Anyone could see, the woman at the bar was beautiful- and naturally so. There was something.... warm about her, something sensual. She was a promise, a promise that any man could have.... for a couple bucks. But her allure wasn't just skin deep. When she smiled, the room seemed to light with the flashing image of what lay just beneath skin: a soul. Acquiring her body was no difficult task for a man, but acquiring her attention was another thing. She was fickle, stubborn, and passionate beyond comprehension. No normal man could handle her temper, her desire. Any feeble heart would be burned by her, badly, and anyways she didn't need some weak drooling puppy to follow her around. She needed someone stronger.

But she didn't want to need anyone.

Aldonza Hernandez leaned against the table, her fingers running through her hair for a moment as she adjusted the tight dark curls. Brown eyes looked to the door for the second time tonight. She had only just gotten here anyways. Already, she had texted Michael- letting him know she was here.

U owes me a night at the bar. Get to the WM. I just got off wrk.

He had promised. She was sure he remembered his promise. He was a lot like she- and she remembered everything he said, everything he did, every move he made. It was unfair. She hadn't gone looking for love, hadn't thrown herself at him or hunted men like game. She had simply lived her life; taking so many precautions so that she might not run into Cupid. But he had found her. And even now, even now she couldn't admit to what she felt. It had seemed like Michael had been in her life forever- he just- understood so well. He just- knew her. He had known her since they first kissed; recognizing something similar in another. She had recognized it in him too. A passionate desire to protect oneself. They were both solitary beings, people who hated to depend on others.

She didn't depend on him though. If he left, she'd still breathe: she'd still live. However, she did need him. Life without him was unimaginable. Al couldn't even bear to think of it. She half cursed herself now for even considering it. Was she trying to depress herself?

She turned back to the bar and ordered tequila.

Emerald eyes and a scruffy smile met her gaze as the bartender gave her a once over, his eyes lingering on her simple candy red dress, how it hugged her curves and flared out sensually at her knees. The wolfish stare moved from her legs up her body- lingering on the V-neck of her halter dress, her cleavage delaying him.
"Tequila please," she growled at him, her eyes hard. She didn't mind attention- actually, she loved it. But lately, no one's eyes mattered. No one else mattered but him. He was who she dressed up for. No one else. And she didn't want it to be that way.

Things were simple when she was with him, but when they were apart she second-guessed herself. And wasn't that natural? She was sure he second-guessed as well. They weren't fairy-tale characters. They weren't meant for happily ever after. Life wasn't like that. You had to write your own damn ending but sometimes- sometimes someone else took the pen and messed everything up. How many times had Al's life taken a turn for the worst? How many times had she been cheated, raped, beaten, sold, punished.... Life wasn't a fairy tale. Life was life and she'd be damned if anyone messed up things again.

But this time, this time she was messing her story up. She wasn't meant to be romantic, yet here she was- infatuated, obsessed, and possessed by him.

Where was he? She downed her shot in seconds and paid the bartender, who insisted it was on the house. She left the money there anyway, moving away from him to fall in with the dancing crowd. Michael would find her. Her heels clicked softly as she made her way towards the pulsing music, her own heart rate speeding with the rush of sound.

He had promised.

He said he could dance. She wanted him to prove it.

Michael promised. He'd be here soon. He'd never break a promise to her. He hadn't yet.

OOC: whenever you guys are ready for this awesome plot- here's the topic. *bounces up and down in excitement* We just have to make sure no one runs away from the others in posting.

"Sorry kid. No ID no entrance." Said the bouncer at the door.

"But please sir! My sister's in there!" She said looking up at him pleadingly. But the man crossed his arms and turned away from her.

Sera snarled and stalked off... She could kill him... It would be so damn easy just to rip his throat out. But there were too many people about. If she killed this one... Then she'd never get to who she truly needed to kill.

She was in there... Past those doors that the bull necked jack ass that wouldn't let her in. She had followed the woman's scent. The one she'd picked up off of Michael the other night. She was in there just out of reach and though she didn't even know the woman's name, she would die tonight. She would pay for what she did to her love... Her Michael.

She had hurt him too much, and Sera wasn't going to allow it! Not some stupid little mortal who had no clue what Michael needed, had no clue what he was or what she had to sacrifice to get him. Sera knew... Sera knew what he needed and wanted.

But now she had to wait... She had to wait out here until the woman came out. Once she did... All Sera would have to do was follow her... Then the woman would die. It was all so easy.

Michael had been alone when he read the message. There was a dead girl, now, but she no longer counted as company. Her neck was a mess, but she was unusually intact, and he almost felt sorry. Almost. The small but insistently harsh light of his phone glowed against his pale face and eyes, casting weird shadows and generally giving him an even more unnerving look than was typical. Didn't matter. The street was empty.

[[New Message]], so said the screen.

U owes me a night at the bar. Get to the WM. I just got off wrk.

He grinned and looked up, recalling just where he was and where the nightclub should be. Not too far- he could get there in no time at all. And he did. He waited in line like a good, non-rule-breaking little vampire and cast the bouncer a quick look as he crossed through the door.

There. In the entrance. For a moment, it was there, cold and distant and almost too weak to be real. Like a fly brushing past him. Whatever it was, he had forgotten it within the very next moment as his eyes instantaneously adjusted to the new quality of dark.

The change was immediate and astounding. The music came first, tied into the broken darkness that seemed to flicker in and out in time to the low, persistent beat. Then the scent- sweat, blood, mortal through and through. It was fortunate he'd come across the girl not twenty minutes ago. He'd forgotten how abrasively close such a place would inevitably be and how deeply it affect him.

"'Scuse me," a short girl and a couple of friends pushed past him amidst an unintelligible burst of giggling, their skin sliding over his with what felt like an exaggerated slowness. But he wasn't here to accidently cause pandemonium.

She was in here, somewhere, and if that pre-existing knowledge wasn't enough he could taste her mingled in with the thousands of other scents and sounds. Now it was just a matter of finding her. He kept to the outside at first, moving slow and taking his eyes off the writhing crowd on the dance floor only to glance ahead to avoid crushing into some unfortunate someone. Once or twice he spotted a woman who looked similar to her, but hardly a glance told him he was wrong and he moved on again with a little more determination.

And then she was there. He could hear the click of her heels from where he stood, just one pale face in a thick crowd of faces, as she left the bar and quickly vanished back into the mass of limbs and starved smiles. No need to fish her out right away, though he was already moving again, searching for a better vantage point where she wouldn't likely notice him. He wanted to see her. He wanted to watch her move. He wanted to reach into the pool of heartbeats and know that he could pick out just hers simply by the rhythm. And then he'd find her, touch her, and feel her heart beat just a little faster.

Her scent must have been lost in the flurry of humans... Because he didn't even see her! He didn't bother to look up, to notice her pacing out side of the club waiting for her to come out...

But him showing up... Him showing up just put a kink in her plans. If he was there, she wouldn't get within ten feet of her.

But she had to kill the woman tonight! If she didn't... If she didn't kill the whore, she could lose track of her forever. And she couldn't lose the woman! Sera growled as she watched Michael disappear into the club. He would be with her... He would ind her and be sucked further into that stupid human's web of lies.

Maybe... Maybe it was better for Michael to watch her die. Maybe it would be good for him to see what she was?

Well... She would have to come up with a new plan now. A new way to kill the woman.

The music was so loud, the kind of loud that made your chest ache when you got too close to the speakers. needless to say, Aldonza avoided the speakers. Yet, the music still reached her- made her tremble with the sensation of sound, her hips beginning to sway gracefully, with a controlled precision that was aquired through experience and never inherited. Granted, her initial rythm was inherited- the beating of her heat passed down from generation to generation.... a Spanish flair if you will.

Her body was surrounded by others, their warmth encircling her now- suffocating her with their body heat. It was unbearable and wonderful at the same time. She always loved dancing, the teasing brush of bodies as the musical composition made the air shake with an electricity that simply didn't exist anywhere else in nature.

Hands ran over her body and she turned to see a face that wasn't his. They all seemed faceless to her and she didn't bother to remember as she danced, her hands lifting as she backed up against another stranger, just another dance partner.... if only for awhile.

The rapid, relentless beat he had entered faded out and changed, giving way to a deeper pulse, a slower, more rhythmic one. From between the bodies he watched her, his own slow footsteps carrying him in a steady, pacing arc as she melted into the crowd, her limbs, her posture, her every movement easing into the motion as if she’d been familiar with it all her life. She was surrounded, but she looked comfortable, natural. She belonged out there, one of them, one of so many different people with different lives, different faces. But out of the hundreds in the room, he had eyes only for her, and she was captivating.

