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[Morganne]

this city, it screamed betrayal. the moment he stepped foot in gorsedd he could feel the change, the shift in power. it was not his city anymore. some other vampire had come, some other master- his body became tense, and that beautiful expression was marred with confusion. who? who could possibly have taken this city from him? he had not given up his rights to it, had not taken his claim from the land. it was his kiss until he died; not unless the council called for another master to be taken. it was at that moment his confusion shifted to anger. the rage poured through his body as strong as the arduer, making his golden eyes flash in brilliant fury. the council- no, not the whole council, but rather just mirova. that damned council member who called to him with so much urgency morganne had no choice but to obey right away. that damned council member who had him kept close like a pet. have no doubt, mirova was powerful, but he was not as ancient, not as powerful as morganne; and yet, the master vampire had been kept there like a chained beast. "you don't want your poor love to pay the price, do you?" was what mirova had said, threatening him, keeping him so sedated with the blood of the pet werewolves mirova kept that he could only nod in response. for all the blood that he'd been fed and the nights spent in a sedated state, his arduer had been left unsatisfied and for a purpose that mirova so cleverly used to exploit. it's raging nature left him prone to bribes. all it took was mirova to smile and say "if you're good today, maybe i'll let your arduer ride me" and morganne to gain a bit of hope that perhaps that day, mirova wasn't lying to him. of course, the lies came every day, as did the torture, the servitude, and the abuse. he'd never been treated as horribly as he had under the hands of mirova; and to think, the powerful morganne could hardly do a thing- for if he were to try and rebel, whose to say he wouldn't be able to reach daciana in due time before mirova's men retaliated. and it was a conflict that the council was unwilling to turn their eyes to. they ignored it, pretended it never happened, and merely hoped that mirova would never let morganne go, for if he did surely the wrath of the ancient egyptian king would fall upon them in waves of blood. he would have no mercy, and they were full aware. mirova was more aware of this than anyone else. every night, every night when he gave morganne his werewolf to feed from, mirova made sure to soothe morganne's anger over with sly compliments and false promises. one more night, one more night. it was strange that morganne could have such hope. but hope wore thin, and it eventually began to tear. the day it snapped, however, was the day mirova hinted that morganne was never going to have his arduer satisfied. while morganne had partly known that- for how could this cruel mirova ever mean his promises- what was left of his passive state was gone. it only took two steps and a crushing blow before mirova was on the floor with his throat crushed and his mouth filling with blood. the arduer rode him like a second rage, but a more powerful one, and he finally satisfied it with mirova as his feed. after that, morganne quickly left mirova's underground palace, making no effort to conceal his escape. there was nothing those pathetic vampires could do; their master was near dead, and through their blood exchange's they were feeling mirova's pain. it took him three days to finally leave europe on a plane to gorsedd. it wasn't soon enough, however, for as soon as he stepped off the private jet and onto his land he realized that it wasn't exactly his land anymore. that was the moment the city screamed betrayal. he couldn't quite help the confusion, and then the anger. the anger poured like liquid nitrogen through his veins, and his eyes became a molten gold. his power flared at at the new claim, and his own senses flared as well; but he withdrew his senses quickly. he did not want to know who laid claim to gorsedd, not yet, for fear that it would distract him from his one true desire. daciana, daciana come to me. his mind reached out to her- she would be able to feel him here, she would be able to hear him calling her; they had shared blood, and thus their bond was strong. he chose their meeting spot to be this tavern for mere nostalgia's sake. for was this not the place that they had first met? the human gave him nervous glances when he entered, for he had not made any visible effort to disguise his immortality. he moved with a grace humans could never achieve, and a grace that even most supernaturals did not possess. he slid into a booth, the lighting low and the glances growing to stares now that the humans assumed he couldn't tell they were staring. he let his power flare out for a moment, touching the mortal souls, caressing their frames, feeding off of their inner desires and lusts. when he drew back, they were all shivering and had the decency to leave in confusion and fear. only the bartender remained, but he slipped into the backroom. daciana, come to me. it was then he realized this new master had already shared blood with his daciana; their bond had been severed by another. his gold eyes closed, and he rested his head against the back cushion of the booth, his long black hair hanging like thick silk to frame his pale, marble features. he was still as beautiful, still as divine as before. there was the faintest touch of rose to his lips, an indication that he had fed not too long ago, perhaps one or two days ago. he was dressed in a simple but refined black button down blouse, that had long sleeves and a silky feel to it. it left a bit of his pale chest exposed, highlighting the smooth white contrast. that blouse was tucked into black hip hugging pants that fit on his legs just tight enough to accent his body's treasures, in front and back. black pants were tucked into knee high boots, black and nearly undistinguished from the pants tucked into them. he was still morganne le'julier, but should he open his eyes, the look would no doubt be much different. daciana. he grew angrier than before, his jaw clenching as his power flared and flared like a growing flame that was tended with the finest kerosene. she would feel him no doubt, she would feel the anger he was exerting. "mirova, i should have killed you." his voice was so sensual, so beautifully rich. he was ready to break the nearest object in site. Image by Narc

[Daciana]

