#yes i know marie's real intention was to give hazel a good life

[kuaille]

personally, i think hazel wasn't "cursed" because marie summoned pluto and there was a price for it, but that the cursed gemstones were just a result of her stress

like, we saw percy detonate a volcano and nico turn a person into a ghost when they were both at the height of pressure

now, imagine a 13yo dealing with daily bullying, having only one friend, racism, an abusive mother (plus the context of living during a war)?

i'm sure that all these traumatizing and stressful situations were the catalysts for her lack of control and her "curse"

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

No Matter What or A Deadly Combination

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst @stupidbluegirl

This Passage contains potentially: swearing, violence, blood, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Kirby and Roddy spend a while together, even planning to fly back to Cardiff together and meeting Kirby's parents while Rod poses as just a 'close friend'.

Kirby's POV:

"Well, unless it doesn't work out that way, yeah, I'd love you until the end of time. I'd die for you, hell, I might even kill for you."

"Roddy, I fly back to Cardiff in a week, I can't deal with all this change at once, it's overloading."

Roddy instantly sat up on my lap, like an excited puppy, "I'll fly there with ya, just as friends. I've never been to Cardiff."

"Rod, if you come with me, there will be questions."

"Like what?"

"Like why I suddenly gained a male friend after talking to my mam about previous men in my life and 'that feeling when you find the one'."

"Oh, so your parents might think that I'm there for, other, reasons."

"Yeah, and my uncles live near my parents, so if you start shit, the whole of my dad's side of the family might not take too kindly to you."

"Why would I start shit with your dad?" he questioned before leaning in to kiss my neck.

"Because you started shit with Damien, and- ." I stopped all of a sudden feeling Roddy's teeth against my neck.

"Family's off limits. Damien's not your real dad." He stated flatly, switching to kissing the opposite side of my neck.

"How come you hate him so much though?"

"Because he's such a dick to other guys, he yelled at me down the phone to 'get the fuck out of' your room before he 'finds a way to end my career'."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Roddy, I'm so sorry," I whispered to him, trying to be as comforting as possible.

"ROD!" I yelped, clawing my nails sideways down his bare back as he bit against the flesh covering my collarbone, hearing him groan against my skin.

He let out another deep, guttural growl before getting off of me, "I uh, I needed that … and now I need to change my kilt, and wash it, and myself."

"There is a shower in the bathroom, and now, potentially cold coffee on top of the mini fridge and ice cream in the mini fridge." I said, getting up and looking down at the Rowdy Scot.

"How much ice cream?" He cocked an eyebrow before whipping off his kilt, and like a 'true' Scotsman, he had nothing on beneath it.

"You don't need to know and could you, at least, get in the bathroom before you show me your 'Loch Ness Monster'?" I asked, shielding my eyes.

He let out a gentle chuckle, before kissing me on the cheek, "could ya get me some other clothes? my stuff's in the duffel bag in the back of the Paul's car in the parking lot."

"Sure," I tried to sound as sarcastic as possible, "Would you like me to get you a box of condoms while I'm at it?"

He winked at me, "Only if ya want to ride the Hot Rod, baby." He gestured to his groin.

I jokingly fake heaved before leaving to get Roddy some trousers, and hopefully a pair of boxer shorts or briefs, while I'm out there.

I saw Orndorff while I was out and told him about Piper's plans to ride with me, he let me move Rod's duffel bag into the back of my D200.

Coming back to the room, I was shocked to see Roddy, fully naked with a towel underneath him on the bed, looking through my sketchbook and stuffing his face with ice cream. I practically slammed the door behind me, making Roddy jump and look over at me.

"You alright, beautiful?" He was caring, cautious even.

The blush on my cheeks was full on scarlet by this point, I'm certain. I gulped down a mouthful of air and saliva before approaching the bed and to give Roddy a pair of his jeans and black boxer briefs.

"What's wrong, Kirby?" he put everything down and stood up next to me, taking the clothing from my hands before leaning up to kiss me.

"Roddy, why are you so intent on snooping through my stuff?"

"I only look through your sketches, nothing else. I can't believe that you don't seem to show anyone else your drawings?"

"Because most of them are personal."

"Oh, like the ones at the back?"

I stared at him for a moment, "You looked at those."

"Yeah, why? was I not supposed to?"

I slowly shook my head 'no'.

He put his boxer briefs on and then the jeans before once again leaning up to kiss me, I leaned down into the kiss and put my right hand on his chest, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathed, feeling his heartbeat before moving my hand down to his left hip, and lifting his leg up, supporting his weight with my left arm, I felt down to where the cut had been and where a long thin scar was forming, feeling Roddy's left hand squarely on my ass and his right hand travelling up my shirt to where my bra clasp was, before hearing a small 'thump' as the two sides of the bra separated themselves and hit my back. I let his leg down and pulled away, swiftly removing my shirt and bra and searching for a new, clean bra in my suitcase, before hearing Roddy's voice.

"Holy Mary mother of God, you're stunning." He reached out to touch me and I swatted his arm away, not wanting to end up in bed with him without knowing how deep his commitment truly was and definitely not wanting to become anybody's one night (or day) fling.

"Sweetheart." He cooed, suavely.

"Nuh-uh, hell no." I flatly stated.

"Fine, fine, you get dressed, we got a long week ahead of us."

"You have a long week ahead of you, since when did this become an 'us' thing?"

"Since I said it was, you are my lady, aren't ya?"

I blushed, hurriedly putting on a peach toned bra and a black tank top, "You, you really want me to, but you, and I, but we, we uhm, we wouldn't work."

Rod pulled me closer, kissing me roughly and biting my lower lip, "Really," His voice rough with a mix of anger and passion, "We wouldn't work." He pulled me down into another rough kiss and slipping his tongue into my mouth for a moment before pulling away.

"Rod I can't just jump into a relationship."

"I understand, but you can spend at least a week with me, and that trip to your parents and then decide if you want to be with me."

"True and if you don't like my family, don't start shit, agreed."

I held out my hand for a handshake agreement and he took it.

"Agreed. which car are we taking?"

"Mine, because I won't fit in your small-ass rental." I stated, packing my stuff into my bags and lifting both the duffel bag and the suitcase.

"How did you know it was a rental?" Rod questioned, attempting to take the suitcase.

"Paul told me, oh, thank you Rod," I handed him the suitcase, "I've already put your stuff in the trunk of my car."

"Kirby?"

"Yes, Roddy?"

"Ya ever had sex?"

I blushed again, "No, Roddy."

"Ya ever masturbated?"

"Yes, Roddy."

"So, is that what you meant earlier, y'know about 'needing that release'?"

"Yes, Roddy."

We reached my D200 and Rod helped me place my stuff in the boot before he jumped into my passenger seat.

"Where we headed to, Rod?"

"New York, New York."

"Ya mean, The Garden?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Madison Square Garden, gotta be there for the twenty-third."

"Rod, that's two days away."

"I know, honey, I know." He sounded cocky.

"So, what's the plan between now and then?"

"Get a hotel room, a good hotel room, with two beds, see if you have any matches on the same card and go from there."

"Seems, simple."

"Exactly, that's why it works so well."

"Six and a half to seven hours of us being stuck in my car to go Roddy." I mumbled, just loud enough to hear as we got stuck in our first traffic jam, and just as rain clouds started to roll in.

"Wow, you are just a ray of sunshine today."

"I'm like this all the time, babe." I joked, winking at him.

"Don't make me kiss you." He jokingly warned.

"It would pass the time." I responded, matching his tone.

"C'mere ya dafty."

Rod reached over, gently kissing my cheek and placing his hand on my thigh, squeezing slightly.

"Don't, Roddy."

He removed his hand and the traffic started moving again just before the rain started.

"Oh great. Rain."

"I think rain's nice, it's calming. Y'know I used to fall asleep to the sound of rain as a kid."

"Do you want me to drive?" He offered, cocking an eyebrow.

"No," I yawned, "I'm fine."

Roddy glared at me, as if to wordlessly say, 'Are you serious?'

I pulled over and switched seats with him, quickly passing out despite the easily angered style of Roddy's driving. Rod shook me awake and I could smell the coffee in the car.

"Kirby, Kirbs, sweetheart?"

"Hmm, Roddy, where are we?"

"Uh, a service station. Off I-ninety-five. I got you coffee, a Hazelnut Cappuccino. You're favourite, right?"

"You remembered?"

"It is your favourite?"

"Yeah. Hazelnut Cappuccinos and Blueberry Waffles, best morning pick-me-up." I said, sleep still heavy in my voice.

Rod giggled slightly, quickly stifling his laughter, "Ya slept for like four hours, ya know."

"Really?" I looked over at Roddy, taking the coffee cup from his hand.

"Yeah, Kirby, about earlier … do ya want to be my lass?"

"Of course Roddy, I never wanted you to take my words as me not wanting to be with you."

"So, what did you want? What did ya feel?" He gazed into my eyes, his blue-hazel eyes meeting the gaze of my ocean blue ones.

"I was afraid, I wanted to be sure you were right for me, I pushed you away so I could be sure that I wasn't going crazy, and I-"

Roddy interrupted me by locking his lips with mine, his hand against my cheek and his body relaxed, fully letting his guard down for what seemed like the first time for him in a long time.

I closed my eyes, placing the coffee cup between my legs for a moment so I could hold Roddy's body close to mine. He slowly moved back, pulling away from the kiss. I let go of him and breathed out a heavy sigh.

"I, I needed to know that. I'm serious, Kirby, I adore ya, I've adored ya since the moment I saw your face without the mask. You're such a beautiful woman, yet you hide that beauty."

"Roddy, the universe can be ugly at times."

"I know that, I know that a little too well. God, I turn thirty in April."

"I turned twenty nine on the thirteenth."

Rod looked me up and down, taking a swig of his own coffee before saying anything else, "Ya look younger."

"Shut up, Casanova." I joked, taking a swig of my coffee

"I mean it, ya look at the most twenty-three."

"Ya kidding, really, I, look twenty-three?"

"Take it from a U.S champ."

"I've seen photos of that belt, how did you avoid stabbing yourself with it?"

"Simple," He said in-between swigs of coffee, "never bend over."

I let out a small laugh, trying quickly to silence myself.

"Ya adorable." He swooned, gazing at me.

I studied his looks once more, taking in every little detail from his hair down to his chest, stopping to look away and out of the window for a moment upon seeing a bulge form in the crotch of his jeans, hitting him in the arm and pointing it out.

"I don't control that, Lass." He laughed, grabbing my hand and interlacing his fingers with mine, kissing the back of my hand.

"Well, do somethin' about it." I whined.

"I'll do something about it alright."

