Let's Dance~ [Open]

Golden heels clicked with an awkward tone against the pavement, the source cautiously passing the endless line, nearing the bouncer. The bouncer, as expected, held out his hand to prevent the young lady from going any further, his eyes raking her form questioningly. One tan finger went up signalling him to give her a moment before the woman began to search through the golden clutch. After a mere minute passed, a short piece of wrinkled paper was presented to the bouncer, whom had an unsure face at the usual gesture. Suddenly, after reading it, his widened and his threw it back at her with haste, as if fearing the writing upon the slip, and stepped aside without a word. The people in line groaned as the beautiful blonde was given access, glaring harshly at the bouncer whom had already returned to a frozen position as if nothing happened.

I'm surprised that worked, hazel eyes tried to decipher the inside of the nightclub, the music echoing throughout every inch of her brain while her feet vibrated form the intensity. This club was nothing shy of what Arielle expected, directed here by her friend, Riana, forced was a better word, she expected it to be packed and overwhelming. "You will go to this club, got it? I'm not having a friend who doesn't know the local joints. You hand them this and they'll let you in. Don't worry, it'll work, 'won a race against one of the owner's kids, got a free past. Nice eh? Now! You will put this on and you will not complain! Now get ready, no buts!" Why was Riana so pushy? Arielle let out an external groan, earning a look from someone near her, who took the groan in a different way, at the trouble. Arielle didn't want to be here, let alone in such an outfit, she wasn't a club person, and hardly a people person to begin with.

Shaking her head to the man who'd taken her groan invitingly, Arielle bee-lined for the bar, desperate to break away from the madness. Fixing her hair unconsciously, Arielle made sure the little back dress was pulled down so nothing became exposed when she sat at the bar. Her shoulders felt chilled due to the shoulder missing, the only thing holding up the dress was straps, adjustable by golden buckle. However her arms were not entirely fee as small short sleeves covered the upper section, connected loosely to dress. In truth, it wasn't even hers and Riana had been more than excited they shared the same dress size. Arielle on the other hand wasn't so thrilled.

""Shot, please." Arielle told the bartender, whom went right to the order. If she were to suffer this bar, long enough to have Riana pick er up when it closed, she would need a shot. Many, many shots. The shot before her gleamed beneath the club lights, as if saying, you ready for this? Downing without another thought, she barked for another one, not allowing the bartender to argue. Within minutes Arielle was playing with her golden bracelet, that and the shots would be her distraction.

Her eyes scanned the filled room, looking into many staring faces of fawning men as well as the strange ones that sat in the corners without a word just to watch mortal females flounce around the dance floor in tight apparel. Noctavia's lip twitched with disgust at such beings looking for pleasure and the eye of another woman in need of desperate attention. She never enjoyed being in places like Rapture, but it always seem to suck in people of her kind, especially those who are new to the big city.

The Alphess had been residing in New York City for years, living in a luxurious hotel with plenty of money in her pockets. Jet black waves flowed passed her hollow shoulder blades, stopping at the ending of her spine. The only clothing covering her upper build lay a thin black fabric, laced around the women with a dark blue cloth underneath as a cover up for her chest. Her long pale legs and knobby knees were exposed, hanging from her hips were ripped denim-washed shorts stopping mid-length between her thigh.

Emerald snake-like eyes glowed behind thick, long lashes with a sinister grin plastered across her face as the smell of another -just like she expected- targeted her keen sense of smell. Noctavia lifted her chin to the entrance were she saw a women no bigger than her with bouncy blonde curls sashay through the dancing crowd, and into a seat just three away from her. The blonde shifter seemed weak from her end, but could just be annoyed from all the music. Most werewolves enjoyed peace, where as Rapture surely wasn't a normal environment for both the two females.

Shot after shot, the female drank and Noctavia was beginning to feel somehow humored by the women's actions. Her black sneaker kicked the bar getting the bartender's attention just before he poured the girl another. The Alphess waved her hand over, indicating she want him to come. Once the man leaved she slipped a ten-dollar bill into his direction and gave him a crooked smile. "Give me a Mojito. I want it strong, got it?." A commanding tone questioned the worker and he nodded with a tad of fear in his hazel eyes. Her gaze flicked to the women being surrounded with empty shot glasses and back to the man. "Make it two."

As the man poured her a drink like she requested her perfectly polished charcoal colored nails reached out. "Noctavia, you?" Her voice was nor friendly or bored, but satisfying. The shifter held no certain scents of a pack, so she presumed she wasn't apart of one. If her indications were correct then Noctavia was already ahead of the game. Hm..another recruit I see? This one looks promising, maybe even a higher rank? Her thoughts echoed in a hiss though her head. Maybe...

The presence had been undetected before they intervened with Arielle's drinking. Due to her new werewolf blood, something she despised to the core, she knew the girl was also of the same...breed. Her ability to handle alcohol never came at a better time for her wolf was already prepared to spite the unknown woman for interrupting them. Arielle's eyes narrowed slightly, the drink before her inviting. Arielle wasn't sure whom the woman was, but she wouldn't be intervening with anyone's business tonight, definitely not hers. People rarely bought her drinks, let alone a werewolf - what did the woman want? Stirring the lime inside, the Mojito was lifted to light pink lips, the liquid inside sinking until half way down the glass. The figure then turned to the woman, whom had hair of raven black, reminding her of the night, her nails harshly matching.

"Arielle," The voice was questionable, not intrigued nor entirely upset by the sudden company. Both hands clashed in a short handshake, Arielle retrieving her hand quickly. "I'm not really in the mood for you." By you, Arielle made it clear that she did not mean Noctavia but the werewolf. Other werewolves were not entirely fond of the bitten humans and Arielle was used to the abuse in the damn city. She could handle a fight in wolf form just fine but getting there was a struggle, Arielle was never happy about giving control to the wolf. Once Arielle changed into her wolf, her conscious was gone, everything up to the she-wolf; just one of the many downsides of not controlling and accepting your wolf. Arielle would rather die than except the cocky bitch anyway. Arielle never intended to be a werewolf...This is all his fault.

I'm happy he came along or we wouldn't have ever been together, the all too familiar voice cooed mockingly in her mind, Shut up, I am not in the mood for you either. The wolf scoffed, Arielle could envision the wolf lying in the dark abyss of her mind, You'll be ready for me one day...just wait. Let's not have this conversation now, I wish to see of this Alphess's abilities. High city mutt. Let me examine her properly. Alphess? Arielle gazed back at Noctavia, allowing her wolf to gaze upon her as well, and wondered what an Alphess of werewolves was like.

Her fangs sharpened behind colorless full lips, making a grinding sound inside her mouth by the female's second response. If the female were to be in her pack and said such words to her, she'd have by the throat already against the wall begging for mercy. Keeping her beast tucked away, she talked through her teeth. "Nice name, you from here?" She lifted her leg and crossed it gracefully over her opposing thigh, leaning in to take a sip from her alcoholic drink, it was strong like she asked and smiled, pleased to know a mortal is able to follow orders.

