room and reading her diary, scouring her face book and other social media pages, reading her texts and emails for him to find out anything about his woman. She hardly looked his way, barely acknowledged his existence  when in public and damn it, Trees were uncomfortable for sitting in long periods of time and he didn’t know how much more his heart could take of her almost waking up when he was in her bed. Up until recently, The only lifeline he had was the fact that she texted him, and while it was not a frequent as he would like, it was enough, that small bit that kept him going, the barely there brush of possible affection from his desire.

 Though he would never say it…. Carson was…. Jealous, of the Love Lochlan was given. Lochlan loved Lottie. That much, anyone could be certain of. He loved her probably more then he would ever say, and he supposed that was why he was acting the way he was.

 The whole time he had been in his home, Lochlan had hardly spoken a word, only really talking when Echo would pry the words out of him. Instead of joining in on the feast and pregame that Carson had set up for his squad, Lochlan had spent his time staring at his phone on the table, not touching it as it sounded off, again and again and again as His little human tried to contact him. He watched it light up and fade with each missed call and every text message, and Carson couldn’t remember such a face on Lochlan’s features since they were young, since they were children and his family had him brainwashed into think he meant nothing. Carson didn’t like the implications of that look.

 Carson leaned back and gave a huff, turning head slightly. "You're too soft, my drovek. I'm simply giving her the chance to give herself over to me...I wanna give her the option to do this easily, willingly..." "Why? You’re only prolonging it... This is the third time you’ve told her to open it and she hasn't. Just rip the door off like you know you’re going to." Irritation, hot and vivid ripped through his veins, the loud horrible sound of nails on steel accompanying his growl. He was right, but that tone grated against his already on end nerves. He turned, one of his for arms reaching to grip into the suit Lochlan wore, dark eyes burning as he yanked him close. He wasn’t taller than him, but an angry Carson was not something to be taken lightly. "I love you, truly, you're  a good friend to me and I understand you're upset. It's not easy to betray your girl and we've asked a lot of you for tonight,” The words were a growl, and even Lochlan had to lean back against it, his spine straightening as his own mouth…. What mouth he had, pulled down at the edges in a much attempt of a frown.

 “I owe you more than I can repay... But don't you dare disrespect me just because you're having second thoughts." "Easy, prince, easy..." It was Asher this time that moved his touch to soothe over the growing irritation that was building itself into a steady rage. A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his anger, making the Acrh demon blink and breathe as he felt that anger slipping. Carson let the taller monster go before straightening his own suit. "Everyone is so testy..." Asher purred, rolling his shoulders to ease his suit jacket back in place. Carson watched him as he took his place next to his twin, settling back against the wall of the house they were attempting to enter. He wanted to say something, but truthfully Carson didn’t trust his words at the moment. Luckily he didn’t have to, because someone else seemed to be in the exact same mindset as him. "Of course... Who wouldn't be?" Khronos moved into sight, his hands in his pockets as he tilted his head. He looked perfectly at ease. "Tonight isn't the night to be arguing like fucking whores over a 20 dollar cock. You don't even have your girls yet, so stop acting like pussy whipped cock fucks and open the fucking door." Ebbe’s words almost brought that fire back, but the soothing touch of his brother and his best friends kept that heat at bay. "If everyone is done snapping on each other, I have an idea..." Logan spoke up, as infuriatingly calm as ever. "Why don't we cut the electricity? If we do that it might send them into a panic making them easier to catch once we do get inside, Not to mention It makes their… protection their prison, a fascinating sort of irony…It May make getting inside a little bit more difficult; however we already knew that they were probably going to be a little bit stubborn. That's just human nature."

 ------

  The words slithered into his mind, humming low and right under his own thoughts. Logan’s voice something of a shadow creeping into him, and he knew better than to think it would be only to him. No. Keyser knew that the mystified voice was echoing through each one of the boys. He knew not because each of the eyes turned to Logan but because of the words. And he had to give Logan credit. The plan had merit.

  There was no stopping them. They were getting in tonight. Each of the boys would have their women tonight. There was no escape, no plan that they would be able to execute against forty one demons standing in their front yard, literally. Honestly, there was only one person he was interested in. Only one of the humans in the house mattered, and only one person would be the one playing in his part of the game.