"Without just putting your hand down your pants, Roddy."

"Oh c'mon." He whined

"Piper." I said, sternly.

"Trevor." He said, copying my stern tone.

"Fine," I threw my right hand up whilst holding the coffee cup in my left, "But if you're gonna do that, let me drive."

Roddy and I got out of the D200 in unison and passed each other to switch seats, with Rod tossing his empty coffee cup in a bin and climbing back into the passenger seat.

"Roddy," I started, climbing into the driver seat, "You need that release a lot, don't ya."

"I know, I'm sorry." He looked dejected, perhaps even ashamed of his bodily functions.

"Roddy, I don't mean anything bad by that," I paused for a second, adjusting the driver's seat to my proportions and starting the car, "I just, I've never known what that feels like, to need someone else's body against my own, y'know."

"So, ya never had the urge as a teen, to, y'know, 'get with' somebody?" He quizzes, looking me up and down.

"No, I would just deal with myself when I felt like I needed to." I admitted, feeling comfortable admitting this to him, not so reserved as I was when I first met him.

"Would you like to, y'know, uh, feel what it's like to be with somebody." He was obviously implicating himself.

"Are you trying to suggest something, Rod?"

"Valentine's night, me and you, we'll only go as far as your comfortable with, deal?"

"Deal. With protection."

"With protection." He nodded in agreement

The rest of the three hour drive was quite quiet, Roddy occasionally humming out tunes I remember Erik playing on the bagpipes.

Upon reaching a hotel, one that Roddy had pointed out, we got checked in and Roddy made a couple calls, and before long it was nearly midnight and Roddy had passed out, or so I thought, I took a minute to shower and dry myself off before pulling out my mask, I hadn't been wearing it for a while and I wanted to see what it felt like, putting it into it's place and hearing a faint 'I adore ya' from the sleeping Scotsman, closing my eyes for about a minute, allowing myself to let out a couple of silent tears, abruptly feeling Rod's arms around my waist and his lips on the back of my neck, whispering sweet nothings to soothe me.

END OF NO MATTER WHAT or A DEADLY COMBINATION.

[happy-haunts]

Captain Blood (Pt.1)

Captain Blood (Pt. 1)

Chapter one | Constance pt.1 : Constance pt.2

Chapter two | Mister Topper pt.1 : Mister Topper pt.2

Chapter three | Madame Leota pt.1 : Madame Leota pt.2

Chapter four | The Hostess

Chapter five | Captain Blood pt.1 : Captain Blood pt.2

Chapter six | Emily DeClaire pt.1 : Emily DeClaire pt.2 : Emily DeClaire pt.3

Chapter seven | Finale

WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS THEMES OF VIOLENCE AND ABUSE!

 Constance moved toward me first but with a wave of my hand she was knocked back.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” I lifted my arms on either side of me, “Surely you weren’t just planning to attack me? I thought you ladies had questions!”

Red got up and I waved my hand again but this time nothing happened, she walked toward me as I kept trying to propel her backwards and then punched me in the face, now if I wasn’t a gentleman I would have retaliated.

And I am not a gentleman.

I grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall - we went spiraling through the insulation till we were back in the hallway, Red’s form solid now as I pinned her to the ground.

“You killed Emily and you’re making everyone in the mansion miserable!”

“Red!” Constance and the Hostess were in the ‘Cast members only’ doorway, I looked as Constance followed her shout with a gasp.

“What is going on?” My body went rigid which gave Red ample time to flip me off of her and pin me down herself, I looked past the red glowing woman to see Emily standing just down the hall - I had to reach her before…

I felt a cold sensation in my chest and I reached out my hands.

“Let me up! Before she-!”

“Before she what? Remembers everything you’ve done?” I was overwhelmed with the feeling in my heart.

“It’s too late, Emily can… passively influence someone with emotions.” Emily waved her hand and smiled.

“Oh that’s just a little party trick, my real talent is that I can cry on command!” Her smile remained on her face as Red and Constance both looked very concerned. Red let me up and we all returned to the Hostesses bedroom - since it seemed we had all calmed down. “So what WERE you two doing on the floor?” Emily nudged my ribs while wiggling her eyebrows in a suggesting manner.

“Why are you so chummy with him? He’s been forcing you to forget the life you lived! And it’s effecting the other members of the mansion.” Red placed her hands on her hips, “And I’m not into guys, especially not murderers.”

“Hey!” Constance shouted.

“Except you, my deadly dame.”

“I already knew he was making me forget, but he had good intentions! I promise!”

“You knew?” I was even shocked, I had thought she would forget no matter what.

“Yes, but that is no reason to fight!” She wagged her finger at the lot of us, “Do you two want to end up like the dueling brothers? Permanently damaging each other for all eternity?”

“No…” Red and I responded in unison.

“What was that?”

“NO!”

“And YOU mister, you need to explain yourself to these ladies! And stop brainwashing me if it’s hurting the mansion! You’re job is to try to keep us all safe, like Terra, alright?”

“Fine…” I rolled my eyes while crossing my arms.

“Don’t give me that tone!”

“Hold on,” Constance chuckled, “Why do you let HER talk to you that way?” I could feel heat filling my cheeks but tried my best to keep my expression taut.

“Why don’t you mind your business?”

“William!” Emily jabbed me in the gut with her finger, “Be nice! Why don’t you just tell them about your mortal life?”

The two girlfriends were laying on their chests on the bed, chins in their hands, and legs kicking back and forth while the Hostess sat on the floor holding a pillow to her chest.

“Yeah, go on William!”

“Tell us!”

I tried to fight the urge to tell them anything, but the coldness in my chest turned warm - turning my gaze to Emily I saw she was eagerly awaiting my story as well.

“Fine…”

❧

I had a painstakingly boring upbringing, learning from the same tutor everyday, practicing the same instruments, and hearing the same criticisms.

“William I don’t understand why you’re slacking, your brothers never had test scores this low.” or. “William I don’t know why you aren’t picking up the violin - Dorian plays it like a professional.” And even, “William I just don’t understand why your papers are so poorly written, Vincent’s writings are just so fascinating.”

My brothers were fantastic at everything as far as my parents were concerned, you would think this would reflect into my two older siblings but… no.

Dorian was the middle child, he never once even mentioned to me how he excelled in certain subjects. No, Dorian rather spent his time asking me about outfit choices and if his hair looked okay - not exactly humble but he wasn’t cruel either.

Vincent wasn’t boastful either, he spent his times musing about the afterlife or what the ghost of our grandmother had to say regarding my parents poor furniture choices. You see my brother believed he could speak and see the dead - which lead him to fantasize about one day joining the afterlife and wearing a noose around his neck.

The start of things changing happened when the town heard the news.

“So I saw Mrs. Hatchaway this evening in town.” My step-mother said as we all were sat at the dining table.

“Did you?” My father was cutting into his pork chops, “Has she considered marrying her daughter to one of our sons?”

“No dear, she told me that the Mayor’s son has passed away.”

“Claude? Why he couldn’t have been much older than Dorian … What happened to the poor boy?”

“Seems he was mixed up in a carriage accident with a slave woman.”

“Such a shame, people are dying more and more these days.”

Vincent nodded in agreement, “Yes the lucky ones get to go out so much sooner.” He leaned on his palm as he popped part of his pork chop in his mouth. “What a blessing to be young and dead.”

“I have to agree with Vincent,” Dorian chimed in as he wiped his cheek while inspecting his reflection in a steak knife. “I would much rather be young and dead than living long enough to get all…” He shuddered with his tongue sticking out. “… wrinkled.”

“Well it’s too late for that, it seems.” I pulled on the corner of my eye - indicating to Dorian who shrieked and looked closer at his knife.

“That is not funny William!” My step-mother scolded. “Apologize.”

“I’m sorry Dorian’s face looks like a raisin.” I shrugged and wiped my mouth with my napkin.

“What a good joke!” Vincent patted my back, “And a very accurate depiction of decaying skin.”

“YOU THINK MY SKIN IS DECAYING?!” Dorian was breathing heavily, “I need to be excused!” He threw his napkin down as he hurried to the washroom, leaving Vincent and I to snicker.

“Both of you that is enough, William I have no idea what to do with you.” Step-mother sighed, her hazel eyes glaring at me. “I would have thought we reminded you well enough to act better.”

I rubbed my bandaged hand while looking down to my empty plate.

“George, perhaps we need to try again, Elizabeth says that usually once isn’t enough.”

“Mary … I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t worry mother.” Vincent chimed in, “William is still so young - personally I think you didn’t even need to remind him the first time … PERSONALLY I think it was rather cruel you reminded him at all -.”

“Excuse me, I don’t think I need to sit in on this conversation seeing as no one has once asked my opinion on the matter.”

“Sit down William, of course we would like your opinion on the matter.” My father tried his best to be understanding of the situation I found myself in.

I was a bastard.

My mother was a ‘slave’ as the town called her, they also called her a harlot and a temptress. Because apparently my parents COULDN’T have loved each other since they were of two different social classes, no, instead my father was a victim to a devil woman.

And I was the result of it.

But my father persuaded my step-mother to keep me, since I looked nothing like my birth mother. This also meant I never got to know my mother because that woman sent her away.

“I don’t think we do.” My step-mother corrected my father, “He’s hardly earned the right.”

“Just like we had no right to cremate dear Granny.” Vincent sighed, “And yet we did, now everyday when she coughs a little bit of her ash comes out.”

“Shut up, you can’t talk to ghosts.” I grumbled while rolling my eyes, “If you can then why don’t you find the Topper’s? They were ‘mysteriously’ never found right?”

“I don’t think anyone would believe me if I did say.”

“Because you don’t know, is there anything your imaginary friends CAN help with? Other than reminding us we messed up Granny’s burial?”

“Yes actually, they told me we have a visitor during the night in our graveyard.”

Father and Step-mother seemed rather alarmed, “A grave robber perhaps?”

“No … It seems our visitor is mourning.”

“That can’t be, there are no Gracey’s visiting.” Step-mother mumbled, I couldn’t fathom why it was they insisted to take Vincent so seriously! I excused myself from the table again and headed out to the graveyard - at least if there really was a grave robber or something I had somewhere to place my frustrations.

❧

Hours passed while I sat leaned against an unmarked headstone, inside the house I could hear them shouting, father and step-mother.

“You baby him too much! That is why he isn’t excelling!”

“I’m trying! Lord Mary can’t you see I’m trying?”

“Obviously not hard enough!”

I closed my eyes while they screamed, trying my best to fall asleep instead of listening to them argue about what was wrong with me.

I felt something brush against my hand in the grass - making me flicker my gaze open and grab onto someone’s wrist.

