tagErotic HorrorNightshade Ch. 02

Nightshade Ch. 02

bybella_de_los_muertos©

Welcome to Nightshade . . .

Death is just a speed bump because the dead never stay dead.

[Location: Dante's House]

Amused indeed, Rosemund focused her gaze upon her wayward champion. His ebon eyes glittered with something akin to mirth after his little speech. The lithe drape of his body rested hip and shoulder againstthe doorframe, effectively blocking it from entry or exit. Rosemund lifted her hands to clap ever so slightly. The soft jingle of her bangle styled bracelets teased upon the air. A whisper of fabric as she stared over the lovely and rather interesting scene placed before them.

A lithe leg moved forward sending her gown rustling faintly. The material flickered between bronze and a deep green, stiff taffeta that draped in perfect folds about her eternally lithe form. Thin sandals graced over her feet, manicured and smoothed until they were flawless.

Golden eyes stared from beneath a fringe of deep black lashes and thick kohl lining. A predator's eyes and dangerous for the wisdom reflected within for Rosemund was more dangerous than anything birthed of the mortal womb. Her hands fell to her sides leaving delicate fingers draped gracefully to contrast with the deep rich hues of the tightly corseted gown.

"Tis amusing Vane, though not worth such mirth..." Her voice was cold, cool. Each word was accented carefully, as if she thought over each syllable before giving it life. A spell caster's voice and one suiting to the enchantress turned seer. Her deep red lips touched upon an expression to make mockery of a smile. She moved forward, the air a cool breeze about her, hinting at the scent of lilies and the midnight hour. Cinnamon colored hair was swept back, caught upwards into a messy coif with a pair of bronzed chopsticks.

"Though I doubt they care about the mating habits of the few..." She arched an eyebrow at Dante. "No matter how inappropriate they may be..." She ignored the woman in his arms. She was of little note, nothing more than an apprentice seer. A mortal, no matter how well trained could not match her centuries of knowledge. Rosemund was not blinded by all things, though immortal life had made her cold. She was one of the fae folk, sidhe, and they were known well for their aloof ways. No council controlled them, nor could any rule those of the High Court but that of their own chosen royals.

"If you would like to continue...." She gestured slightly again sending her gold and burnished wood bracelets to singing with the motion. "Tis nothing that does not occur outside the high courts..." The cold man at her side looked bemused. His race was unidentifiable. Tall as she was he was bulkier, his skin dark. Not in the way of human skin, but more black in the way of a dog's fur.

In the dim lighting it seemed to shimmer, rippling from blue to violet. His hair drank in light, not reflecting but remaining an eternal matte darkness. The high court's killer, favored arm of the dark queen, and protector of the few privileged; which included the woman at his side who just happened to be niece to the queen. Vane moved slowly with leisure and yet each motion was predatory. A cruel flex, like a cat reminding an owner of its claws...

* *

The fever had set in. Chills wracked her body. Her muscles ached with each movement and breath. Bella had been through it before, but never had she been so aware of the pain. She drifted in and out of consciousness, managing to hold onto wakefulness for another five minutes before the blackness of slumber crept in. And when it did . . . . she dreamed . . . .

~Bella . . . Bella . . . Bella . . . ~

Who was he? She knew his voice as intimately as she knew herself. That deep tone that sent chills of dread down her spine even as it heated her blood. Feather light, no more fleeting than a kiss of wind, she felt his touch on her face, across her forehead, over her neck and shoulders. There was knowledge in that touch, the touch of a lover, the touch of someone concerned for her well being.

~My phantom lover . . . where are you?~

She knew he had saved her, dragged her from the house of death to Dante. He had saved her life, staunching the flow of blood from her shoulder with strips of cotton, torn from his own shirt. She knew he had known the moment he touched her she was not Laroux. She had not been blessed with the same genes that their mother had passed on to her sibling Sage. She had enhansed abilities, true, but even those paled in comparison to her twin. So why had he not chosen her? Her phantom lover. The one who touched and caressed, even as he assessed the damage to her worn body.

~Because it is you i have searched for... my ma belle . . .I will not rest untill i see you again.~

Her body trembled beneath his phantom touch, his bayou accent imprinted in her mind so she would know the voice anywhere.

