Ever been alone with a symphath? That's what you are right now. Alone. With me. Look around you.
You still have time to run, but that just makes it more fun for me.
Suck It Up, Buttercup
Xhex: *Enough is fucking well enough. Tech genius probably can’t figure out how to do something as simple as sending a text. Maybe @Vishous_BDBRW thinks something as simple as texting is beneath him. Resisting the urge to take everything out on poor #Fritz, I step inside the mansion vestibule and wait with my face as neutral as possible, pointed at the camera. As the old doggen opens the door, I smile tightly at him, which does nothing for the forlorn expression on his face. I’m halfway up the stairs before I freeze, feeling my fangs elongate in a rush. @Tehrror_BDBRW is so close I swear I can smell him out in the hall. Probably true since @Layla_BDBRW just went through her needing. Why the hell didn’t I suck it up and ask #Trez or #iAm or any male vampire I’ve seen if I could feed before I came here? This is not my brightest idea, and it takes a conscious effort to turn around and force my feet back down the stairs. If anything, #Fritz looks even more defeated as I step past him with nothing more than a nod, his resemblance to an old hound dog astonishing. If I back down now, I’m going to have an army of doggen and shellans trying to strap me into corsets, paint my nails and give me fucking extensions until my hair grows long. Not to mention losing all chance of ever being out fighting in any capacity, which would make me lose my frickin’ mind. Pounding in the code for the underground tunnel, I can’t stop thinking of how much the vampire race needs a good swift kick in the traditions. I’m at the door to the Pit before I’m fully aware of it, ringing the bell repeatedly.*
Vishous: *watching the reruns of the Sox winning the World Series, I light up a handrolled to watch as Big Papi comes to bat. I am about to reach for my Goose, enjoying this 200th time of rewatching this game, at least until @DocJane_BDBRW comes home from #SafePlace. Then..I will be viewing something else entirely. I am all set to enjoy my evening, when I hear the damn bell. Go off. Repeatedly. With a growl I get up off of the couch * Hollywood?! If that is you, I am gonna..*I look and see who it is and curse as I open the door* Symphath..what the fuck are you doing here? You expect me to have the intel already? *frowns and crosses my arms*
Xhex: Already? I think I have given you enough fucking time to find Hoffa, but I bet you don’t have a fucking clue where he’s buried either, now do you? *Glaring at @Vishous_BDBRW, all I can see if a vein. This has got to be my worst idea. Ever. Fixing my eyes on a point somewhere up and to the left, I cross my arms over my chest and plan how to word the most awkward text I’ve ever written to #Trez.* All I need is one name. And given that the sadistic prick’s son showed up in ZeroSum again, and recognized me somehow, I do not think that I’m asking a lot here. *I growl as I hear the TV in the background* You are not seriously watching that baseball game again.
Vishous: *glares back at you and growls under my breath* I am unconcerned where Hoffa might or might not be buried. *chuckles and arches my eyebrow as I sense something is off with you* But it sure is fun to watch the humans run around looking for him. I have your one name. *nods* But first…yes I am watching the game again. I will watch it again after this. It is my biz, true? Now..what I think the more pressing question is, Symphath, is what is going on with you? Seems like you need to be off finding @Tehrror_BDBRW, not talking with me, true? *folds my arms deliberately in the same move you just pulled*
Xhex: I came for a name, not your opinion. *I shake my head, trying to clear it of the sense of how close @Tehrror_BDBRW is. I won’t let biology trap me in a cage of the bonded male idea of what a female should be.* Give me the damn name, and all the other little pieces of info I’m sure you dug up, and I’ll let you get back to your recorded game. *And far more importantly I can get my ass away from all these males and arrange an awkward but completely non-sexual feeding.*
Vishous: *chuckles and lets a very self satisfied grin stretch across my face* Well, well, symphath. Ok. we’ll get down to business, true? You obviously have something you need to take care of, and I want to watch my game, feel me? Gimme a second. *shakes my head as I turn into the Pit, grab a file off of my desk, and come back to my door. @Tehrror_BDBRW better know what he has gotten himself into. Perhaps I should speak to him* Here is what you want. All of the information I found. Straight up? I’d be careful with this one. *narrows my eyes* Even for you? Got it?
Xhex: Yeah, I got it. If your king hadn’t been so wound up in bonded male solidarity, I’d happily enlist the entire fucking Brotherhood to help with this fucker. But @Tehrror_BDBRW does not get to dictate my life. Nobody does but me. *flipping the folder open, I scan the first sheet before glaring at you* John Smith? Are you fucking with me? John fucking Smith? What, too many John Does in the morgue, so you thought you’d mix it up and go with Smith? *skimming further down the page, I find the son listed* William Smith. Wow. No fucking originality here, so I guess you aren’t fucking around. *narrowing my eyes at the bland, basic, nothing special on the page in front of me* Are you sure you didn’t get their aliases? Witness protection, CIA deep cover or some other bullshit you didn’t want to dig any deeper into?