Night had long since fallen over the city, caressing their world in darkness and shadows. The moon overhead was almost full, an indication that the meeting with the local wolves would have to wait. A couple of days and she would wonder into the heart of their territory. They were at their strongest now, and their most irritable. She wouldn't test them yet. Pale winter kissed eyes shifted, straying from the silver disk overhead, darkened clouds rolling carefully over it, hiding its brilliant light. With its disappearance her eyes shifted, the bright silver blue hue changing, darkening all the while remaining so pale. A soft sigh escaped her instantly making her unusually still form fall into motion. She turned with a grace of a dancer, and yet even then it was to graceful, to perfect for a mere human. Long skirts brushed the damp stones as she flowed down the alley like a beautiful deadly shadow. Her skirts were black, satin and lace, the edges tattered, a style in which had recently graced the human world, the 'peasant' look. She still often wondered why the women of this century would desire such a look, but had found it appealing herself when she had obtained one herself. Though the skirts were black, they faded upwards into a deep gray, and eventually into white as it continued up to the elaborate corset. The dress was new, though seemed almost like it had been stolen from another time, and modified to add the newer ones into the old. The lacing on the corset were black satin, a black that faded from the middle and outwards to deep gray and eventually white. The white ends hung down her back, resting on the soft curve of the shirts that moved to fit her form. The white resting on the deep gray making the fading of both dress and ribbons very clear. Her hair was pulled back in an elaborate and large hair clip, one that was as old as it seemed, dating back over a hundred years. It, though, seemed to match the dress, black and white roses, metal encased in ancient pearl. It pulled her hair back, leaving the long dark waist length strands hanging, but pulled clearly from her pretty face. Around her throat was a sort of choker, one that held tiny beads that hung down into a pint to the top of her breasts. They to were black gray and white. A carefully sculpted Cameo, an image of her ancient family crest at the hallow of her throat. Blood flowed fresh through her veins, highlighting her pale skin in a natural human tone, and yet, leaving it strikingly pale. The taste of the crimson was fresh on her tongue, still lingering from her recent feed. She didn't need to feed every night, not like the a new vampire would, but she enjoyed it, the taste, the warmth and the power it gave her. Yet even still she could not gather enough of herself to enjoy it as completely as she once had. She paused at the mouth of the alley, her pale eyes, framed gently in white and gray eyeshadow, peered up from her thick black lashes. Scanning the desolate street in silence before she slipped easily out though she hardly blended at all with the way she dressed. Deep down her sorrow still grew, like a living breathing thing that she could dispose of. Despite the exchange, the newly formed bond with her new master, she was still heart broken and depressed. She held a new resolve, a chance to start without that strong bond between her and Morganne, but she mourned it. Longed for him just as much as she grew angry with the thought of him. For only him had she let her guard down, and look what that had caused her. Even still the letter from the council enraged her, telling her and the cities vampires that a new Master needed to replace the old. Who had signed it? Mirova. She didn't know the man behind the name, but her maker had once spoken of the council, of those in power. He'd spoken about the man with distaste, like the very mentioning of the man was poison on his tongue. She trusted her old master enough to know that she shouldn't trust him either, but as long as she was left alone, she didn't care who ruled in the vampire council. She felt something then, a heat in her very core, such emotion blooming through her, an emotion that was so clearly not her own. Panic froze her, making her turn in a whirl of dark skirts as she faced the direction behind her. Her pale eyes searched the streets, the shadows, for anything, and found nothing. And yet, still she could feel it, a heat burning so hot that it was very nearly painful. Such passion, such rage. Deep down she knew, knew that she shouldn't feel this, shouldn't recognize that severed bond. A cry of pain tore from her lips as she stumbled, grasping the nearest lamp post for support as the pain of his rage tore through her making her fall to her knees as if she had been ordered, forced but one who ruled above her. This wasn't , this level of emotions was no possible when the bond had been broken by Jean-Claude. She didn't understand it. Couldn't grasp what it was until she fought it, fought back against the power of it to clear her head. Her power over fear filled her, swarming through her to strengthen her. There were many different bloodlines of vampires, many different powers they possessed. Fear was hers. Fear chased back the power she recognized, because Jean-Claude held the same. That's why she could feel him, feel Morganne and his rage. They were of the same Blood line, and she had allowed Morganne to feed from her more than once. She felt his rage like she was still connected to him, and it was because of his power. The fact that it was similar to Jean-Claude was only a coincidence that strengthened it. She heard him then, calling her to, like a faint distant voice inside her head. A sob shook her, and her grip on the lamp post weakened. Why was he here? Why now? Why after so much had happened? She couldn't bare it, couldn't understand why he would abandon her and what had belonged to him, returning only when someone had taken his place before the Council could step in. Inhaling a deep breath she tilted her head back, her eyes brighter than before. Like winter ice with just a touch of silver gray. What the hell was she going to do? Already she was torn in two directions. Very slowly she brushed the tears from her cheeks and forced herself to stand. Immediately she changed course. Her movements blurred, swift and very nearly dance like as she raced through the city, following that painful severed pull. She came to a halt at the corner blocks away. Her eyes lifting to the building at the corner across the street. The sign overhead claiming that it was the Tavern. A place in which she and Morganne had first met. So it was here he waited, waited in such anger and rage for her to arrive. She suddenly wondered if that rage would be directed at her, for severing their bond, to falling into alliance with a New Master. She couldn't betray Jean-Claude, not as reasonable as he was. Though his second was like a constant angry force at his back, she couldn't even begin to wish she'd made them leave. That wouldn't have been in her power anyway, but Jean-Claude was a good Master, as much as Morganne had been. She glanced behind her, her eyes darting through the shadows as if she awaited the demons that dwell there, as if this was a trap, and she was falling into it for their sick and twisted game. Shaking her head she turned back, her eyes narrowing before she pushed herself forwards, crossing the street as she regained her composure, moving her hands to rest over her flat stomach, her fingers locked together. This alone was a pose she often fell in, a pose that hid her emotions and yet spoke clearly that there were emotions there, things that she didn't want to show. Lifting one delicate hand she pulled open the heavy door and stepped into the yellowed shadows of the bar. Her eyes scanned it quickly, noting that it was very much empty, save for the presence in the far corner. Morganne. Her blue eyes found that glowing gold, locking to it. She could see the pain, pain hidden by such furious rage that it was almost frightening. She took a deep breath, watching him with a false calm, with an unblinking stare. She moved slowly, silently and gracefully through the tables and chairs. She stopped about fifteen feet from him, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Even through her usually well placed mask her pain played in her winter blue eyes. He had hurt her so completely, that it was a wonder she had even allowed herself to listen to his call. Even now, however, she couldn't bring herself to speak. Not yet, not when this all could be her mind playing sick games on her emotions and heart.

image by Narc

[Morganne]