~Sleep . . . sleep ma belle sleep deep and awake rested. Stay safe until i come for you. ~

Bella sighed in her sleep, her body relaxing and unknowing of the growing chaos down the hall . . .

* *

Dante dropped Sage so suddenly she almost lost her balance, but was quickly righted and pushed behind him protectively. When she would have side stepped, he moved in front of her as if sheilding her from the couple's view. ~Do not think to interfere here, Cherie. No matter what, and do as I say when i say it.~

His voice in her mind sent licks of fire along her skin, even as it roused her anger and led it to the forefront of her mind. She knew the reputation that followed her name like a title, and the lowly station she had been born from. But her family was a proud one and although they held no true title or station save El Guardián De Los Muertos. Her father was half american, half spanish . . . a human with psychic abilities. Her mother, a child of the Laroux, born a native of Nightshade all her life. She knew that Rosemund did not hold contempt against the Laroux . . . it was the HUMAN side Sage's family that the woman seemed to detest. Feeling Dante's hand tighten on hers behind his back returned her to the present.

"Greetings, my lady." He deliberately removed all emotion from his voice, the flat monotone subserviant as was expected of one of his station, but enough inflection on the end bordered on rudeness. "To what do we owe a visit from my lady and her champion?" Dante asked, shooting a glance at Vane. Seeing the man bite back a grin from behind his lady's back eased Dante's misgivings about the man slightly. He knew Sage and he were friends, but exactly how close had yet to be determined.

Rosemund arched a brow as Dante thrust the woman behind him. The motion was very male, enough so that her gaze was drawn for a moment mockingly to the tiny slip of a human. Golden eyes danced and flashed with a pale mirth. Her lips did not twitch into anything as mundane and dull as a smile. Instead she touched her fingertips to the rippling surface of her guardian's arm. He did not move, nor give visible sign that her touch stilled anything, yet something passed between her golden swirling gaze and his dark fathomless stare that seemed to leech the tension from the room. Finally a soft smile graced her lips, a faint showing of teeth. The motion allowed for the true weight of her hair to be seen. It was the hinted length of them that marked her High Court, sidhe, and one of the royal circle.

A moment passed, then another, before at last she turned to Dante. Her attention flickering over his form as if interested in the bulk of him and not just that which council entertained; for Rosemund, like all sidhe, was a sexual creature. Cold and indifferent perhaps,but her every movement bespoke the seductive whisper of a siren's call. She was lovely in pure physical form, but there was something more, something that glimmered beneath her flesh, a part that shone and drew the mind to curiosities unknown.

Vane moved faintly, pulling her silent stare away. His hand light upon her cheek. They touched, not for sexual need, but for comfort finding it in the shared glow of one another. His hand moved away for the spell and lure of something unknown had been broken. Her tongue teased along her lips, wetting them and drawing attention to their ruby fullness. It was the mix breed's growl that caused her to shake her head slightly. He was right; this was not the time for such antics. Council had a mission for them. Her eyes lowered, falling behind heavy ebony veils as she thought over the wording presented to them by her Queen. Words of a mere mortal, or Other, could be danced and slipped around. Queen Cerridwen was rather talented at eliminating all chances of dancing through a loop hole.

Rosemund stepped forward, allowing Vane to slip behind her. A sign she did not feel in danger from the vampire. He obeyed council and they would have his head on a platter should any harm come to a princess of faerie. Her head tilted slightly, showing the proud line of her jaw and length of neck. A subtle dig, but then she danced in such subtleties. For a moment she remained silent after his greeting almost drinking in the richness of his words, or perhaps weighing her own before gifting them upon him.

"Council sends me to fetch you and attend to your wounded..." That he mocked her did not surprise her. The High Court was not loved, rarely did outsiders view the marvels of faerie, nor touch the shimmering flesh of the sidhe. She could understand the bitterness harbored in his soul. "Le gaspillage pas le temps, pour une fois sont seulement mes services offerts*" {{Waste not time, for I only offer my services once}} The French flowed from her tongue, lilting and sweet in inflection. A deception, for there was little sweet about the woman before them. Regal bearing and royal lineage marked her path. A cold cunning, accented by a deadly skill with the blade and the mightier weapon of her tongue.