The lights played in her dark hair and across her blood red dress, submerging both in a myriad of neon colors that fit about her perfectly in a fluid crown that changed with each twist and movement. A smoky, keening voice started high and ethereal above the beat before sinking down to a low and sultry croon. The heat in the room was almost tangible, like a thin cloud hovering above them all, and every once and awhile she would disappear beneath it before emerging again, her proud face as clear and stunning as it had been the moment before. Inevitably, hands reached out to touch her, brushing her bare arms, her waist, the curve of her back. It was to be expected- no man in the room could have found her unattractive. She was just the sort to make the men ache and the women envious. But there was one man, young, hardly more than a headstrong boy, who moved in close to her and her to him. His eyes narrowed, and a cold flash of jealousy crossed them, keeping him from looking away. There was a moment when he wondered- what if he simply left, never showed? What if he ducked out the back door now before she ever even noticed he had been there?

Not one of the questions slowed him as he moved forward and into the crowd, easily slipping between and around the bodies, all alive, all completely empty in his eyes. Again and again she’d vanish and reappear like a beacon in the sea of strangers, and soon each doubt, each question, each reservation was gone. He had only to make his way to where she was.

The kid had to be at least an inch or two taller than he was, but Michael’s notoriously obstinate stare flicked once to his and he regretfully backed off and turned to make his way back to the bar. He turned the very same look on her, every piece of him silently, secretly reacting to how close she now was. But the coldness in his eyes yielded, and he showed her a smile that was neither spiteful nor gentle, but it was his and he was hers. Surreptitiously, anyway.

But the hunger she inspired, the simple desire to be near her, that was no secret. His fingers whispered along the thin fabric and the curve of her waist, fearlessly accentuated by the tightness of her dress. Michael drew near enough to speak softly at her ear so that she could still hear him over the din and the music, his eyes glinting with a cold, would-be dangerous amusement. Only he wasn’t angry. How could he be? He knew exactly what she was and he knew better than most, perhaps anyone, just what that powerful smile and those proud eyes could do.

“Did you see the look he gave me?”

The boy was young, but Aldonza didn't even see him as her body backed into his, her hips sliding along skin as his fingers dared to touch her waist. He was a boy- immature, believing that he could have her just because she let him dance with her. Silly.... he was silly and he was wrong. She laughed and continued to dance with the naive boy- teasing him with malice. She was cruel. The boy had absolutely no chance- but Aldonza had always been a vain and selfish woman and even now she couldn't help but gloat as she pressed her body against his as they danced, their bodies moving as one. Well, there were times when she wasn't selfish.... but when she gave a damn- she only did it for those she trusted- those she cared deeply for....

The kid's hands left her body and for a moment she was confused before she turned to see Michael, his blue eyes staring shamelessly. The gaze was hard, sharp, and frigid, almost physically painful- the look he gave the boy. And then he smiled at her. It wasn't the warmest of smiles but for Micheal a genuine smile was rare; though he seemed to smile at her a little bit more every time she saw him. Aldonza couldn't help but grin back, her own smile nothing but pleased that he had showed. She moved towards him, not quite sure how to greet him now- with a kiss? Or a handshake? How should she act around him? She wasn't his girlfriend- she wasn't even his only lover.... Did he have other lovers? She assumed he did- where else did he go every other night? Well, Michael hadn't necessarily suggested being exclusive in the bedroom anyways so why did it matter to her? Obviously, with her profession she couldn't be exclusive- but should she? Should they? Was this a relationship? No. it hadn't gotten to that stage yet. Should it? They hadn't been on real "dates" of any kind- and Aldonza only figured- since she usually made all the moves to get him to hang out with her.... Well, she assumed he didn't want to date-- Did he? Or was he still determined to ignore what seemed like it would never go away?

So what did he want? What did he want from her? And would she give it? Could she give it?

“Did you see the look he gave me?”

"Hello to you too Michael...."

Jealous? Was Michael- jealous? He should know that no one else was like him. And Al wasn't about to tell him again. Well, maybe she could show him some other time? No. Michael couldn't possibly be jealous. One look at her and he had to know she wanted him. He knew she wanted him- and he still questioned her? He knew her occupation.... but that had nothing to do with it. Al had only wanted a dance partner.

She smirked, letting her contemplation of Michael's words fade and die. "No, I didn't. I was facing away until he stopped groping me-" she joked before moving on. "But I'm sure he had his tail between his legs though- you can be quite scary some times Michael- you just have glares down to a science I swear...." she said, teasing.
"Lucky for you- I'm a brave girl." she laughed then before arching an eyebrow at him as she finally noticed his fingers on her waist, almost burning through her dress. His whisper echoed in her mind and she placed her hands on his chest, tugging lightly at his shirt so they could be closer. So was this how they said hello now? She liked it. She liked it a lot....

Al looked up at Michael with a hardened yet teasing look, her brown eyes serious while her mouth twisted into a smirk. "You've robbed me of a dance partner Michael." she scolded before pouting. "I do hope you're not going to chase every man away from me tonight- I'd hate to dance alone- unless you're planning on showing me some of your-" she paused ".... moves." Aldonza flashed him a flirtatious smile, an addicting smile before letting her hands run over his arms to touch his fingers gently.

"Do you wish to dance sober or drunk?" Al asked him, letting her fingers play over his delicately. "'Cause I'm fine with either way. Though I'd prefer you sober so I don't have to call a cab- they're damn expensive-"

"Hello to you too, Michael."

For a fraction of a moment his impassive eyes softened almost apologetically. Saying hello, goodbye...communicating in general wasn't exactly his strong point. But she didn't seem too hurt that she'd scared off her admirer, and he was genuinely glad. Nothing against the poor bastard in full retreat, but Michael liked having his way. Manners be damned.

"Man's gotta be terrifying if he intends to keep up with a woman like you."

She moved in closer, her fingers flitting across his chest, searing his skin despite the fact that they were quite dressed and quite in public. Not that he'd let that stop them if that was what the night intended. It'd take a lot more than clothes and a room full of people to keep them apart once the blood started flowing and...

"I think I'd like to not be drunk around for an evening. For a change of pace," he grinned, but there was a bit more truth in his words than he let on. Nearly every time he had been near her he had been intentionally smashed. Things were different now- in theory, at least. But just because he was trying his hand at being a tad less crude didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself. "Is there anything I can you?"

"I'd hate to dance alone- unless you're planning on showing me some of your.... moves."

As she made her proposal he looked out over the crowd they were now almost in the middle of. Modern dancing. Wasn't it something to behold? No one led, no one followed. Whether one danced alone or with someone else, the motion was the same. There were no steps, no rules. It was simply movement- steady, monotonous and indiscreetly seductive movement. Supposedly if one could screw, then one could also dance, and the converse was also true.

His attention sifted back to her, and as she toyed with his fingers he caught each of her wrists and gently drew her in closer still until they nearly touched. Looking down into her eyes, his own gaze was alight with a myriad of Aldonza-inspired feelings: mischief, desire, and the undeniable passion that sparked from simply being close to her. He didn't care how many lovers she had. He didn't care how many men were admiring her now. He'd come here to be with her, and he would be. Here, she was his. And there was no woman in this room that could even hope to compare. At last he released her wrists in favor, again of her waist and moved them both deeper into the crowd in spite of whatever choice she made.

"Man's gotta be terrifying if he intends to keep up with a woman like you."

Aldonza laughed, her smile reaching her eyes easily at his words.
"Maybe you're right," she replied. He was right. She did need someone "terrifying" to keep up with her. She was beautiful- and there were always those regulars from her past who knew her occupation. They all assumed she was an easy lay- an easy catch, but she wasn't- not unless you handed her a huge wad of cash- and not unless you were....

Well, unless you were Michael. She wasn't too good at "protesting too much" once his clothes came off.

Terrifying. He was quite scary. And Aldonza only admired that. She admired that he was so cold, so rough, and so solitary- and she had changed him somehow- gotten under his skin somehow.... the same way he had gotten under hers. But she liked the way he scared off the boy. She liked the way he touched her, possessed her, and owned her. It was a horrible thing- a terrible bondage that he forced her into, but she loved it, needed it.

"Is there anything I can get you?"

Aldonza gave him a dark smile ad met his eyes as her fingers interlaced with his, their bodies so close.
"I'm perfectly fine right here thank you," hell, she probably couldn't leave this position if she tried. So close.... she loved being close to him- even if it wasn’t just sex- listening to him, being with him..... it was so important- so "special" and there was no possible way she'd break this for a drink or anything else. Unless he was going to come with her and make sure he didn't move farther away than two inches?

