|
Post by Desiree "Bet" Benoit on Dec 2, 2009 23:59:47 GMT -5
Bet pulled into the parking lot of Purgatory, relieved that the horrid vehicle hadn’t rebelled against her tonight. Things would be so much more efficient if she could teleport. But, since that was not a gift she possessed, she had no choice but to walk, drive, or fly everywhere.
She got out of the car, pulling the thin strap of her purse over her shoulder as she shut the door. She didn’t bother locking it. There was nothing in the car she couldn’t afford to lose, and she didn’t care much what happened to the vehicle itself.
She hurriedly put her car keys in her purse as she approached the club. It was a large, hulking building shrouded in black. Bet wasn’t a fan of black as a rule, and in her opinion it was a horrible aesthetic choice. However, she’d heard some curious things about this club. Depending on who she talked to, some said it was wonderful – a place where one could fulfill their wildest dreams and desires. Others said it was a terrifying place they were lucky to walk out of alive.
Naturally, Bet was intrigued.
She paid the doorman, a surly looking brute of a man, and entered the club. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust her vision to the dim lighting. Apparently dark was the theme of the place, which made her frown slightly. She liked a little color in her world.
As she took several steps into the large room, her stiletto high heels making a blunt clicking sound, she shivered. Wearing a backless purple dress with a plunging neckline and very thin spaghetti straps, she hadn’t anticipated the chilly atmosphere.
“Well, isn’t this just charming,” she muttered.
She worked her way through the dance floor, pushing her way through the writhing crowd. She looked up curiously at the décor: black chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, grotesque black statues, and were those cages? There seemed to be movement within a few of them, but Bet couldn’t look too closely with all the people moving around her and blocking her view.
Bet was making her way toward the bar when someone whirled her around to start dancing with her. She blinked at him, stunned, for a few seconds. It was a young man with hair dyed a very dark blue, almost black. He had several piercings adorning his face and, if her eyes were not mistaken, he was wearing a great deal of eyeliner. He said something to her, but she couldn’t hear it over the music.
She leaned in to speak into his ear, her voice low.
“Excuse me, but I’m really not in the mood to dance just yet.”
She stepped back, smiling sweetly at him, before heading toward the bar yet again. The man walked up beside her as she approached the bar.
“How ‘bout I buy you a drink, huh?” the man asked, his words running together as he spoke too fast.
Bet smiled at him and shook her head.
“I appreciate the offer, but I got it covered, thanks.”
She caught her reflection in the mirror as she leaned over the bar, about to give her order to the bartender.
“Oh, come onnnn. One drink!” the man behind her insisted.
Bet sighed, tapping her fingers on the top of the bar and rolling her eyes.
One… Two… Three…
When she got impatient she counted until it died down before saying or doing anything. It was very helpful when dealing with unruly clients or associates.
Or drunk assholes who couldn’t take a hint or five.
She turned around, forcing a smile. When she spoke her tone was less friendly and her words were clipped.
“No. I’m fine. Really. Thank you.”
As she turned toward the bar again, the man took hold of her arm.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be-”
“I said NO!”
Bet’s voice was as close to a growl as human vocal cords could manage as she spoke, whirling around and giving the man a swift kick to the groin. The man doubled over, gasping as several people in the general vicinity turned to stare at the two of them. Bet crouched, smiling down at him.
“Maybe next time you’ll listen more carefully, hmm?”
She sighed as she stood up. She hadn’t intended to make a spectacle of herself. It was difficult enough keeping a low profile when you owned a popular clothing company and modeled frequently. People tended to recognize her more than she would’ve liked. Now she hadn’t even been here five minutes and she’d already drawn unwanted attention.
So much for slipping in quietly and slipping back out, she thought.