All she could think was whether the female was bitten or a pure-breed. Since she carried no powerful scents, -one not being the Bravehearts- it was likely that the female was bitten, but the way she acted, for she was relaxed around her it also meant she's used to being around others like them. As she spoke, a wave of ebony hair cover one of her emerald eyes. "I haven't seen you here before. Usually I'd recognize another,- she leaned in closer to Arielle and whispered loud enough for it to be heard over the pounding music and away from being eavesdropped on by curious humans.- "like us."

If one were to hear, it just leave more pressure on the Alphess as it is. She'd have to chase after them and either convince what they were talking about was a video game or something radical or save the lies and just turn them on the spot. Both seemed two reasonable ways of clearing the situation, she was starting to lean on the second option more though as she thought about it.

Loud noises and large crowds. There was nothing like the rush and bustle of a club to get your blood pumping. Many nights he had spent here, alone or picking up chicks. It didn't matter if they were one night stands, it was fun. The rush. The excitement. Damian had acquired a fake ID at the young age of eighteen and had been coming here ever since. The bartenders knew he was young, but he was one of their best customers, always coming in and staying late Friday and Saturday nights. But tonight, as he looked around the room, he had a plan. He was taking a girl home, whether it was for a night, three nights, or for only a few hours, he was going to do so.

Crystal blue hues looked over the rocking room. Lights of all colors paraded themselves on the ceiling, showering the people in their glow. The first target he saw was young, vibrant and moved her hips with purpose. Biting his lower lip, he moved for her direction, eyes targeted on her, ignoring all other people. Walking behind her, he placed his hands on her hips, pulling her in close. She danced against his muscular frame, moving her hands up and around his neck, securing him to her. She spun around, looking him into his eyes. His hands moved down her back, feeling her curve left and right with the beat of the music. Words were unnecessary. Their eye contact was enough to share the feelings of lust from one another. Her eyes locked with his, as hands found their way to the back of his head, curling his hair within her fingers. She made the move and he was not going to deny her.

As she pressed her soft and pouty lips to his, he kissed back. Passion, lust, and greed fueled their bodies. He kissed from her lips and down her neck. In the rush of the dancers, nobody paid attention to them. Nobody cared. When the next song changed, Damian pulled away from her and made his way about the dance floor once again. She was not the one to be in his chamber tonight. A bright pink mini skirt caught his eye, turning his head to examine the specimen. She was young and fierce, long blond hair that rolled down the arch of her back. His eyes scanned her over from head to foot.Her scent was unique, strange. perhaps a perfume he had yet to smell. He shrugged his shoulders and moved to the young girl.

This time he did not make the first move. He danced beside her, flashing those beautiful blue eyes her direction, calling and aching for her. His subtle advances worked like a charm, as they always did with the younger girls. They ate up that crap and he enjoyed it. She moved to him, grinding on his leg. Eying her from head to foot, he smiled and leaned in to whisper into her ear. Her words were sweet, alluring. Any girl would melt to hear them, especially one with alcohol flushed through her blood. His heightened senses could hear her heart beat, the way she felt about him was enough for the brute. It was then he realized if he progressed, he would have a stage five clinger. He could not have that. The lone wolf did not take a mate or settle down. No female would be able to do such a feat. Especially not a human.

Finally he decided it was time to get a drink. He pushed the female towards another male who had been staring at her the whole time they danced. He nodded his head to the guy and was on his way, headed for the bar. When he arrived, he sat at one end. There was a girl. Her hair was a dirty blonde color. Blondes were known to bring the most into the bedroom, something he enjoyed very much. But soon she was joined with a black-haired female. So this female traveled in pairs. It was a challenge, but not one he had failed before. Making his way to the other side of the bar, he drew closer to them. When he was close enough, standing just a few feet downwind, it struck him. These girls were no ordinary humans. They were something more. Damian stopped for a moment, wondering if he should approach them. Perhaps they were from his father's pack? But as he thought on it more, it had been well over seven years since they had seen him last. There was no way they would have memorized his scent.

Pushing the chips and doubt from his shoulders, he was on his way. He stood beside the blonde, wedged between her and an older woman sitting on a stool. Bumping into her, he placed his hand on her arm, "I am sorry, I didn't mean to bump you." He smiled to the bartender, getting her attention immediately. They chatted casually among one another and then she handed him his special drink. He looked over to his side by the werewolves. "So what brings you two beautiful ladies here tonight?" His eyes flickered to the blonde, looking her over up and down. The tight black dress she wore, it fitted against her skin amazingly. Taking a sip from his drink, he looked to the black-haired fae.

Noctavia was intoxicating; unlike most werewolves Arielle had met, but like most, she had the same arrogant streak. Cursing her old friend mentally, Arielle ravished in how much she hated him, a hatred which would last until the end of her days, for turning her into such a beast. If he had never bitten her, she wouldn't have ever drawn the attention of such animals like this. Do not leave, I have not examined her entirely. With your attitude, I cannot make out her wolf properly, how am I to determine if she is worth my time? Worst of all she had her own arrogant tyrant bitch to worry about now. The wolf within thought highly of her abilities, daily actually, and had numerous scars to prove it - why, oh why must she be stuck like this?

When Noctavia leaned in, Arielle did not retreat but instead met this supposed superior head on. She'd play the woman's games, for now. "I was from here...originally anyway. And, you haven't seen me because I don't come here, to this club I mean. I try to avoid your kind, you all get on my nerves..." Because you remind me of what I am now. Opening her clutch, Arielle went to buy another drink, not allowing Noctavia to intervene even if she wished to, but stopped short.

Fuck. With all the shots she had bought, and the ignorance of not being extra, Arielle harshly realized she didn't have enough. Shutting her clutch, Arielle crossed her legs like Noctavia, unconsciously, as her mind reeled to find a way to receive more alcohol without having to get Noctavia to assist. Thinking it over, she did not sense the man arrive until his scent filled her nose. Looking up, hazel hues narrowed as he confidently sat down near she and the other werewolf. His eyes danced with interest, something Arielle didn't find so thrilling.

Arielle snarled, quietly enough for only the heightened ears to catch, as he spoke to duo, before a thought struck her. Drinks. Not bothering to see the Alphess's reaction to the interruption, she replied cooly, "Hey handsome, quite nice of you to join us." Leaning forward, her arm slid down the polished bar until her hand caught his, ,"why don't you buy me a drink, that way I have something to sip on while we get to know each other? Sure would appreciate it, handsome."