Michael grabbed her wrists and pulled her to him, Aldonza's eyes forced up to his as his eyes bled a passion that only made her tremble with the intensity of his gaze. She gave him a teasing smile back, her usual suggestive grin as his fingers moved to her waist- pushing her back into the crowd either against her will or not. She couldn't tell. It didn't matter. She had no choice- and she was pleased. She always liked when he was possessive- and everything in his eyes now screamed possessive. There was no way anyone else would try and dance with her again tonight. Not now that she had her cruel and controlled- or maybe he wasn't so controlled- "friend", lover, whatever she should call him....

Michael was here and that meant there was no one else. It was him- and only him who received her attentions now- and for the rest of the night- as long as he was here- he'd have all of her.

In places like these- the music, the movement, the heavy, underlying pulse of the living- it was terribly easy to be seduced beyond any semblance of reason and to take first one, then another, and another. Hence, Michael was not a frequent customer. There was no art to being the gluttonous murderer, killing as he pleased. True death would refuse to discriminate so. True death was just as likely to take the small child lingering a moment too long at the playground once the sun fell as the flashy beauties that adorned the walls and tables of a place such as this. Such a mindset was often key to appropriate control, but tonight Michael had another.

"I'm perfectly fine right here, thank you..."

His impassive stare twisted into a grin strained at the edges with all the dark thoughts just a look from her inspired. Her dark hair shimmered as she moved, soft against the side of his face as he leaned in closer to her, close enough to her ear to speak low and still be heard.

"Good."

He turned her slowly so her back was to him, and as he let his greedy fingers itch and press at the sleek fabric of her dress just above her hips he marveled at how the typically overwhelming desire to gravitate towards the soft-spoken loners in the corners or the gaudy birds lingering near the bar melted away. Despite the fact that his veins were thick with freshly-spilt blood, hers was nearly all he could think of as he began to move with her, the blur of colored lights catching strangely in his pale and focused eyes.

Tonight, no one else would touch her. No other man would lay with her or even so much as hope to, and the radical thought both soothed him and brought him unspeakable pleasure. So let them dance, all these meaningless, faceless people. For despite how close the crowd edged in, Michael was alone, and in the center of the darkened room, there was her.

Aldonza felt her body tense with anticipation as he moved closer, his voice brushing against her sking with a pleasant low tone that only made her hands clench as he held her wrists.

"Good."

She smiled as he turned her- letting him control her movements, her hips idly swinging with an unconscious dance as Michael ran his fingers over her body- just above her hip bone. Aldonza sighed and helped his hands dip a little bit lower as she gave a soft sigh of pleasure- his body so nicely pressed against her own.

And just when she had him right where she wanted him- she began to work, letting her body do all the talking for her. She deliberately pressed against him hard before pulling away, swaying and teasing with every movement- words unnecessary at the moment. Let someone try to take her away. She wasn't going anywhere. And even if she wanted to- he wouldn't let her.

And she liked it. She liked that a lot.

Aldonza let her hands dip back behind her, grazing along his thighs before she found the belt loops in his pants and pulled him closer.

It was no surprise the woman moved like something wild, but having already assumed Aldonza could dance made it no less pleasurable to witness. Her fingers brushed against him, luring him closer still till the space between them couldn’t have fit a single breath. An entire list of things he longed to do to her began to map itself out in his mind’s eye, a self-inflicted punishment of sorts as he knew there was only so much one could get away with publically. It seemed this brutality she inspired would never cease, for all it took was a few minutes near her to erase any trace of reason in him- and this made her all the more exciting.

He moved with her and for the most part let her dance and tease however she wished. His eyes traced the graceful curve of her hot neck, and his lips slowly followed, just brushing across her blood-warmed skin with all the care in the world to keep her from his own menacing vice. Her hair whispered along the side of his face, contrasting so drastically with his enduring pallor like gentle, dark fingertips. Her heart thudded on and on in his temples, more persistent and more perfect than the tempo in the room outside of his thoughts, and for a moment it would become all he could hear- all else was irrelevant.

And then, again, he felt it, that faint and curious thing he'd barely noticed outside the club. It was as though he knew he should find the feeling familiar, but whatever it was, he did not recognize it and he knew it was of no threat to him, and so he continued to ignore it, whatever it was, and allowed the woman in his arms to swallow him completely- his world be damned. His fingertips trailed across her body, tracing around the outside of her thighs and dipping slowly inward, farther and more boldly with each passing minute.

She was infected, invaded, and conquered by him. His hands... his breath on her neck... the way he moved and felt behind her. Al closed her eyes and sighed as she raised her hands to the ceiling- relishing in the feeling of his hands moving down her body with a possessive taste that left her thirsty and wanting for more. And he had possessed her- driven her half mad with every word he spoke- every glance, smile- and kiss that he pressed against her body.

"You are quite a good dancer sober Michael- I don't know what you were talking about earlier...." Aldonza teased, her dark brown eyes flashing mischievously.

He paused for a moment- as if he had been thinking something but Aldonza's curiosity soon faded as his hands dared to move lower- slipping towards her inner thighs- rubbing over her dress smoothly- though she knew his hands were far from soft when there was no damned fabric between them.

She ran her hands down her own body and pressed back against him- her dark curls twisting against his pale complexion and blond hair. She cast a glance back at him as she wound against him- her hips easily conforming to the siren's will.
"A little bold aren't you? How easy do you think I am?" she teased, her eyes clearly musing with a shadow of affection behind their mockery. "Micheal...." she murmured- turning away, her words something of an un-thought out word that just breathed through her lips. She hadn't meant to say anything after- it just- came out.

She had no idea what was waiting for her outside in the dark. She had no idea where things were going or what was going to happen. All she knew was that she was having a damn good time with Michael- ever since they'd met- and despite the original tension and hate- everything had always been so exciting.... and tonight, that wasn't about to change. She was sure he'd see to that.

And besides, fate had never really given Aldonza Hernandez a day without just one thrill.

Catching the look in her eye was more than enough encouragement. Regardless of the fact that Michael would do what he wanted with or without her permission, only she could infect him in the way she did and he found he did not value her approval—but he did crave it.

”How easy do you think I am?”

He grinned into the crook of her neck as she moved closer, letting her scent mask all others, allowing it to wreak its intoxicating havoc on him—his body, his thoughts, all was slave to her beauty and his reckless impulses. His fingers momentarily tightened, pressing a little harder into the softness of her thighs. She breathed his name, a daring sigh, and he drew his lips from her neck to study her profile, made slightly harsher by the sharp shadows of the inconsistent lighting. He lifted his fingers, for a moment or two, to brush a few tendrils of her hair from the back of her neck. They stuck to her skin, lightly held in place by a thin sheen of warmth and sweat--the near-unreal appeal of the living, or perhaps it was only her he coveted. His cold eyes flitted almost gently across her neck, over her bare, smooth shoulder, the exposed skin of her back...

He lifted his head, moved closer to her ear while his hands returned to the entrancing, womanly curve of her body. Another trill of alarm flooded through his sedated senses, but this one was easier to ignore. It was nothing he couldn't handle, he knew. Nothing he couldn't take care of. The trick would be to keep her from seeing...but it didn't matter...nothing at all seemed to matter. Nothing but the striking woman in his arms and the points on their bodies where they touched.

"I want you," he murmured. "Make love to me tonight."

ooc: I use way too many Pretty Woman references. muahahahah. It's sad. an i hope this post is good. I tried to get Al's point across- if it doesn't seem likea good Al post lemme know haha. Michael threw her for a loop there :) I love it

A grin pressed against the skin of her neck, so cold and yet- Aldonza had grown accustomed to the feeling. He was like a human sized ice pack and.... considering how heated things got between them- that was a good thing. Always.

Like right now.

Thier bodies were so close- so close and yet it was never close enough. It was maddening- this attraction she had for him. Her mind ran in circles, spitting out the same thoughts and tasting old flames from past nights together. It was unlike anything Al had ever experienced before. It wasn't the typical Pretty Woman story but- it was something. Something far more exciting.

But when had Al ever wanted a gentleman?

She was no lady?

The dark haired woman sighed again, his fingers tightening on her sensitive thighs- so sensitive around him, waiting.... anticipating.... something- something bold and exciting. Something dangerous. As Micheal pulled her hair off of her neck- rather gently for him, he relieved just a little bit of the heat caused by the pulsing, throbbing mass of people. But she didn't mind the heat if he was next to her. All he had to do was touch her to cool the feverish heat of her skin, but the fire underneath- well, he couldn't very well stop that could he? Especially when he did so many things to stoke it.