Looking around, she noticed a bar on the second floor, which looked far less crowded than the ground floor. Readjusting the strap of her purse, she made as much of a beeline as she could through the crowd to the nearest staircase. As she made her way to the second floor bar, she thought she heard something else below the thumping music. Were those screams? Shaking her head dismissively, she ordered a margarita from the bartender and took a seat on one of the empty couches.
|
|
|
Post by Luka Neverov on Dec 4, 2009 7:12:38 GMT -5
He didn’t feel the cell was frigid, and that his breath escaped from between his open lips as white puffs of air. Nor did he hear the tormented screams of the young male in the chamber next door; blood curling screams that would have usually sent him into a shiver of delight, or even, waves of ecstasy. For the vampire was already in rapture; black pupils rolled back to the white sockets, mouth thrown open in a moan of agony. The hooks sprang from several places in his back and shoulders; silver rings stained in red, attached to chains, and suspended him from places in the ceiling.
His blood poured out like a crimson fountain; never healing, always melting and reshaping so the fluid would continue to pour and pour. The vampire’s body was taut with rapture, just about to step over the peak of the never ending cliff.
Suddenly, he went stiff and a frightening cry was torn from his throat. It was beast, and man, and a million lost souls escaping from hell.
Luka’s limp body swung from the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, only occasionally shuddering like an echo of his release.
It was an hour or more before the Russian swung down from his shackles, ripping the skin as he did so, and landed like a cat on all fours. He rose slowly, enjoying the tingling in his back, until the wounds melted together and staunched the flow of blood. Luka sighed as he slipped on the white tee-shirt and black jeans, smearing crimson stains all over the taut white cotton.
Moving out of the private chamber into the bar area of the upper floor, he slid behind the counter and pushed rudely past the human bartender who had sold his soul to Luka for a chance to be immortal. Taking his life would be an art form, but not before hearing him beg first.
He filled the goblet with crimson liquid from the spring in the wall. It was warm and fresh, and Luka could imagine the beauty behind the stone wall that had just groaned in pain as the tap was opened. The vampire slurped at it hungrily, pulling it back from his mouth and then wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
Black eyes roamed the crowd; several pitiful humans wearing fake plastic fangs and smeared eye make-up had gathered on this upper floor. A couple with matching black hair and spiked collars groped one another against the wall; all but having intercourse with their clothing on. The vampire could smell the need on them, and the liquor. A throaty chuckle came out of him.
Finally his gaze landed on a chocolate haired divinity sipping a florescent green cocktail on one of the many black leather couches. The corner of his lip curved up just slightly, and Luka downed the rest of the crimson and placed the goblet on the counter, and then came out from behind the bar; once again pushing rudely past the tender.
Luka ambled over to the divan where she rested, perching casually on the arm. His face was full of dark amusement as he watched her lift the glass to her lips and take in more of the lime colored imbibement. “How is drink?” The vampire asked her in a slow Slavic drawl.
|
|
|
Post by Desiree "Bet" Benoit on Dec 4, 2009 19:00:31 GMT -5
Bet sipped her drink, observing people from where she sat. A strange group of humans, there was no arguing that, but not terribly interesting. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her scalp tingled slightly. She’d had her hair up in a stylish twist for most of the day. The slight ache of her scalp didn’t strike her as painful, just a bit annoying. Such was the price of dwelling in a human body.
Although the cold atmosphere of the club hadn’t thrilled her, she’d gotten used to it, but a slight chill came over her momentarily, making her shiver slightly. She took another sip of her margarita.
“How is drink?”
Bet glanced up at the man who had seated himself on the arm of the couch. She detected an accent to his words, but she hadn’t heard enough to pinpoint it. He had dark hair and handsome, chiseled features.
Her gaze didn’t linger long. Handsome men could be found everywhere and she could typically charm any of them she liked if the mood struck her. It took more than good looks to catch her attention.
“Lovely,” she said, offering a small smile as she set the drink down on the nearest table.
That was all she gave him. ‘Lovely’. A polite enough response, but not overly welcoming. After all, she hadn’t come here to flirt, as the young man downstairs had learned the hard way.