there. his power found her, and quite immediately it ran through her like furious fire, finding that her blood was tainted with this new master's bond. he frowned and those perfectly sculpted lips seemed all the more lovely at the gesture, his arched brow furrowing together as his fist clenched. he would rip that bond from her body; how could she? how could she dare let another vampire tie her with bond of blood? how could she dare to let his own tie to her sever? she knows not her sins. morganne, calm down. surely it was not her fault: how was she to know that it was a lie? everything was a lie? how was she to know that you spent you nights no better treated than the werewolves in chains at mirova's feet? how was she to know that you suffered so that she may live? how? she knows not. still, that anger dominated all other emotions, for now he was not so much as angry at her, but that the master vampire who dared to enter his city and take claim to it. and not only take claim to gorsedd, but to his love. to his daciana. calm down morganne, calm down... the silent mantra did no good. he would not be satisfied until he could see her again. he would not grow content until her lips pressed so sweetly against his own. even through the torture, even after being pressed against the lips of so many others- he still knew how her kisses felt, knew how her skin felt, knew her scent; it plagued his dead heart and kept his battered soul from breaking. and now; his power flared again, like a beckoning wildfire, and he looked expectantly at the door. her hand pressed upon it, the scent of the fresh kill lingering on her breath- daciana in all her splendor and glory. as much as the mere sight of her roused his lust like a caged beast roaring to be free, he suppressed it under his anger. she could not feel it, no, it would ride her without mercy, especially after being deprived for so long. but that was what it wanted, no? the feel of her, the sound of her screaming out, watching as her body bucked- CALM DOWN. his golden eyes were open already, bleeding with that rage, and the lust that was carefully disguised with pain. he was holding back so much for her. but when he stood, he did so in a manner that it was unclear he'd ever been sitting. without hesitation or a moments notice, he moved from the booth to close the fifteen foot gap she had left to stand before her like a cold statue of a god. he did not speak, he could not speak. what could he say to her? she broke his bond... though his heart was dead, it ached with hurt. his hand reached up, as though to caress her, but the action was so quick and fleeting that the feeling would be that of a breeze blowing lightly against her cheek. how could you? his only love being indulged upon by another master. not that he wanted to own her, but rather, he simply wanted her to be his, as he always was hers. for a moment, his expression shifted from rage, to confusion, to sorrow, and then to hurt. but now, now as he stood before her, gazing down with those bright golden eyes, his features flowed smoothly back to anger, and suddenly his power flared dangerously, the lust and anger flowing together to mingle with his illusive power. he'd never used this on daciana, but right now, the rage was making his mind so chaotic, and oh, morganne had lost touch on his civil side a bit. my, what torture can do to the mind. the tavern began to warp, it's yellow light become brighter, until it seemed like it was full day within the tavern. but then suddenly the tavern wasn't quite a tavern anymore, but rather it was a dry desert as hot as could be, and the sun's heat beat down on them, threatening to burn them to ashes- but of course, it was all an illusion, a delusion, a hallucination: a fake sun, but god, it felt so real. and the desert, it was so dry, dry enough to chap the lips and make blood boil. of course, morganne was utterly unaffected, for this was his mind's doing; this land was as charred as his heart. he took a step foward, moving quickly enough so that he could easily attempt to pull daciana into his embrace without resitance. the movement would be so fluid that it would hardly be noticed until she felt his arms around her waist, and his hands resting loosely on her hips. "daciana, i have gone through so much to see you safe and well again." his tone was so gentle, so loving, but suddenly a dark snarl ripped through his chest, a sound that no mortal should ever be able to make. he thrust her away and turned away from her; and the scenery changed, the illusion becoming darker- it was a dense forest bathed by the light of a full moon. it was beyond cold, the temperature at a freezing point. and around them the sound of beasts in the night- chorusing howls of creatures that could not be quite identified, but those sounds could no doubt hint that they were not friendly nor passive. "and i come back to my city to find myself betrayed!" another snarl ripping from his chest, laced with hurt and rage. as his snarl hit the air, the hulking beasts joined them, like a wicked version of a mix between a werewolf and a giant, and their snarls joined his. they formed a circle around the two, but their focus was obviously on daciana. "i come back to you, my love, i come back to you to find you have betrayed me as well!" he roared it now, for the anger was as strong as the rancid breath of the beasts, and they roared with him, clawing at the ground and shaking the earth. morganne moved towards daciana again, circling her smoothly, his movements so fluid that it seemed he was floating from the ground. "was my love not good enough to survive a distance? did i not show you enough loyalty to receive the same?" he gave no time to answer his angry snarl, for her was suddenly upon her, moving so that he could force her to the ground, supporting her well enough so that she would not be hurt, but pressing his body against hers hard enough so that she could not move against him. his lips hovered near her neck, and the beasts screamed with pleasure at the sight, and the ground shook terribly at their excitement. "i love you daciana, i have loved you the moment we met; but you have broken my heart, though it is not even alive- you have managed to break it nonetheless." he placed a gentle kiss to her pulse before moving away from her again, so quickly that it seemed he was never on top of her in the first place. the scenery had changed in the time that he had kissed her into a gentler mood, a meadow at sunset, bathed in a reddish orange glow. romantic. he turned to her then, gold eyes suddenly bleeding that sorrow over rage, that hurt over anger. he held his hand out for her to take it, and his voice had such a sensuously soft tone to it, how could she refuse? "have i hurt you, mon chéri? je n'ai pas eu l'intention de vous faire mal. you are so precious to me; if i lost you, i would lose everything." Image by Narc

[Daciana]

Daciana watched him. Her breath drawing in sharply with his swift movements. Dana wasn't easily startled, and yet he had caused her a second of surprise. His movements were naturally graceful, smooth and slow, always trying to pas for human, and yet she knew his movements were never quite human. Now he moved to quickly, instantly due to his fevered emotions. She felt her eyes harden as she watched him. Her breathing completely stopped. She didn't need to breathe, but it was quite uncomfortable to not do it, and to speak one needed breath. She wasn't going to speak, not yet, not till she could gather her resolve and say something, yet she had no idea what. She blinked in surprise at that quick feather soft touch, a touch that felt like a caress of wind more than his very finger tips. Her brows furrowed, and she frowned up at him in question. Her winter eyes held her own pain, a pain that had drove into her heart so deeply. His departure had hurt her so much. He'd said not a word, and within only a months time the letter had come. The letter that had clearly stated that he wasn't coming back. It had been then that she'd given up hope, given up on the thought that he would come back to her. She gasped as his power swarmed around her, filling her lungs with the effect of the image that played around her. She could feel the heat, the sun beating down on her, and she screamed. Panic soared through her like a living thing, filling her just as completely as his power. She was sure she would burn, that her betrayal would surely kill her here and now. "Morganne please!" She cried, screaming as she stepped back her arms lifting instinctively upon the hot sun, the surrounding desert. As the first tears touched her cheeks she felt his arms around her, pulling her in. She turned her head, looking up at him, her eyes fighting through the brightness of his illusion. His words were so gentle, and yet the rage buried within those beautiful eyes was anything but. She shook her head, his words tearing a hole in her heart, ripping open the already bleeding wounds that had barely been able to be stitched back up. "I do not understand..." She whispered softly. The sound that escaped him made her cringe. She felt his hands, pushing her away from him so forcefully. She stumbled, catching herself as the scene changed. She couldn't look at him, she couldn't focus on his back as the world around her changed, darkening into night. The sounds echoing like a force in itself so angry, furious with her and what she had done. Her crystal red tears stained her cheeks as she stepped away from him, searching the trees for the threat beyond. It all felt so real, like the creatures would surely venture out, and tear her apart for her betrayal. His voice caught her in a whirlwind of pain, of her own hurt. She could feel the bond inside her, a torn and broken thing. It now stung, threatening to tear her apart as his words sunk in. She couldn't speak, she could only shake her head, silently denying her actions. He didn't understand, he wouldn't till she was able to speak, and yet, his very presence, the force of his rage wouldn't allow her even a breath. "Never..." She hissed, her own rage boiling up as she focused on him when he turned to her, circling her, moving so smoothly, so gracefully. "Morganne!..." She cried when he moved to her, forcing her down against the earth, supporting her and pressing against her so firmly. She pushed at his chest, yet found her hands nearly pinned between them. Drawing in a shuttered breath, her breasts heaved with the motion as her head tilted away from him, feeling his lips hovering. She braced herself, her eyes fluttering closed. She waited for it, to feel the pain of his teeth. Surely he wouldn't allow her the pleasure that hid the pain, not now, not when he was so angry with her. "And yet... you believe you have not broken my heart? Heart for Heart... isn't that how its supposed to be?" She said, her anger was dulled by the trembling fear in her voice. Her eyes opened in time to see his image simply disappear. She caught herself easily, turning slightly top push herself to sit up. Her legs curling around to the left while she leaned to the right. Her head tilting upwards, looking up at him. Her defiance, and anger clear in her tear stained eyes. The faint hint of red changing the winter kissed iris. His pain and sorrow hurt her heart, she saw it suddenly, replacing the anger and rage. It forced sobs to shake her, and she shook her head, turning away from his offered hand. "What did you expect of me Morganne? You left me! Without so much as a single word!" she shouted turning her head sharply to glare up at him. "I waited for you, I would always wait... But the Council sent a letter to the Mansion. They said either someone strong enough needs to step into place, or they would fill the position themselves. I didn't think you were coming back... not after that. She whispered lifting a hand and brushing at her tears. She refused to stand, knowing she wouldn't be able to keep her balance if she did. She lifted her face up to him, watching him. Her own anger, and pain mingling, unable to find a perfect balance as she internally fought with herself and her emotions. "I couldn't stand it... Couldn't survive that pain... The bond... It needed to be removed if I was going to continue my existence here... If at all... Now you are back.... Speaking of my betrayal... What else would you expect of me if you were in my place? She asked, her flushed lips trembling. "You only hurt my heart Morganne..." She said before finally lowering her head, tearing her eyes from that brilliantly colored gold of his own. She couldn't bare looking at him, not when her pain was so clearly displayed on her face.