His hands ran down her body again as he explored- his body moving perfectly with hers as she let the music pull her hips back against him. Michael didn't see her pleased smile as he came closer, pulling her body against him in the best way. She moved with intention, letting her hands run down her own body as she "got her groove on." Well, it sounded naughty to say she got her grind on but I suppose that's what it was.
Wait a second. Aldonza doesn't have a modest bone in her body. Okay, scratch that. She got her grind on. Definitely. She was a professional after all.

"I want you," His voice was low and Aldonza shivered with the wonderful sensation of his breath on her neck. "Make love to me tonight."

Love? Wasn't it just sex?
Aldonza couldn't help but give a little start at the word love, but she did appreciate the want- the desire. But he didn't have to tell her that. She knew he wanted her. The whole damn room knew it. And she wanted him, but it was so nice to hear it....

"I want you to and I'd love to.... but we're in public Michael-" she teased, taking his hands in hers to run them up to cup around her breasts before sliding them back down to her thighs, slowly... ever so slowly....

Notice Aldonza didn't say the word love. It was odd that Michael had. Had he realized he had said make love? Not sex? Not some crude joke? So it was more. Well, they knew it was more before- but the word love implied a commitment- a commitment that Aldonza had never trusted any man with. And she wasn't sure she could now. Of course, anything's possible.

”I want you too and I’d love to…but we’re in public Michael—“

He grinned, eager to take advantage of the opportunity to brush past what he had already spoken aloud.

“Would that really stop you? What if I insisted?”

His thumb slipped across the smooth fabric of her dress, caressing her left breast through the material before she returned his hands to her thighs. Had he truly spoken it, that illuminating phrase? Had he inadvertently told it all, even before he himself could admit to the truth? No. This was not love. What pounded through his veins and possessed the hands that clutched her and kept her from anyone else was not love. It was lust. It was violence. It was some warped and malevolently crafted expression of hatred made to seem like a softer emotion. It was anger and jealousy and envy all at once. And yet the only regret he had for having spoken it was the sudden, tiny stiffness, that little jolt she gave when the most potent word of all had escaped before he had thought to stop it. Love. What a foolish word, a feeble and worthless emotion. Love.

He shouldn’t have said a word of it. His gaze drifted pensively across her profile once more, his cold eyes blazing in a half-concealed stare. She’d been startled, and perhaps rightfully so. He didn’t expect a thing of her, but now, would she wonder? Would she always be unsure? When he laid her down, when he pulled her clothes from her body, when their bodies touched, would she think there was something more behind it?

Was there?

He let these new thoughts and worries drag him back to the present. The sweltering heat of the crowd, their heartbeats and thoughts and the oppressive crush of their bodies, filtered back in gradually until his consciousness extended across the entire room. For a moment he could almost feel it, that pressing heat, as if it was his own. As if he, too, was at last one of them again. Him, Michael, alive. A man, and not a monster. The feeling was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come, and he was glad for it. Such desires were pointless. He had made a mistake. If she feared it, he would do whatever it took to prove to her that it had been a thoughtless error and that their brief and heated encounters would be no less painful, no less selfish than before. He was not her lover. He was her owner.

The music peaked and ebbed with an audible sigh from the crowd, easing into something a bit more mellow. He let his hands trail down her body, his fingertips turning her towards him just slightly before resting easily on her hips. He leaned in close enough to speak to her without having to raise his voice over the crowd, his gaze as steady and as cold as ever, perhaps moreso. People began to trickle off the dance floor, leaving strange gaps in what had been a uniformly crowded tangle just moments before.

"Something to drink?"

“Would that really stop you? What if I insisted?”

"We'd get kicked out!" she protested, laughing- her eyes dark and mischievous as she rolled them. "Of course- if you were sneaky about it.... but I don't think you're that talented are you? I've never worked here regularly. They might have upstairs rooms but I dunno- you'd have to ask." Her voice trailed off as her own falter brought a curious start from Michael- a simply offset of the hips and Al knew he was thinking hard about something. Probably what he had just said. Make Love.

And she knew he'd deny it- deny every emotion he had for her. Did he remember the night they stayed in and he told her she was different? The bastard might not want to admit to it but this was more than lust.

But love?

Well, no. It couldn't be that. But what had Aldonza to compare it to? She'd never been loved before. What was love? A pathetic emotion fantasized by young girls and novice hookers? Yeah. The reason her father was such an idiot? Yeah. The reason so many people did so many stupid things? Yeah. The theme of every tragic play known to man? Yeah.

Love. Suicidal.

What a wonderful thing to be dependent on someone else. To be weak....

Aldonza turned her body effortlessly in his arms and met his gaze with curious one before moving to press her lips against his in a spontaneous brush of fire and ice as their lips met. The kiss was harsh and possessive- almost painful as she pressed herself to him, willing herself to believe that it wasn't something more than a friendship. But what did Al know about emotions? She didn't have any real ones!

Fire and Ice. That was definitely them. He was so cold- in more ways then one- why the hell was she she so attracted to him? -- And she was burning. But she had a feeling it wouldn't make a difference.

Not to him.

The music slowed and his hands trailed down her body- the mellow music depressing the crowd as couples sauntered off to the bar. When in Rome....

"I had a tequila before you got here but yeah- Yeah I'm up for another one." she said with a smirk as she tugged on his shirt lightly, flashing him a sexy smile.

It didn't seem like he'd ever be the type to melt.

"You buyin' BossMan?" she teased, ironically throwing his thoughts back in his face- not intentionally though. She was simply teasing. But seriously though- if he thought that he owned her- he had another thing coming. If anything, Al would like to think she owned him. Why else was he here tonight? It was on her request. he could find anyone else. buy anyone else. But he was here. With her.

The BossWoman.

Her reaction to his little challenge elicited a smile, even a low chuckle. Unfamiliar as the expression was, it sounded easy, even natural. What could he say? He was infatuated with the girl. No harm in admitting that. It wasn’t an awkward admission. It didn’t require any sort of sacrifice from either of them. Wasn’t that what they had wanted?

His thoughts were pleasantly interrupted—she spun to face him and brought her lips to his without so much as another word. His immediate response was to pull her closer. His fingers brushed down the insides of her arms, closed loosely around her wrists, drew her in. It seemed to him that more than just the typical fire she possessed was at work here, scheming behind the way they touched, but he refused to question it, not after what he had already said. He had already reached tonight’s mistake quota, and Michael was only too eager to be cautious not to fuck up again. He valued their intimacy—angry as it was—too much to put it at stake. If she became frightened now and chose to leave or simply to refuse any more of his advances…he pushed the thought from his mind, his hands closing again on her hips, demanding her to remain as close to him as possible until the kiss ended.

For a moment, his eyes flitted across hers searchingly, but he forced himself to look elsewhere, to look for nothing in her that she had not already given.

”You buyin’, BossMan?”

So casually spoken in her fearless, frank way. Nothing could make her falter for more than a moment. In her own way, she was as devout an emotionless deviant as he was. Of course, that was the point, wasn’t it?

“Anything you want,” he couldn’t help but flash her another grin as he inclined his head towards the bar and began to make his way there with her.

They cut through the crowd quickly. It didn’t take a preternatural mind to manipulate people. Humans were weak-willed creatures. Even his own kind was relatively simple. With the proper air and a look as merciless as his, any crowd could easily be parted. No one wished to bump shoulders with the man with the empty eyes, and if they did, as partially drunk club-goers sometimes would, well…Michael had always enjoyed a little display of simple violence.

He sat with her at the bar, continually aware of the various looks she received and curious to know if she noticed them as well. Did one as beautiful as her learn to forget them, to soak them in and know she rightfully deserve them? Or did she treasure each one, secretly? He drank in her proud pose, itching as always to reach out and touch her regardless of the situation. He turned his gaze on the bartender who was casting a similar look over her, though admittedly his was more open, far less sadistic than Michael’s.

“What can I get for you tonight, sweetheart?”

He was in no rush to answer for her. Instead, he let his gaze wander out over the crowd, freeing her from his oppressive gaze if only for a little while. A thought crossed his mind: he'd never seen Aldonza drunk before. Musing over this entertaining idea, he returned his scrutinizing look to her proud features, searching pointedly her dark, glistening eyes.