She wrinkled her brow slightly. There was that sound again. Someone screaming…
Where? she thought.
She looked around the club curiously, but couldn’t figure out where the screaming was coming from. It was very nearly being drowned out by the music, but she was certain she’d heard it. Perhaps it was a recording being pumped through a PA system for effect. A clever marketing tool if that were the case.
Had she given the handsome stranger beside her a closer look, she may have spotted the blood staining his white shirt. Then again, it was rather dim in the club. She leaned back against the couch, crossing her legs and arms in a reflexive attempt to warm up. Really it was quite an inconvenience that this body chilled so easily. But, such was the price for a miniscule amount of body fat
|
|
|
Post by Luka Neverov on Dec 7, 2009 11:46:37 GMT -5
Lovely. It was the only word the woman offered, and like her expression, was so vacant and indifferent, a brow arched dubiously over a pale azure eye. Ah, wonderful; he’d found a challenge. Luka knew he was a fine specimen. It was apparent in the stares he received from the human woman, and in many cases, the men as well. They found him too be too pale; blue veins lucid beneath skin nearly transparent. His eyes were too stark; a vivid azure that could only come from those Hollywood effects contact lens his patrons were so fond of. His movement were far too deliberate; an immortal adroitness ingrained in him through linage; humans often found they were simply too...faultless. The vampire held a supernatural aura that was so obvious; it usually either encompassed them, like the proverbial moth to the flame, or, because of a subconscious strength of self preservation, made them flee.
She on the other hand was... so utterly unmoved. Luka was enchanted by it.
A thin-lipped smile stretched across his handsome face as he slid into the seat next to her. The vampire mimicked her movement, lounging back into the leather seat, though his body was turned more in her direction. He crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap like a gentleman; head tilted just slightly at an angle which suggested curiosity.
“How does club suit you?” The Russian pressed further; glancing up at a bartender who had his gaze honed in on the vampire. It only took a small wave in the man’s direction and the human familiar was moving swiftly out from behind the bar and heading to them; another chalice of crimson for his employer as well as a bright green drink for the woman. He hastily sat the margarita on the table beside her and then offered goblet to Luka with a flourish. He lived to please the vampire; literally. He had traded his life to serve the Russian for the possibility of the vampire’s dark embrace.
Luka accepted the drink and then waved the male away; grinning wickedly at the sight of the man’s expression dropping ever so evidently. All he wanted was for Luka to show him some form of gratification; but that would never come. He was too easy. It wasn’t any fun if they were too easy.
|
|
|
Post by Desiree "Bet" Benoit on Dec 12, 2009 2:38:55 GMT -5
Perhaps if she wasn’t so distracted by her surroundings Bet would have taken more notice of the man. However, demon or not, it was difficult to ignore the sound of screaming drifting into the room every so often. It was very peculiar and she was very curious to know where it was coming from.
Her blue-green eyes drifted idly toward the man as he sat down gracefully beside her, a smile on his pale, chiseled face as he looked at her curiously.
“How does club suit you?” the man asked.
There was a thickness to his words, a certain way of pronouncing some consonants and slurring some vowels. It made her think of dark chocolate: smooth, but with a bite to it that could be bitter to those not accustomed to it.
Russia, Bet thought.
A lovely country. The parts she had seen had been, anyway. Of course it was very large and she hadn’t seen it in its entirety, even at her age. Much of it was wet and cold, but also very beautiful.
Bet shrugged, a very slight movement of her shoulders, subtle and elegant.
“It’s… different,” she said slowly, searching for the right word. “A bit gloomy for my taste, but unique. I can easily say I’ve never seen another club like it.”
Bet looked up, raising an eyebrow as the bartender practically ran over to them. The man replaced her margarita quickly before offering the man beside her a goblet of something thick and red. Taking the drink, the man waved the bartender away, sending him sulking back to his position behind the bar.