image by Narc

[Morganne]

she did not take his hand, and morganne watched her turn away, no more anger left to give, not yet. rather, a painful sorrow like the stab of a cold dagger pierced him, making his bright eyes bleed with that reflection. daciana had done what she had to in order to stay alive. morganne had done what he had to in order to keep her alive. though both had to make sacrifices, it seemed hardly fair to the master vampire. she may have suffered, but she did not suffer as great as he did. she did not have the arduer running like a rampant beast, festering in his soul like a disease waiting to be appeased. and so he gazed like a lost lover, his eyes so pitifully hurt, his body so beautifully still; he gazed at her as she spoke, as though she were the most important thing to focus upon in the entirety of this godforsaken planet. because in all truth, she was. her words were surprising, and at the mention of the council his suspicions were confirmed. mirova. the name fueled a spark of anger, and he tried desperately to put the growing ember out, but faster and faster it grew as she spoke. he wanted to move forward, wipe those tears, but mirova's name echoed like a reminder of the nights spent in spiked chains. he should have killed mirova, damnit, should have drained him dry and burnt him. this was not daciana's fault, nor the fault of the vampire called to take his place; this was mirova, and by the gods, morganne should have killed him. his death will come soon. his anger fell again, fell as he watched her wipe her tears. he knelt, so that he could lock their gazes more comfortably, although there was no doubt he was still considerably taller. he became still, that perfect statue, carved from the finest materials by no other than god himself. or perhaps the devil; surely even god could not create a creature so perfect- to be so beautiful, surely that was a sin. when she spoke, the fear was present, and morganne regretted having frightened her. he let the illusion fade, his powers still flaring but this time gently, as though letting her know it was still there, but not to frighten her anymore. they were in the tavern again, and somehow all the chairs and tables had been knocked aside to the walls so that they stood in a rather vacant place, with nothing but the yellow light to offer and fill the place. he remained still though, as if unaffected by this change, as though unaware that it had even occurred. the bartender had no doubt run off by now for there was no sign of him; perhaps he had walked in during the illusion and immediately walked out again. if that was the case, no doubt he was in his car, screaming down the highway. oh morganne, you drive mortals mad. no more insane than i. what did he expect from her? perhaps enough loyalty so that if such a matter was arisen, she would send for him; of course, the circumstances did not allow for such. had he received a letter from the council without much knowledge of the vampires behind it, would he have reacted the same way? morganne could not decide, could not place himself in her shoes- only because if he had been the one to receive the letter, and daciana had been the one to leave, he would have followed her with or without her consent to europe. he would not have let her leave his sight. it was a single minded concept, lost to reason; he knew she was not at fault for not being able to stop him from leaving. he woke earlier than her, he was faster, stronger, and simply better when it came to leaving no trace behind. so when she woke up to find that he was gone, with naught a word to indicate so but only a lack of presence, it was not surprising to know she was confused enough to let the council's letter rule her. she looked away, and at the movement morganne seemed to come to life. he moved forward so that he was suddenly kneeling before her, his hands reaching out to cup her face and lift her chin gently so that his golden eyes could match her own stormy ones. "ma petite," his hand moved so that his thumb could smooth over her lips and rest at the corner of her mouth. his other hand took her hand in it's cold grasp gently and lifted it to his lips so that he could place a soft kiss upon her knuckles. "can you forgive me? je suis désolé ainsi, i truly am sorry." he leaned forward, as if to press his lips against her own, but hesitated, hovering before her in uncertainty. "i have longed to see you again, daciana." Image by Narc

[Daciana]

Her lips trembled, the human blood that flowed through her only making her reactions even more less than inhuman. She felt his hands on her face, tilting her face up so she would meet his gaze. It took her a moment, a moment to gather enough courage to open her eyes and look up at him. When she finally did he was so close, close enough to very nearly startle her. Inhaling sharply she shook her head carefully feeling his thumb brush across her lips. She wondered how fate could have possibly stepped in between them. How she could possibly take him from her and tear her apart with these lies. What had she done wrong in the past for Fate to have put a hand in this? Where her fragile heart was concerned. Many, even their own kind wouldn't be effected like this, their hearts were cold, and their minds deceiving, but she had always loved Morganne, ever since their first conversation, the teasing words, their soft laughter, those beautiful golden eyes. Slowly she lifted a hand, her fingers brushing against the back of his hand that rested on her cheek. She stared up at him, for he was tall even kneeling on the ground in front of her. "Of course.... but I had no idea that you would be back... The letter indicated that you weren't. I'd assumed that you did not love me as much as I loved you." Her body shuttered as she leaned into his touch. Her lips parted ever so slightly when he leaned in, so unsure of her actions. Her eyes lowered, studying those sweet lips before lifting to meet his gaze yet again. She could see now how much she'd hurt him. How her reactions, not accepting his offered hand. Of course his power scared her, it had all felt so real, like the creatures in that forest would step out into the moonlight and act as his revenge on her betrayal. The sun in the desert more than the creatures. She wondered how it could feel so real, but knew it was all because of the one who held the power unto himself. He was a powerful Master Vampire, and she shouldn't have doubted him in the least. But what would have stolen him from her? "What happened? What was it that stole you from me?" She asked softly lifting her face to his. Her free hand lifted to his face, her fingertips caressing his soft marble flesh. Very carefully, her eyes searching his, her fingers slipped back into that long pitched hair. She shifted forwards, drawing herself to her knees, and yet keeping that inch of distance between her lips. She felt her power willingly escape her, a hint of its natural glory, and caress the air around them, searching his own, and finding it with a gasp. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, and she shook her head. "How are you holding it back?" She whispered, her words barely above a gentle whisper in her astonishment. His power was so strong, so wild yet so well contained. The only reason she could feel it was because she had allowed him to feed from her on occasion. She could so clearly remember that power riding her, that wild power. Very slowly she untangled her fingers from his hand, placing her hands again on either side of his face, and then she drew him down to her, that last inch and pressed her lips. She shifted closer to him pressing herself against him. She fit perfectly there, like all along she'd been made for this purpose. So long after even he was created. Fate had torn them apart for a time, but Fate also knew where they belonged, despite its horrid intentions. All her fear, her anger towards him disappeared. How she could have believed he would so easily leave her, without a good reason behind his disappearance? She knew, suddenly that something had happened, something to tear him from her and his city, to set him back and replace him. But why? What was the reasoning behind it all? She wasn't so sure she wanted to ask, for she had seen his rage and she knew it hadn't all been directed at her.