“I’m sorry!” A girl dressed in black shouted, she winced as if I was about to strike her.

“Who are you?” I looked at what brushed against my hand, flowers?

“E-Emily …” She whispered, “I just… I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“What the hell are you doing here anyway?” I released her wrist and leaned back on the headstone with my arms crossed.

“Oh, I’m just placing flowers on the graves.” She gave a sad smile, if I hadn’t have been looking so closely I would have missed it. Her lips tilted upwards but her eyes remained tired and dark.

“Why? They aren’t your family.” She took a seat beside me now, holding a bouquet of wildflowers, her tanned fingers were caked in dirt.

“Because my family is … far away… So I thought I would remember the people here.” Emily traced her fingers over the faded headstone letters.

“How ridiculous, none of these people would care about you when they were living - I wouldn’t give them the time of day.”

“You don’t know that, this one could have been the kindest man you had ever met, and that one with the purple flower could have been an amazing opera singer.” She paused a moment as she considered the two headstones beside each other. “They could have been lovers, but they were only brought together by death.”

“Or they were stuck up rich people who only choose to talk to someone if they’re the same social class.” She bowed her head sadly, picking at her flowers.

“Maybe they were loving parents…” I thought she was trying to take a jab at me initially, but then I noticed the tears watering the flowers in her hands. “Maybe they shouldn’t even be in a grave … Maybe they should be walking through the door, apologizing for taking so long.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

She lifted her head and wiped away the tears with a smile, “Of course! It’s my fault really, I have allergies and here I am picking flowers.”

“Don’t lie to me, was that … did you lose someone?”

“It’s nothing really.”

“Hey! I said don’t lie to me!” She chuckled and gave a sad nod.

“My parents passed away about a week ago maybe? I honestly can’t tell, I’ve been cooped up in my room most of the time … It was my fault though, I insisted they take a night for themselves and then …” Emily hugged her knees. “They had an accident that night.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, it just feels so good to talk about it.” She smiled, a genuine smile, I was almost knocked backwards when I saw it. There is little I can do to describe it, it was a smile that conveyed such a feeling inside me as if I were enveloped in warm arms - as if I was just told everything will be okay, that things will work out.

As if I were falling…

“I’m - um - glad I could help.”

“Will you be here tomorrow night? I’d love to see you again.”

“Y-yeah I’ll be here!” I answered so quickly, what was even the matter with me?

❧

I hardly got any sleep that night - because when I dreamed I dreamed of her, she was in a white sundress in a field of those flowers she picked, Her blue eyes were turned to me as that smile kept me entranced. I walked toward her, taking her soft hands only for her to move toward me and right before she would kiss me.

I would wake up.

I had entirely given up on trying to sleep the rest of the morning so I headed into the dining hall where sounds of the servants preparing breakfast could be heard.

“A bit early for you isn’t it William?” Vincent was already sitting at the table with a glass of orange juice in his hand, beside him was another glass which had already been emptied. “Just in time! Granny was telling me all about your date last night.”

“And was ‘Granny’ watching through the kitchen window?”

“Now William, I would never spy on your entire conversation … Just the interesting bits.”

“There wasn’t anything interesting anyway, just some girl leaving flowers in the graveyard.” Vincent leaned over to me as I took a seat beside him.

“Just a girl that is keeping you from getting any sleep right now.” I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. “I had a love like that once, and then she went to study abroad … Ah what I would do for just one more conversation.”

“She’s not my love and I’m not IN love, if mother and father have shown me anything it’s that love creates nothing but bitterness.”

“You have your own life to live, don’t let anyone keep you from what makes you happy.” I couldn’t help it but I actually smiled to Vincent.

❧

Emily and I met up in the graveyard several times, mostly we would talk about life and the things that bothered us but overtime we transitioned into teaching each other to dance. I can’t say I was surprised that Emily was so light on her feet, but I was impressed with how fast she could pick up any dance. This also lead to her teaching me new songs since her parents used to sit with her when they had a moment of peace, and sing her to sleep. Her voice was lovely … it was lovely in a way that broke my heart, a tune that sounded warm and inviting but beneath it felt lonely.

Amazingly as days moved forward life at home didn’t seem quite as dreary, my father and I became closer - he would often share stories about my mother … About how much he loved her. My brothers and I even grew closer as I asked Dorian for advice on what I should wear to impress Emily, I asked Vincent what things I could talk with her about? His answer of course was to talk about the family since we were in the graveyard, surprisingly good advice.

Step-mother seemed to have gotten worse, she would silence herself at the mere mention of the graveyard girl - as well as I believe she may have overheard father talking about his affair with my mother.

But that day…

I know she had something to do with that day.

“I don’t understand! What have I done?” I screamed at father.

“Your mother and I agree that you’ll be taught proper discipline in the Naval forces.”

“She is NOT my mother!”

“You will hold your tongue! This is why you need to be sent away! You are a spoiled boy and that GIRL has filled your head with fantasies!”

“FANTASIES? Because someone actually cares about me even if I am a bastard? Because she doesn’t pity me like YOU PEOPLE!”

Vincent had stepped into the library where we were talking, “Finally! Vincent tell them! They think I should be sent away!”

“Well William, given the news I heard it’s better for you this way.”

“WHAT?!”

“You don’t understand the spirits-.”

“OH MY GOD! ENOUGH WITH YOUR STUPID SPIRITS!”

“Fine! Let’s not lie to the boy! He wants it outright!” I had never seen Vincent angry before, but he marched toward me and grabbed the collar of my shirt. “You managed to piss off that girl’s grandfather! And unless you want to end up on his list you’ll leave!” He shoved me into the bookshelves and huffed. “I invite death, brother, but I’ll hang myself before I have you die first.” And as soon as he was there he left.

“What about Emily?” I growled while I looked to my parents, “I’ll go anywhere so long as I know Emily won’t be punished.”

“She’ll probably be sent to a convent, same as your mother, for being a harlot.” Step-mother sighed, holding her arms as she looked at me sadly. I wasn’t happy hearing that but a convent was better than an asylum.

“She isn’t a harlot, and I’ll hurt anyone who harms her.”

❧

The first ship I got on I was worked to the bone, sword training, mopping the decks, carrying produce to the galley, and various other tasks before finally given real sailing experience.

Everyday I worked on that ship I grew more and more tired, we hardly got food and hardly got paid, I could see in the faces of my crew-mates that they were exhausted.

I had every intention of making it to Captain one day - to getting my own ship- but due to the conditions I sprang at the opportunity to start a mutiny.

And once we had the ship we were unstoppable!

It’s amazing what one can accomplish with a happy crew, we went from town to town and took what we pleased! I gained a reputation from my ruthlessness - Captain Blood they called me, for the ‘B’ burned into my hand.

Part time I would also take jobs from the Kings, Queens, Mayors, and Moyoresses whom requested I ‘get rid’ of the undesirables in their cities. Undesirables can be a lot of things, homeless folks, thieves, and even gypsies. So it was no surprise to get a letter from the Mayor of Liberty Square requesting my services to ‘get rid’ of a band of gypsies loitering in their town.

I also considered this letter as a way to perhaps visit my parents and see how they had been getting on as of late.

❧

We made port along the river and I made it my mission to visit the mansion first - only to find out … Father and Step-mother had passed away.

Upon asking the town they had claimed someone killed them in their sleep, taking nothing from the mansion other than its former owners. Vincent and Dorian both had their own mansions by now and so this one was left to rot, I found it rather suitable that I might take this mansion in place of my parents - and seeing as I was on my way to speak with the Mayor…

I knocked upon his door only to have a servant woman answer and lead me inside to wait in the foyer.

I inspected the mayor’s pictures on the walls, most were of his son - Claude I believe? I could hardly remember seeing as I hadn’t been back here for years. There was something familiar about Claude though, he had remarkable blue eyes - I could have sworn I had seen them somewhere before? If he hadn’t passed away I surely would have tried to bed the man, he was quite handsome.

“Captain Blood.” Came a deep voice from the entrance to the dining room, standing in the doorway was a large man with white hair and a white beard.

“Ah, Mister Mayor! A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I heard you had a problem with a little band of gypsies.”

“Just one.”

“One? From the letter it seemed you were referring to an entire band?”

“The issue of the group has been dealt with by other disgruntled townspeople, however there is one that is still pestering my town.” His eyes seemed to glance to the stairs for a moment before he looked back into my own. “The town has begun referring to her as the canary, normally something so minuscule as this could be handled myself but…” He closed his eyes with a frustrated sigh, “Evidently she’s convinced those of the law and citizens alike that the structure of this town and class systems are to just be ignored, which is why I’ve turned to you for help in this matter - a man with murder in his blood surely can bring her here so I can see to it she is dealt with accordingly?”

I scratched my chin a little as he spoke, this wasn’t just any regular job where I could find new homes for some unfortunate people - it seemed the Mayor was more concerned with keeping his position as the top of some class system.

“I’m not sure I completely agree with your logic, one person can’t overturn how a society is ‘structured’ overnight, and besides towns change! People die off! Some things are inevitable!”

“No!” He stepped toward me but composed himself almost immediately after, “We should not let a born criminal roam the streets impacting those around with lies, the lies should be stopped and the criminal punished accordingly.”

“Do you not trust your own people to think for themselves, Mayor?” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back onto the wall decorated with his family portraits. “I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase ‘you can lead a horse to water but cannot make them drink’, correct?”

“Horses can be broken.”

“I don’t think you understood what I was saying-.”

“I understand that you are not willing to proceed with my request, and if you will not change your mind Captain I would prefer if you would leave my home.”

“Well that is the other interesting thing, I am looking to purchase a plot of land here, that abandoned mansion specifically.” I nodded in the direction of, what I could assume was the mansion next door.

“I already have a gypsy pestering my town Captain, I do not need your kind as well.”

“How about this, you let me purchase that mansion and any of my men that stay back with me are yours to pay to find this enchanting canary girl for you? After all I have some rather sketchy lads in my outfit I’m sure one of them has so few morals as to fulfill your request.” This made the Mayor consider me for a moment.

“Alright, agreed.”

“I do have one stipulation, no murdering, you see murder in a little town like this can get so out of hand and I don’t need the heartache of my men going through that - not to mention this canary business is so tedious, so if that stands to reason with you?”

“Why of course, Captain, I would never wish to be so corrupt as to attempt a murder.” His smile didn’t convince me much but I could only really take this man at his word.

“Good enough for me, now if you excuse me I have a mansion that needs renovating.”

❧

I worked tirelessly with my men on building the mansion, bringing wood, wallpapering, and polishing old marble. It was a sight to behold - if my parents could see it now.