Bet eyed the man. Either he was a very valued customer, or he was the boss. Either way, he was clearly well respected. That was intriguing. Those who were well respected were one of three things: wealthy, powerful, or terrifying. Sometimes more than one.
In her case, she was all three.
She eyed the man curiously and sipped her cocktail.
|
|
|
Post by Luka Neverov on Dec 15, 2009 8:46:39 GMT -5
On the outside Luka appeared calm and unfazed by the woman’s nonchalance; sipping slowly from his goblet, his face pinching into a grimace at how quickly the blood had cooled. He uncrossed and then recrossed his legs, draping an arm across the back of the sofa behind her.
Within the man was a torrid pot ready to boil over. As an artist Luka strived for excellence, and the club was one big canvas. He didn’t want simply unique, he wanted to impress her; to dazzle her. Setting his chalice on the small table next to them, he leaned in toward her; a malicious grin spreading across his striking face when another blood-curdling scream drifted out from one of the rooms beyond.
An idea struck the Russian like a bolt of lightening from the Heavens. He knew a way to elicit more of a reaction from her; in fact, he knew several ways. The rooms beyond held macabre toys of pleasure and torment. Luka had been accumulating such things for years, and his collection never ceased to amuse him; whether merely looking upon them, or using them on the animated willing and the terrified unwilling. He wondered what she would think of these toys as they were; speculated whether they would thrill her or disgust her. Being that she seemed rather sophisticated, one would assume it would be the latter, but in these days you never could tell. The perverse had found a way into the bedrooms of even the most dignified. The business man in suit and tie; the school teacher that wore her hair in a tight bun.
“I’m glad to hear you find it unique.” He told her and stood, reaching to carefully remove the glass from her hand which he set on the table next to her. “I am Luka and owner of club. ‘Unique’ was something I strived for when creating her.”
He bent down and extended a porcelain hand to her. “Please, come. Let me show you just how unique club really is...”
|
|
|
Post by Desiree "Bet" Benoit on Dec 18, 2009 4:45:11 GMT -5
Bet sipped her margarita, shivering slightly as the man shifted his position, placing an arm casually and gracefully along the sofa behind her. There was something about him that chilled her. It was as if the man radiated cold.
She raised an eyebrow as he leaned unnecessarily close to her to put his drink – whatever it was – on the table. Had the goblet lingered near her face, she would’ve recognized the scent of blood. However, it only passed by her briefly and she was too distracted by the piercing scream she heard. She jumped slightly and turned her head vaguely in the direction of the scream before turning back to the gentleman beside her with a quizzical look. He grinned at her, and it was not the grin of a gentleman. It was something more sinister.
Whoever this man was, he got more interesting by the second, simply because she couldn’t puzzle him out right away.
“I’m glad to hear you find it unique,” he said, putting emphasis on the word she’d used.
She watched him curiously as he stood, taking her drink and placing it on the table.
“I am Luka and owner of club,” he explained.
Ahh, the owner. That would explain the respect he was given and the attitude, the way he carried himself.
“‘Unique’ was something I strived for when creating her,” he continued.
‘Her’? He referred to his club as a ‘her’. That was interesting. She’d met captains who referred to their ships as ‘she’s’ and men who named their cars after women, but she’d never met a man who called a building ‘her’.
“Please, come,” he said, extending his hand. “Let me show you just how unique club really is…”
Bet smirked at him. He was tricky, this one. His mannerisms and his tone made it seem like a request. But if the cold stare of his icy eyes was any indication, he would not take too kindly to her if she said no.
She looked down at his hand, then back up at his face, hesitating as she debated. Did she want to get out of there quickly like she’d planned, or was she in the mood to humor this man and see what he had in store? She picked up her drink, taking a final long sip before putting the glass back down on the table before she took his hand and stood. His skin was cold, sending a chill up her arm and down her spine.