  Keyser Fonaes was a selfish man. He knew that from the moment he could talk, could recognize what was his and what wasn’t. He had always been driven to get what was his, to try and manipulate the situation in to his liking. He had always been clever and quick with his words since a young age. Always turning the situation to suit his needs. However, if ever there was a moment that he couldn’t willingly get what he wanted, he would take it. And it so happened that Briggs Davenport was his. Claimed and titled as so the moment he had set eyes on her.

  For several years he had tried, to twist the situations. He had pressed his wants on her, tried to get that gaze on him and only him. Keyser had pressed until he could no longer feel the sentiment needed for trying. Instead what lied in that wants place now, was a hungry need. Vicious, and ravenous as it clawed its way up his spine bursting a new life into him with each breath he heard her catch.

  There was pause before he moved, his legs shifting out, shimmering before disappearing into a dazzling black smoke. He inhaled, the fear waking in the girls driving his urges up until all he could hear was the low rumbling of a growl buried deep within his chest.

  “That can be arranged.”

  His response was nothing less of a growl, his body turning from the solid mass into something that could only be compared to mist.

 ------------------------

 There was a difference, Ankou mused, between fear and real, true, full blow terror.

 Fear was natural, normal, something that could be felt on a day to day basis. It was there, lying, hidden, thrumming through the blood of every human that walked the streets with a waking consciousness. There was no escaping it, not in this era, as it was the fear of the unknown, the fact that what you told your kids lived under their bed was no longer restricted to just simple ‘be-good’ tales, but rather now walked, lived, breathed, learned beside you in schools and in stores and at the park. They looked like people, but the truth under that pretty face across the room was far… far worse.

 No, what was racing through Ankou now was much different than the fear that accompanied her every day, was stronger, fierce, and it felt like electricity in her veins, every inch of her lit up and her hair standing on end.

 She was going to die here. Of that much, she was certain. The one who had spoken to her, the one who had kneeled down to lock eyes with her own, the shivering purr of his voice practically trailing a physical hand down her spine, would be the one who took her life. She didn’t know how she knew…. Call it an instinct, a hunch, or maybe even the demons blessing that flowed through her blood… But somehow she knew that when she dies tonight, it would be his teeth, his claws, which would be the one to tear her to shreds… Ankou Miller was going to die….

 But not without a fight.

 “Hey guys, I heard something outside…. What’s going on?”

 Ankou didn’t move as Perilium’s voice drifted through the now silent air. She hardly moved as she heard Lottie crying harder, the sounds of Cypher’s voice as she tried to sooth the distressed blond. There was silence, a strange sort of stillness that seemed to fill the very air, and it was in that stillness that Ankou felt her tale tell calm sliding over her.

 Her heartbeat roared in her ears, but no longer did it hammer in time with the fresh surges of panic. Her mind slowed, eased as she felt her body move, standing on once shaking legs to run a hand through the brunet locks that adorned her head. Something in her expression had changed, the light in her eyes faded and simmered into a low ember, a warning of the fight and fire that Ankou held in her chest, a hint of the warrior buried in under the bright grin she always wore and the tilting laugh she easily gave.

 “Demons have taken refuge in your front yard, Perilum. And It seems one had taken a particular liking to your sister and me.”

 Her voice had shifted, changed. The playful tone was gone, replace by one of a velvet purr. She looked unhurried as she spoke, eyes moving over the faces of their girls who had come to mean more to her then she could ever put into words. There was a beat, a moment as the words processed in Perilium’s mind, and even in that moment Ankou was moving, crossing the room as green eyes scanned for something, anything, a weapon of some sort she could use to defend herself.

 “What?”

 Ankou resisted the urge to role her eyes.

 “Demons, Perilium, Twenty something of them, if I had to guess. They’re currently outside the door telling your sister to open it. Menzy… help me find a weapon or something.”

 She didn’t look as she moved away, instead heading back toward the living room in hopes of finding something a little more sturdy the pink and blue umbrellas by the door. She heard as Perilium turned, bounding down the hallway with Ashlin’s twin’s name on her lips, calling for her even as her head of curly black hair disappeared behind the corner.