And that night as celebration we snuck into the town- I could hear the gypsy caravan’s music in the distance, I think I got through two houses with a sack full of silvers and gold when I heard my men laughing in the distance as well as another voice.

“Got a whale of a tale to tell you lads! A whale of a tale or two! Bout the flappin fish and the girls I’ve loved on nights like this with the moon above! A whale of a tale and it’s all true I swear by my tattoo!” I rounded the corner and almost laughed, my men were clapping and singing with a little gypsy girl. “There was typhoon tessie!” The girl hopped up on a lamppost across the street, “met her on the coast of java! When we kissed I… bubbled up like molten lava!” She acted like she fainted into the arms of the men and hopped back onto the streets, flipping around her yellow dress as she danced and sang. “Then she gave me! The scare of my young life! Well blow me down and pick me up she was the captain’s wife!” And then the men were all singing.

“Got a whale of a tale to tell ya lads! A whale of a tale or two! Bout the flapping fish and the girls I’ve loved on nights like this with the moon above! A whale of a tale and it’s all true! I swear by my tattoo!” I was leaning on the lamppost watching now but I figured I needed to intervene before someone woke up and saw a girl who was possibly 5’nothing dancing with pirates who were 6’0” or more.

“Alright!” I called out to them with a chuckle, “Get your shit back to the ship and get out of my sight, I need a word with our entertainer.” The men all laughed and said their goodbyes while the girl waved them off with a large smile on her face, she looked to me now and held out her hand. As I approached I got a better look at her, her dark brown hair was framing her face as some wisps kissed her red lips, her blue eyes were almost illuminated with the blue held within, warm brown skin that was being hugged by her dandelion yellow dress, and falling from her hair were white wildflowers.

“Hello, I’m Emily.” I shook her hand as well as lifted her knuckles to my lips.

“Captain Blood, a pleasure to meet you.” She withdrew her hand and gave a rather bashful smile, considering she was just having a midnight concert with pirates. “My dear, I thought they taught girls to stay away from pirates?”

“I guess I don’t listen very well.” She shrugged and then placed a hand on her hip looking me up and down. “And what about you?” I was taken aback.

“Me?”

“I just thought a pirate captain wouldn’t be so scared to dance.”

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Valentine’s Collection} #14

Note: Happy Valentine’s Day! We’ve reached the end of another collection, and I hope it’s been enjoyed! ♥ It was definitely nice to write, to do something to commemorate a holiday that really suits me as a romance author, haha.

This last piece is something special, and a little different from the rest of the collection--it’s a true one-shot, with an involved, AU plot that I’m pretty proud of. It may evolve into a chaptered story at a later date, depending on Monica’s reception of it; it definitely has the potential to be.

As always, thank you for starring in another collection for me, love! 💕 Enjoy. 💋

“If you’re tempted to say no, then think of the tax benefits.”

“Oh, he did not say that,” Dot Dreadful tossed her head back, cackling loudly. “Girl please tell me he did not try to hit you with the tax benefits line!”

Felina Frenzy, known more intimately as Monica, joined in the laughter even as she rushed to affirm, “He did! He fucking did, like what kind of idiot even tries that?!”

“Only a straight white male.” Dot was quick to quip, hazel eyes locking with emerald as she gave Monica a look over her glass. “How many times have I told you to take a dip with some melanin?”

“It’s not my fault the guy was white,” Monica raised her hand, shifting on her high-backed bar stool. She hooked her stiletto around the bottom rung of the chair, crossing one tantalizing leg over the other without a second thought to the gazes that turned just to watch her move.

“How many times?” Dot pressed, tapping one long nail on the reflective bar’s surface.

“A ton, but you’ve also told me to switch to women indefinitely.”

Dot sat her glass on the bar with both eyebrows near her hairline. “Has it steered me wrong?”

“Are you or are you not alone just like I am on Valentine’s Day?” Monica countered. Logic would have pinned Dot to the ground but emotion’s like nailing jello to a fence post--can’t be done, and Dot cupped Monica’s chin, pulling her in for a loud, affectionate smack right on the lips.

“Oh, but I’m not alone, my love, I have the light of my entire life with me.”

Monica fought off the urge to blush at such a public display of affection, whether or not she returned it. “Sweet-talking me doesn’t change the fact that we’re celebrating Valentine’s Day single.”

“That’s why it’s a Gal-entine’s Day,” Dot released Monica’s chin, taking another sip of her Bloody Mary. “Who needs men, or women for that matter? Who needs anyone.”

“Now whose being the sad panda?” Monica teased, turning back to her sea-sapphire blue cocktail. It was some confection made in honor of the holiday and Monica couldn’t remember what the hell it was called, but it was strong and it tasted good, so she was content with the buzz warming her middle.

“On the contrary, my beautiful gal pal, I am embracing my singlehood with a pack of AA’s and a brand new purple best bed buddy.” Dot rocked side to side on her bar stool. “And I bought you a matching blue one.”

“The fact that our friendship has evolved to us sharing vibrators--”

“Ooo, that was not at all my intention but we should totally share!”

“Having a gay best friend is not at all like how they make it look on TV.”

“Oh yeah, if you’re of the same sex we’ll totally hit on you until we wear you down with our wicked gay ways,” Dot wiggled her fingers, pursing her lips in an ‘o’. “That’s actually #7 on our gay agenda.”

“What’s #6?”

“Find an attractive best friend of the same sex, naturally.”

Monica laughed, clinking her glass with Dot’s. “Naturally.”

Around the two best friends, Zealot was abuzz with activity of the rich, affluent, and famous of New Senzannini out to celebrate the most romantic day of the year. The expensive, high-class lounge was currently the hottest spot in the entire city, which was a feat considering the millions of people who called this capital of the world home. Monica and Dot had been living in New Senzannini for a couple years, now, each making their way in similar career paths, side by side. Dot turned to written word, and Monica double-dipped, releasing a series of wildly popular Young Adult novels that transcended simple novels into graphic novels, illustrated by her own hand. Getting your hooks into the upper crust of New Senzannini wasn’t easy to do, but the girls had done it. The problem was, it seemed dating here was the same as it was anywhere else in the world--which explained why Monica and Dot were single and spending Valentine’s Day as a Gal-entine’s Day instead, drinking together and telling horror stories of suitors past. It was easy for Monica to laugh at her most recent ex, who honestly thought proposing to her on the second date (after a very unsuccessful first date, on top of that) with a line about tax benefits was the right way to win her heart. Monica may be a logical girl with a good head on her shoulders but she had a heart that was still soft--even if she hid that from everyone. She’d thought she wanted a man who could meet her logic, but all that seemed to produce were walking, talking business degrees who thought it was romantic to treat marriage like a contract to extract extra tax benefits from the government. Monica may not watch romantic comedies but she did read shoujo manga--she deserved a little romance, at the very least!

“Excuse me?”

Monica turned, locking eyes with a green-eyed stranger dressed to the nines in a well-tailored, three piece suit. He flashed her an attractive smile, his teeth perfectly straight and white, and his $500 haircut was a compliment to the room lights...but Monica just wanted to yawn.

“Yes?” Monica put on a small, tight-lipped smile but the potential suitor didn’t seem to notice.

“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.” The business executive extended his hand to the beautiful woman he was hoping to win over. “My name’s Reagan.”

Monica shook his hand, but she also shook her head. “I appreciate it, Reagan, but I already have a drink--”

It may not have been apparent to anyone else that Monica cut her sentence short, but she had. All at once, she became acutely aware that she was being watched. Her spine slowly stiffened the more her awareness rose, and she felt goosebumps raise on her flesh without really knowing or understanding why. Reagan was saying something to her but she wasn’t hearing a word he was saying; the lounge itself seemed to drop away, other sounds muting out, from the jazz singer in the far corner to the murmur of a hundred different conversations. As the world quietened as if someone had turned the volume down like a dial in her head, Monica became aware of an exhale, a rush of smoky air over her shoulder and it sounded so close she was surprised she didn’t feel the smoke caress over her skin. She turned, slowly, and was even more surprised that the exhale she’d heard was across the lounge, a ways from her seat at the bar. It came from the VIP section, and she watched the smoke curl like beckoning fingers as it drifted from lips she couldn’t see. Whoever was smoking that wicked, exotic looking pipe was leaned back against the lush couch and even as she squinted, she couldn’t make out anything but a tall, well-built frame. She could see his legs, the long limbs crossed elegantly, one over the other, and the silk she could see looked expensive, even by Zealot standards. The hanging lamp that was illuminating his legs was doing an excellent job hitting the glass table beneath it, and Monica could see a large, long-fingered hand move that smoking pipe from his mouth to rest over the back of the couch; the way he moved reminded her of smoke itself. He was elegant, whoever this was, and before Monica could look away, he opened his eyes and nailed her to her stool.

They were a shimmering, luminescent sapphire blue. They glowed, glittered like precious stones worth more than the entire outfit she’d painstakingly put together for this evening--

❝Don’t sell yourself short, beautiful girl. I think you look ravishing.❞

The voice that shimmered in her head reminded her of sunlight filtering through the ocean; it glimmered, caressed like fingers so she shuddered from the echo in her mind. That voice belonged to someone who wasn’t human, someone who carried himself above everyone else, and Monica had a feeling she recognized it simply by the way her entire body tightened at the intimate way he spoke to her. He all but purred at her, and by contrast, Reagan speaking to her sounded like a donkey braying.

❝Amusing, pretty little girl. Tell him to get lost.❞

That purr took on a decided sharp edge with the second part of his sentence and it did not come out like a request. It came out a command. And Monica wasn’t one for just...doing what she was told. People didn’t boss her around, they didn’t tell her what to do; she was independent and she had a mind of her own...except right now, her mind didn’t feel like her own. There was another presence within it, making himself quite at home amongst her thoughts so that she could feel his masculine smirk at her immediate want to defy him.

❝Your defiance is...adorable. I’m not unreasonable. Allow me to give you some incentive to do as I say.❞

Monica wasn’t prepared for him to lean into the light, but the second he did, she knew right away she’d been right--

Zaos Lakhani was the one staring at her, speaking to her telepathically, in a way no human could ever hope to do.

The Zaos Lakhani, the most famous Sorcerer in New Senzannini.

New Senzannini was known as the capital of the world for many reasons, but one of it’s shining examples of affluence was it being a gathering hub for all beings found in the known world. Humans, mutants, meta-humans, superheroes, supernatural creatures--it was a veritable melting pot here and as a result, was it any wonder certain races of creatures found themselves at the top of the food chain? The Elites, they were called, and while the government made no real acknowledgement of them...everyone knew they existed and they knew who they were. Zaos Lakhani was an Elf, and that put him in the shining light of the Elite as Elves were considered an Elite race. Monica may be biased but she felt Elves deserved to be there; she had something of a fixation on them. Dot called it a fetish, but Monica wasn’t going to do that even if it was 100% true--if only because it made her blush anytime an Elf so much as walked past her. Now one of the world’s most famous Elves was openly staring at her?!