His hands gripped her hips painfully and Al could only laugh softly- wincing just a little bit as Micheal's fingers flexed against skin- reluctant to let her pull away. Was he really reluctant? Would he be? If she ever got fed up with his ridiculous antics- and left? What would he do? Hell, what would she do?

For a moment, Aldonza considered her life without the ever-frustrating, ever-redeeming Michael Charkov.... the man who held his ground against her and made her "feel" something stranger than fiction. There was something between them. The difference.

Something different, dangerous and for Aldonza- possibly deadly. But she didn't know that. All she knew was even when he wasn't there she couldn't stop thinking about it. Well, she could- if she tried hard enough, but damn she was sick of fighting, but that was what she did- what he did- fight everything and everyone that ever tried to get within their walls- their defenses....

And so when she finally pulled away from his frigid embrace- she smiled. Things were fine. She was being silly. And if he ever knew- just how much she.... well, whatever this was- well, he'd bolt. But she knew he'd deny it- over and over. And she might too, depending on just how hot he made her.

"Anything I want? Well, I want a lot of things but I suppose a Tequila will do...." Aldonza said, her suggestive smile breaking into soft laughter.
The bartender caught her eye for a moment and she flashed him her usual smile, not at all conceited. Ha. Yeah right.

Aldonza knew what she was- and what she did to men. And that was fine with her. Some knew what she did. Some knew her. And some simply didn't. They just knew- she was something. And she was. And without that confidence- that selfish but human vanity- Aldonza would have perished a long time ago in the hands of a cruel world.

So she was vain. Yes, and every look she did treasure- value in it's own way. It meant she still had it- and of course she knew she did.... but Al liked to be validated. but she wasn't vain in the way that most describe it. She didn't spend countless hours in front of any mirror. She simply understood that she was beautiful. What was wrong with that? Nothing! So many women had such low self-esteem.... and it was their men that Aldonza bedded.

But that didn't matter tonight. She wasn't working. Sure it was flattering, but it had no meaning. Not while she was here with him. With Michael.
But that didn't mean she couldn't smile back, flirt back. She was his "employee" after all? What would he do if she tried huh? What would he do if she flirted back? Toyed with him as he toyed with her? Acted as cold as he did?

It probably wouldn't affect him. Nothing ever seemed to. But this was Michael, and Aldonza was curious about everything concerning him. And she was a pro at pushing her limits. And so she pushed.

Michael's gaze had been intense from the moment he entered the club, but now he stared openly- almost scrutinizing her in his usual way before turning to look out into the crowd, the bartender leaning close behind Micheal's back to wink.

Al laughed softly, a brush of air against soft, dark curls. Sweetheart? Seriously?
"I guess I'd like a tequila babe, but I dunno- what do you recommend?" she asked, turning a simple question into something more. She always did. Her smile was catlike, that of a predator and not a prey. She glanced at Michael briefly. Like he cared anyways- different didn't mean he cared. What was she thinking? What had she expected from him? Too much? Nothing? He'd never admit it even if he did.

Care.

Because.... she did? Well, yes. I mean, no. She did really. Deep down she cared about what happened to him and yeah there was lust but there was something else. That different that they had both discussed. But the question was- what was different? What made the other so special? What made every moment with him such a wonderful ride? What made him different? What did she do differently?

"What's your...." her voice drawled out effortlessly, sensually.... "Pleasure?" she teased before sitting back and crossing her legs politely to take her seat on the stool- leaning against the bar slightly.

Different. Stupid. Foolish.

”Anything I want?” Did she really have to ask? In that voice of hers, too, the one that made him so miserably restless. Michael was a poor excuse of a man. He had few morals, virtually no principles. He lived as a part of society simply because he could easily manipulate it and harbor all the benefits of modern wealth without trouble. But if she looked into his eyes with hers, warm and deep and soft despite all the fierceness and all the fire, and asked him for something, anything, what could he do but get it for her? He might make a show of it, might seem unwilling or perhaps even angry, but his pride be damned. All she had to do was speak the word.

Of course, that wasn’t to say he had abandoned his own agenda. No, Michael would be dead before he would be helpless, a smear of ash in the earth before he compromised his lofty pride. He adored the woman, truly, but it was his fear of being played the fool that would keep his new, inexplicably romantic thoughts in line. Gods, it was all almost sickening—and terribly funny if he thought about it, which he tried very hard not to do.

Michael watched her interaction with the bartender closely, his pale eyes darkening considerably in the poor lighting. The effect was to make him appear unusually broody, somberly pensive. He caught her smile with a twinge of jealousy. The world consisted of men. Even if somehow they were to be together, it burned him to know that he would always have to share her. Just a smile, a casual wave—all these things he wanted only for himself, and he was chasing the impossible again. He tried to look concerned with the crowd, distracted by their mortal nonsense, but he noted every movement of her body in response to the other man’s attention. His skin was tanned, his hair ruffled and unkempt in the modern way. He was young and alluring and aware of it. She could easily be legitimately interested in someone like him, couldn’t she? But how could he tell? How could he differentiate between potential lovers and potential customers? How could he even be sure she wasn’t just doing this because, being the clever girl she was, Aldonza knew perfectly well how it would make him itch and bristle?

“A tequila girl, huh? Don’t get me wrong, tequila’s an excellent choice if you’re not looking to have much fun,” the bartender flashed her a smile, leaning casually into his side of the bar. “And a lady like you could have all the fun she wants, I’d bet, unless…,” he shrugged harmlessly and cast a quick glance at Michael.

Michael noticed, of course, but what right did he have to stop her if that was what she wanted? Why wouldn’t someone like her get tired of something so cold and malicious? Still, the muscles in his arms were taught, his fists clenching and unclenching just slightly with irritation. For the first time he wondered: if she did choose to leave him for someone else, now or some other night, would he—could he force himself to sit back and let her go? He envisioned himself gently catching her by the waist, drawing her back to him. He envisioned the bartender’s face smashed into the pavement. He envisioned many things, but in the end, which would he choose?

At last he turned from the crowd and watched her, his expression unusually open, almost curious.

“Anything you want.”

He didn’t dare speak it again, but the words were on his mind as he watched her watch the young man behind the counter. His fingers itched to touch her arm—he could be gentle. His body ached to fit with hers. He could be brutal, too, vulgar and coarse. But instead, he was still. For her, he could be patient, and this was the greatest achievement of all.

Patient. He had to have seen her smile, the way she inflected her voice, purred, moved.... and he just- sat there? Al arched an eyebrow as she caught a darkened glance from him as if to say 'what?'

If he wasn't going to claim her. She'd let someone else do it. And this bartender was definitely stepping in. If Michael did indeed "own" her.... or rather wish to- shouldn't he defend his own territory, because brown eyes was definitely trespassing. And Al knew this. His voice brought her back from her reverie, her eyes slightly lost for a moment before she was herself again- all smiles and secrets in the bedroom.

“And a lady like you could have all the fun she wants, I’d bet, unless…,” his voice was forward. She liked that. But no one rivaled Michael. And even now, looking into his brown eyes, tan face, wavy chocolate locks.... someone she'd normally be attracted to.... Well, she didn't want him. He just- wasn't- he didn't have.... Oh, who the hell was she kidding- he wasn't Michael. Damn. That was a horrible truth to realize. But this was Aldonza Hernandez. Like she was gonna let some petty little epiphany ruin her fun. Was it petty? Was it little? Probably not, but Michael and Al were both very good at avoiding the obvious. Besides. She was in the middle of something.

Aldonza flashed the bartender a smile and stood, putting her hands on the edge of the bar as she pushed against the counter, leaning in just close enough to kiss the bartender. But she couldn't possibly do that. She didn't even know his first name.

She smirked and flashed a large white grin before tossing her curls over a slender shoulder. "You don't think I have all the fun I want babe?" she asked, flirting shamelessly as she raised a hand to run it through his messy dark hair- so unlike Micheal's in every way. Oh how she wanted to take that dark hair and pull- pull until his head hit the table for being such an ass. If only he knew how much fun Al had with Michael.... he'd be begging to join. How dare he talk about Michael like that?

"Because I do," she purred.

Still. He stayed still. Even after that? Was Michael really so controlled and so cold that he couldn't let even a little bit of a fire flare inside of him for her? Even if it was anger.... even if it was jealousy.... She'd be content with it. And if he couldn't. Well then she'd stop trying to make more out of this situation. She'd suck it up, move on, find a new job somewheres.... and live her life without him. She couldn't be with someone who was just going to sit back and let others take their shot. She didn't want to be a whore for the entirety of her life. Not that she'd be doing it anytime soon- unless circumstances called for it, but still- the entire reason she was attracted to Michael in the first place was his harsh possessiveness. And now he was just going to sit back?