 Ankou waited for a moment, before continuing her search. Really, she didn’t have any hope to take out one of the demons. From what she saw they all looked higher then any class of demon she had faced and she didn’t think she could hold off twenty of them for everyone to escape. Her hope was to at least wound, so that they might remember her when she was long gone and dead, leave a mark somewhere on this earth. She knew Menzy wouldn’t leave, that she would go down fighting, and it was both a curse and a blessing that her best friend would die beside her.

 “Just open the door.”

 The new voice sounded, and Ankou turned to catch sight of the previously sleeping Abby gliding into the room. She looked irritated, inconvenienced at best.

 “The demons? Just let them in?” Cypher spoke, her eyes wide on the girl

 “They’re going to get in anyway, there’s no need to make this more trouble than it has to be.”

 “What’s your plan, If we don’t let you in?”

 Ankou’s voice carried as she looked over her shoulder toward the door. She couldn’t explain her logic for looking at a completely closed door, but she had a feeling that steel wouldn’t stop them from seeing in if they truly wanted to. She spoke over the arguing girls, green gaze locked on the open panel looking past the sight of black fabric, trying to fins the eyes she had seen before.

 Almost as if to answer her question, the moment it was out, the lights around them surged, flicked before giving completely.

 “Of, Fucking… course…”

 Briggs snarled in the darkness, the sound of foot falls filling the suddenly very open space. Briggs huffed, her sigh catching Ankou’s attention.

 “You just had to sya something…. I’ll go check the Fuse…. Maybe that’s all it is.” The words, though hopeful, sounded defeated.

He was so ready, so fucking ready, and now, all he had to wait was few more minutes.

 Though, he supposed he had to give credit where it was due…. he couldn’t think of a single person that wasn’t excited about Liberatio.

 Though how could you not be? If he had to make the comparison, he supposed it was a little like the human’s Halloween, a day where you could be anything, anyone, do anything…. Though there was that slight difference. On Halloween, They dawned a mask, placed cardboard and plastic over their faces to mimic what they did not possess…. To mimic him and his kind. On Liberatio, they shed the mask they wore year round, and once a month, twelve days out of three hundred and sixty five of them, he was able to be the creature that he was, the demon was allowed to be free and unchained.

  It was one of the few times people like him, people like his Brother’s and his friends were able to truly be themselves, to shed the skin of the human form they were cursed and burdened to wear. It wasn’t as if they were in any real danger. Monsters, as a whole, ruled over the general population. Most people in charge were of some sort of dark heritage, and really, the only ones in power who weren’t some sort of creature were the mayor and her wife. There were rules, however, regulations that must be obeyed for the general wellbeing and safety of the human populace. Such as they must wear their human forms whenever they left their homes, any place a human could see them. Abilities and powers had to be checked by an official, and only certain, harmless ones were allowed to be used in everyday life without any repercussions.

 It was like being constantly chained, constantly told to never be yourself, constantly knowing that you, what you were, was abnormal and strange and the only way you were going to be accepted was to try and fit in with creatures who wished you were anything but you.

 So it was something he looked forward to, to be himself with people like him, who accepted him as is….

 It was… Liberating.

 “I dunno about anyone else, but I’m ready to get this started.”

 Carson found the words came easy as he moved; pushing off the couch as he realized that he couldn’t sit still anymore. He smiled as he stood, moving his rams above his head as he stretched, hearing, and feeling his back crack, the rush of satisfaction making his breath slip past him in a low rush. There was a moment, a seconded as his duel colored gaze darkened to match the wicked grin that was sliding over his features, hits of the true beast that lay beneath the human skin.

 “But what do you say to a little pregame before the real fun begins?”

  “I think that pregame is against the rules.”

  Abram Lee. Aka. Party pooper.

  A unfortunate side effect of being a Lee. At least that was what Echo Langdon liked to think.

   There was only a split second after the words were spoken before a crash resounded through the Dhouti manor, loud and attention seeking.  With forearm and head pressed against the wall, Echo sighed. Exasperated and exacerbated. It wasn’t until after another second of silence that Echo turned cinnamon eyes on Abram. His head still pressed to the cold wall.

  “Got dammit, Abram. Why do you feel the need to ruin everything? I swear to Got if you get my tostino’s taken away from me again, I will cut you down.”