❝Now that we have an...understanding, do as I say. Get rid of your little admirer. I detest competition.❞

Monica’s throat ran dry; the way Zaos spoke the word understanding made her think he was aware of her thoughts about his race and the blush that swept up her neck was the color of roses. She was finally able to look away from him, but not before she caught sight of his smirk revealing one elongated fang splitting his perfect, pouty mouth. Zaos was gorgeous and she was in way, way over her head.

“E-Excuse me, R-Reagan, but I really need you to walk away, now.” Monica was barely aware of what she was saying; she couldn’t focus, what with Zaos’s eyes still so clearly on her.

“I’m sorry?” Reagan was surprised by Monica sudden change in demeanor, but he’d been so busy talking about himself he hadn’t noticed she’d missed every word he said. “Was it something I said?”

“Who the hell could tell,” Dot muttered. “You haven’t shut the hell up since you came over here. She’s not into you. Hit the bricks, Wall Street.”

Monica knew the only reason Dot spoke up was in her defense; she probably took Monica’s stammering to mean she was uncomfortable with Reagan and Dot had a tendency to get overprotective real quick. Case in point, both women were staring at Reagan in silent challenge until he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and excused himself. Dot rolled her eyes and signaled for another drink.

“And men say we talk to much,” Dot leaned back in her seat, doing a double take when Monica didn’t move to comment. “You okay, love? Did he actually say something that upset you?”

“N-No, no,” Monica shook her head rapidly. She cleared her throat and then leaned in, watching Dot mirror her movement. “...Z-Zaos Lakhani is here.”

Dot’s face showed she recognized the name, but then one would have to be living under a rock to not. Without having to be told, Dot’s gaze shifted to the VIP section and she pursed her lips; she didn’t share Monica’s fetish for Elves and she found Zaos to be a little conceited. That, and his Family was from the same island she was from, and she knew all about the Lakhani reputation. It was not a good one; there were nine men in the Lakhani line and not a single one of them was good news. From the tyrannical Patriarch with more blood on his hands than Vlad the Impaler, to the homicidal youngest set of twins who were rumored to be serial killers, getting mixed up with that family was asking for trouble. Zaos was one of the nine heads of the Tribe and he’d made his name in magic, dark sorcery that meant people often spoke his name in whispers, and he’d risen to the top of the magic game on a pile of cash from shady deals in other’s misfortune...and death.

You just didn’t mess with a Lakhani, and there’s nine big bad reasons why.

“I see him.” Dot turned to take her fresh drink from the bartender. “What’s that got to do with kicking Wall Street to the curb?”

Monica chewed on her lower lip, doing her best to ignore that Zaos was still staring at her. He’d called her a, “Good girl,” for getting rid of Reagan and Monica was grappling with why that made her feel so good. The longer she didn’t answer Dot, sneaking glances at Zaos, the more suspicious Dot became.

“Baby...I know you’ve got your thing for Elves, but maybe you should...find a different one.” Dot cautioned.

❝As if that would stop me.❞

Monica clenched her thighs together at that masculine purr; Zaos speaking to her so intimately was as though he was speaking against the shell of her ear, with her seated upon his lap, and it took Monica a moment to realize he was projecting that into her mind. Without having to look back at him, she could see his handsome smirk, the ambient room lighting flirting with his cheekbones until she would have sworn he couldn’t be real. With the mental picture he was building she could see him clearly; he was dressed like royalty from a far off land, silk draped over a physique carved from porcelain marble. He had no a single scar on his entire body, and his outfit left only some to the imagination; his chest was bare, the silk draping down his chiseled abdomen in a V-shape that revealed deep grooves in his hips, his pants slung invitingly low. The silk over his arms ended at his wrist, drawing attention to long, painted claws still cradling a pipe that smelled of a rain forest. Monica could smell it, smell him; he smelled good enough to make her mouth water, or maybe that was the way he looked? He looked an entire temptation, his long, pale blond hair framing his head like a halo...but it was a halo that would have to be propped up by horns. There was nothing innocent about Zaos Lakhani and as she continued to helplessly notice every single thing about him, she was unaware he was doing the exact same thing to her.

Zaos had been staring at her since the moment she arrived; he had simply hidden that from her. He’d been content to watch her, study her like a predator from the shadows as she drank and shared laughs with her friend. Zaos had not gotten to his lofty position as a godlike Sorcerer by rushing his hand, but then he should have known others would take notice of this Felina Frenzy...Monica as she was known to close friends and family. Zaos immediately counted himself amongst them; he was entitled and he was demanding, and he saw something he wanted. Needed, until the rest of Zealot dropped away and it wasn’t like anyone or anything could hold his attention for long to begin with. Zaos was a Prince, had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and now that he was an adult, a formidable Sorcerer with access to realms others couldn’t even dream of, he could get anything he wanted. He’d seen it all, or so he’d thought, until Monica sauntered into the lounge looking like all the world’s treasure encased in red silk and stiletto heels. Zaos had actually commanded the entire VIP section to silence when she’d entered, waving his hand with an absent spell to silence his entourage because he wanted not a single distraction. The way she moved stirred heat in his belly, made his mouth water as she lifted herself onto her bar stool and her thighs parted just so she could cross her legs--as an Elf, his senses were nothing to scoff at and the scent of her was easy to pinpoint amongst the riff raff around them. Like a piece of forbidden fruit dangling out of his reach, he longed to sink his sharp teeth into her flesh.

Would she cry? Scream? Gods, he hoped so.

It had been unexpected, due to his own distraction, that someone else moved on her before he had but that was remedied easily enough. Zaos was not one to lose, ever, and if Monica hadn’t succeeded in getting that cretin to walk away, Zaos would have easily manipulated his mind and caused him to enter the bathroom, open one of the windows, and leap out to his death several stories below. Zaos had no regard for other life and he was certainly not going to apologize for being so...possessive over what he was pursuing. Who wouldn’t be possessive of such a delicious little treasure? Zaos’s clawed fingers actually twitched with the want to feel her soft skin, to trail his hand up her bare legs to delve between her thighs--he imagined her panties were silk like her dress, but she had to be in a tempting little thong. He couldn’t spot any pantylines on that round little bottom and he’d been staring at it, hard, for what seemed like hours. Her waist tucked in, and he knew just by looking at her that it would compliment his large hands; her waist tempted his eyes further up to her full breasts and his mouth watered, again, so eager was he to delve his tongue between them. To taste, sample, savor, and maybe he would pierce her nipples with his fangs, listen to her cry as he fitted her with two crystal barbells so that he could monitor where she was at all times. It wouldn’t do to have her out of his sight, not when she was so breath-takingly gorgeous. The world didn’t deserve her but he did. He deserved to be the one to fasten his lips, his teeth to her throat and mark her, drain her so that her sweet blood flowed like nectar down his throat and he could carry her in his heart, always. He imagined she’d struggle, push weakly at his chest but he would take her resistance and shatter her into a million pieces...only to put her back together again just to show her he was the only one who could.

Well...the only one of nine, perhaps.

Zaos’s free hand extended and with practiced, unconscious ease, his wine glass lifted from the table and floated into his waiting fingers. He took a casual sip, but even the expensive wine tasted sour when what he wanted was Monica. Now that he’d made up his mind, or rather she’d made up his mind for him by being so tempting, he knew he’d never be satisfied without her. He replaced his wine glass upon the table with a wave of his hand, ignoring the stares of awe he received from the others in the section; he knew he was impressive and he didn’t need the masses to tell him so. Instead, he was focused on his phone, retrieving it from it’s resting place in his lap. There was no shyness as he raised it, snapping a picture of Monica seated at the bar.

« Our new Pet. Thoughts? »

The group message between himself and his Tribe was scarcely used and thus, when it was, everyone paid attention to it. His father, Atamu, was the first to respond to the message and the attached picture.

« Do not come home without her. »

Zaos smirked; he was used to the abrupt, demanding way his father spoke and he wondered how Monica’s stubborn, fiery temper would handle standing up to the intimidating Patriarch.

« Gorgeous...What does she smell like? »

The Omega, Tod, was arguably the most...creepy of the Lakhani Tribe, and it was no surprise he asked this question. Zaos typed out a response with ease.

« Like heaven, Tod. »

« Send me her panties. Tonight. »

Zaos’s smirk only mildly concealed his laugh.

« But of course. »

It would be no consequence to port them to Tod and the poor boy deserved it; he needed a good release, and Zaos knew that was exactly what he would be doing--with those panties pressed against his nose, his other fist wrapped around his thick, weeping cock.

The next three to respond to the message were also no surprise; the Alpha Triplets, known to others as the Von Triplets, responded in their birth order. Cavon, then Savon, then Luvon, one right after the other in rapid fire succession.

« I’m gonna fuck her until she bleeds. Bring her home NOW. »

« Exceptional as always, Zaos. She is by far the prettiest Pet anyone has ever had. And I cannot wait to ruin her~ »

« The only good Pet is a well-bred one. I will make sure she is, until she is so round and swollen with child she won’t be able to think of leaving. »

Zaos looked impressed, which was saying something considering the source--for Luvon to be so vocal must mean Monica was truly calling to him, as she was doing to the entirety of his twisted, perverted Family.

« Is she as soft as she looks? As...breakable? »

That one was Markus, and Zaos could almost hear the controlled, measured tone. Out of the entire Family, Monica would likely fall the easiest for Markus because he was a master manipulator. He would seem her knight in shining armor, her safe place amongst monsters, while all the while he took from her greedily because he had both the most and least self-control of any of the Lakhani. He was needy, lonely, and Zaos could hear the desperation in his tone without needing to speak to the man. Monica was a tangible need in his life immediately, simply by a picture alone.

« You’ll have to tell me yourself once she’s home, Markus. »

« Send me a few more pictures, please. »

Zaos would indulge that for Markus, for the rest of the Tribe, and himself once he had Monica here beside him.

« Is she going to be our new Mommy? »

That was Jax, the youngest Lakhani but there was no mistaking he was one of the most dangerous because he had absolutely zero control over himself. He was maniacal, unhinged, a broken boy in desperate need of someone to cling to and while the question of wanting a new Mommy might sound sweet...Zaos knew his little brother better. The boy was going to pervert his relationship with Monica the second he sunk his teeth into her; she would be gaining two sons in the youngest twins, but it would be the most taboo Mother/son relationship in history.