Vane moved forward. Slowly for his lithe grace allowed for the flowing of his body. His skin shimmered with each motion tricking the eye into seeing a rainbow of colors dancing over the smooth skin of the tall champion. Cloaked in an unbuttoned dress shirt and tight leather pants it was clear the man was chosen not only for his skill with the blade. Built in the way so few are, his muscles shimmered and flexed. Not veined or repulsive he was lithe almost sinuous. His legs firm and ass prime for a groping. Soft leather boots clasped up his calves to nearly his knees, their polish scuffed and marked as that of a swordsman.

His hand was proffered, in the way of the warriors of old. His gaze clear, rippling from mercurial silver to ebon black, shimmering with a hint of mischief and more cunning than the vampire could hope to achieve. "Greetings, I have heard much of you... Hopefully some of it is not true, and the rest... No one could be that bad..." Vane teased softly. His mouth gaped in a wolfish grin. Again his gaze fastened on Sage, almost as if relaying that she was indeed safe. Rosemund, after all was said and done, was under a geas not to lay a hand upon any protected by the council unless for fear of her life.

Sage growled at Rosemund's words, the scent of lust and desire heavy in the air, easy for a Laroux to scent. Her gaze flicked once to Vane in anger, silently berating him for chosing one of the highborn over one of his own kind. He may not have been of her direct bloodline, but he was still of la familia. Silently, she rubbed a small circle on Dante's back, apologising for the fact that she could not control her actions as well as he.

"Reece is down the hall." Dante responded, ignoring the woman's snubs. Training and discipline kept him in good stead, bringing his once raging pulse under control to where even the two laroux could not detect it. without taking his gaze from the pair before him, he glanced over his shoulder at sage, his eyes normally midnight blue, flaring to the color of ice. Hot passion flared in their depths, a heat burning and smoldering within them that she could practically feel burning her from the inside out. No.. they weren't done with each other. They had unfinished business that he had every intention of finishing and be damned anyone who dared interrupt them a second time.

"Aller maintenant mon petit chiot, préparer votre soeur pour les invités." {{Go now my little pup, prepare your sister for guests.}} He said without inflection. But his mind, oh his mind tortured her, dared her to reveal the images he was flooding her brain with. Erotic passion, relentless and hot couplings, lust and orgasm heaped upon orgasm.

~There are benefits to having a lover that is 500 years old, cherie.~

Sage nodded once, her temper for a change appearing leashed and under control. Something Rosemund had never seen of her before. With all the class she could muster, that which she thought her body contained at that moment, she raised her chin and exited the room. Only when her back was to the others did she smile, knowing that Dante's eyes followed her till she was out of site. Something sure to drive the rude little sidhe absolutely bonkers till her head wanted to explode.

~You're deliberately provoking her wrath, Dante. Stop being a tcheue poule {{chicken ass}} and dismiss the witch so we can finish what you started.~

Only once she was safely in her sibling's room did Sage collapse against the bedroom door and rub her hands over her aching brests, wimpering as she replayed the images Dante had forced into her thoughts. Thoughts of him sucking from her chest as a pup might, trailing his incisors over her neck even as his hand tunneled between her legs and had her screaming and pulsing alive. She closed her eyes and could almost feel his fangs sinking into her throat even as his fingers would dive deep and then . . .

~If you do not stop your wayward thoughts, cherie, I will have a raging hard-on and that woman you detest so much will believe it is her doing and will encite her to press her suit.~ He cought her wayward thought to such actions and grinned as he listened to Rosemund and the council updates she brought with her after the attack. ~Though it would please me to see you ripping her spine out and beating her over the head with it like a club . . . i do not relish the fallout it would bring. Save such energies for when i have you in my arms, and in my bed, ma cherie~

Sage did in that one moment something that was completely and utterly out of character. She giggled, then laughed. Blinking at the unfamiliar sound, she shook her head to clear her thoughts and went to properly dress her sister in preparation for guests.

* *

He hated them. He hunted them. Deep down he knew eventually he would, and could, kill them all. They taunted him with their confidence, their ability to be unafraid. As the light of the bayou wanned and the shades of night crawled over the town, he studied and searched, looking for his next victim. For hours he sat and studied, watched and waited till at last the truth dawned in his mind as brilliantly as daylight. There was no one. No one that would satisfy the killing rage deep inside him. It was her and her alone who could end it, make it go away till at last he was at peace.