“Uh, first off that was your own damn fault. Don’t go screaming about how much you love them at twelve in the morning and it probably won’t happen again.”

  “Ahhhh~”

  Echo turned on his heel, arms thrown up in a display of astonishment, all show. But he stopped as he rounded on Carson, his elbow moving out to catch onto the wall once more, a smile creeping over his lips as he spoke.

 “Moving on from mr sourpuss over there, what the plan Carson? Little bit of Havoc? Mayhem? Destruction? Before you say anything I am aware that all those things are the same thing but I am pretty pumped.”

  Echo stretched, a hand running through the blonde locks before catching on his neck.

  There was only a couple of minutes, only a few more pain taking minutes until the real fun would begin.

  There were many things that could entice excitement from the demon, many things that even could get him giddy. Not much of anything could get him quite as excited as this specific day did. The one of twelve days of the year that he could roam, that he could be free of the human shell he had worn most of his life now. The one day he could act true to his nature. There was something so liberating in itself, being able to release from the human sludge he indulged in. To be able to tear away from school life, to be able to tear away from the ‘morals’ he held on a daily basis. Morales that held no true value to him.

  No, the humans themselves held no true value to him, none but one. A single human that just thought of her set his heart skipping and his mouth watering.

  But that was a different situation. One he was not open to talking about.

  The point really was simple. Humans ruled generally. Kept the appearance of leaders. They kept up with telling themselves they had the whole situation under wraps. And tonight was the day that the ‘others’ proved who was truly in charge.

  Who the true kings were.

  Something that Echo, if he knew Carson was not going to prove it himself, would take the burden on. To make sure it was etched into he simple minded humans.

  “Abram, Abram, Arbram….” Carson’s voice was a purr, a ripple of dark intentions and too much excitement to spell anything other than trouble.

  “You worry too much.”

 The Dark haired boy moved, sliding easily along his hardwood floors before he was standing next to the taller boy. His arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to him as that wicked little grin only spread feather along his lips, ink black hair falling into mismatched eyes as he traced soothing circles into Abram’s side.

 Despite Echo’s command, Carson could not ‘Move on’ From Abram. He could never really dismiss the boy, could never cast him off, or disregard his unease or his displeasure. Out of nearly everyone he knew, Carson He’d Abram’s opinion in the highest of regards, something almost unthinkable when you considered he practically bent backwards and forwards to please those close to him. Anyone of his squad, Echo, Abram, Riagan, Asher, Lochlan, Keyser, Quinton, Ebbe, Ethan, Balthiar, Gaige, Lucca, Ender, Parker, Logan, Khronos and Pandemonium... everyone else…. everyone in his little group could ask anything of him, and Carson would see hell raised to get it for them…. But Abram was son another level entirely. Abram was like his brother, Different from his twin but just as close, and the slight look of discomfort on his features at the thought of getting in trouble bothered the Black haired demon.

 But There was fun to be had, and Carson knew that if Abram would just let it happen, he would have significantly more fun than sit sitting around waiting for Liberatio to start.

 “It’s only against the rules if you get caught, and aside from Echo’s Tostino’s Incident, we have a squeaky clean record. What’s that harm in having a little fun a few minutes early?”

 Carson moved, detangling himself from his Lee, smirking as he turned back to Echo, who seemed too excited to hold it in. Carson shrugged, putting on a mocking face of casual ease, taking a step forward as he jerked his head slightly in time with his shoulders.

 “Well, what’s life without a good scare…? Not ours of course, but there is just something so fulfilling about seeing that fear etched on a human’s face.”

 Carson was not a good man. He could never pretend to be, not when the thought of someone so terrified of him that they can do nothing but run and scream at the very thought of him pleased him so. And so It was without a single shred of guilt or regret that he turned toward the hallway leading out of the room. The dark haired boy lifted his hand, gesturing in that sort of haphazard ‘follow me’ gesture that came with the mixture of excitement and impatience, and he didn’t bother to look behind him as he made his way through the twists and Turns of his Father’s house. He came to a stop at a dark wooden door, only a brief moment spent fishing about his pockets for the key before he unlocked it, the door creaking as he pushed it open.