Bitten, definitely bitten. The women wasn't fond of what she was or her in general, something Noctavia was used to and enjoyed. If one were to hate her it didn't put any damage to her feelings, she was emotionless, empty, and most of all..cruel. She studied Arielle with fascination over her attempt at finding money in her clutch for more alcohol. She smirked, though it was hard to hear over the pounding music vibrating around the room.

"I'm sure you'll get used to our kind. You'll be one till you'll die, sweet cheeks." Her tone held a hint of mocking, as well as a pinch of bitch. Nimble fingers pinch her straw, bringing it up to her lips, then sipping the drink with a toothy grin as the women surrendered over being broke. Noctavia held her gaze, but almost crushed the glass with her spare hand as the putrid smell of a male reached her nose. Her eyes narrowed to the brute that was now between them.

The pleasure behind the man's eyes made her blood boil through her veins. Noctavia would not be putting up with such an immature animal tonight. His looks did not make her fawn or even smile. All he was was another useless thing to take up space in this world. Another one bites the dust, looks like you'll be going home empty handed, again. Her thoughts snickered. Say another word and I'll kill you for all of eternity. She hissed back.No you won't. I'm here forever, permanently, Noctavia. The wolf within her was scratching her flesh from inside, tearing and lashing to be free and scare the entire club. It'd been days, in yet she was starting to be desperate.

Noctavia was taken back at Arielle's actions, and arched a brow in confusion. She was beginning to think that the female was weak and idiotic in the head for falling under the younger man's charm. Her emerald eyes went to Arielle's golden clutch that she was looking for spending money in earlier. She chuckled, now knowing what the women was trying to do. What. A. Con. She whispered to herself, secretively. Her tattooed laced arm propped her chin up, and watched the two. She was liking this girl already, maybe he would fall for it like the brainless brute he is.

Awaiting his answer tempted the she wolf's patience along with her host. The she wolf snarled, growing antsy with the lack of alcohol, and Arielle bit back the transformation which itched her skin. Before he responded, if he ever planned to, a pair of men showed up suddenly, their words slurred and their stench over powering. However, as Arielle examined their attire, she noticed they were of wealth which meant they had money to spare for alcohol. By passing the previous man and leaving the Alphess without hesitation, Arielle collapsed beside the one man in an empty seat. Beneath his intoxicated self he managed to have enough self control to even speak, his other friend not as drunk but easily on his way. As he complimented her and leaned forward, Arielle met him to get what she truly wanted.

"My, my....a drink? But of course!" reaching for his wallet, he began to search for a ten dollar bill amongst the hundreds which gleamed so invitingly. "Dude...I don't think...you should..." his fiend managed to argue, eying Arielle suspiciously. Arielle said absolutely nothing, her force pulling his friend across his drunken friend's lap, his face centimeters from hers. Letting out a rough growl, which he took as flirting, she huskily whispered, pretending she was intoxicated herself, "You will let him buy me a drink, it's the least you can do, yes? You will not argue." Pushing him back roughly, the man became under her spell, something new to her entirely.

As the other ordered drinks, he swung over to face her, eyes hungry for what he would never win. "Here, take this, I gotta piss." Throwing the leather wallet to his friend, her wallet left to take a short trip to the bathroom. "Name is..." Arielle simply ignored his trial for conversation, not even listening to his name. Soon their drinks arrived and three had been swallowed before the companion denied buying anymore. Snarling roughly again, he appeared afraid but had an idiotic rebellious streak, again shaking his head no. "I-I can't, it's not my wallet." Fool.

The air was pungent, hair sweaty and clothes hardly buttoned correctly from other hungry hands before meeting her. As his tongue intertwined with hers, a step Arielle wasn't entirely permitting of, her hand snaked back to his back pockets, hungry for the taking. Somehow, her fingers managed to open it, still distracting him up front, taking out what money she could feel. Soon his weak figure fell backwards upon the free seats left, his eyes dazed from the encounter. It was at the moment his richer friend returned, eying the two angrily. "Hey! I found her first!" Fuck. Stuffing the hundred dollar bills into her bra, Arielle fled the flying fists, the two tumbling onto the bar and going out it, beyond drunk.

"Thank god that's behind me." Eying the money, Arielle looked back behind her, missing the bar which was now being occupied by the tussling men, a fight she could even hear outside. Where else was there to get drinks? Arielle sighed, taking out the money to see how much she'd taken. Stealing was out of her character but it suited the moment. Four hundred. Shit, she had never intended to take so much. It was their fault anyway right? Who takes that much money to a bar?

Arielle threw her shoes off, the heels ricocheting off the alley wall, before she continued her path, tiredly searching for another bar or club to suit her needs.

Obviously both of his advances towards the women were not enough. He stared at the younger female, watching her flirt with other dudes, trying to get them to buy her a drink. They were obviously trashed, well, one was. The other was very close to be that intoxicated. He sighed and watched the altercation for a little while. He took a sip of his drink and eyes the black-haired female. It was clear she was above everyone in this bar. The way she held herself showed something of rank, per say. Yes, she was in fact a werewolf. Her scent was different than his and the younger girl's. She must have been born that way, while he had been bitten. He snarled to himself, staring at his drink. Swishing it from side to side in his glass, he stared.

As he looked up, a fight occurred. He chuckled to himself, eyes scanning for the girl from before. Releasing a quiet sigh, she was gone. He turned back to the other female who was still there. He shrugged his shoulders, picked up his drink and moved closer to the woman. He sat in the chair the other girl used to occupy. Taking a sip of his drink before placing it down on the bar, he held out his hand to her. "I am Damian. One of you." His last sentence was in hushed tones, trying not to bring attention to the two in the lonely portion of the bar. His elbows rested upon the hardwood as he looked at her. "You come here often?" Before she could reply, the bartender brought him another drink. Jack and coke, double shot of Jack, just how he loved it. Passing her a bill, he smiled and turned his attention back to his companion for the time being. The quiet beast laid calm within him, for once actually behaving quite well. The amount of testosterone raised as it flew through the air with each punch so close behind them. The fight grew larger by the minute, pulling more and more men into it. Someone spilled a drink, someone got bumped into, or even accidentally punched during the brawl. Normally, Damian had a hand in forcing these issues to occur. From time to time, he listened to their madness, taking it all in as if he were right there in the action.

Her long black fingernail flicked the glass that held her drink, clinking it as the blonde sashayed off from where she sat to a couple of broad, intoxicated men. She looked at them lazily, not really giving a damn if they were there or not, their presence meant nothing to the Alphess. A couple more words being mouthed from the blonde to them were said, then a few crashes and curses later a bar fight is created. Her lips quirked to the side, not at all impressed by the outcome for they were just a couple of mortals fighting over something not worth winning.