image by Narc

[Morganne]

as soon as her eyes opened, he felt that jolt of passion slip through his well set defenses and taunt his ardeur. she was so beautiful; he let her speak without interruption, only because he adored watching her lips move, and he enjoyed the sound of her voice. her face lifted, and they were so close, and yet his senses did not find her close enough. a mere press of lips, a play of skin, the teasing touch of tongues and fangs; oh, yes, they were much to far. she asked that question, and his golden eyes flashed with pain. he couldn't tell her how he'd been kept as a slave, he couldn't let her know that he'd submitted so far to a vampire so weak. his eyes kept still and focused on her, but radiating a sort of pain that just couldn't be verbalized. he didn't have an answer he could give- that he wanted to give. should she know that her darling morganne, her ancient and powerful morganne, fell on his knees to a vampire not even a thousand years old. pathetic was what it was, and morganne did not want that to mar her image of him; as though the mere fact that he left without saying a word didn't taint it enough. he felt her power slip out as she searched his eyes, and it brushed his like a gentle touch of silk. he blinked slowly at the touch, not at all hiding his own power from her; her gasp reached his ears, and suddenly that pain in his eyes made sense. it was not a simple thing, to hold the lust back like so. it tore into his control, his mind, made his metaphysical conscious stressed and wear thin. "it hurts, ma petite, it hurts to hold it back like so. help me." it was a ragged whisper falling from the lips of an angel, whose wings were as tattered and torn as his soul. she was his heaven, and he was no doubt her hell. her hands met on either side of his face, framing that immortal perfection, and when her lovely lips pressed against his own, he grew still for a moment. he moved, pulling away with a gasp, his eyes wide; he looked shocked, as though the moment she kissed him an internal fire suddenly rose. but then his power roared like the beasts of the night in his illusion had, wrapping around her, licking at her own power and threatening to dominate. he trembled, and then those eyes narrowed and his expression shifted into something so gloriously sensuous it could have made the virgin mary spread her legs like a whore. he leaned back into her so that their bodies fit again, his hair falling around them like a veil while his lips met her in a hungry embrace. his hands sought to find her hips, to press her as close as her clothed body could be against his own, while his lips found their solace in stealing the breath from daciana's own. control it. oh, but morganne, how could you control it for so long? she was so lovely, like a rose dipped in the most crimson blood- she lit every part of him on fire, and the ardeur was begging to be fed with that passion like a beast begs for carnage. it was beginning to seep out, that lust, and taint their emotions- and yet it was not even dancing in it's full garments, but rather morganne was holding it back as much as he could. to let it all go, to let it overcome the both of them and to feed from it; it would be dangerous, for who knew if daciana's body could control the intensity of it. mirova was no doubt still having aftershock's from when morganne fed from him, but then again, when morganne fed the ardeur he fed it with a hateful lust, a lust for revenge. it was not as satisfying as the lust fueled by love- that was the most satisfying nutrition of all. though morganne was unsure whether daciana had done it, or he had done it, but their position's had changed, and suddenly morganne's back was pressed against the tavern wall and his hair lay like the darkest silken sheets. one hand was still resting on daciana's hip while the other moved to rest on the small of her back. their lips, still connected, danced and danced, and then danced some more. he pulled back, if only to allow his chest to rise and fall with an unnecessary breath, his power flaring as his desire to control it grew less and less. his gaze met daciana's, and in it she would find not only a deep hunger, but a slight edge of fear. he did not want to release this upon her in full force, it was a pleasurable fate, no doubt, but it could last longer than daciana's body could endure. such pleasure could get lost amongst the pain. the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, not to mention, her blood was mingled with another bond- he could risk breaking that and accidentally claiming her as his own, now could he? the new master wouldn't be so amicable to morganne's return if he found that morganne had already laid claims to a vampire that didn't ritually belong to him in blood bond. "daciana, i cannot do this to you." he whispered, his hands falling from her body. "i cannot risk hurting you with this untamed power, nor can i risk breaking the current bond you have with this... new master." the words were hard for him to say, and he whispered it with a sort of raw edge that let her know he sure as hell wasn't okay with her being claimed by another. what would make this dandy little predicament work out? morganne could meet this new master of hers, speak with him, request permittance into the kiss, and perhaps... allow the new master to take the toll of his raging ardeur. for if this new master was strong enough to take on his city and his love, surely he was strong enough to endure the passion from a 5,000 year old vampire. Image by Narc

[Daciana]