 Inside was an almost empty room, with only a couch and a couple of paintings to decorate the windowless room. It would have been an unremarkable room, if it hadn’t been for the group of kneeling, blindfolded and gagged humans that filled the empty pace of the floors. Some were shaking, others were struggling to get out of their bonds but all were tied and bound, and all were perfectly unscathed.

 For now.

 “I got us all a little gift…”

 Carson purred as he pocketed the key, turning on heel to face his friends as he walked backwards into the room, hands moving to gesture out.

 “Every person in this room has made some sort of pass, comment, or move on our girls…. I brought them here to pay due justice, but what do you say to bit of friendly competition?”

 Carson stopped, his hands falling to the pockets of his leather jacket as he tilted his head, grin never slipping, only widening, spreading, threatening to split his face in to in a very real sense. His excitement always made it so much harder to uphold his human glamour.

 “We have a few minutes before Liberatio really starts, but who do you think can make their target scared the most? They made the moves and now must pay the price, but why not play a little with the idiots first? The person to make their target the most scared will be crowned The King of Fear for the duration of Liberatio. To ease your mind Abram, we won’t let them go any farther then the house… It’ll be like a little game of hide and seek.”

 Carson looked over, seeing the slight hesitation on their faces.

 “If you need some persuading…” He murmured, moving toward the first of the group, Carson stood behind him, hands reaching to grab hold of the man’s shoulder, slamming them down harshly, enough to draw a muffled cry of pain from the human.

 “This one here, Abram, Was caught pressing you precious little Ashlin up against a wall in-between third and fourth block. When she tried to fight him off he simply slipped a hand up her skirt. It’s not good to touch what belongs to someone without permission.” The last part was murmured into the ear of the now shaking man, and Carson only laughed as he patted his shoulder, moving on to the next. This one he tangled his fingers in his hair, yanking his head back to draw another pain filled cry from the gagged lips.

 “Echo! This one would be all yours. You see, He was caught with your girl under the stairs, and again, he doesn’t seem to take ‘no’ for an answer. In fact he even tried to slander your good name to her by telling her all sorts of pretty little lies…. He was deemed untouchable because he’s the Principal’s son, but just for the night, he’s yours to do with what you wish.”

 Carson pushed the man away, dark gaze flashing as he lifted his hands again.

 “Do I need to go on? I know it isn’t much, but the real fun will start once that announcement rings out… why not… vent some fustrations?”

   “Momma, its already locked down. Can you chill out? It’s not like anything is going to get in here.”

  “Requiem Bates.”

  Her name itself being called by anybody else would have meant little to nothing to her; it was more who was saying it. Also, exactly how she was saying it that mattered. Grey eyes shifted to watch as the matching set of her mother’s pierced through her. Those eyes that were settling on her held something of a promise. A promise, that’s she herself honestly wanted nothing to do with either. It was with an exasperated eyes roll and hop off the counter that Requiem finally listened to her mother’s words, a single hand wave following as she walked past her mother.

  “I’ll check. I’ll Check, Jesus.”

  “Wait.”

  The words slipped in the same instant as the small blonde gripped Requiem’s shoulder, her strength apparent as she pulled the darkling back. There was a panic written across the girl’s features, something that Requiem took into account as she moved forward, slinging an arm around Lottie’s shoulders, and rubbed soothing patterns over the freckled skin.

  As mean as people liked to think she was, and how she liked to act, she was never anything less than sweet to her friends. Even when they were being a little too cry baby for her taste. But Lottie seemed to have a soft spot for this boy, the boy she knew as well had a soft spot for her little Lottie.

  “Lochlan is not here yet…. He said he was coming. Let me call him first. He might have got hurt, or he is stuck in traffic or something, Req we can’t just loc-“

  “Why is everyone so hyped right now. I’m sure he is fine, but we have less than a minute until the sirens, and my mom is already on my ass Lottie. I’m sure he is fine. If he shows, we will open it back up for him.”

  “I’m going to call him, see if he is at least safe.”

  “Good plan, kiddo…..”

  Requiem watched as the blonde fumbled for her phone, but didn’t wait for her to start dialing. Instead she moved away, back to the control room. A room that after only a few seconds seemed like it was a million miles away, and this was only due to the fact that the siren was beginning to wail. The siren only served to make her heart jump out of her chest. Though she was still close enough to hear Lottie leaving a message she felt infinitely alone headed down the hall.