Vishous: *glares and raises an eyebrow at your sarcastic tone* No, I am not fucking around. The information was buried under many layers of security. The most I’ve seen in awhile. Whatever you are up to, you better make sure you know what you are doing. There is a reason why the information was buried the way that was, feel me? *nods and folds my arms across my chest* Whoever is at the end of this trail, it is nothing good. You better be asking for help on this one, true? Don’t be a stubborn ass, and that is not a request. I doubt it is witness protection or something as banal as CIA deep cover. No doubt they are responsible for some seriously fucked up things. You better wear some serious shitkickers to wade in this shit. And another thing, Xhex?
Xhex: *Everything you’re saying makes a hell of a lot of sense, but the second #Wrath pulled the patronize the female act, I’ve had my back up. I do not need my hellren’s permission to pursue a ghost from my past and perform an exorcism. I want backup, but I don’t want to be stuck on the sidelines just because of my sex. That bullshit has never sat well with me. I feel my jaw crack as I practically have to pry it open* What?
Vishous: Don’t even think about trying to do this on your own, true? *nods and glares at you* I know you, Symphath. I’ve done the “I am an island” routine myself, feel me? But the threat here, with your past? Yeah. This isn’t the time for that. The Brotherhood will help you. *raises my brow as I wait for your response* Then I have one more thing to tell you…
Xhex: *Snorting in disbelief* Help me? Right. Lock me away with the other females like we’re all helpless is more like it. This guy and his floozy need to be stopped, the sooner the better. *The smell of male vampire is getting to me, so I try taking shallow breaths through my mouth instead.* I know I’m not getting out of here until you finish whatever you want to say, so why don’t you get on with it already?
Vishous: *finishes sending a text on my phone as you talk* Did I mention sehclusion? No. Just telling you that we will be helping you so you don’t get your ass hurt. You can thank me later, true? *smirks* Oh..and also I just texted @Tehrror_BDBRW. You are eyeing my vein like it is a Happy Meal. Get yourself over to the Compound. He is expecting you. Suck it up, buttercup..*chuckles, as I turn back into the Pit*
Xhex: You are incapable of minding your own fucking business, aren’t you? *Growling, I turn and stalk down the hall. I could hide in the PT suite, but that would be a joke. I’d be found in seconds, and it wouldn’t put me in a position of strength. I could head for the garage and get my ass out of here that way. Except… Except a part of me doesn’t want to. A part of me is tired of being away from my mate to prove a damn point. Maybe I’m not the only one tired of this shit. Maybe @Tehrror_BDBRW can finally act like he understands that he mated a fighter instead of just using the words. I push open the door to the office, still considering my standard MO of cut and run.* Fuck it. Like the pompous asshole said, suck it up, buttercup. *Punching in the code, I hit the stairs, hoping this won’t turn into another ugly scene.*
*Spent. Utterly exhausted for all the best reasons. I stretch languorously, stirring the rich, male, warrior scent up anew from the sheets. Something doesn’t seem right about the fabric, but I have other things to think about. Two of them right now. Two strong, warm, familiar male hands, skimming up the inside of my thighs, easing them farther apart. Gliding lightly over my cilices, not squeezing, but not trying to remove them either. As soon as hot breath and a tongue join the hands, I prop myself up on my elbows. A deep, rich chuckle greets my movement. “Do you enjoy the view?” I don’t bother answering since the bastard knows I do. Threading one hand into his dark hair, I urge him closer, impatient with this teasing. I jump as he nips me, not breaking the skin, but close. “Calm down, Xhex. I have never once tried to feed without your consent.” Peach eyes flash up to mine, the intensity of the stare and the hint of bonding scent conveying something I don’t want to acknowledge. “One day, you may trust me enough to allow it, but I know this is not that day.” Peach? My brain is scrambling, trying to come up with another colour. Which is fucking ridiculous since #Murhder’s eyes have always been peach. A flicker of disappointment crosses his face at my lack of response before he buries his head between my thighs again.* What time is it? *I need to get back to my own place before the sun comes up. Sure #Murhder hasn’t pushed the feeding issue. Yet. If I have to stay theday, he might. Not my sheets. That must be what’s wrong with the fabric. Where the hell is the clock? I start looking, but my eyes roll back in my head at the firm, slow lick that tells me I’m not as exhausted as I thought. “Too late for you to escape, I am afraid. You fell asleep for a time. The sun has been up for an hour.” Shit. I can always play the half-breed card and bail, but I don’t want a Brother questioning that other half too closely. Wait.