« ...Mother. »

The last response was Jax’s twin Lucca, but like Luvon, the fact that the boy spoke at all was a momentous occasion. The text message read as if he was staring Monica in the eye, his hands reaching for her face before he pulled her in for a kiss that would steal her breath and her rejection all in one. Lucca was the void beside Jax’s tornado of a personality but he was just as insane as his twin. The two boys were young, freshly into their twenties, but they would behave like sick, depraved little boys for Monica. Their new Mommy.

« Lovely you all approve. I’ll bring her home to the Island in the morning, once I’ve got her life all packed up here. »

Zaos knew what he was bringing Monica home to, and he knew she had no idea what was coming her way--but he didn’t feel remorse for that. Why should he? The life of a Pet was a privileged one.

The secret life of Elite Society came with plenty of perks, but the most depraved was the buying and selling, the acquiring of Pets. It was an entire sub-culture of the Elite, and it was exactly what it sounded like. Anyone who was not an Elite could be considered a Pet, and it doesn’t matter the species. In other lifetimes, perhaps in other realities, one might compare it to the rich and famous wanting to own a tiger, to show off their wealth with such an exotic pet. Here in New Senzannini, the Elite have taken it a step further and begun owning people as Pets.

While it could be seen as a status symbol, owning a Pet, it also ran much deeper than that. For supernaturals, the acquisition of a Pet could mean a lifemate, a bond so deep it transcends lifetimes. Some Elites, supernatural or otherwise, take numerous Pets, either by trafficking or through more “legal” channels of purchasing them legitimately from Pet websites. To any who were not Elite, the life of a Pet may seem glamorous. Yes, one essentially gives up their freedom and becomes property of another, but becoming the Pet of a caring Elite means never having to work again. It means living in the lap of luxury, doted upon and spoiled much like one would expect from a Sugar Daddy/Mommy. Pet websites don’t list kidnapped victims but show willingly applicants wanting to become Pets, which says something for the lifestyle. Some aspects of it are legal, others...not so much. Usually there are contracts involved if an Elite wants a legal Pet, but kidnapped Pets are not uncommon. Zaos was hoping to meet Monica...somewhere in the middle. He was a persuasive man; he had every confidence he could get her to sign her life away to him, to put on a Pet ring and give herself over to the Tribe.

Unfortunately for her, he would not be taking no for an answer.

None of the Lakhani’s had ever taken Pets before. There was simply no interest, no desire, no one good enough to incite that primal need to possess, to claim, but Monica had changed all that and she had no idea. It amused Zaos, to know that her life was about to become their life, and the burning desire to keep her was a tangible thing, sitting heavily upon his chest. This was what they had all been waiting for. She was who they had all been waiting for. It was time to make his move.

“--and they’re just...they’re no good,” Dot was in the middle of trying to explain to Monica just what was wrong with the Lakhani but she didn’t feel she was making much headway.

Monica was listening, of course she was, but she couldn’t...help but find that aspect of danger a little...exciting. She licked her lips and sat up a little straighter. “They’re from your island, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like they just live there, love, they own that island. Rule it.”

“So most of them are still there?”

Dot nodded. “I think Zaos and Markus are the only ones who aren’t there very often.”

“Markus?” Monica tried to keep the interest out of her voice, but the more she learned about this Tribe...the more she wanted to learn.

“He’s a Skinwalker, not an Elf. Their whole Family are Shapeshifters. Most of them are Werewolves, but the Chieftain is a Werelion.” Dot realized a little late she wasn’t necessarily warning Monica off...more like feeding the flames. “Babe, you are hearing me, right? They’re seriously dangerous.”

“I know! I know, I hear you, I do.” Monica gave Dot a reassuring smile. “I really appreciate you looking out for me but really, it’s not like anything is going to happen! I’m definitely not just going to walk up to Zaos and--”

“Miss?”

Dot and Monica turned, spying one of the Bouncers from the VIP section standing in front of them. His focus was on Monica.

“Y-Yes?”

“Mr. Lakhani would like you to join him in the VIP Section.”

“Oh lord, here we go,” Dot muttered.

Monica couldn’t help it; she turned surprised eyes on Zaos, who only made it worse by lifting his hand, beckoning to her with two clawed fingers in a “Come here,” gesture that should be illegal, it was so sexy.

“I-I...I.” Monica trailed off, unsure what to say. She floundered for a moment, looking over at Dot, who had her eyebrows raised and was shaking her head. “P-Please tell him t-thank you, but i’m here with my friend--”

“Mr. Lakhani offered to pick up her tab if she’d be willing to relinquish you for the evening.”

“He thinks he can buy my date with free Bloody Mary’s?” Dot asked. The Bouncer nodded, once.

“Yes.”

Dot shifted her gaze from the Bouncer, to Zaos, then to Monica...and she had to admit, she could see the desire in Monica’s eyes. The Lakhani weren’t exactly...the sort of people you’d want your best friend hanging out with, but Dot also wasn’t going to ruin Monica’s Valentine’s Day. This was akin to a celebrity asking her over for drinks and Dot knew she wanted to go. Besides, what was the worst thing that could possibly happen? It’s a public place.

“...Aight, fine.” Dot gestured with a wave of her hand.

“A-Are you sure, Dottie?” Monica turned to the Bouncer. “Maybe she could come sit in the section with me?”

“Mr. Lakhani has already cleared the section. It will just be you two.”

That started Monica’s heart like a drum, and she barely had time to reason as to why he’d do that before Dot was giving her cheek a kiss--and speaking lowly against her ear.

“Text me the ❥ emoji if you need me to come get you,” Dot picked an emoji that wouldn’t raise alarms if Zaos happened to notice her sending it. “Be careful, sweetheart. These guys are the big leagues.”

“I-I will,” Monica returned Dot’s affection with a hug, before Dot took her fresh Bloody Mary and slipped off the bar to wander toward the couches by the pianist, still nearby if Monica needed her.

The Bouncer offered Monica his hand to help her down from her chair, but her knees nearly buckled when Zaos’s voice brushed against her mind again.

❝It amazes me how much I detest other people touching you.❞

She didn’t know what to say, and she wasn’t surprised when the Bouncer released her almost immediately after helping her down. She didn’t have to ask to know that was all Zaos’s doing, and it gave her a pause at just how powerful he really must be. Dot had been serious with her warnings and Monica knew enough about Zaos to know he was infamous and to some, feared, but there was a part of her that just couldn’t ignore the attraction, the want to bask in the attention he was giving her. Was this a bad idea? Probably, it was more than likely a terrible idea, but Monica had never said she had a ton of self-control. He was an Elf, and she’d never even had the opportunity to talk to an Elf before, much less sit down and share Valentine’s Day drinks with one.

True to what the Bouncer said, the VIP section was empty when Monica arrived. Zaos stood when she entered, an Old World gesture that was extremely flattering, but also showed Monica this Elf was over seven feet tall. Zaos was stockier than most Elves tended to be; with well-defined muscle mass that was easy to see now that she was so close to him. He offered his hand as she came to stand in front of him and as she placed her hand in his, he bent his spine to kiss the back of her hand.

“At last, Monica, we meet formally. You are even more beautiful up close.”

“T-Thank you, Mr. Lakhani.”

“Zaos, darling, please.” Zaos stressed, and he kept hold of her petite hand, urging her to sit upon the couch. He lowered himself beside her, extremely close, so that their thighs touched and she was nearly beneath the hollow of his broad shoulder. Only one they were seated did he release her hand, moving his arm around the back of her seat, his hand falling to her bare shoulder and she had to fight off a shudder at the touch of his sharp claws against her skin. “I’m delighted you accepted my invitation.”

Zaos had a...peculiar way of speaking; what he was saying sounded polite, charming, but Monica could hear that distinctive purr beneath his baritone, and it was a purr she knew could crack like a whip if he wanted to. He was an Elf, so his voice would be naturally, beautifully smooth, but on top of that he was a Sorcerer and their voice is half their power; Monica realized perhaps a little too late that he could probably get her to do anything with that black magic voice alone. His words seemed to be sentient, trailing over her skin like his fingers upon her shoulder and now that she was so close, his pipe was heady, a rich scent of incense that was a pleasing tickle beneath her nose. When he moved to take an inhale on the hand-carved long pipe, a jingling caught her attention and she was finally able to see his ears. They were long, splitting his tawny blond hair and they were pierced all the way up; the bells he wore jingled merrily when he moved and when he noticed her staring, he wiggled his ears. The bells rang and Monica had to fight off the urge to squeal excitedly.

Zaos Lakhani certainly had a presence to him and she was falling beneath it very quickly.

Zaos was not immune to her presence, however. There was nothing, nothing that could have prepared him for how much sweeter she smelled so close. He swallowed thickly, exhaling a plume of smoke from his nostrils in a desperate attempt to clear his head but every time he inhaled, he took her a little deeper into his body and he could feel her twisting around his lungs like rose vines. He had absolutely made the right decision in picking her out of the crowd and no matter what the outcome of this conversation, she would not be without him, without the Lakhani’s, again in her life. It mattered very little to Zaos how she might feel about the arrangement, about the offer to be a Pet--it didn’t matter what they called it, what label she was given, the bottommost line would be that she would be theirs, she would be his, and that was all that mattered. In the scant time Monica had been in his life, she’d taken it over--so it was only fair that he do the same for her with a Pet ring, right? Of course he was right. Zaos was always right. If Monica wasn’t happy with the arrangement initially...she’d come around. She wouldn’t have a choice, because he was not going to give her up and if she tried to flee, the other Lakhani would come. They’d had a taste and like sharks with blood in the water they would be relentless in their pursuit. Zaos traced intricate, ancient patterns into the bare skin of her shoulder with the tips of his claws as he smirked to himself; his Tribe was not known for many nice things but what he found nice was to have their support. Yes, it meant he would have to fight his possessive nature to share her with the rest of them but she would find it so much harder to escape all nine of them. It put the Sorcerer at ease, and he crossed one long leg over the other, fully aware as his body brushed against Monica’s.

“Tell me, Monica,” he drawled, his unique accent adding to his exotic appearance. “Why are you alone on Valentine’s Day?”

Monica could have no way of knowing she was walking in a minefield; Zaos was asking because he needed to know if there was competition to take out. He could pluck the information from her mind, and he would, just to make sure she wasn’t downplaying some idiot’s interest in her (how could a woman so beautiful not have a hundred suitors?) but if he were honest with himself he was desperate to hear her voice. She had a voice that made one long for the bedroom, for candles and silk sheets and hours to spend with her wrapped around him, milking him while she cried, screamed for him and him alone. Zaos’s touch became a bit more insistent, moving from her shoulder up into her hair, crushing the soft strands between his strong digits.