Looking up to the other shifter, -whom sat in the blonde's original spot- eyed her curiously, casually sipping at his drink. Once he set down his drink a large hand shot out in the barrier of air between them. Noctavia sighed, clasping the other's with her dainty pale hand, and shook. "Noctavia Dark." She said pulling her hand back to lay neatly against the bar's edge. "If I were to come here often, I'd have no life. This place is a madhouse, only filled with the leftover mortals to drink their sorrows away with alcohol and pleasure." She paused looking passed his broad shoulder to see a man being thrown onto the bar. "Watch out." Her boring tone spoke as she gently lifted her drink, sipping it casually as the male slid across the bar's top.

Setting her glass back down, the Alphess gazed back up to the brute. "So." She turned her figure around, facing the man. "Who's pack are you from, wereling?" The female's scent had gone, the only werewolf being him in front of her. Of course he didn't belong to any pack, his scent obviously proved it. Emerald eyes looked up at him, studying the man cautiously for any faults or nervousness. Both her attention was on the man and the clash around them. Her senses could focus on one thing while paying attention to another, it was her strongest ability other than agility, giving her even more of the advantage.

Taking her hand in his, he shook it. But could not help himself from chuckling when she spoke. "Well, miss Noctavia Dark, I have a life and I come here often, almost every weekend. Sometimes you need a little chaos in your life. Do you object to such a statement?" Quickly he moved out of the way as a man was tossed to the bar. Damian's eyes moved over to the guy, watching as he brushed himself off, just as he was grabbed and pulled from the bar. He looked back to the female, looking over her features and smiling to himself. "I don't imagine you enjoy fights? I think it's rather invigorating." He took a sip of his drink and then looked to her again. "Pack? I know not of what you speak. I have been a loner for a very very long time. In fact, I never was actually in a pack, not ever. But that's neither here nor there."

The fight around them continued to grow. More and more men began to fight. Still he fought off the urge to join in. Soon the manager and other guards pushed the fighters from the bar, forcing them into the outside world. As the doors opened, sirens could be heard from nearby police cars. Damian chuckled as he drank more from his glass. Coming to an empty glass, he called the bartender over. The way she smiled at him, flirting with her eyes. Perhaps they would go to his place tonight. He watched as she turned her back and bent over, grabbing a coke from the cooler on the floor. As she combined the two liquids together, she gave him a smile. He took the drink and passed her another bill from his wallet. "Can I get you a drink? Or are you planning to leave soon?"

A black brow arched. "Oh?" She paused, listening to more of his explanation. 'A little chaos in life...' His exact words echoed through her devious thoughts, bouncing off walls and satisfying her wolf. He seems like a great feature to add to the pack, hmm Noctavia?....Quiet you, let me think without your comments... "I'd never object to such a thing. I agree that we all need a little chaos being thrown at us throughout our continuous lives." Her eyes flicked to his, listening with her strong sense of hearing around her. "Without obstacles -or chaos in this situation- we'd have nothing to get around, to really fight for in order to move on. You know?"

Noctavia's gaze averted passed his shoulders as flashing lights came closer, dancing off the alley's brick walls. She rolled her eyes and went back to his gaze, which was staring directly at her. "I enjoy fighting, but I don't enjoy watching it. At first it seems interesting, then it gets boring after a while." The Alphess leaned back in her seat, chewing on her straw. "Like the news for instance. At first it seems all cool and collected, but after a while with all the long commercials and same information being repeated over and over and over again. It makes you want to turn off the television all together." A chuckle came out of her throat as she thought about it. "Now that I think about it, I haven't watched T.V. in fourteen years."

She whipped her head to the side, flipping the hair that covered her emerald eye further away from her face. Looking up to Damian, her eyes gleamed. "No pack eh? Well, it must be your lucky day, Damian." Noctavia sat up in her seat, crossing her legs over the other. "I happen to have a pack of my own. I'm not at all surprised to hear that you've been a loner. If you want I'm sure I can fit you in somewhere. You'll have to tell me your strengths and greatest abilities are though." Now the lights outside had become bigger, the fight was clearing out and Rapture was settling down. Rolling her eyes at the flirtatious worker, she looked to see Damian's brown hues do the same. Ugh... Her eyes looked to the bartender, preparing his drink as he requested. When the male shifter questioned on if she wanted a drink, she smirked. "You're kidding right? I'd love one." Noctavia didn't smile to the women, but only looked, tilting her head to the side. "I'll have a Apple Martini, extra cherries."

Holding the wish to join them was still bubbling within him. He nodded his head as he spoke, "I totally agree. Joining in is way more fun than just observing. Although, watching before entering is always wisest. It's best to know your opponent's moves even before they do. A good fight is like a dance. The warriors sway from side to side, jabbing left and right, in tune with one another. Blow after blow, licking after another licking. I believe you must always fight for what you want, no matter what stands in your way." He chuckled as she spoke of watching TV. He watched it from time to time, nothing special. He hated the news, more of an ultimate fighting kinda guy or other extreme sports. He liked rugby over football. They just seemed to bash into one another for no reason, hockey was the same.

"As far as strengths, I have a lot to offer. I love a good fight, I'm a great fighter. I'm better than a lot of males out there. Not the best runner, although I can run when necessary. Although I was bitten, I have a very strong control of the wolf within. I have been training for years, ages it seems. So basically what I'm saying is, if you need something done. I am your muscle. I will do what you want and when you want."

The bartender ignored their conversation, not liking the fact that Damian was speaking to the other girl. She made the drink for her, putting in one cherry and then adding the smallest cheery she could find. With a sarcastic smile, she slid the drink towards Noctavia. She looked over Damian one last time before making rounds to the other side. Damian paid full attention to werewolf. "So what pack are you from? How many are in your ranks? If I were to join, what position would I get?" Taking another sip of his drink, he waited for her reply. He had many drinks this night, and yet he was not anywhere being buzzed. The first couple of months after being changed, he had an alcohol problem. He drank all the time. It seemed to help and hurt the changing.

Her dress of satin plum and ribbons flowed with suggestive ripples across the ivory to her skin, the muted pitter-patter of heels bouncing about the mirrored walls as plumes of sweet fruit and a vanilla embrace rose in tenuous bursts of scent to her air. Wisps of auburn twists fell in loose ringlets across her face, following in the delicate curves to her cheeks of sun kissed dapples as she swayed. With a jingle of brass jewelry and an outstretched arm rippled with greying ink she waved past the man of obnoxious muscle and cologne worthy of a migraine, teasing the bristles of hair on his arm riddled with blue and laced lines of veins with a single finger - slender and groomed - as she passed without meeting the eyes of those who glared. She carried nothing but a slick card of plastic, wore little but shoes of violet straps and a dress many have seen her grace, for her intentions were not to call but to search as she entered the bustle and sweat of the mortals' sea of release. The colors of an envious rainbow flashed before her, its repetitive cycle all but blinding the attentive eyes of the wolf, but the stench of sex and desperation was what caused her confidence to falter. But of course, this was Rapture. It all was to be expected, wasn't it?