“I’m Desiree,” she said, offering a bright smile. “It’s such a magnificent building. You’ve used some exquisite materials,” she noted. “I’d love to see more of it.”
|
|
|
Post by Luka Neverov on Dec 21, 2009 11:54:54 GMT -5
Luka offered the stunning woman a brilliant smile when she slid her dainty hand into his. Her face was a vision of human perfection; he couldn’t help but let his crystalline gaze slide down her curvy figure and back up into the smoky gaze that didn’t quite fit within the kind emerald eyes there. Something...something different about her.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but beyond the hummingbird heart beat and the slow, even breaths, there was something special about her. She was fairly humming with fierce authority. The vampire wondered if the woman was so secure in her safety or perhaps just so confident in her beauty, that it had become a tangible power. A mirthless chortle issued from his throat as he led her past the bar and towards the cell-like rooms ahead. If she thought her good looks would save her, she was so very very wrong. They said that beauty was in the eye of the beholder; and well, Luka’s eye was utterly bizarre.
The hallway of heavy iron doors seemed to get colder and colder with each they passed. The sounds of torture coming from within some of them were undeniable, and the Russian dared to steal a glimpse at her reaction as they neared the last, and most ominous looking door. He turned the heavy lock; pushing the weighty arch open to relieve a veritable playground of anguish. The walls were dark and moist; seemingly bleeding like a living creature as it oozed with the remnants of past playthings.
Several terrifying devices of torture were displayed within the cell; from a malicious iron maiden to a plain, wooden rack with several leather straps. There were tables and counters filled with the horrifying instruments; shiny metal things with spikes, rod iron mechanisms stained with a dark rusty color. The mere sight of them brought a shiver of excitement through the vampire, and he let the woman’s hand drop lest he give himself away too soon.
Lifting his arms, Luka made a circle as if he was displaying a group of children and he their father. “This...this is vat I vanted to show you. I have been collecting for years...”
|
|
|
Post by Desiree "Bet" Benoit on Dec 21, 2009 19:32:51 GMT -5
Bet returned the man’s smile as he took her hand. Something about him was very intriguing. He had a certain mystique, an allure that wasn’t present in most humans.
Perhaps you’re not quite human… she thought.
He wasn’t a demon. She would’ve known her own kind immediately. There were hundreds of other things he could’ve been, and offshoots of those things. There was also something sinister about him, a darkness lingering just behind the eyes, and tainting that handsome smile. His overall demeanor was overly confident and commanded attention and respect.
Whatever he was, he was certainly quite the specimen.
As she walked with Luka down a long hallway, she felt a drop in temperature. She was certain of it. Goosebumps rose all over her body and she shivered. She looked around at each door they passed, jumping slightly as she was surprised by an apparent outcry of agony.
Luka stopped in front of a large door at the end of the hall, looking larger and heavier than the rest. She stood there, clamping her teeth tightly shut so they wouldn’t chatter. Consequently, the rest of her shook. Oh, these human bodies were so fussy about things like air and temperature.
As the door swung open, Bet looked inside to see a frightfully hideous room. The scent of blood, old and fresh, invaded her nostrils. It seemed the walls were coated with it. She hesitated before stepping inside, not wanting whatever was on the floor to get onto her seven-hundred dollar shoes. She looked around with both curiosity and disbelief at the various devices and instruments placed throughout the room, her eyebrows creased and her mouth slightly open. This certainly wasn’t what she’d expected to find when she came out tonight.
Letting go of her hand, the man introduced her to the room, the way one introduces a guest to a group of friends.
“This…” he exclaimed, “this is vat I vanted to show you. I have been collecting for years…”
His voice was dripping with pride as he spoke. Yes, this was a dark and twisted individual, indeed.
“Collecting…” she echoed, taking careful steps across the room to more closely examine the iron maiden. “Ah, this is an oldie,” she said with a smirk. “They don’t make them like this anymore, do they?”
She chuckled softly. My, this was something she wouldn’t find just anywhere. Antique devices she hadn’t seen in centuries along with new specimens she didn’t quite recognize.