* Escape? *Strange choice of word, stranger thing that my mind fixates on it. “Always running away. What else should I call it?” Another sweep of his tongue, torturously slow this time, and my hands find their way back into his black and red hair. “Though I expected a more subtle ruse from a sin-eater.” My eyes snap open and I bolt upright on the bed, an ascending whistle sounding from beside me, even as #JohnMatthew has his piece levelled at the door. Blue eyes. That’s what was wrong. I haven’t dreamt of #Murhder in ages, and I’m not going to confess to doing so now. I shake my head as John slowly returns his gun to the bedside table.* Just a dream – nothing bad, just strange. *The concern on John’s face tells me he isn’t buying it.* It was a memory of a time I almost got caught. In the dream, though, I was found out as a symphath. That’s what woke me. That’s all. *John studies my face, apparently convinced that it’s not something more serious, and that I’m not providing any further info. His bonding scent flares to life as his gaze moves down my body, deciding where he wants to start. Confusion hits when I see that my cilices aren’t on. Not that I ever sleep with them on, but because I have full depth perception and all of my colors, including that amazing blue staring at me from under a cocked brow. /You sure you’re okay?/ he mouths. Clearly I’m not. My pyrocant, my well-of-soul is hovering over me, and instead of appreciating that strong warrior body, I’m worried about why my symphath side is not in evidence.* I’ll be fine. How’s that? *The look of concern slowly morphs into a grin I know well. I’ll be lucky if I can remember my name, let alone my nightmare, very soon. As I lie back and let #John take the lead, I can’t help noticing the sheets feel scratchy. We must have spilled something on them since #Fritz would never put any coarse linens on a bed in the compound without direct orders. Maybe not even then. I hear a growl as #John nips at my earlobe, scolding me for my distraction before he takes both of my hands in one of his and pins them down to the bed over my head.*You’re right, I have to let it go. *#John’s hair brushes the side of my neck as he nods. He continues the light nips and sucking kisses, never quite going where I want him most, until I finally growl in frustration and he simply stops. The world tilts as I struggle to sit up.* Are you going to finish what you started? *#John’s blank eyes stare at me from the floor, right beside #Murhder on industrial green tile. My arms aren’t being held above my head, they’re shackled. I’m chained to some fucking gurney, half propped up so I can see the two dead males on the floor. “Oh, yes. I plan to finish what I started. These two are just the beginning. You owe me a father.” A scream rips from my throat as I finally pull myself out of the nightmare for real this time, panting and drenched in sweat. I’m in my own room in my place on the Hudson, all in hues of red from pale pink to deepest crimson. My depth perception is non-existent, and all I smell is pine and a hint of lemon cleaner. Grabbing my phone, I text @Tehrror_BDBRW before I have time to wonder where he is or what he might be doing.* r u ok? *Hitting send, I sit and wait, feeling pathetic, but unable to shake the grip of dread. Wrung out. Utterly exhausted for all the worst reasons. Spent.*
Phoning It In
*I miss the good old days.
Not the really old days when females who weren’t delicate were defective.
A simpler time before all this pyrocant, well-of-soul, bonded male and might-as-well-be-bonded female bullshit.
Fuck, I even miss what I had with #Murhder. Fighting and fucking. Never any feeding, but at least he honestly didn’t have a problem with me fighting, often right alongside him. Yeah, he got pissy a few times when I refused to let him feed even though he was injured.
At least he figured out why.
I prefer clear cut goals. Stay alive. Don’t get pegged as a symphath. Scrub or kill anyone who figures out I’m a symphath. Work, eat, sleep, feed.
One pair of blue eyes shot that all to hell. For a male raised by humans, John Matthew has the traditional bonded warrior male routine down pat.
He never comes in the club anymore, and I never look.
Autopilot. My feet know the path, my eyes know what to look for, but my mind is phoning it in. I don’t know what the hell I‘d do if things got bad in here these days. Hope that my body hit fight mode long enough for my brain to engage. Pushing past a woman with a bag big enough to smuggle half the alcohol out of here, I continue on to VIP, freezing halfway up the steps.
Big ass bodybag trying to pretend it’s a purse.
I finish my trip to VIP, and make a pretense of checking in at the bar to turn and find her again. Sure enough, that woman is hauling her ass through my club, chatting up the same type of males as before.
Scanning the club, I finally spot Handsome Enough, right in the middle of things and paying zero attention to his partner. He’s looking on his own for possible vampires, but the crowd is light tonight. His eyes slide over VIP before they widen and snap back to me.
The smile that curls up the corners of his mouth makes my skin crawl, because I know that fucking smile. He got it from his father. No question.
He winks – fucking winks! – before giving an insolent wave as he grabs Handbag and drags her outside.
While I just fucking stand there trying to process.