New York was incredibly foreign to her, as such desolation and violence of human evil had never crossed seas to the untouched hills of rural Scotland. She had been here for less than a year and still it's darkness had tainted her once prevalent innocence, for nothing could prepare her for the intrigue of lightless alleyways and the nagging need of a depraved man. Though she relished in the rush and pull of the streets, the adrenaline that flushed hot upon the brush of another's lips against her skin, to each of the various hotels she had once called home she very much preferred - and yet, for this endless night of lonely hours and unbearably drab room attire, her wish to live was to be fulfilled. A gaze shot sharp across a room dripping with excitement, irises of pristine blue darting beneath flutters of lashed hoods, and a pair of nostrils flared as the alluring tang of alcohol sung. It was all hers; the heated dance, the clink of crystalline drink, the stares of fawns both female and brute, and she would damn well enjoy it. All sound was drowned as the mortals continued to swim, mindlessly moving with the beat of bass that screamed and clawed through their bodies, but a single flicker of white and a licking chestnut fire fought against its ruthless waves; following the breadcrumbs that lead to the promise of her own numbing deliverance. Arms thick with bulbous sinews reached for her waist as she pushed through the fleshy wall, desperate fingers flirting with the fabric at her chest and clinging with haste to what bare patches of freckled warmth they dared attack, the buzzing swarm of lust growing cockier as the girl within its clutches ignored its many feeble advances. She broke through its mass with shoulders squared and cherry lips undyingly pursed, choosing between the few that stood vacant a stool lacking audience of those saturated in testosterone at the corner of the bar she had been seeking. "Manhattan on the rocks, please. Surprise me, but make it strong."

Ah, yes, she was not the only werewolf to come out to play tonight, and of this she was acutely aware, for the pair just beside her whom were caught in the depth of a - surely - riveting conversation were most certainly not blending with the crowd. With an intimidating flash of teeth to the female behind the counter, her tongue snaking between the flawless rows of pearl to dance across her lower lip, she slid her presented drink close with a ring finger and - with both ear and eye trained - waited for what she knew not would ensue. Between glances, she sipped. As her glass emptied, she motioned for another. But, unfortunately, the two remained still, hushed, boring. He; a beautiful creature, tanned and tall and arrogantly confident, but surrounded by an aura that...interested her. She; a pretty thing, older than most that were drawn to such a colorful place, each movement deliberate and gracefully tasteful as only one of age could pull off. Her gaze settled on the thinly clothed back of the male, carving lines between his muscled shoulders as she longed for him to turn, to notice her, and took the last of the Manhattan's grit and ice in a breathy gulp as she succumbed to her body's parched want.

"You're very correct. It's always best to see your opponents flaws and greatest strengths before doing anything." She was impressed by the one's description. Fighting was a dance, it had grace, caution, and a rhythm in every step. Damian surely proved he could handle a fight or two, probably been around the block, observing and then joining in to claim another victory. Her hand rubbed the ball of her chin, scanning the man's toned arms and shoulders. The Alphess nodded along to the male becoming more and more aware of the abilities within this bitten. She would of never of guess he was a bitten werewolf for he seem to keep himself very well kept under control around her.

Finally Noctavia looked up to meet his gaze, sitting up straighter not even bothering to look at the bartender nor drink she requested. "I have a forming pack, filled with a decent amount of pure-bloods and little of bitten shifters. My pack, Eternal Darkness lives in the Francesca Hotel near Manhattan Square. We're not the biggest pack, but I plan to recruit as many as I feel would fit my expectations." She paused to see if he was listening, plopping a cherry in her mouth. "If you were to be in my pack, -given by your abilities- I'd put you as a Warrior. However, that could possibly change over time if I see you've improved."

The Alphess looked passed his shoulder slowly, a petite female shifter making her way through the crowd and sitting just behind him. Her head cocked to the side to get a better look, but Damian's shoulder blocked the view, her attention training back on him. "How would you feel if you were a Warrior in my pack, as of now?"

Shouts and hollers filled the bar as more and more humans became drunk with joy and lust for one another. He ignored their sounds, keying in on the werewolf to his side, the one he held a deep conversation with. Taking a sip of his drink, he listened to her replies, judging for himself if her pack is what was right for him. He had been a loner for so long, living in the shadows on very dark nights, while blending in with the humans during the bright lights of daybreak. As he stared down at his drink, moving the liquid about the walls ever so slightly. He focused, imagining the alcohol was a wave of the ocean, crashing on the rocks of low tide. Pulling himself back into reality, he looked up to the Alphess beside him. Clearing his throat, he replied "Warrior is a fine rank and in time, I assure you I will prove my worth to your pack. It may take some adjusting as I have been on my own since I was young." He finished his drink, getting the attention of his bartender once more. She was helping another, when he heard a voice in the crowd. When she spoke, it seemed like the rest of the club was quiet, muffled by her amazing sound. Damian kept his eyes to himself, curious of her. His nostrils moved in and out as he took in her scent. She was not a human. Perhaps it was the fae who left earlier. But her voice was different and she smelled of vanilla. "I would be honored to serve under you, Alphess Noctavia." He said as he looked to her with a smile. When his bartender was finally ready, she made his drink. her eyes scanned the two females around him and shot him a "what the hell?" look.

He chuckled, taking his new drink in hand and took a sip. "What will you do now miss? Care to stay and chat a while longer or perhaps you have other matters to address?" Since the want to fight had passed over the brute, fleeing out the door with the fighters themselves, there were other needs his body desired. The older female would not suit such things as she seemed to be of a higher regard than just someone to sleep with and leave. Plus, she was now his Alphess. He turned his back to rest against the bar, spinning the top of his stool around. As he relaxed his elbows on the hard wood finish, he looked around the room, eying the girl beside him. She was a rather lovely lady, her looks not fitting for such a scene. Her form was that of a Goddess's, beautiful and delicate. Dark hues moved up and down her body, watching how the flashing lights danced upon her skin. He decided he should address her, since he was already captivated by her beauty. As he turned, he noticed the empty glass before her, "Renee, a Manhattan on the rocks please," he said as he looked to the bartender. His eyes trailed back to the new female in the room, "I am Damian, I overheard you order that drink earlier. I hope you don't mind." His bright white smile gleamed in the lights. With his lean, his shirt pulled tight around his chest, exposing his rock hard abdominal muscles and chiseled chest, proud of the work he had done in his gym and controlling the beast within, he was rather confident in himself. "What is your name, miss?"