Daciana moved with him, though couldn't remember when she'd pushed herself to her feet. She was pressed to the front of him, his hands on her hip and lower back, pressing her firmly to the front of his body. How perfectly matched, like fitting into the perfect sized glove. Nothing could compare, and surely she wouldn't have wanted to try. His lips captured her, and she desperately clung to the feel, the heat as she accepted his advance, the taste of his tongue, her own dancing between his sharp teeth, almost like she were daring him to make her bleed. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around him, accepting his lips as if she were drowning and he was her life saver. She didn't want to let go, didn't want to give up what had been brought back to her. All to soon, however, he pulled back, gently pushing her away. She was dazed for a moment, the affects of his lips making her blink and inhale as if she had just come up for a much needed breath of air. She blinked up at him, feeling so human for a moment, like his sheer power over her returned her soul to a mortal body. It took only a moment for her to actually see him, for the affects to dwindle and allow her her mind to think. It was then that his words hit her and she frowned up at him in slight confusion. She didn't understand what he meant, but then she also didn't understand how strong his power was at the moment. Oh she felt it, but she didn't know how much it could consume her. She shook her head, pressing her hands against his chest, leaning slightly into him as she stared up at him, her winter blue eyes nearly glowing with the swirling power around them, so raw, so wildly controlled. "Morganne... you haven't fed it. Who strong enough could you possibly feed from? You cannot feed from the New Master, even if he'd allow it... Your powers are to much the same... to familiar. Even his second holds a bit of the taste of your power... There is no other immortal strong enough." She whispered softly, unable to understand just how much danger his power held. She suddenly wondered about the New Master, Jean-Claude, and his Second, Asher. They were of the same line, she knew that much, she had spoken to them about it, and the mention of the Ardeur had struck her by surprise. Again she wondered if they came from the same line, for surely it was impossible to have the same power descending from different lines. "I know enough to realize that it will consume you... please, Morganne, I cannot allow you to continue like this! Its to strong!" She whispered desperately. Her sudden concern overwhelmed her, the need to help him feed his power was almost to strong even for her to bare. She was very nearly a Master Vampire herself, her own power still growing as the days and years continued. She had but a hundred years left before she touched her full power, but it would come, that much she could feel. She had just fed, her own powers locked tight though desperately longing to be free, to be used. Very slowly a smiled spread across her lips, her eyes narrowing with the though that suddenly occurred to her. "Do you not think me strong enough Morganne... m'love... Surely if i could survive your departure i can survive you." She whispered, teasing but nonetheless serious in her own way. Even still she didn't understand the raw power he held back, because though she felt it, his control kept her from seeing the entire picture. "I am sorry... If I'd have known you would return to me I would never asked for him to sever the bond. Jean-Claude is a fairly reasonable Master Morganne, though it pains me to be linked to anyone other than you. I am sorry..." She whispered, her brows furrowing gently as she felt her tears fill her pale eyes. The pain of her words hitting her hard, like she herself had torn out a piece of her heart and set it on fire. Sighing gently she rested her forehead against his chest, her fingers curling tightly against his shirt, desperate to keep him close. "What have I done?...

image by Narc

[Morganne]

his powers were similar to that of the new master? the thought sent morganne's mind reeling, and instantly he sought to recognize who this could be. his own ardeur had come straight from the hands of a beautiful vampire who called herself beautiful death. met in europe, he was her lover, if not her rise to success. of course, he left her side when she chose power over him- it was not love she felt, and morganne did not want to stay if all he was was her little side quest; but upon leaving her one last night, he realized she'd given him something that he just couldn't give back, and she was unaware that she had even given it to him. before meeting her, he'd already had the ability to induce lust, and to use his voice to seduce others. it was something that attracted the vampire to him in the first place. however, now, now when he fed he found that he had a second, more dangerous hunger to feed: that of the ardeur. her smile enraptured him, and he struggled not to take her then and there. his hands lingered over her body then, hovering, before gently landing to hold her in his grip. oh, daciana, you're flirting with death here. jean-claude. the name made his eyes blink slowly, and he struggled to place the name, but it was too vague, too unclear. he might have heard it, perhaps from another's lips, but beyond that morganne couldn't place an exact face to the name, nor an exact meaning. but he did not have to think of jean-claude and all the things he didn't know about the new master, for daciana's head resting against his chest, and her fingers curled in his shirt. her sorrow was like a sweet wine, aged and intoxicating, and his chest rose and fell with a deep, hungry sigh. if there was anything about daciana that he loved, one of the best parts attributes of the female vampire was that she always cared; whether it be anger, sorrow, or simply sympathy, it seemed that she was more human than most vampires could manage to be. all the same, she wasn't as jealous, or as temperamental as most female vampires. he could count on her. he realized then that she had been in the complete right by letting jean-claude take a blood bond. if she had not, surely she would have been worse off. staying alive in a kiss without a blood bond- well, to be certain, although morganne did not require it, if he had and one of his members had objected, there would have been trouble in paradise. "ma chéri, do not worry." he pulled her back from him just a bit, so that she would get the hint to look up at him. he leaned forward so that his lips could capture her own, if only for a fleeting moment. he pulled back, shuddering from the touch of her lips. careful, morganne, that you do not hurt her. "lay with me, daciana..." he slipped from her hold, moving away from her so that he could walk away. but he stopped, so that in the very center of the tavern he could sit down easily. he leaned back so that his weight rested on his elbows and his legs stretched out in those dark pants and knee high boots. "and if it becomes to much, you must pull away- do not count on me to do it, for i may loose myself." Image by Narc

[Daciana]

She looked up, her head tilting gently back, exposing that slim neck, with its decoration glinting in the lights. She stared up at him, eyes bright as her fingers carefully uncurled from the fabric of his shirt, worried suddenly if she had wrinkled it from her tight grip. She shouldn't have worried, even imperfection looked stunning on him. Her eyes closed as she felt his lips, her fingers moving to brush the soft skin of his jaw just a second before he pulled away. Her eyes opened as he moved away from her, his words making her turn around, following his movements in a slow graceful pivot. She watched him, her hands having again found the smooth satin of her stomach covered by her corset. She took a deep breath, her breasts heaving with the air entering her lungs. With a garment as tight as a corset the only way one could breath was up instead of out, or else it hurt like a bitch. Not that it mattered to her, she couldn't feel it. Her eyes tore themselves away from him, scanning the dim Tavern before she found it satisfying enough. It was void of any eyes, and that alone was all she asked for. Though she would do what she needed doing for him in this state, she would always be modest. She was old, nearly nine hundred years, not match to those she had come in contact with recently, but that was still old, and vampires didn't often loose the manners they obtained as a human. Slowly she looked back down at him, and knew, by the look in his eyes, that he was going to be careful, even if she believed she could handle it. "Becomes to much? What exactly is becoming to much?"She asked, but already knew the answer. Becoming to much was when his power threatened to consume her, to tear away what life she had, and she'd be begging for it, wanting it. When she was to weak to move, to protest, that was to much. Sighing deeply she nodded and smiled, a soft reassuring smile. "Why I would want to pull away is beyond me... but I promise... if it becomes to much..." she teased gently before she took a step, her feet carrying her towards him. She stopped only a foot from him before she lowered herself to the floor, her eyes locked with his, reading the torn emotions behind the golden hue. When her hands touched the ground on either side of him she smirked, a devious little look, impish and knowing. She crawled over him, her movements slow, careful, deliberate. Eventually she found herself straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips as she lifted her hands back to his face and lowered his lips to his mouth. She pulled him to her, her tongue dancing across his lips, daring him to open his mouth. She felt the heat of her skin rise, the human blood flowing through her veins helping the illusion of being human. When his mouth opened for her her tongue danced across his fangs, so tempting to just press harder. As the thought passed through her mind she did as she wanted, slicing her tongue open and letting the blood flow between them. The taste fueled her, pulling him ever so closer to her before her fingers lowered slipping down his chest before disappearing under the fabric of his shirt, only to caress the smooth hard lines of his abdomen. Their separation had been to long, far to long for things to have gone so wrong.