Fine.

"I'm Aldonza, call me Al," she said, a sultry smile on her lips. "I think I'll have whatever you make me and a dance if you're game." she requested, pulling back from the bartender to sit once again- legs crossed. He was so still. Al let one elbow rest on the counter of the slightly dingy bar and waited- for something.

Movement.

As he watched her, his brow furrowed just slightly, betraying the poison flooding through his thoughts and filling them with searing violence. The urge to “be nice” broke down in a pang of pure jealousy as her fingers flitted through his hair and she invited him out for a dance. She had made it clear that she was here to be his, and now—his eyes flicked from the bartender’s foolishly-grinning face to the seductive curve of her smiling face. Enough was enough. He stood abruptly enough to knock his barstool off balance, but moved to catch it with his foot almost as an afterthought. Stone-faced, he caught her upper arm, just managing to control the pressure he exerted, and pulled her to her feet. Her dark hair rippled about her neck and shoulders, its glint catching his eye for a fraction of a second before he looked hard into her near-black eyes. It was the lighting, he assured himself. It was the lighting that made her eyes look so empty, so hard.

Ignoring the look of alarm and mild protest from the bartender, Michael bowed his head and leaned in closer to her.

“What are you doing?” The words were an atypical hiss. His fingers tightened a degree.

With sudden resolution, he cast a quick, empty look at the man behind the counter and pulled her from the bar, shouldering carelessly through a thicket of laughing, drinking, repugnant humans until he had led her towards the back and into a narrow alcove near an exit. They were by no means alone; bodies still crowded the area. But there was enough space for him to maneuver her back into a wall. His hand slipped from her arm as if it scalded him, and he was tempted to glance and see if she hadn’t left a physical burn. He purposefully stood between her and the rest of the room, close enough to seem engaged in some intimate action to anyone who might be curious—though truth be told, the thought hardly crossed his mind.

His eyes flitted searchingly over her face, and he moved a step closer. He could feel the heat of her body radiating outward towards him as if seeking to envelop him completely—his fingers flexed at his sides.

“Is this what you want? For me to cut you off from everyone, keep you for myself?” He seized her waist, pressing her back into the wall. His expression was clear once more, but his eyes seared with anger, with a glimpse of the frustration she inflicted on him, like a splinter in his thoughts, ever present. “Do you think I don’t want to?”

Brown eyes blurred and she bit her lower lip as she felt a hand on her arm. Aldonza's eyes opened to find his.

Furious. And her own?

Stubborn- possibly angry at him for taking so damn long to make her his own. On the dance floor he had possessed her- chased everyone away. And now he couldn't even bother to scare off a passing bartender with a glare? Was it that the bartender was less of a threat than the young boy on the dance floor? It made no sense! Michael’s moods seemed to twist and turn at every moment and honestly Aldonza did need something more than the cold, crude, calculating, unreadable man before her. She needed someone stronger. Someone who would selfishly keep her all to himself. Yes. That was what she wanted. A monster. And that was exactly what Michael Charkov was. He was quite cruel actually but there was so much more to him. And Aldonza wanted that. Whatever it was that made him so damn important to her.

He needed to know- needed to understand that there were other men and he needed to suck it up now and decide to chase them off or let them be. She was stubborn yes and angry at him- yes. And why? Because she was restless and frustrated by the way he avoided her sometimes. The way he never addressed that night of ambiguities before....

Maybe she just couldn't ignore this anymore?

Maybe she was pushing too hard? Maybe she wanted too much from him now? Was more what this prompting was implying? Did she want more?

Al didn't want to consider the answer, but she'd have to eventually. Well, she had always been a procrastinator in school....

She fought against his grip for a moment, her curls tossing harshly onto her shoulder as he jerked her to her feet and pulled her fairly close. His voice was a hiss in her ear and she couldn't help but stiffen at the question. What was she doing? What was she doing..... Was she trying to hurt him? Possibly. Why? To see if she could....

Perhaps that was the reason behind Al's rash decision to push Michael. A test of sorts. Granted, it's not fair, but when had life ever been fair. She wasn't walking out on him- though the thought did occur that he might walk out on her right now.... Well, her affair with Michael was always such a roller coaster ride. It was bound to get bumpy every once in awhile. But she had deliberately caused this loop.

Aldonza didn't answer for a moment, only gave him a glare- infuriated and pleased by how painfully his grip stung her skin.
"What are you doing Michael?" she returned, her voice stubborn as usual.

But just as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Michael began to pull her through the crowd of people- the smell of alcohol and sweat making Al a little bit dizzy as they bumped into people and plowed through the newly arrived crowd of alcoholics looking to get their drank on. They reached the edge of the bar and Michael let go- finally! Aldonza wretched her wrist back as soon as she felt his grip slacken and held her hand to her chest- examining her wrist.

"Fuck Michael....' she murmured, red marks appearing on her fair skin.”Squeeze tight enough?" She looked up at him, noting the uncomfortable distance between them and the frustration that was so clearly in his eyes. Good. He felt it too.

One step closer.

Closer. She almost shrunk back against the wall with his gaze as he glared- his eyes full of something that wasn't cold or warm. It was simply painful. And Aldonza realized. She was sorry. For whatever she had done. Hurt him, maim his pride, make him look less I dunno.... she didn't really know how her actions had affected him. But she was sorry to see him this way.

But she couldn't lie. No. She was also glad- glad that he grabbed her and glad that he dismissed the bartender.

His hands were on her waist in an instant and she couldn't help but gasp with protest as he pressed her against the wall- his own body moving so close to hers. Al's hands went up to stop his chest from crushing her- an initial reflex as her heart pounded frantically in her chest as his fierce eyes bored into her. Could he hear it?

Yes. in that moment the thought was yes. She wanted him to possess her- capture her for himself- and yet, she wanted things the other way around as well. it was a silly thing she knew.... but they were a silly pair. Scratch silly. Add sadistic.

"Do you think I don't want to?"

"I don't know what you want Michael!" she protested with a passion all her own, obviously trapped by his arms but by no means a willing captive at present. "I don't know what you want and you dance around me every time we get close. You just ignore everything and God, I know I do it too but...." she shook her head.

Al frowned and gave him a rough push before one of his arms bent a little and she managed to get out of his embrace.
"Different, huh? What's different Michael?" She asked, shaking her head, her wild dark hair falling over one serious eye.

She walked away- towards the exit actually, but she didn't quite reach it before the heel of her stiletto broke.
"Fuck." she muttered. "Perfect timing."

Al wasn't sure whether she was going to get answers to her questions- or even find Michael following her. hell, he might even ask her to get her shit and leave, but something- something told her that he needed her just as much as she needed him. She was taking a big risk. If he didn't follow....

Al pushed that awful thought from her mind and bent down on the floor to pick up her ruined shoe. Cinderella? Yeah…. But Cinderella was a virgin and a pansy. When did she ever risk anything? The damn mice always saved her. But this risk- well if he didn't follow.... ended up kicking her out of his home and his life.... Well, no one would be there to save Aldonza.

And this time she wasn't so sure she could save herself.

As he crushed her to the wall, her hands slipped up between them, pressing warm into his chest. He was infuriated. He wished to God she’d stop touching him, and everything in him ached to pull her closer like they had been before so that she might feel how cold he was and finally realize what she had trapped herself with. Something dead. Ugly and dead. His eyes never left hers. For a moment all that burned in his gaze ebbed away and left him looking at her as he so often did when he was alone and she in his thoughts, but the calm was skewed and fleeting.

Her mellow, practiced voice rose in retaliation, but each word seemed to reach his ears delayed, and he fought to focus on what she was saying. There was a sudden disconnect, a void between them that he’d known existed but had not looked at until now. He knew what she was saying was direly important, but the words did not match her lips, and his own angry words still roared above her own. He looked at her, and she was outlined in deep, blood red.

You do know! I’ve told you! And what have you shown me? Every time I follow you, you run away. You want me to catch you and you don’t. You want me to keep running, then you want me to catch you. And I’m running towards you when I want more than anything to get you away from me!

But he stared at her in silence, his blazing eyes growing harder with each syllable. His eyes narrowed, and he drew a precious few inches away, his fingers loosening fractionally. When at last he spoke, the words were all wrong. When at last he spoke, his voice was scathingly cold and he was Michael again.

“I dance around you? All you know to do is get me to chase you so you can run off and see how many other men you can get into bed.”

She shoved into him, and his grip on her fell away too easily. Let her be the one to run this time. All this time she had danced; now he’d see her limp and crawl.