The drink was comforting in her hand; the cold and flat of glass against her fingertips, bittersweet tang at her tongue, her eyes of sky and spring water following the faintest smudges of red that bled along its crystal edge. Her ear strained to hold track of the conversation that carried on in whispers beside her, keeping her head bent and a veil of auburn across her turned cheek, though the feat was rather easy when another of senses far more extraordinary had their own readied and perked. She could feel the ghostly presence that shared her soul fester, turning over and over in torturous circles in its cavity, tickling with stretches against walls of her mind she would never reach. Never before had she been this active, for Annie had quite a leash for the annoyance that was her wolf, though it was to be half envisaged in the least - for one not particularly tipsy, that is. She had never been in such an enclosed space with as many werewolves as she she was now, after all. Peculiar; how this cesspool of a city, one woven together by sex and laced with a alcoholic's splendor, had become a beacon of solace for those whom adorn their shoulders with envied coat of the wolf. She would expect her kind to gather in a place of more...class. 'It seems the most imbecilic are the favored targets of our fellow werewolves' hunger. Perhaps their humble minds are tastier than those of a more...refined sense of savvy.'

The strength of the voice that was not her own caught her very much off guard, enough so to send a ripple in the line of muscles that shot down her arm, ending in an uncomfortable set of clenched fingers around her drink; freckled pale stretched tight against gossamer. Oh, goody. Look who's come out to play. You almost made me break the poor glass. She was but a shadow at the edges of her mind, the she-wolf; a darkness that was both there and not, as much of a threaded piece to the her mortal body as she was to her immortal. And as of now, it had focused its less than exemplary thoughts on the male to her side, as his attention had also shifted to herself. 'Handsome little bastard, isn't he? Come on, Annie. Let me out so you can have some real fun.' she hissed, her words pounding against her nape and ricocheting between the blades to her spine. Please, my darling, I am no where close to being intoxicated enough to sit through your nagging. So, if it is at your convenience, fuck off. As the shuffle of the he-wolf's swivel was made obnoxiously pristine, to both of the faes' delight she met his gaze with one of an invigorating warmth and a smile; an Annie smile, signature and genuine, sending her dotted freckles to fold and to crease across rose-kissed skin.

"Damian. Fitting name." She cleared her throat and its residing lump as the fiery tender returned with yet another drink. "Thank you, Renee." He heard my order. Of course he heard my order. She slid her third glass up to the straggling violet wisps that flared delicately from the cloth at her chest, dragging her middle finger along its polished lip in sporadic patterns as he leaned closer in order to face her. "No, of course not. I doubt you could've helped it. Anastasia," Without breaking their stare, she lifted the Manhattan to her mouth with a soft clink of ice, downing a healthy sip before sending him a grateful grin. "Anastasia Faust. You may call me Annie if you so desire. Thank you, by the way, for the drink. I needed it." Of course she couldn't help but notice his build; the bulk that popped from the feeble excuse of a shirt that clung to his chest, the curve to his arms as they pressed against the counter-top, his slightly too charming smile...and his eyes, dark and brooding, how they roamed down her- 'Oh, please. Keep in mind you've more than one up here. I wouldn't mind some degree of courtesy for my existence.' Her eyes distilled at the sharp pang of the mental stab, in a moment realizing that the...hot stuff before her was being rather rude to his previous lady partner. Annie leaned with a good amount of grace away from the bar in order to peer around Damian to the woman in black whom remained sitting to his side, vaguely taking the air of sheer dominance that took to her aura to memory as she nodded tastefully her way.

"I seem to be distracting you from other affairs. I'm sure the lovely madam behind you doesn't appreciate it much, and unfortunately its on my record. Now, that's not very fair on my account, is it?" She flashed her teeth in a delightful smirk as to lighten her droll though harmless mockery, cocking her head to the side and jutting out her sharpened chin as she tucked a stray strand of fine gold and russet behind her ear. "I'd say you owe me, but you've already bought me a drink, and I certainly won't bother you for another. Anything else in mind?" She could hear the groans from the many nooks and crevices to her mind's shadows, feel the fleeting stirs as the voice's disapproval soaked her thoughts, but she ignored it. All. She wanted to live, to touch, anything, and she most definitely wouldn't mind doing so with him.

Noctavia nodded. "Very well, I hear by grant you the rank of a Warrior, you can come by the hotel to unpack and get a room once you are done...socializing and entertaining yourself here." Her hand waved him of at his offer of staying. "Can't. I have work to be done before sunrise. Don't ask, but I'll see you later." She pointed to him before he'd turned to the other she-wolf behind him. The woman was a loner in fact, but didn't seem to interest her enough to be one of her pack. Noctavia decided to leave her to another's, maybe the weaklings of the Bravehearts would be willing to take her instead, perfect match anyway. The Alphess slid off from the stool, grabbing her purse to push it back onto her shoulder.

Her converse tapped against the club's floor, suddenly stopped a few feet after she'd heard the woman speak of her presence. Noctavia looked up, but soon looked away walking passed the bouncer and into the alley's after the drunken fae she originally had her eyes set on. There was no need to stop in chat, it was useless and she was running out of time. Now that she had the one brute to join, she'd try to get the other before the sun rises in the east behind the tall skyscrapers. Taking a sharp turn into a dark, silent alley down the street. She was now in her pack's territory, a place of refuge she'd be able to get away from all the loners, only to find the woman again. Lingering further into the alley, a large man walked passed, but reached out for her purse. She was too fast though. Noctavia bared her teeth, pinching her claws into the male's bicep, he screamed in agony. His eyes were wide with fear. 'What are you?' He cried. The Alphess grinned sinisterly at the mortal, emerald hues piercing into his soul. "Your worst nightmare." No longer hesitating her fangs sank into his neck, twisting back till she heard a loud crack echoe through the brick walls. In an instant, his body no longer moved in her grasp, it lay lifeless, blood pouring out of the neck where she bit down.

Noctavia released the broad man, a thud to the ground at her feet. She bent down, looking into the male human's eyes whom were rolled into the back of his head, whispering into his ear. "See you in Hell." From her lips along her neck a trail of blood seeped gracefully, the lace top she wore was covered at the top where the collar dipped. She chuckled, the sound vibrating off the walls as she tucked her hands in her pockets, one converse sneaker after the other Noctavia walked further into the alley. Nothing like killing someone while the night's still young...

"Thank you Alphess Noctavia. It's a shame you can't stay. We are going to have some fun tonight," he said as he turned to look at Anastasia. Taking a sip of his drink, he looked back to Noctavia. "I will be sure to get settled when I get the chance. Thank you for everything." He watched the Alphess until he could no longer see her, swallowed in the sea of humans. Loud sounds of the bass beating and the speakers pumping music throughout the crowded room. With the Alphess now gone, he moved his attention to the sexy young thing to his side. Turning to face her, he smiled bright towards her with a dashing smile of sophistication. His eyes glazed over her, looking her up and down, catching features he did not notice before. She had freckles, a lot of beautiful freckles.