image by Narc

[Morganne]

he iddn't answer her, for he knew that she was intelligent to decipher the meaning herself. by the look in her eyes, she understood. though she teased, morganne was trusting her with this; he had already let her know in the form of several subtle warnings that this was dangerous. he told her verbally that he may loose himself. surely she understood that danger. perhaps that's why he trusted her- beautiful daciana, as intelligent and wise as himself, if not wiser. she would know when to pull away, for morganne had faith in her. and it is not a blind faith, darling, it is the sort of faith that draw mortals to gods. the faith that drew morganne back to gorsedd immediately: for he knew she would be here waiting for him. it was that kind of faith. she came in the glory that epitomized her, and he watched her every move, even as she slid down to the ground before him. oh god, there was something so stunning about her; even in all his years as a vampire, he'd met few who could compare to daciana's beauty. and it wasn't just beauty- the woman was downright sexy, the sort of woman that made a man's mouth water and his hands itch with the desire to touch her. morganne was quite sure his eyes were reflecting such a desire, for was he not still a man, even with the immortality cloaking his humanity? he still had those same impulses, those same needs. if anything, the mere fact that those needs were so much greater, so much intensified: did not that make him more human? she was straddling him, and he welcomed the press of her tongue against his lips. she was so ripe, and her lips so tender; every touch raised him further and further beyond the edge of control. but he still had it, and he was able to let the ardeur slip out slowly, like honey dripping from the comb. it slithered into the air and wrapped around them, egging them on, taunting and teasing- but not too strong. not too overpowering. but when her tongue danced against his fang he shivered and somewhere in his throat a low moan escaped. she should do it, she should- too late. but she did, and the blood spilled from her tongue and instantly he was upon her, switching their positions so that he was pressing her against the ground in a firm press, one hand beneath her head and the other arching her back up so that her stomach could press against his. his legs now straddled her, and as the blood flowed the ardeur began to flare more powerfully. morganne's lips against daciana's were tender, but god, the kiss was so deep and devouring. he wanted that blood, he wanted to taste her again- he gave a soft groan as her wound healed, and he pulled back, nibbling on her lower lip as he did so. for a moment, he simply gazed down at daciana, the adeur making his gold eyes seemingly shift into something more blazing, like liquid sunshine. and then his lips were at her neck, pressing kisses there, nipping at her skin where her pulse danced beneath. the ardeur was raging even more powerful now, and his kisses grew more passionate against her skin. suddenly he was ripping the corset laces apart with his fingers in a smooth blur, pulling it down so that his lips could trace further down from her collarbone to the swell of her breasts. his mouth found her nipple, and he bite it gently, tugging it with his teeth, glancing up at her with that wicked sort of intention. his hand had left her head by now, and was slipping up her thigh in a soft sort of caress, his other hand working the corset dress lower then, so that his teeth could stop assaulting her nipple and instead move down to nip at her smooth stomach. by now, the dress was completely off, and he was eagerly running his lips further down, until they rested just below her navel. Image by Narc

[Daciana]

As the blood hit his tongue, scorching the coolness of their lips, she felt him move, push her back so their positions were switched. She didn't fight it, she allowed him to take control, to press his lips more firmly to her own, stealing the blood from her tongue as she delivered it. She moaned softly into his mouth as his hand pressed against her lower back, pushing their bodies tightly together. Her eyes fluttered open when he drew back, nibbling on her lower lip before moving down to her throat. Her head tilted back exposing that long muscle, still mostly hidden by that thick choker like necklace. When his lips began to trail lower her head tilted, her eyes opening faintly to watch him. Her mouth opening in a gasp as he began his assault on her nipple. She couldn't understand the feelings he made her feel, the things that filled her so completely that she wondered how she had survived all these centuries without it. His departure had torn her apart, her smiles having all but vanished, her laughter never gracing the air. He had torn her apart so completely, as surely she had him, and yet, in an instant, he had put the pieces of herself back together, like they hadn't been shattered to begin with. She swallowed hard, gasping in a breath as he bit her gently, and then moved slowly, so achingly slow down her body as he tore her monochrome dress from her slim pale body. Her skin was flushed with her most recent kill giving her already unnatural pale skin a soft gentle tint of rose, filling her naturally cold skin with so much warmth. She could feel his power around her, humming along her flushed skin as his lips trailed lower, and lover. Her chest was heaving with breath, with anticipation as he stared up at her, that wicked gleam in those brilliant gold eyes. He was truly a sinister man and this proved it. His every touch sent electric shivers through her body, focusing in her feminine core and spreading outward. She knew it had a little to do with his power, the power that needed so desperately to be fed as it began to escape his control. Yet she also knew it was just because of him, even without that power he would be able to bring such a response out of her. She knew she was ready to receive him, though she knew she would still be tight, he would definitely had to work a bit, to be careful long enough for her to quickly adjust. Yet she realized quickly that his intentions at the moment where on an entirely different page. Her eyes watched him, her head tilted to the right to make it easier. The winter kissed hue of her eyes were bright almost glowing with her own pleasure, with every touch of his fingers and lips the light grew, like a flame was gradually drawing ever closer. "Morganne..." She whispered softly, a smile curving the corner of her lips, her hands feeling the way down her body, a teasing gesture before they flipped back into his dark hair.

image by Narc

[Morganne]