“I’m a collector too, you know,” she said, turning around to face him. “Of course, I collect diamonds and shoes, but still.”
She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a curious smile. This was definitely not a normal man, but what precisely he was she hadn’t decided yet.
|
|
|
Post by Luka Neverov on Jan 4, 2010 10:46:36 GMT -5
Luka was absolutely ecstatic with the reaction his ‘collection’ had brought out of the gorgeous woman. She both surprised and delighted him and the thought that tonight might prove worth while brought an actual smile to the Russian’s lips.
He watched with a boyish grin as Bet adoringly brushed her manicured fingers across a particularly nasty piece and a shiver of excitement surged through his stone body. How wonderful it would be to find a soul that could revere these kinds of things just as he did. What if she enjoyed using them as much as she did looking at them? Luka couldn’t bear to hope for that; it was such a foolhardy dream.
“Is few and far betveen I find vone that can appreciate such misunderstood machines.” The vampire dragged a bisque hand across a contraption meant to be placed in the mouth so that it could be twisted until it dislocated the jaw. He moved slowly around Bet, the other hand held demurely behind his back; a beautiful gentleman. His shoulders brushed hers, and suddenly, he was bending to whisper into her ear.
“Have you ever used vone Desiree?” Once again the Russian’s voice was a purr; velvet against her silken earlobe. She was a vision surrounded by so much horror and death; smile as easy as moonlight, eyes hiding some unspoken eloquence and amusement.
She was different. She had to be. Luka hoped for it with all his cold, black heart. “Do you vant to play vith me Desiree?”
|
|
|
Post by Desiree "Bet" Benoit on Jan 7, 2010 13:10:42 GMT -5
Bet smiled coolly at the Russian, whose demeanor seemed to have taken on a new excitement. She couldn’t imagine hers was a common reaction. Most women probably ran screaming from this room – or tried to. So far he was being a gentleman, as twisted a soul as he was, but she also hadn’t done anything to provoke much else. She imagined Luka’s personality had the potential to be quite terrifying if he had a mind for it.
“Is few and far betveen I find vone that can appreciate such misunderstood machines,” Luka said.
Bet’s borrowed green eyes settled on the device the man was caressing. That was a ghastly looking contraption she wasn’t familiar with. It looked something like a bear trap and she wondered what it could possibly be used for. Where would one put such a thing? How would it work? What would it do…
Feeling the fabric of Luka’s shirt brush her bare shoulders made her shudder slightly, pulling her attention and her imagination away from the contraption. His quick movement to whisper in her ear made her tilt her head away from him slightly, reflexively.
“Have you ever used vone Desiree?”
His voice had taken on a sensual quality it hadn’t had before and a corner of her mouth turned upward in a hint of a smirk.
“Can’t say that I have,” she replied.
“Do you vant to play with me Desiree?”
Bet arched a thin brow as she turned to look at him.
“My, what a forward man you are,” she said teasingly, running a finger lightly down the front of his shirt before turning away from him abruptly and walking over to another device. It looked like a bracelet, but had some sort of turn key attached to it.
“I may be a dark and twisted individual, but I am still a lady,” she said, leaning over to examine the bracelet with creased brows. “What sort of a lady would I be if I put out ten minutes after I met you?”
She chuckled softly. She didn’t know Luka, but she knew enough about men to know that they reacted in one of two ways to being led on and toyed with: favorably, or unfavorably. Not knowing whether he’d be angered or aroused by her little game of hard-to-get thrilled her a bit. Men were so predictable for her these days, and it was refreshing to find one who might still manage to surprise her.