"Bella." The word fell from his lips like a lover's caress. Seductive as the thought that he would now choose one of them, not for his true plans, but as a sign that she would one day be his. He was a ghost, a phantom in the night, unseen among those who walked in the light of the shops and streetlamps. They would come to fear him, these people, fear him and recognise their foolishness in believing they were safe in the light. He was everywhere, as insubstantial as mist and twice as consuming. He would become one of them, befriend them and kill them. He shuddered in pleasure at the thought of the blood of the innocents caressing his flesh like warm rain. But her . . . no. For her he would save something special indeed. Her death was his life, his breath, his very heartbeat. Soon he would feel hers in the palm of his hand as he choked the life from her witch's eyes.

He was, in that single moment, god above all.

* *

Dante would have been crushed, Sage as well, no doubt; to learn that Rosemund had no interest sexual or otherwise in the male before her. They were tools, used and disposed of with the same breath and need of their usefulness. Rosemund was not one for attachments beyond family and even at that it was an iffy thing. One did not attach themselves to family, when they were likely to have you assassinated.

Her golden eyes flickered between the two, knowing a conversation was passing. It was not one of her gifts to read the minds of others, but she could read body language well enough. "Tell your female she has aught to worry about... The male specimens in the High Court are far prettier..." Her gaze trailed lower as if eying his package. "Perhaps not as well endowed...." She shrugged faintly, nonplussed at the display before her. Coldness was part and parcel of sidhe life and more importantly immortality.

Vane shifted slightly, unable to help himself, as he waited for the vampire to strike his charge. The blow would never land, Laroux and Sidhe blood mingled nicely in him and he was both fast and strong. Delicate as Rose appeared, she could put her hand through a car door without wincing; he was much stronger than the woman. Dark eyes flickered over Dante, a warming rested in those ever changing orbs. No matter how much a pull the woman was, no matter how irritable and abrasive, Rosemund was not to be touched.

"Council sent Princess Rosemund, niece to Queen Cerridwen of the High Court of faerie to assist with the injured woman's needs... Her tongue is sharp but her touch is soothing..." Vane assured Dante even as his charge tilted her head slightly, looking way too sweet, and far too innocent. Then again none knew if the Princess indulged in the casual sex of the High Court. Most sidhe did, but even for the elite of faerie Rosemund was aloof. Many claimed she was simply devoted to her father, more than any child should be, some said she was her mother's creature. Both powerful sidhe, pure of blood and lineage; both able to trace their bloodlines back to great Celtic Kings.

"Gwnelan mo angen at adnabod 'r 'n ddiau achlysuron atom yn gadael addef*" {{They do not need to know the true reasons for us leaving home}} The lilting language of her ancestors and no doubt of her birth times flowed gracefully from her lips. Gold eyes swirled to deep green to touch again bronze as she focused on the dark shimmering companion. Her head tilted, sending earrings to jingling faintly in sweet music to each movement. Her body remained relaxed, calm, and steady. Her posturing gave nothing of the meaning of her words away. The tone did remain curt for all the beauty of the language itself.

"'i ewyllysia mo bod amlygedig at 'm cega huchelder‡" Vane's head dipped low as if posturing for subservience. He did not slump and his bow was crisp. The words were clipped, heavily accented by his heritage. A more modern creature he had learned the Celtic lexicon for necessity. Half breeds were as reviled as royals and far more easily slain. It took a great deal to kill a sidhe, but half breeds had more loop holes. Not that any spoke of them outside the High Courts. Like a dysfunctional family they abused, bloodied, and killed one another but would not stand for outsiders stepping in.

Dante turned his thoughts and eyes from Sage's departing form and focused on the pair before him. Protocol and dicipline held him in good stead. He cared not what the woman thought of him or his principals. He answered to those higher than his station because it was polite. But when all was said and done, he was a man apart, a soldier cursed into a life of soltitude both by choice and by inadverntant actions of fate. Not once in five hundred years had he ever taken anything for himself, had he ever put his heart before duty and honor, justice and integrity, before vows of servitude and loyalty. His eyebrow quirked upward at her words, uncaring whether she wanted him or not. It wouldn't change his feelings for Sage nor the outcome, so why worry. His eyes shot briefly to her companion,noting the raw tension running through the man's body. If the boy expected a fight he would get one, but on Dante's terms and not in his house with Bella wounded down the hall. Crossing his arms, Dante gave them his most level stare and got down to business.

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