"Now, since we are alone, is there anything you would like to do? We can get a few more drinks, talk, get to know one another, or perhaps you wish to dance? Whichever you wish, I will do as you please. Might I also add you look very beautiful." He looked over her, watching other males around them stare at her. There were two males whom spoke with one another, staring at her rear side. Zeroing in on their conversation he could hear it clear as day. One male kept referencing her as a "piece of ass", while the other nodded his head and smiled. Damian grew angry, even though he knew deep inside that he was that way with females as well, but something about Anastasia was different. For now he would ignore, go on about learning who she was and what she was all about.

She laughed at his wit; at his exuberant confidence, his obvious zeal for pleasure. His smile was contagious, and she was in no state to fight its charm, so in her weakness - yes - she laughed. How rare it was for such a delightful sound to slip past her defenses, to bubble lavishly about in her stomach and gleam so invitingly from her eyes, for she knew just how dangerous it was to share. To allow even a glimpse into the piteous recess that was her soul was hell for both herself and its beholder, she was sure, for that was where her demons preyed. As she realized this, a hand lifted to sweep across her lips as if to away their taste of vim and vigor, her once gleeful gaze abandoning its solace with the many splendors of Damian's grin and instead retreating to find another within the muddy drink that took to her glass. 'Foolish girl,' the voice condemned like a child's singsong, what skin it called its own crawling in its ridicule. Little bird. Don't fly away.

Annie's fingers slithered around the crystal face that sat so deliciously alluring before her, offering to satiate her empty lust with what it flaunted from within, but she refused its call. She would need a steady voice and coherent thoughts for what would ensue. With the ushering of just enough strength to push the Manhatten from her sight with but a tenuous pinkie she swiveled, her freckles sent awry as its skin was pulled with a smile, and drank the form of tan and bulge that sat inches from her little nose with fervor. She did not hide the blatancy of her roaming eyes, as he himself did little to do so when his own partook of her flesh and its dappled polish, and took her rounds about his frame in tasteful carnality. His hair was tousled and slick in sheen, dark and silken and yearning for her touch, his eyes matching its somber color but dancing with a light that glittered like gold. His lips were full, kissed by the red of wine and stretched over pearl in their bliss, his jaw cut square and cleft immaculately. His chest boasted of its unmatched heft as it puffed and shifted with steady breaths, his arms flexed true to their pretentious strength as they twisted and hooked against the counter's nearest edge. His hands were coarse and calloused in their wear, their palms wide and rough with aged lines of grip, deft in arts Anastasia took pleasure in leaving to an imagination's most wanton idyll. He was unbelievably handsome, in a way particularly desired by Annie, and she wanted more of him than what was so perfectly on display for her now.

"I wouldn't mind knowing a bit more of the gentleman who was so kind as to buy me a drink. That is, if you wouldn't object to sharing." She noticed his flickering attention as it spun about the room, seemingly favoring the two less than virtuous men that devoured her assets from behind, but she paid little attention to what she could do little to control. They were men, but slaves to their desires, and - encouraged by what the dancing bodies roused - would latch onto any chance they could to settle their human flame. Unfortunately for the females that tended to their fire's endless licks, in the rarity that they did succeed whilst in their drunken and desperate stupor, it's embers would only rekindle before they had time to put it back in their pants. Damian, however, despite the clever poison and invigorating flattery that slipped off of his tongue at moments, was at least keeping his thoughts to himself. 'Not that you would mind if he did otherwise.'

As his gaze trailed ever so slowly back to her, she leaned forward, her cheek brushing his with a telltale spark as she slid; stumble against smoothened pink. Her lips found their way to his ear, closing their heated distance with puffs of sweet breath until her nose was at his hair, whispering with gently teasing words before withdrawing with a smirk and cross of her thighs into the familiar pit of her seat.

"So tell me, wolf boy; why on earth would someone like you be here - of all places - with no partner to dance with?"

Focusing on her, he ignored the drunken fools. But just as he was to speak to her, someone deep inside decided to speak instead, only not to her human form. The canine within's voice was low, seductive. "We have come here for the challenge..." stopping him before he could continue, Damian spoke to the young lady. "What's the fun of bringing a female to such a place as this. If I did bring one, then met you, surely she would grow jealous in my charming, yet forward advances towards you." Pulling her waist close to his, securing his arm about her, not allowing her to move from him, he pressed his cheek to hers. "Care to dance?" Before she could reply, he took the glass from her hand and placed it on the bar, in front of where he once sat and placed his glass beside it, after finishing its contents. Taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor, crowded in sweaty bodies, drunk and merry fools, as well as giggling girls and ones that wish to shout quite often for nothing at all. As they made their way, pushing through bodies, moving people left and right, they finally found enough room to learn more of one another, by touch of course. As the loud beat of the drums in the song played, he pulled Anastasia against him, pressing her to his chest. His eyes stared deeply into her pools as he moved their bodies about the floor. His hand pressed tight against her back, moving up and down from time to time. His dance was of course too proper for scene as it was, but he did not care. Their bodies were one with this dance, unlike the vulgar displays of the young girls around them, bumping and grinding against the partner they chose for that moment in time. As much as he wished to show such vulgarity, he held it within, wishing for just this moment. He pressed his cheek to hers, moving his lips along her ear. "So what brings such a beautiful lass to a shit hole such as this? Surely I would imagine you flaunting your gifts in a much more charming and elegant manner." He spun her about quickly, placing her behind against his front, resting his hand on her stomach, still holding her close as they swayed to the beat of the drums.

Eyes watched as the two danced together, curious of their ways and wondering why they did not conform to those around them. But he did not care. As they continued their dance, he continued to speak to her, only in tones quiet enough for her ears alone. "So, were you bitten or born a werewolf? How long have you been a werewolf?" Slowly, he spun her away from his side and then bringing her back into his close range, allowing her time to think of her answers. "Where is it you live? Close by or are you from out of town?" Dancing with her, he dipped her close to the ground, planting one soft kiss on her neck. Lifting her back upright, he stared deeply into her eyes. "Assuming that you came here alone, I must ask, are you available?" The wolf inside struggled to get out, to release his primal urges. But Damian would control the beast, keeping him locked up, unable to take in the sights of humans for his own. But perhaps later, the wolf would be allowed from his cage.

Her gaze lowered to her hands, now flirting with the fair fabric of the cloth at her knee, once again falling beneath his spell as her smile turned coy. She lifted an elbow away from its play to rest upon the counter top, trailing her finger tips across her body's length until they were free to twirl about in the mess of honeyed tresses that furled light along her collar bone, aware his eyes were deep and thick as they swam in their longing and very much trained on her. At his voice, her chin rose, slackened some to make way for a grin now stretched to its limit in whimsy, but before the words that had perfected themselves upon her tongue could be said, his arm was at her waist. Or rather, attacking it; his muscles bunched and snaking with a search of ardor, those hands of his brushing a tiptoeing chill down the small of her back that lay open to the broil and breath of the stuffy room and his chest, warm and chiseled with grace, open in anticipation for her embrace. He whispered sweet invitations at her ear, the fine bristles that ended at her nape rising in her thrill as his mouth fluttered at his skin and his cheek danced with hers, what her tongue had once twisted into a witty remark swallowed back to the dark in which the wings of her butterflies tortured. She laughed again as he took her hand, laughed when he whisked her away into the sea of bothered mortals, but with his skin once again at hers she quieted, her body mindlessly moving to the rhythm his so invitingly offered.