“May I?” she asked, motioning to the bracelet device.
|
|
|
Post by Luka Neverov on Jan 12, 2010 11:11:59 GMT -5
Luka couldn’t help but gasp a little at Desiree’s sudden touch and her calm willingness to except his macabre playground. His cerulean gaze strayed down to the delicate fingertip against his chest; an electric current surging through him as it ran down his taunt abdomen and then was suddenly gone; the path she’d made with the digit fairly blistering under the red-stained tee-shirt he wore. A sigh escaped his parted lips as she turned her back on him, toward another macabre instrument which she leaned down to inspect. His tongue snaked across his parched lips as he felt yet another primal hunger in his lower belly; this one as devious as his thirst for blood. She was, in a word, stimulating; as much in her interest in his toys as was her delicious womanly form. He hadn’t necessarily been talking about that sort of play, but there was a readiness in her eyes that the vampire couldn’t ignore, and that set his body on fire.
A sly grin spread over his lips at her inquiry, and though the Russian knew it was hypothetical, he couldn’t help but retort. Arching a brow up over a amused eyes, Luka tilted his head and let his gaze crawl slowly down her body and then back up, finally meeting her stare. “You vod be the most intriguing sort of voman.” He answered her with a playful lilt, and then chuckled lightly at his humor.
At her request Luka gestured to the bracelet with an open hand. The wristlet was made of a heavy bronze and adorned with emeralds and rubies; seemingly a beautiful piece of jewelry fit to dress-up any female’s wrist. A dark part of the vampire wished that she would put it on so that he could help her by turning the small key which would activate the sharp spikes that would pierce the wearer’s skin down to the bone. Luka knew this would most likely ruin their present genial conversation, so he was quick to take the device from her so that he could display just how devious it was beneath all the beauty...just like him...
“This vone is lovely, is it not?” He asked in that slow, silky brogue while he fingered the thick spears with the pad of his index finger. As if to prove his point, Luka pressed down with just enough pressure to puncture the skin, smiling even wider as a single drop of crimson rose out of the digit. With a throaty chuckle he brought the bleeding finger up to study, quickly rubbing it with his thumb so that the woman couldn’t see how quickly the wound healed.
He tilted his head and let his gaze wander to the other site of the room where the iron maiden stood like some morbid effigy; the queen of his collection. As he moved forward, he cast a playful glance at Desiree over his shoulder before opening the mechanism up to show off the rust stained spikes. “This vone is my favorite. I can’t tell you how many times I have climbed in just to get away from the foul, disappointing world around me.”
|
|
|
Post by Desiree "Bet" Benoit on Jan 13, 2010 12:21:47 GMT -5
Bet was the epitome of self-confidence as she toyed with the handsomely twisted man before her. Men had been at her disposal for centuries, and she could never resist taunting and toying with them, playing devious little mind games until she decided what she did or didn’t want from them.
As she turned her back on Luka, she smiled at his reply to her inquiry.
“You vod be the most intriguing sort of voman,” he said with a laugh.
The bracelet she examined was a pretty little trinket, beautiful bronze full of precious stones. Of course, she was sure there was something ghastly hiding within it, and if she adorned her slender wrist with it she was certain there would be quite a bit of pain and blood involved.
But, she had a high pain tolerance, and even if the wound didn’t heal quickly, it certainly wouldn’t be fatal. Not as long as she remained in this host, anyway.
She was slightly surprised when Luka picked up the device to show it to her rather than watching her slip it on and injure herself.
“This vone is lovely, is it not?” he asked
She watched curiously as he prodded one of the spears inside the bracelet’s band, drawing blood from his finger.
“Ah. How does that saying go? Beauty is pain?” she chuckled.
As he rubbed his thumb against his wound it seemed to disappear. Bet blinked, wondering if it had been some sort of illusion. Although, there were a number of beings walking the earth with enhanced healing abilities…
She watched him cross the room to the iron maiden and open it up, revealing the spikes housed within.
“This vone is my favorite,” he said. “I can’t tell you how many times I have climbed in just to get away from the foul, disappointing world around me.”
She looked at him curiously as she walked slowly toward him, thinking. Surely he wasn’t a man at all, or at least not an ordinary man. She put a thoughtful finger to her lips, the wheels turning in her mind.