”Different, huh? What’s different Michael?”

The words resounded back and forth, clear and unmistakable despite the clamor of the room. He’d walked into the warehouse one evening, curious to find out the human responsible for an indescribable presence that had been playing on his nerves for nights on end. She’d stood there, proud and tall as ever, unafraid of all the shadows standing in her life. For the first time in so long he had many things to say—he would tell her everything! He’d tell her and she’d understand and somehow this mess, their ugly, ugly mess, would work—but he couldn’t form the words, couldn’t make a sound. It was more than pride that held him in place this time. A cold chill he barely recognized as fear crept through his veins and kept his feet on the ground. He was paralyzed. She pushed him away, shoved past him and headed for the door. Her dress shone glossily with each step. One displaced curl of soft hair twisted wildly above her shoulder. The moment he had mulled over a thousand times had come.

Unmoving, still half turned to face her as she retreated, Michael watched her walk away.

“I dance around you? All you know to do is get me to chase you so you can run off and see how many other men you can get into bed.”

Those were the only words she heard. Aldonza felt her body burn beneath her skin and she raised a hand to hit him before pushing away. Her temper roared and flared- her own anger so obviously blazing in her eyes. Fuck it. Fuck him. She wasn't looking for other men.... How could he say that to her? To her? Maybe she meant nothing at all to him? Maybe he was just drunk when he said she was different? Maybe she was just imagining things?

A harsh broken laugh, accompanied by a smile that wasn't seductive- only twisted as she looked towards the exit.
"Yeah, that's what I'm doing- trying to fuck everyone I can to get away from you! Because of this- because of those words! How could you possibly--- say that?!?!!?" she hissed, not necessarily to him- but more to herself as she walked away. She half hoped he heard. the fucking bastard. Ugh! How her body itched and burned with anger! Aldonza clenched her fists as she picked up her stiletto and proudly stood- tossing her head with resentment, beginning to feel the ebb of her anger and the creeping onslaught of despair.

Michael.... Michael?

Gone?

For good?

No. She was gone. She was the one walking away. She'd never thought she'd be the one doing it, but here it was- the moment. Aldonza Hernandez was going- leaving- abandoning him. And the worst part was- all she wanted to do was run back. Different? Bullshit. Had he been playing her all along? Had she been so lonely deep down in her soul so as to fall for the first man who finally caught her interest?
Was she so desperate? Had it really come to that? Was she turning into her father? Or was she her mother? Running.... that's what her mother had done. And her mother had never gone back.

Never?

The thought made Aldonza throw her stiletto angrily as the heavy exit door opened to toss her into the crisp night air.
"Damn it!" she yelled, trying to be angrier. The ever invading ice was so close to her skin. Why did it feel so horrible to leave? But he had used fighting words. He had accused her of something wrong- something she didn't do. He knew she wasn't some whore. She was real and yeah she worked the streets but he KNEW that. So what? How could he complain? He offered her a job for Pete's sake!

And walking away- was it smart? Was it what she wanted to do? No, of course not. She didn't want to walk away, but Aldonza wasn't by any means controlled or restrained. Didn't he know that by now? She was something that couldn't be tamed or quenched- not by just anybody. Somebody.

Al shook her head and moved to sit down on the stone steps just outside the back exit door- the neon light glowing brightly in the darkness. EXIT. Yeah. That's just what she did. Her jumbled thoughts ran on and on in circles and suddenly Aldonza felt something she hadn't felt in a long, long time- pure misery. She hadn't felt this since the night she was broken in.

Michael?

He hadn't followed. They were done. And that thought- that finality. The fact that he didn't come after her- only solidified what Aldonza had been dreading. He didn't want her. She wasn't different. Why did that word mean so much to her?

Different.

Al bent down for a moment- placing her head in her hands- feeling her eyes well with something wet. A tear? No. She couldn't possibly be crying over.... but she was. Al frowned and muttered a "Fuck" before turning away from the door and letting her dark hair fall over her face- masking her newly stained cheeks before her slender hands rushed to wipe away the hot tears. God. What was wrong with her?

It was over. She should just suck it up and get over it. She willed herself to get over it, but it wasn't working.

He wasn't coming.

Her skin was smooth caramel, her natural complexion, but there was an underlying pallor that reflected back the moonlight in a soft, cold glow. Her face was high and proud, her eyes wide set and exotic, a fierce shade of jungle green. Her lips were full and tonight unpainted, her eyelids shadowed a robust shade of purple. Her thick, lustrous hair fell heavily over narrow, bare shoulders. Keelie watched the other woman closely from across the street, her gut tightening with suspense at her good fortune. She quietly stamped out her cigarette with her toe and pressed her shoulder into the lamppost. So close. That bitch was right there, right on the other side of the street, and Michael was nowhere to be seen.

She’d hated Aldonza from the moment she’d stepped in the door. The girl was trouble, an upset to the natural order of the house. For some reason, the boss had gone crazy over her. She’d watched it plant itself and she’d seen it grow—he hadn’t just been in lust with her as he had countless times before. Keelie would swear Michael had truly gone insane in his obsession over this one. There was nothing special about her, this dark-haired woman. She was beautiful, sure, but they all were. She was sassy, yeah, but Keelie had seen Michael break a hundred such girls. This one, Aldonza, was a threat. And, like the rest of Michael’s girls, she was mortal. Keelie was the sole exception.

Her fingers flitted over her thighs as she straightened up and started across the street, her gait a casual stroll. When Michael got bored of his little games, it was Keelie he came to. When he tired of the simplicity of the mortal women he kept around him, it was her bosom he returned to: not for comfort, not for affection. Keelie was a fierce woman with a cold, strict set of beliefs. She didn’t give a shit about love or warmth or happiness. She’d shed that mortal shallowness a long time ago, largely thanks to Michael. Which was precisely why seeing him descend back to their level made her blood run hot and fast. This was her duty, her prerogative as Michael’s “friend.” This was her favor to him for the things he had taught her and somehow himself forgotten. She would help him to relearn what he’d lost. She’d take care of his little demon for him and return to his senses.

She crossed the street and glanced about her once, twice—quick, assessing looks. No one around, the time was now. Keelie walked right up to her—the woman seemed almost unfairly distracted—and struck her hard across the side of her head with the back of her arm. Not enough to kill her, of course. She’d spill the blood in a less obvious location. Scooping Aldonza up into her capable arms, she slithered one callous hand over the other woman’s painted lips and sneered with disgust. Plastic woman. Even her tears looked cheap and fake.

“Hey, baby,” she crooned in mock friendliness. “Long time no see. Do ya' recognize me?”

Keelie slipped to the shadows, moving more quickly than any human eye could easily chase. She edged into a small alleyway not far from the club and kicked in a boarded-up door. Darkness. Perfect.

It was a warehouse, smaller than most and, from the looks of things, hardly in use. Crates lined the walls and a few boards were scattered over the cement floor. Keelie dropped her prize unceremoniously into a stack of decaying boxes and paced a slow circle around her, waiting for the mortal's eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

"Aldonza Hernandez. Boss's favorite. That was your title, you know, back at the house. D'you remember? I'm betting not. You were a proud bitch, never had nothing to stay to any of the other girls. And because of you, neither did Michael. None of them would speak up. They're nice, the other girls. But me," her white teeth flashed in the darkness, "I'm like you, baby. I like to speak my mind."

The music and the noises of the crowd seemed distant. He was standing in the same spot he had been when she'd left. She'd left. Minutes passed. He turned towards the door, his follow empty, his eyes hollow. Michael opted not to think. What would he do if he found her? Beg her to stay? Confront her with more accusations? Hold her? Strike her? It didn’t matter. He could follow her, chase her. Watch her. He could do that. When he saw her, then he would decide what to do. All he needed was to see her, to prove to himself that this--all of this--was real, that she had walked outside into the night without intending to come running back. The door clanged shut behind him--no one looked up.

She hadn't even heard the soft clicks on the ground. She hadn't had time to defend herself. Al didn't even realize who it was until Keelie slapped her across the face, a burning backhand that was sure to bruise in the morning if she ever saw it. Dammit! This was her lucky night.
"What the fuck?" Aldonza protested groggily- her head spinning in circles as Keelie picked her up.
"No- no put me down! Put me---" but her voice was muffled by Keelie's oppressive hand and she found herself fighting to writhe in the grasp of the other woman who was- amazingly strong- inhuman perhaps, but Al didn't register that. She just knew she had to get away.