oh, how delicate she was, like a white rose blushing with crimson; her voice edged him on, ran through his ears and over his body like a metaphysical touch. it urged him to continue, and despite his cruel desire to torture her until she begged, he too began to grow anticipative. the power swept around him, and it was getting harder now to control such a caged beast. but he tried- oh, morganne was trying. he gave a soft moan at the touch of her hands in his hair, the silk strands managing to tug pleasure out of the simplest touch as that. his tongue found her skin, and it ran down from her navel to the beginning of her undergarments, finding it extremely easy to bite through the fabric and tear it slowly from her body. it was soon thrown to the side with the dress, although the dress was in much better condition. but that was because morganne desired to see her in that dress again- though god knows morganne could buy her a new dress for every day of her long, long life to be. his tongue ran further down still, until it met the core of her passion; the place where boys become men, and girls realize their women. he kissed her, slowly, like a human lover might have kissed her so long ago. his lips moved at that mortal pace, finding the entrance to her and finding it already wet and inviting. so his tongue found pleasure in exploring that hot realm, slowly and teasingly- he knew full well daciana knew that he could move better, and faster, but it was more dangerous if he did. he didn't want to even begin to release yet, not if he could help it. but he could not help himself, soon he was pressing with harder motions against her, his tongue moving at a faster rate than most mortals could achieve, but still, not at the height. his lips found her clit, and he sucked at it gently, sucking it harder as suddenly the ardeur began to slip more and more from his grasps. he moaned against her at the feel of it's warmth. soon his tongue was performing that dance that only a master vampire could perform- it was assaulting her clit at a speed that probably wouldn't be healthy on a normal human, but on daciana, oh... darling, you are so welcoming. his hand moved, and soon he easily had two fingers in her, feeling her inner muscles instinctively tighten around his slender, long fingers. they began a rapid pace, as fast as his tongue, and as he did so that ardeur spread and spread until morganne only had two thirds of it controlled while the rest of it ran over their bare flesh and obvious desire and amplified it all. in that moment he was moving far too fast, far too skilled with his fingers if he had any hope to share in daciana's pleasure by indulging his own simultaneously; however he didn't. the pleasant thing he enjoyed about women was that they were able to release more than once during an experience. and so he pressed on until he was certain he had reached her climax, his lips kissing her one last final time, and his fingers sliding out slowly. he moved up the length of her so that he was on top again, his body hovering over hers. her nipples were barely brushing his chest, and he struggled not to move any faster than was necessary- though the gods know he wanted to take her then and there while the ardeur could still be controlled. his fingers teased her lips apart so that she could clean them, sure to taste her own pleasure lingering. "daciana, i have missed the taste of you." he pulled his fingers back, licking them himself, shifting so that she could feel the bulge resting firmly against her thigh, and he pressed against her eagerly his lips finding her nipple and teasing it briefly. his head lifted, and his golden eyes blazed with an intensity that the ardeur amplified- but even without the ardeur always there like a sexual intensifier: morganne would be just as eager for her all the same. "your turn, ma petite." it was a tease as his lips found hers. Image by Narc

[Daciana]

Daciana's fingers tightened around the long silken strands of his hair, though with his movements her hands went along with him, not entirely trying to hold him there, for she knew that's where he wanted to be and would stay for as long as he wished. When his lips found her intimate core, her body jerked, her head thrown back, her hips fighting to remain still. She moaned low, the sound so feminine and a clear indication of the electricity beginning to fire off at every nerve. Her fingers tightened for a moment, then loosening only so her nails wouldn't find purchase. She didn't want pain, not yet, not on him unless he wanted it. "Morganne... oh God..." She breathed, her voice breathless, heavy, and thick with her accent as his fingers slipped into her. Her hips bucked then, moving into each of his quick pumps. A normal human would die of this pleasure, unable to take such an extreme amount of touch and quickness, of the sheer power of it. He didn't have to be careful with her, a human however was far to fragile for anything their kind enjoyed. She cried out, her hips jerking as her back arched when he forced her over the edge, a tumbling wave of pleasure that made her want to keep plummeting. She felt it in her fingertips, the electric wave pulsing all around her, a heat that no immortal would ever think possible to survive. Her eyes flickered open, bright, ablaze with winter fire, and dazed. She couldn't see straight for a moment, but her lips parted willingly as he offered his fingers. Her tongue ran the length of them before he pulled back and tasted them himself. Now she was staring up at him, her body slack, lip as she tried to gather herself for more. She could only imagine how strong his power was riding him, because she could still feel that he was holding back, and she wondered how on earth he could do it. Before she realized it his lips had captured her own once again, her lips parting for him as her tongue ran over his lips before darting in, tasting herself, a faint lingering taste in his mouth. Her hands lowered to either side of his face, pulling him down to her as her strength began to return in small but quick bursts. After a moment she pulled back to get a breath, looking up at him with a sly glint in her eye. "Will you be able to hold onto it if I was to taste you?" she asked. Any other time she knew he would, but now was a rather delicate situation. Her lips turned into a smile as her hands moved away from his face, trailing down his bare chest. Her nails dug into him, leaving faint lines as they danced sharply down his chest and stomach, coming to a tempting halt on his tight pants. She whined softly as she felt his pants, but she didn't wait for him. She lifted one hand to his chest and pushed, flipping them over again, and putting him on his back. She moved down, her eyes on his. Her fingers easily unbuttoning and unzipping his pants before she began tugging them off completely and tossing them into the growing pile. Her pale eyes lowered, caressing the long hard length of him. She knew, despite the hardness that his skin was silken, already making her fingers itch to touch him. She smirked as she looked up, her eyes meeting the golden fire. She reached out, leaning over him where she was knelt between his legs. She held herself above him with one hand, her lips finding his as her hand began that soft featherlight touch, stroking the hard silken skin before wrapping her hand around him.

image by Narc

[Morganne]

he was lost in her when she asked, and hardly did the vampire have the will to answer. he did not have the strength to hold it, but perhaps part of him wanted to be reckless. perhaps he didn't want to hold it in any longer. you are foolish! ah, but foolish men have quite the fun, don't they? and so he did not dare speak as she moved her hand down his body, her nails carving deliciously tempting lines into his skin. of course, such marks would not last long, but the reminder of pain brought a sharp, sadistic edge to the moment, an edge that morganne much appreciated. it was then that her hand rested upon his chest, and he felt the force behind it- he did not resist at all, but rather gave her full control. he landed on his back as she intended, sighing softly at the movement; he watched her intently, his tongue running along his lips subconsciously. oh, my, how she watched him too! morganne could taste, smell, and feel the sheer ardor in the air, and as her fingers skillfully disarmed him of what clothes he had left his senses only peaked as his control weakened. still, the vampire hesitate to speak, because my gods, how good it felt to be bathed in such extreme passion and need! how wonderful it felt when every single touch by her smooth fingers was heightened hundredfold! her hand found his erect length, and he shuddered beneath her as it did- her lips, however, would feel the shudder as no more than a passionate reply, fangs extended and daring to nip at her. but just as daciana's hands closed fully around and began to truly please, he drew his lips back and bared his fangs with a volatile hiss, eyes beautifully wide and frightened. for the first time, morganne held fear on his expression as a child might, and it sculpted his features into something so painfully lovely. the vampire's hands found daciana's face quickly, the marble skin a blur as they met to rest on either side of her face, cupping her cheeks with a firm, but gentle touch. the fear had not yet left those startling eyes, and his lips moved to release the words that his tongue hastily served. "i... i cannot! i need... i need... oh, it will ruin us!" the power, he knew now, was far too strong. he had thought it to be less, but now- now as her fingers had lingered on his skin did it respond with a ferocity that he truly had not expected. his fingers trembled on daciana's skin, his voice soft and painfully broken, "lay with me darling... just... please, lay with me?" Image by Narc