“Hmm. So you heal miraculously quickly, and a trip to the iron maiden apparently doesn't kill you,” she said. “Interesting.”
Now, what in the world could you be? she thought, her mind slipping back to their initial meeting. His shirt had been stained with blood – perhaps because he’d enjoyed some time with one of his many toys – and he’d been drinking…
Aha! Of course.
“Was that blood you were drinking back in the lounge?” she asked, though she’d already guessed that it was.
A vampire. It explained quite a bit if she was right.
She rested a hand on top of the iron maiden, observing him newly intrigued.
|
|
|
Post by Luka Neverov on Jan 15, 2010 9:48:46 GMT -5
“Ah. How does that saying go? Beauty is pain?”
Luka’s breath sawed in through his extended fangs as she repeated one of his favorite proverbs. The adage was one that he lived by...as well as one other. “And pain is pleasure...” The Russian added, sweeping his tongue across aching fangs. The beautiful woman had proven as wicked as he’d hoped and a surge of desire flowed through him as sinful images of blood and bondage danced within his mind’s eye. How auspicious that a female of such refinement and utter magnificence shared his twisted views of beauty and pleasure. If he had any warmth within his heart the vampire might even be tempted to feel a kinship toward her. If he had a heart...which he certainly didn’t.
Hmm. So you heal miraculously quickly, and a trip to the iron maiden apparently doesn't kill you,” she said. “Interesting.”
At his fairly innocent observation Luka paused, an eyebrow arched over a fascinated stare. Such a revelation would usually send a human running for the door, or, at the very least, cowering in a corner. The vampire wondered if she was a huntress; familiar with the kinds of creatures that could heal so quickly, or if she was a vampire like him. He tilted his head to the side and parted his lips in a gesture of approval, hoping that this little exposure would provoke something between them. If she was a hunter he certainly wouldn’t mind a game of cat and mouse, and if she be an immortal, perhaps an exchange of blood. It was always such a thrill to share pain and pleasure with a cultured vampire of sophisticated blood.
He nodded in confirmation of her deduction; bright eyes watching captivated as her delicate hand stroked the lid of the maiden as if a lover’s skin. Luka licked at his bottom lip and then smiled broadly, displaying two gleaming fangs with pride. He stepped closer to her, towering over the brunette and bending his face low as if he might capture her lips, though his gaze was honed on the slow tick of her carotid artery.
“And does that...excite you Desiree?” Luka asked in a whisper, blowing cool breath across her neck. “Have you a taste for blood as vell?”
|
|
|
Post by Desiree "Bet" Benoit on Jan 19, 2010 17:51:15 GMT -5
Luka nodded in response to her question and all the puzzle pieces fell into place. He was a vampire – immortal, bloodthirsty, the living, breathing dead. The mystery and exquisite beauty he carried was no doubt at least partially a side effect of this ‘condition.’
His wide smile displayed two pearly white fangs, looking as sharp as the spikes in the iron maiden. Bet didn’t move as he stepped closer to her, her gaze on his face, mere inches from her own as he leaned toward her.
“And does that…excite you Desiree?”
His voice was a whisper and his icy breath on her neck made her shiver as he continued.
“Have you a taste for blood as vell?”
Bet’s lips curved upward in a small smile.
“Some would say I do,” she said. “Not in the same way you do, I’m afraid. There’s a beating heart inside this body.” She chuckled softly. “But, I’m sure you’re aware of that.”
She’d seen his gaze settle on her neck. She wondered if he was in the custom of leaving one alive once he’d revealed his true nature. It seemed unlikely, given the various machinery around them.
“You’re not thinking of biting me, are you?” she said, narrowing her eyes, though a smirk still hung on her lips.
She pulled back from him to place a hand on his chest, sliding it gently up his shirt to rest on his shoulder as she spoke.
“We’ve been having such a lovely time,” she said, standing on her tip toes and leaning closer so that she could speak into his ear. “It’d be a shame if things were to get… messy.”
|
|