Sweaty Drunk Male
*I know I’ve put off feeding way too long when the drunken humans in gen pop look like viable options for a vein. The lethargy hasn’t started yet, which is good, or I would be screwed. I’m already snapping at the staff. Thank fuck they’re used to my bad moods. It’s not fair to them, which is why I have got to man up and find someone to feed from soon. Perfect timing. Of course my earpiece would go off when my mood is this volatile.* What? *My bouncers don’t deserve to be snapped at, but I’m likely to break a limb on whomever they’re calling me to deal with. “Sorry, boss. It’s the guy with the strange language again. Hungarian, was it?” Scanning the floor, it doesn’t take long to pinpoint #Glenforth, shouting at anyone who gets close to him.* Close enough. I’m on him. *Clenching my fists so hard I feel my knuckles crack, I stalk across to the male who is rapidly becoming my least favorite patron. Since I know this idiot only seems to understand the Old Language when he’s this drunk, I make the switch.* Time to head out Glenforth. You need to sleep it off. *Having someone who can understand him just sets the male off, and he launches into a full tilt rant about his missing daughter. Again. I can’t help but hope that the female got far away, and didn’t run into any lessers. Taking a deep breath, I’m ready to try heading off any new conspiracy theories when I feel my fangs punch out. Shit. I’m hungry enough that being close to the scent of a sweaty drunk male is enough to trigger feeding instincts. Not good. There won’t be any talking #Glenforth down tonight. Not without showing my fangs and turning the club into a horror show. Cranking his arm up behind his back I start frog-marching him to the alley door. Kicking it open, I will the camera above the door to glitch over to static. The alley reeks of garbage and urine, but compared to the club, it’s fresh air. Fuck. All I can really smell is male vampire. Not a good, clean male scent. A cheap aftershave, cheap booze, slightly ill male scent, but it’s enough. #Glenforth is staggeringly drunk. He might not even notice. Fuck, no! I am not that hungry, but I need to get him out of here, fast.* Let me call you a cab, you need to go home. *Of course, he’s having nothing to do with that. “Home? How can I go home when those bastards stole @Zaya_BDBRW? They’re probably making a fucking mint off of her, while I’m left to starve!” Rolling my eyes, I wait until the male turns around, looking for an audience. One well placed punch, and he drops like a rock. Talking quickly into my watch, I put in a call for a cab to pick up #Glenforth at the mouth of the alley. Tomorrow. First thing tomorrow, I have to talk to #Trez and #iAm about feeding. I can’t let my control slip any further.*
Feed or Fuck
Pulling myself through the throbbing ache that wakes me up shouldn’t be this hard. I feel like I’m trying to surface from the bottom of a pool filled with wet cement.
This is not how a fighter wakes up.
This is how a female wakes up dead.
Finally sitting upright, the throbbing sensation focuses in my fangs as I feel them elongate. Flopping back on my bed I throw my arm over my eyes with a groan.
Of course I need to feed.
Admittedly, feeding from John has kept me going a lot longer than when Rehv and I were feeding from each other, but this is not something I want to deal with right now. Not once did John Matthew come anywhere near the theatre when I was at the mansion watching movies with @NoOne_BDBRW.
Probably better this way. We’re both too fucking stubborn to make anything work. And doesn’t that leave me in a fucking bind?
Since Rehv has @EhlenaBDBRW that is a straight up no go situation. I’ve lost track of other single males I used to feed from before, and I don’t think I really have time to track any of them down if the drum line in my brain is anything to go by.
Approaching a random male at the club could work, but they’d probably want to feed or fuck for the privilege. Not. Happening. Another option is to ask Trez or iAm. This would redefine the word awkward when they’re the closest thing I have to brothers. At least there would be no question of sex, and if either of them needs to feed, I wouldn’t have a problem since they know I’m a symphath.
And thinking of symphath blood, how the fuck has John Matthew gone this long without feeding after taking a symphath’s vein?
Survey says… ding, ding, ding… a Chosen!
Why does that make me feel like someone drove a fucking bus through my chest?
They all mean the same thing – that male is taking up too much space in my head, and it’s making me into a female I don’t want to be.
A female who growls alone in her room at the thought that a male she has no claim on may have fed from another female. A genetically perfect, bred to perfection, nearly pure-blooded female vampire who embodies femininity at that.
This is exactly why I won’t go to John for this. I survived for centuries before those blue eyes started following me, and I’m not going to roll over and change who I am now for anyone or any reason. Not my damn fault the kid bonded with me. Not his either, but that doesn’t change anything.
Guess I’ll have a very uncomfortable talk with the #Shadows soon.
And if they say no?
I’ll burn that bridge when I’m crossing it.
Then again, Here Comes The Weekend.
This is my opinion on this Friday.
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