  She didn’t like to think she was easily scared. She liked to think if brought into a situation she would be able to handle it fairly well. But there was something bubbling in her blood stream. Panic

  And the small panic that was setting in her blood stream was the only reason she began the small sprint. That panic however would never be told to anyone or anything. No to Requiem, it was because she wanted to do as her mother told her too. She wanted to be able to say she got it done before the announcement was done.

  And that was the god awful truth behind it.

  Or at least what she would tell you it was.

  “I’m sure he’s fine Lottie…. Lochlan is a tough boy, I highly doubt there’s just about anything that boy can’t take down…”

 Ashlin didn’t even look up from the book that was open in front of her, yellowing pages filled with tiny pen strokes and little notes that she had jotted down as she discovered them. Violet eyes never wavered from that small written text, and her hands found the ends of the long brown strands that tumbled over her shoulder.

 ‘And if he can’t…. his friends certainly won’t let anything happen to the boy.’

 Almost like her hands were following her thoughts, Ashlin found herself staring at the picture of three boys taped to her pages, smiling to the camera with bright eyes and stupidly making slight little moves to push at the other boys, trying to press them out of frame as the camera had gone off. Ashlin tilted her head, her expression never wavering from the cool facade she almost always wore. Violet eyes flicked, long lashes brushing her cheeks as she trailed her fingers down the pages, running them over the lines of text she had written, immediately finding the name that always caught her eye.

 ‘Name: Abram Lee.

Age: Twenty (?) years old.

Race: Arch Demon

Next in line to lead Demon dominion Heaven’s Falls. Twin To Asher Lee, Incredibly smart, annoyingly persistent and pain in the ass  ’

 … That last one might have just been personal opinion. She supposed it wasn’t fair to say that anymore, considering she had written this back when she had been in middle school, and over the years he had grown from the arrogant know it all that plagued her existence to someone she could have almost called a friend…. If she had bothered to hang out with him outside of school. He was still obnoxiously smart, almost annoyingly so, but considering she was two grades under him and he had graduated a while ago, that didn’t really bother her so much.

 Either way, Ashlin knew him fairly well. He was friends with Carson Dhouti, and Lucca Arenello, and all three were good friends with the Lochlan Boy that Lottie was so fond of.  He had other friends, Like Echo Langdon, but considering the tree were demons of the strongest caliber and the deadliest kind, she figured they were a bit more terrifying then one stupidly strong human. They had all shown to be very protective and ultimately possessive over what was theirs, and anyone who had dared to try and bully or tease anyone in the infamous ‘Squad” had met a very painful lesson in humility. If anything, Lochlan was far safer with them, then he would be coming here…. But...

 Ashlin looked up from her book, just in time to see Lottie’s face fall as she left a message for the man.

 She couldn’t find it in her to say that to the girl who just wanted to know her boy was safe, to see it with her own eyes, feel him with her own hands. Ashlin couldn’t call herself a hopeless romantic, but there was something almost wistful and envy worthy in what they had. It was easy to see the love Lottie had for Lochlan, and she had seen the boundless adoration that the boy had for Lottie in return. He adored her, practically depended on her, though that might be more from their past together than anything else. She did find it strange, as Lottie messaged him again, that he wasn’t answering. Usually it was hard to get them to stop texting, but somehow, it seemed that Lochlan was not responding.

 She should have paid it more mind.

 Ashlin sighed, not looking at the others as she moved her hand to flip her black book closed silently, pushing off from her spot of leaning on the counter. Her gaze moved over the bodies in the room, taking in the worried expression on Lottie’s face, and the casual ease of Ankou as she opened the fried for a moment, tilting her head to scan its contents before pulling out a bottle of water. Her gaze drifted to Menzy, but before she could make any real notes on the scantily clad girl, the Alarms sounded, both distant and near as the TV lit up with the red screen that flashed the name ‘Liberatio’.

 Ashlin’s heart hammered in her chest as the words drifted through the air, her eyes locked on the screen.

 ‘Attention: This is the start of the Monthly Liberatio. As from this moment forward, all Demon Dominions will be placed in lock down, and all Creatures are released of all restrictions….’