She stretched her neck so that her head lay back against his shoulder, as he had spun her so that her open back was at his stomach, reaching around his neck to tease his hair just so as she spoke for him only. "You flatter me, Damian," His name was breathed with a throaty huff; achingly pluming from her parted teeth to mingle in wisps about his flesh. "Even those of elegance must partake in some degree of release at times. Rapture seemed to fit my needs for the night well enough, as it did you. You dance wonderfully, by the way." She lowered a slender arm as to slide it across his own, following the erratic pattern of hair that stretched down to his wrist until her fingers knotted with his hand, moving it with her own beat in tasteful pulls along her belly. Others watched, of course, for they were creatures of beauty, but for once she did not care. She wanted this man, both him and his body, and this both frightened and excited her to no end.

"I was born one. I'm the last of my blood, as my parents died when I was very young and I certainly have no kin of my own. And weren't you ever told not to ask a lady her age? I might scare you away if I tell you, and I don't want that." Her dress escaped its humble clasp upon her legs as he twisted her away, taking her part in the dance with fire before returning to the softness and wanted scent of his shirt, sweeping her finger along his jawline as she did so. "I seem to be rather drawn to hotels, or they're drawn to me. Whichever the case, my current residing fancy takes up a good corner in the city, on which street I couldn't say. It's relatively close by; but I'm not too sure how long it will be that way. I'm not one to stay in one place for long. Unless, of course, I am somehow convinced otherwise." She clung with thirsty fingers to his forearms as he dipped her towards the ground, her knees wobbling for but a moment of weakness as he kissed the flushed flesh that lay freckled at her neck. She looked up to him with shock pooling in her eyes, her lips parted and puckered before curling into a smile of mischief.

"I am. Is there a particular reason as to why you're asking? I am curious indeed. And, Damian," she slithered into his arms, standing on pointed toes in order to reach his neck, planting but a single touch with her lips at the tan and smoothened bulk that they found there in return, mocking breathing muffled at his skin. "Don't open something you don't intend to play with."

Feeling their bodies together, the teasing her hands played upon his skin, mixing with his hair, it sent shivers down his spine. No matter how slutty the girls around him were, this goddess he danced with, was more gorgeous than the rest. For now, he wanted her, every bit to belong to him. But as he thought more on the subject, the man who could not be tamed, the beast who did not desire to be monogamous. Was he ready? Ready to give his life to one fae, to connect with her on every level? As much as he wished to say yes, he would need time. Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing on her moves. "It is hard not to, you are very beautiful. I do not wish of your age, milady. I was in fact, bitten. It's been many years from that day and I've been mixing in with humans, trying to blend and protect myself."

Feeling the touch of her lips to his, he returned with passion, his hand moving to her face, cupping her cheek within his hand. His other hand trailed down her back, feeling her curves and form. It was perfection in human form. His wolf howled within, wishing to be mated with this very fae. Both parts of the male wanted this girl, completely. "I've been living in this town for a while now, and will be staying longer than was planned. The lady at the bar, she is my new Alphess. I have sworn myself to her and her pack. So, I will not be moving anytime soon." He pulled away from the kiss, smelling her scent so close to him, staring down into her beautiful eyes. "I have been alone for many years.." looking down over her form, allowing her to see the desire he held for her, "and I wish for something more than this life of one girl and on the the next, but I also do not wish to rush things." He placed his finger about her lips, touching them gently, stroking her cheek with his hand and speaking softly to her ear, "Let me take you to dinner and speak in a quieter tone. Shall we meet Friday night at say, 7pm, I will pick you up. I would love to know you better, princess." He stared into her eyes and soon closed the gap between them completely. Pushing his lips to hers, pulling their bodies closer to one another, hands running through her long and luscious hair.

Her body burned as it basked in his touches, his fingers thick but, oh, so nimble as they trailed their glory across her sinless skin. She melted beneath his lips, beneath his rush and lust and want, knowing damn well she would not stop him. She bent to him; to this club dwelling stranger, to his tongue's searching twists and hands' reckless whims, and for but a second of ecstasy she cared not for what would find her come sunrise. His scent became her everything, his breath down her throat her own, the separation between their flesh that tore and clung with carnal fire nonexistent, yet even a pleasure such as this must end when its embers come to die. Her eyes fluttered free of their lashes' kiss as he withdrew, her touch ambling about with teasing brushes along his arms as her thoughts returned with clarity. The pull of teeth against her lip lingered, the remnants of warmth to his palm at her cheek and chill of shivers sharp down her spine mocked what control she had over her spiking calm, but she resisted his body's allure and kept at arm's length until he called for her. Who was this man whom broke the player, whom sent her being into a frenzy? She had taken many suitors, had shared a kiss with twice as many, but her skin was never set aflame. Her lips were not bitten pink, her heart was never a robin's wings as it thrashed at its walls, and her confidence certainly was not muddled and twisted and shrunken behind eyes that beheld in quiet awe. He had awakened something; something fierce and now free of chains, but it was a change Annie welcomed happily.

She cocked her head as he spoke of himself, smiling around the finger that pressed softly against her mouth, searching his stare for nothing in particular yet everything specifically. A spark of doubt, perhaps, or a flicker of lies, one of which she had grown far too familiar with over the centuries of seeking a sated thirst that would never sate, but his eyes held none. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, yet would let their desires simmer alone for the sake of their company. To take it slowly. To try. Her bite against her lower lip was replaced by a merciless tongue once more, her body molding into his muscles' curves as she succumbed to his awaited call, attacking his skin with gentle fingers as she kissed with breathless hunger, for their fire was easily rekindled indeed. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she spoke against his flesh, mouth moving against his endless touch. "I'd have to clear my schedule-" her hands snaked higher along his chest, her finger tips tracing the smooth bends to his neck as they tickled the ends to his stubble. "-but I suppose it'll be worth my time." With a final drag upon his lips she pulled away, backing from his warmth with a few taps of her heels without breaking their stare, relishing in the last of his sweet taste on her mouth.

"The Hilton past the Square. I'll be waiting for you outside. Don't be late, Damian. I'd hate to spend Friday night alone. Sweet dreams, my prince." And with that she turned towards the door, sending him a smile before all but giggling her way back to her car. Oh, Anastasia. You're in deep now, aren't you?