“W-Well I,” Monica tried to think around Zaos playing with her hair, touching her, but it was near impossible. “I-I just d-don’t have a b-boyfriend this year?”

Zaos’s smirk was downright savage, a thing of masculine beauty and Monica found herself helplessly staring at those rows of sharp teeth, right down to his elongated fangs.

“What a loss for the rest of the world,” he mused, turning those brilliant eyes down to her. “But not for me, hm?”

Monica didn’t know how to answer that, and she had to look away, fidgeting until she crossed her own legs--the pressure on her clit felt nice. She’d just been so...hot, since Zaos started talking to her.

“What if I could make you a promise that you would never have to spend another Valentine’s Day alone, ever again?”

There it was. That black magic that slithered over her skin like a mamba, and Monica’s gaze snapped back up to Zaos without her consciously aware of the movement. He towered over her but still he pressed closer, leaning down into her space so that their noses nearly touched.

“Everyone shames Eve for taking the apple, for biting into the forbidden fruit, but I have always applauded her initiative,” Zaos’s sharp teeth clacked audibly as he took a deep drag off his pipe, his eyes nailing Monica to her seat. When he spoke, the wisps of his rain-scented smoke wafted between them, caressing along her cheek and throwing a haze of magic like an unbreakable spell. “Why shouldn’t she have what she wants? And on that same hand, my dear, sweet girl, why shouldn’t you?”

“H-How...” Monica cleared her throat, desperate to look away from the ocean in his eyes. “How do you know...what I want?”

“Because it is the same thing I want, my darling.” Zaos brought his hand up, his fingers brushing against her temple as he pushed her hair from obscuring her face from him--he would have nothing between them. “Are you going to tell me you don’t want me?”

“I-I--”

“If you force me to play this game of Cat and mouse, I’ll slip my fingers between your thighs and feel that slick heat for myself,” Zaos’s whisper was sin against Monica’s mouth--when had he gotten so close?! His promise tinted her cheeks a beautiful rouge and he made a deep noise of approval, turning his head to nuzzle her heated flesh. “I bet you taste of honey and strawberries, don’t you, little girl?”

“Z-Zaos, w-wait,” Monica shakily reached up to push at Zaos’s chest but that was a mistake. His open silk suit was a trap in and of itself and as soon as she felt the heavy muscles beneath his unblemished skin, she forgot her objections. Zaos smirked against her cheek, his lips moving to her ear.

“You know who I am, Monica. What I can do,” Zaos tempted, his hand curving around her waist to ease her closer still, hating even the scant few inches of space between them. “I could give you anything in the entire world with the snap of my fingers.”

Monica exhaled shakily, all too aware of Zaos’s deep inhale in response, as if he was taking her into his lungs. Her trembling fingers slipped up to his throat for some sort of anchor and he made a deep noise of approval at the slide of silk skin against his own.

“W...What would you want in return?”

“Clever girl, knowing nothing in the world is free.” Zaos drew back from her ear--but not before leaving a teasing lick against the shell, earning him a startled whine that hardened his cock unbearably in an instant. He exhaled in a quiet groan, before giving up on fighting his desire and in a moment’s time Monica was in his lap, straddling him. Zaos was so much larger than she, it forced her thighs so far apart she was forced to settle right over his thick, straining cock and her startled eyes flew to his but he was already smirking. He knew he was...gifted, and he knew she was so petite it would be a delicious burn when he fitted himself between her thighs and claimed her for the first time. That tight little cunt would be sore for days afterward.

Now that she was in his lap, Zaos knew he held all the power, and he knew she would be too distracted to realize he was just as much under her spell as she was under his. Obsession is funny, that way.

“Are you aware of the Elite concept of Pets, Monica?”

She bit her lip, nodding, but it was a gesture Zaos nearly missed--he was too busy focusing on those little teeth fitted against her plump lower lip. Everything about Monica was petite, a small gift from the heavens and Zaos kept one hand around the small of her back, ensuring she didn’t shy away from him. He couldn’t tolerate space between them, right now--perhaps never again.

“Then you know what I want from you.”

Monica met Zaos’s gaze, her heart stopping and then starting so loudly she could barely hear anything else. The entire lounge seemed to cease to exist and if she had the presence of mind to ask, Zaos would have reassured her that he was the only one who could see her; it was effortless to obscure them from prying eyes, and Zaos had been desperate to keep her attention, her beauty, all to himself all evening.

“Y-You want...?”

“I want you to be my Pet.” Zaos was not exactly lying; he did want Monica to be his Pet. He simply wasn’t telling the entire truth; that if she agreed to be his, she was agreeing to his entire Tribe. That was a conversation for a later date, when she’d already signed her life to him and could not possibly hope to escape him. Right now, he conjured up his Pet ring (all Elites had them, whether they decided to use them or not) and as he held the shimmering, expensive piece of jewelry toward Monica like the apple that tempted Eve, he gave her a charming, serpent’s smile. “I want you, Monica. If you give yourself to me, the rest of the world can be yours.”

For the first time in her life, Monica understood that old biblical tale and she understood why Eve gave in. Everything about Zaos was otherwordly, from his appearance to the casual way he manipulated time and space with his magic; she knew he hadn’t had the ring on him, that he’d conjured it up from whereever he’d been keeping it. It shimmered even in the ambient lighting; it appeared similar to a normal wedding ring but she knew, she’d read they were different. They bind a Pet to their Elite, linked by magic or maybe technology or maybe it was some combination of both--that she didn’t know, but she knew if she put that ring on, she would never be able to remove it on her own. Elites take their Pet ownership seriously...and she had no doubt that Zaos would be the type to take it extremely seriously. She wouldn’t be able to leave him...but would she want to? If Zaos was trying to confuse her, to use his sexuality and his obvious advantage over her for so many reasons, it was working. For a fleeting moment, Monica thought to her phone upon the couch cushions but even as she turned toward it, Zaos caught her chin with his fingers, the ring in the palm of his large hand.

“I won’t have you paying attention to anyone else right now, little one.” There was little room for argument, even as Zaos ran his sharp claw over her lower lip, his eyes devouring her as he stared down at her. He was so much taller, she couldn’t even see over his shoulders. “Say yes to me. You know it feels right. It feels...good, doesn’t it?”

There was pressure exerted as Zaos gripped her ass through her dress, forcing her to grind against his covered erection and the pressure on her barely covered clit had her parting her lips in a gasping pant. In the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t fair, this was cheating, a tactic Zaos must be using to throw her off her logic. But it was so hard to think...because it did feel good.

“Say yes, Monica, and I will satisfy that ache you feel,” Zaos slipped his hand around the nape of her neck, pulling her forward so her forehead against against his, his smoky breath a caress against her mouth. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To feel me, deep inside, claiming you?” Zaos’s eyes were sin incarnate, his words a mirror of his actions and Monica could hardly think for drowning in him. His tone silken, imploring, so tempting she couldn’t imagine saying no. “Be a good girl and tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’ll belong to me.”

“...Y...Y-Yes,” Monica was barely aware of what she was saying, but her body was betraying her and so was her heart. Her mind could hardly keep up with the assault on her senses, and all she knew...was that she loved how it feel when Zaos purred out--

“Good girl,” he urged her forward, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss that curled her toes in her stilettos. There was no space between them, her body forced to his and she found she didn’t...want to resist. Her shaking fingers were pressed to his chest, trapped between their bodies as Zaos drank from her mouth, kissing her so thoroughly she knew she was in over her head. No one should be able to kiss the way Zaos could; he was all silk heat and Dominance, so that she was parting her lips for him without needing to be told. His tongue swept along hers, claiming, exploring, tasting every inch of her he could reach and she was so distracted by his kiss that it took her a moment to realize he’d slipped the ring over her finger--but when it bonded to her flesh, she drew back from the kiss to stare down at it. It didn’t...hurt, but she’d have to cut her finger off to get the ring off. The only one who would be able to remove it was Zaos--

“Don’t be silly, little one.” Zaos pressed a kiss to her forehead, finally able to relax now that he’d cemented her forever--by claiming it. “That ring will never be taken off. You are mine, now and forever.”

Monica took a shuddering breath, feeling her lips beginning to swell from the force of Zaos’s claim. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she was such a strange mixture of excited and petrified. Zaos slipped his hand up from her perfect little ass to her back, urging her to lie against his chest as he picked up his phone with his free hand, swiping to open the camera to take a picture of her lying on him, the ring clearly on display upon her finger.

“Smile, my love. We have to tell the others the good news.”

“T-The others?”

Zaos’s smirk could be felt against her hair as he snapped the picture to send to the ravenous, waiting Tribe. “Oh, darling. You have so very much to learn.”

The End...?

[kmtapman-blog]

London Crow (chapter 1)