 Ashlin stopped listening as Requiem bounced back into the room, light pants on her lips as she came back into the light, and Ashlin moved, sliding through bodies to find her sister’s side, intertwining her fingers with the much smaller girl, more for her own comfort then hers. The lace of her robe drifted over the floor, and she felt more then saw her Twin and her other sister moved, a warm hands pressing against her arm.

 “Well, It’s begun…. What do we do now?”

  “Oh, Oh, Oh! I know! I know!”

 Ankou could feel it, that distant sort of excitement that came with hearing the ringing bells of the Liberatio. She couldn’t explain it, could not explain the absolute thrill that came with the holiday not meant for her kind, but she could liken it to a play, an act where all the players would soon make their way to the stage and the bells would sound, a tragedy in the making where only the primadonna death herself was missing.

 Liberato was a time of great distress for humans. The alarm sirens were like the tolls of the bells in the poems of old, and the sirens to drag them from this hell they had found themselves in. It locked them in, nails in a coffin of their own design, and Ankou could feel her need thrum through her veins at the thought. Humans were the bottom rung, the lowest in the food chain that had spawned into existence at the emergence of demons and their ilk. Ankou found it strange that, rather than slaughter the entirety of them, Demons had chosen to take over, to slide into positions of power and to silently rule over the masses with a silent but heavy stare. Don’t get it wrong, she was glad, happy they had not gathered them up to farm them, but it was odd that Monsters had agreed to the humans demons for safe ignorance and simply kept their primal natures at bay until that one day, that one day each moth they were bale to let it fly.

 They accepted synthetic flesh, souls, the blood donated and bodies of the recently passes, but Ankou always wondered…. Why? Her family had been gifted with the strength to rival that of a low class, E-class Demon, long ago by making a deal, a pack with a specific demon. They were the bodyguards the people called when they worried, when they wanted extra protection, but it was clear that she would never be able to take anything higher then E-rank without losing her life. A normal human didn’t stand a chance… why would they accept a place in society that forced them to hide what they were?

 She didn’t think she would ever really get an answer, then again…. She didn’t care all that much.

 Nit when they’re was fun to be had.

 Ankou could practically feel the curtain’s call around her as she pivoted on heel, her hand shooting up in the air and her eyes widening slightly with a vivid excitement.

 “Let’s Play Truth or dare!”

 “No way.”

 Ashlin’s response was quick, harsh and solid as she shot down the idea, Ankou could feel her body slump as her arm fell, her lip jutting out to pout at the sound of of her cold tone.

 “Ash~” Ankou stared, but Ashlin shook her head.

 “No way, I’ve learned my lesson in playing Truth or dare with you… next think you know it’ll turn into ‘Spin the bottle’ and ‘Seven minutes in heaven’ and there’s not a single person here I would want to make out with.”

 “Oh come on, you’re not still mad about that are you? Abram said he was cool with it!”

 “Doesn’t matter, choose something else.”

 “You’re being unreasonable.”

 Ankou pouted as she crossed her arms, turning her head before she rolled her shoulders and moved again, Green eyes darting to find the pretty platinum blond girl who owned a very piece of her soul.

 “Menzy…. No one wants to play with me…”

 Ankou murmured as she moved, coming to her place beside the only slightly taller girl. Restless fingers danced, moving to the shirt that Ankou wore to play with the frayed ends, the black martial running smoothly over tanned skin, a reminiscent of the hands of the person the shirt belonged to. She knew that if she pulled it up, over her nose, she would smell the scent of wood and smoke that mingled with a musk that created the addicting scent that was Echo Langdon.

 Just the thought of him made her heart skip and her cheeks flush with a little pink. Echo was…. A friend, she decided, a friend that she was always coming to realize was fucking her up in more ways than one. Ankou was going to blatantly ignore it even as she breathed in to catch the scent of the man she longed to see again.

 Was he okay? In a safe place… should she have invited him like Lottie had to Lochlan?

  She was glad, happy she had taken the shirt the other day as he had sneaked out of her room, but the sweatpants she wore were far too big for her, and had to be rolled ridiculously at the ends of the pants and the hem to even slightly allow her to walk. It helped ease her racing thoughts to feel his clothes on her skin, and she moved to Menzy to wrap her arms around the girl’s waist.