The first time I ever saw him was on my way inside the organic grocery store, the next town over. Six-five, leaning against a stone wall in the shopping center’s breezeway, hidden by shade. Arms crossed, one leg on the wall, dark sandy hair trying and failing to conceal gleaming amber eyes boring directly into me. Why? Why was he staring at me? I didn’t even notice him at first. He wasn’t even remotely in my line of vision and yet... I had felt something caressing the back of my neck, gently, but possessively. Tugging at my line of vision. And that was when I turned my head and saw him.  I can’t truthfully say he was wearing all black. It was more that everything he wore seemed to be a shade of pure darkness. Long coat, lazily buttoned collared shirt, fitted jeans, shining boots, all dark. Dark and indiscriminate. As I caught his eye my breath hitched in my chest, but it wasn’t the least bit painful. It was like acceptance. And, unabashed, he continued to bite his thumbnail slowly, lazily, and stare through me like stained glass.    I must have stopped walking, because my father ran into the back of me, and I came back to life at the beep of his truck locking. “Woah! Easy there, Buttercup. I need a warning if you’re gonna bird watch in the middle of the street like that.” His lopsided smile ruined any attempt he made at looking stern. He pushed a knuckle into the side of my head and I snapped my mouth shut and kept walking.  “Sorry Dad.” I said honestly, but my eyes wandered helplessly back to the breezeway in search of those amber eyes. No one was there, but I very distinctly saw black feathers falling in the place he’d once been standing.  I spent the rest of the trip in a deep hazy sort of trance, trying to figure out who he was, and why his eyes had shine so brightly in the September shade. I was in the passenger seat with the groceries unloaded in the back before I came to, watching trees and fields pass by on the backroads to my dorm.  “Nana? Nana Marie Hendrick? Can I have a little of my daughter’s time before I have to drop her back to school?” “Huh?” I blushed in embarrassment, shifting my seat towards him. “Sorry, What were you saying?” He gave me a quizzical look before continuing. “Are you alright, baby? Is Vine Ridge putting too much pressure on you? I know it’s your second year at university, and it’s a lot to take in. But if you don’t feel up to it, you can come home at any time.” He spared me as sympathetic a look as he could while driving. I smiled back, feeling guilty.  “Sorry Dad. I’m not stressed out, just preoccupied.” I tried to look innocent, but he wasn’t buying it. Lionel Hendrick, my father, was a hard working man, mayor of a small town called Starting Sun, where just the two of us had lived for most of my life. He had undergone a lot of stress when I decided to leave town and study Literature at Vine Ridge University. These weekend trips to restock my dorm were all the time we got to spent together before he dropped my off and went back home, alone. I worried about him a lot, but he had made it clear that I was to live my own life, and on no account worry about his.   “Hey Dad,” I started coyly. “I know you’ve probably got a lot of stuff to do since it’s Sunday night and all, But do you think we could go to Maeci’s real quick? I have a book party to go to this week and I want to wear something nice.”   This wasn’t, strictly speaking, true. I did have a book party to attend for a professor of mine, but I’d had almost no intention of dressing up or looking nice for my Advanced English Lit classmates. If my father at all sensed this, he did not let on. His spirit looked visibly brightened at the thought.  “You wanna come back home to boring old Starting Sun, huh? I’ve got all the time in the world, but...” He looked me up and down, taking in the over-sized black sweater, Dark tights, distressed shorts and, of course, my ratty old combat boots. “Are you sure Maeci’s is gonna have what you’re looking for?” I had to laugh at that. He knew my idea of “High end” was to buy from the front half of a second hand store. “Then again, you’re probably right. you’ve got a better chance of finding what you’re looking for in a witches den.” As he turned off the wide back road and onto a muddy side road deeper in the trees, I pulled my knees onto the seat with me, a difficult task considering the size of my thighs. When I was a kid, there was a rumor going around that Maeci was a witch who only sold artifacts from another dimension. This rumor died out pretty quick when she started selling people’s second hand clothes and heirlooms. I honestly think it was the big glass eye that put people off, but maybe it was just because an old woman moved into a small town of people who all knew each other’s families and secrets.  My father pulled into a space down the block from Maeci’s and put a few quarters in the meter. We walked up to her shop, enjoying the sunshine and making dinner plans when I saw an old friend standing in front of her tiny shop as it stood squished between two law offices. “Dominick?” I quickened my pace and ran to hug him. He was taller than me, tan and hazel eyed with lines in his face feigning a maturity he hadn’t yet attained. His dark hair was still as short and curly as ever. He never wore anything other than jeans and a white t-shirt. He was my best friend, and I hadn’t seen him in a months.  “Nana.” He picked me up and crushed me to him, inhaling deeply. “It’s been too damn long you little rat. Where have you been?” I shoved him in the ribs and he laughed, biting his bottom lip. “I have school. You know, the thing you dropped out of- ?” Dominick glanced at my father and quickly put a hand over my mouth, but it was too late.  “Dropped out? Uh-oh, do I need to make some calls?” My father walked up with his hands in his pockets, lines standing out on his forehead. “Ah... N- Well yes sir, It’s just for- I got a job.” He finished breathlessly. “A job.” My father stared at him, unsmiling. “Yes sir. Only, my mom doesn’t know about it yet, so, if you could... I mean I don’t want you to lie...” “You might wanna run and tell her then, I see her at the town meeting tonight.” He raised his eyebrows seriously, and Dominick gulped. “R-right.” He gave me a death glare and waited for my father to enter the store before he tapped me in the back of the head none-too-gently. “Have you lost your mind?!” He whispered in a hiss. I chuckled at his flushed face. “Why are you whispering? It’s the middle of the day and we’re outside.” “Hush. What are you doing here?” He grabbed my arms and pulled me away from the doorway, not that anyone was in danger of going inside. “What, I can’t come back home for a weekend?” Dominick gave me an “Oh, please” sort of look and I smirked back in spite of myself. “Dad’s been alone a lot hasn’t he? working too hard? in the office late? I just want him to know he still has me. That’s all.” Dominick pursed his lips and nodded, but said nothing. My father knocked on the glass harshly and Dominick jumped, pulling his hands away from my shoulders. He gave Dominick a stern look and tilted his head towards the diner his mother worked at. Dominick gave a strong salute and trotted off backwards, giving me a crooked smile full of pearly teeth. They almost looked like little fangs the way he showed them off. I rolled my eyes and walked into Maeci’s, fully ready for the heavily incensed air.  There was only room to walk around in Maeci’s in the sense that it was not an impossibility. If I ever needed to train for an obstacle course in ducking windchimes and dream catchers, twisting sideways to avoid porcelain figurines and colored glass bottles and hopping over things like ancient rusted trunks and stacks of books in dead languages, I would come here. There were glass cases filled with expensive looking jewelry and gems of all colors. I saw sapphires and emeralds glaring back at me, hiding an enormous black oval stone with silver stars and a blood red teardrop on a spindly silver chain. I spent ten minutes looking through the furniture and coughing up dust from the various cabinets and armoires standing around the store. Finally, I made it to the back of the store, where the few dresses she had sat on a lone rack spanning the length of the book-covered wall. I passed over all the pinks, yellows and greens, paused briefly at the blues and lingered for a while in the blacks. My father came up to me and started eagerly looking through the dresses from the other side. “Dad, what are you doing?” I asked warily.  “I want you to look nice, I thought I’d help. Oh! This is perfect, here, whadaya think?” “Dad, I appreciate the help but I don’t want-” I stopped dead and looked at the dress he was holding up. It was a dark blood red fading into an even darker shade at the bottom, with small glittering dots in the fabric. It swished and shimmered, but not too much. It was large enough to house my thighs and hide my stomach. the straps were thick enough to hold my chest. It was perfect. “See? Your old man’s got some decent taste right? You thought I was gonna pick up some old moo moo-”  “Yeah yeah give it here.” I snatched it from him and left to try it on behind the curtain housing an old dusty mirror with the paint peeling from the frame. I prepared myself for the moment when the fabric would refuse to house my curves, but, it didn’t come. The fabric stretched gracefully over my shoulders, then my chest and hips and finally, fell swishing to my knees. I took a deep breath and held it. I could breathe. I sat down. It didn’t constrain me. I pulled the scrunchie out of my hair and tried to make my curls look decent. It didn’t really work with the dents from my ponytail, but I could see the picture. I looked... Good. It was really hard to think that to myself confidently, but, I did.  I opened the curtain and showed my father.  “There’s my girl.” He said quietly. Something in his face looked pained for a moment, and then it went away. “Look just like your mother. Tall and beautiful.” “Dad, mom was thin, pale and had pin straight red hair.” In contrast to my thick frame and brown, well, everything, it seemed like more an insult to compare me to someone who looked like Rose from Titanic. “I’m talking about the air around you. Looks aren’t everything. But you’ve definitely got ‘em. Come on, let’s go buy that dress.” I thought about his comment all through to the register. My mother was. My mother did. My mother had. All past tense. Just like her. I didn’t get to know her before she died. And that’s that. My father paid Maeci at the counter and she smiled toothlessly at him. “Such a beautiful girl she’s turned into huh, Lionel?” He laughed and nodded back at her in agreement. Her good eye wandered over to me shakily. “She reminds me of an old Empress I knew of.” “Come on now Maeci, you’re not that old.” He laughed and didn’t seem to notice Maeci look abashed as her eye slid back to him. She eventually Laughed with him, handing him back two bags, and we walked out and went to dinner.  As we sat in the diner waiting for Dominick’s mother to bring our burgers, I sipped my vanilla shake and eyed the second bag.  “What’s in there?” I asked quietly. He perked up like he was waiting for me to ask.  “Thought you could stand something nice to go with that dress, so...” He pulled out the blood red teardrop and the silver chain sparkled violently in the sun. “Dad!” I said in half exasperation, taking it gently from his hands. “No need to thank me, Buttercup. All you wear is torn up shorts and those old boots. It’s nice to see you in something else for a change. Consider it a thank you for spending some time with your old man.” He said knowingly. I blushed.  “Thanks, Dad.” We shared a brief smile before a crashing noise trailed out from the kitchen and Dominick emerged amidst a hail of kitchen utensils. “-think that you’re just gonna SKIP the MOST IMPORTANT part of your life that your father and I worked SO HARD to create for you, then YOU HAVE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING!!!” The ladle that followed these works hit him squarely in the cheek. Dominick jogged past my table and shrugged pleadingly at me. “WE’LL TALK ABOUT THIS AT HOME MA!! Sorry Nan, I gotta go.” And he ran out the front door. A thin, dark-skinned woman about half my size and twice my age came out swinging her hips furiously and carrying two burgers on trays. “Sorry Lionel. Dominick thinks he’s just gonna quit college because he got some job in the city that pays well.” She put our trays down with a solid thunk and pushed her thick curls out of her face. “Kids. Hi Nana, how are you?” I was already a fistful of fries into my tray, but I tried to swallow quickly. “Oh- I’m fine Miss Ella, Thank you.” “School treating you alright?” “Yeah, yeah definitely.” “Well alright then.” She smiled at me and then gave my father a smoldering grin. I exchanged a look with him and we ate the rest of our meal in silence.  Back at the field entrance to my dorm, my father handed me the last two bags from our trip, my dress and necklace, and gave me a kiss on the forehead.  “You sure you don’t need me to walk you across? It’s pretty dark on that field...” “Dad, it’s a courtyard, I’ll be fine. I’ll call you after the book party, alright?” He looked uncertain, but having come up and down the stairs three times already, he agreed, and sat in his car, waiting for me to clear the front door to my dorm. I stood on top step of the completely lit entrance and used my card key to show him the door was open. He waved at me and drove off as I stepped inside. I turned to close the door behind me and caught a glimmer of amber coming from the edge of the trees. I slammed it shut and pressed my back against the door, panting heavily.  “You’re being stupid.” I whispered aloud to myself. “No one is following you. It was probably just a cat.” My heart was hammering desperately against my ribs. “Just a... six and a half foot cat.” I shoved my bags into my bookbag and bolted up the stairs and into my dorm room. I locked it behind me, hopped over my groceries and ran to the window. Standing just on the edge of the field, half hidden by trees was the man from earlier. I could only see his outline, his messy hair hanging near his shoulders, his coat gently floating behind him, his eyes... definitely staring straight into my window. I gasped and he took a step backwards and disappeared. Seconds later by giant raven came flapping out of the bushes and flew away.