Al blinked twice as the voice confirmed who she thought it was.... Keelie. She was another one of the girls- yeah. Someone else, but Keelie wasn't necessarily the friendliest of women. She was hard, harsh, and cruel to a point- and that was exactly why Al didn't like to talk to Keelie- be around her at any point in time.... ever.
"Good evening Keelie," Al muttered, unwilling to acknowledge the ringing in her ears, the bitch before her, or the fact that Michael wasn't.... but the last thing Aldonza was going to do was sit back and take it. But before she could even try to wiggle free of Keelie's grasp- they were moving in a blur. Maybe it was just Al's head messing with her- or maybe they were really going that fast? She had a hunch it was the latter.

It was too fast. She was gonna puke. Al closed her eyes for a moment and when she reopened them she was in a dingy little warehouse- not at all that unfamiliar but still foreign. She wasn't here with a friend. She was here with an enemy. And she had no idea where the night was going.... obviously past hell and back because she had already fucked things up with Michael. So be it. Fate was a bitch and Al had been dealing with her for a long time. Keelie was nothing.

A faint, semi-conscious Al did, however, notice that Keelie's hands were awfully cold- cool skin.... just like his.

Al grunted as Keelie tossed her down- or rather dumped her- on a pile of moldy crates. She stood immediately- the floor rocking and swaying but she held her ground. That was some blow to the head. Al blinked a few times and in a few seconds she had her balance and as always- her sarcastic flair.

Aldonza Hernandez. Boss's favorite. That was your title, you know, back at the house. D'you remember? I'm betting not. You were a proud bitch, never had nothing to stay to any of the other girls. And because of you, neither did Michael. None of them would speak up. They're nice, the other girls. But me....."

"You're like me huh? Yeah I might be a little proud but what the hell are you Keelie? Your just as proud as I am- hell you'd put a life size portrait of you in your room if you could- hell, I bet you do. You were running those little 'nice girls' long before I came. If it wasn't me that was as you quoted 'the favorite' than it was you. So I don't wanna hear it. I'm not in this for a power struggle. And if you're just like me why the fuck did you bring me here? You know what- I don't have time for this.... Leave me alone- I'm leaving.... I don’t wanna play games with you Keelie."

Al made her way towards the door- shoeless and pissed and anxious.... She knew girls like Keelie. Mother-fucking psychopaths. She wasn't going to let her get away. Shit that sucked. All Al wanted to do was go home and cry. Yeah. Cry.
Aldonza kept her weight balanced and an eye on Keelie as she moved towards the door of the warehouse. She wasn't turning her back on the woman for a second. Something eerie told her Keelie wasn't going to play nice- and something told her that if she did get nasty- Al would be seeing the hospital or Satan. One of the two. Eh- what was Aldonza's life without playing the odds? Without a little bloodshed? A little tears, and a few broken bones?

OOC: Nikki, let me know if I'm pushing my limits with what I do to Al. As of now, I'm just...winging it. :mwaha:

Keelie turned as Al did, pivoting with a graceful sweep on one heel and watching as she neared the door. The corner of her lips twitched into a pleasurable grin, and she lunged, snagging the other woman by her luscious hair and pulling her off balance.

“Nah, you’re not gonna walk away from me tonight, honey. We need to have a girl talk, you and me. I brought you here because similar as we are, I’m not here for me or the girls. I’m here for him. I’ve watched girls come and go. I’ve seen him change favorites and change houses. But you, none of that was good enough for you, was it? I dunno what exactly about you did it for ‘im, but he wen’ crazy over you, went back on everythin’ he tol’ me,” Keelie’s voice began to rise with her temper, and with it she began to slip back into her old accent, her Amazonian eyes beginning to gleam with increasing violence and excitement. “There’s so much you dunno about ‘im, Michael, so much I’m betting he hasn’t tol’ you. That’s because he’s smart, because he knows what happens when someone like you gets too close to someone like us.”

She tugged Al’s hair sharply, dragging the woman back from the door and tossing her to the ground. Flipping her hair back over one shoulder, Keelie threw her weight against a stack of haphazardly balanced crates and slid them with a little effort in front of the single exit.

“But here’s the problem,” she dusted her hands off slowly across the legs of her pants and took a moment to scrutinize the other. “Michael’s starting to forget his place. He’s lost track of how things are supposed to be, and d’you know what’s causing it? You honey,” she leaned forward until her face was just a few inches from Al’s. “You’re the problem.”

The toe of her boot slowly glided over Al’s hand and pressed down gently. Her teeth flashed again in a smile, the tips of her fangs just glinting against her dark lips.

“It’s nothin’ personal, by the way. I don’t like you, but I’m sure you’re a nice girl. It’s a crazy world. Gotta do what you need to.”

Her eyes flashed for a fraction of a second and she brought her foot down hard on Al’s fingers, her ears carefully attuned to the tell-tale snapping of bones, a delicious sound she anticipated to hear much more of in the next hour or so. Her grin widened, and she slipped into a straddle over Al's rather helpless body, her fingers sliding playfully over the other woman's throat, testing several degrees of pressure like a cat sizing up its quivering prey.

"I'm gonna ask you somethin' personal. D'you love 'im, Aldonza? D'you even like 'im? Or are you jus' playin' with 'im, cat and mouse, like you an' me?"

The night air hit his face, but he didn't feel it. Her scent was strongest right here, just a few paces outside the door, but she was gone. Had she been near, he would have seen her, heard her. He could almost see her outline standing on the steps, her profile pale in the darkness. He stood in the place she'd been and acknowledged the slow, sickly sinking in his stomach. It was a feeling he recognized, for it was identical to the one he'd dutifully ignored the night she'd confronted Benny. Now, masking the sudden uneasiness was impossible--mingled in the air, weaving in and out of her familiar scent, was the thick, unmistakable musk of another vampire. His muscles quivered, and for a moment it was his impulse to run in every direction at once, to tear the nearby buildings apart brick by brick until he found her.

"Damn it, Al," he breathed, his fingers tensing and relaxing at his side.

Trouble. He knew the new scent well, knew who it belonged to, could even guess what her intentions were. Forcing himself back into the menacing calm he'd for so long had perfectly mastered, he caught the trail and started off in a brisk walk.

ooc: okay ill let you know- and Al's gotta get a few measley shot in lol- the little scrappy chica :) hehehe love ittttt oh and pls don't pull her hair out- haha
maybe a lil but no bald spots lol

Al saw it coming and relaxed as Keelie grabbed her hair, pulling her back. She didn't fight it- lest her hair be pulled out. Now she didn't want that did she..... But Aldonza did twist in her arms and snag a fistful of Keelie's hair, twisting and pulling until she had forced Keelie to look at her in the eye.
"You're not here for him Keelie. You're here for yourself- how do you know what he wants?" she shot.

But he didn't want her. He had let her go. He didn't want her. Al felt her stomach sink and nausea sweep over her before she shook her head with a growl and pulled Keelie's hair tighter against her with frustration. What the hell did Keelie know about Michael? How could she know what he....

Brown eyes were never as cold as they were now. There was no warmth, no humor- no anything. Just an intense desire for survival and a dry hint of sarcasm. Al had always laughed at Fate- toyed with it even.... like she had tonight. What had she to fear? Well, a lot from Keelie- but fear had never stopped Al before from kicking some bitch's ass. However, something was different about Keelie. She moved so fast- so....

Her words brought Al back- her eyes sharp as she scrutinized her- their bodies twisted together in a painful embrace as Keelie's words ran through Al's mind.
There’s so much you dunno about ‘im, Michael, so much I’m betting he hasn’t tol’ you. That’s because he’s smart, because he knows what happens when someone like you gets too close to someone like us

"Someone like you?" Aldonza asked, trying to keep her mind away from the words that really had the most effect on her- make her freeze and almost tremble with their impact. He went crazy about her? Had he? Then why wasn't he here now? Yeah. Piece of shit. Al frowned and forgot the concept before arching an eyebrow at Keelie.

"Why you're both cold...." her voice trailed off as if expecting Keelie to answer.

Aldonza fell to the ground with another tug and landed harshly on her ass. That was gonna bruise in the morning. She blinked and groaned softly as she tried to get up. That was before Keelie moved the huge stack of crates in front of the door with her bare hands. Al's mouth visibly dropped but she caught it quickly.
"Shit.... what the hell is going on here?" she asked, beginning to feel just a little edge of true fear creeping upon her. This wasn't a fight she could win. But she had to fight. But she wasn't going to make it out. No. Exit's blocked. She wasn't making it out.

She'd never see him again.

Keelie walked towards her and started to talk. Al didn't like what she heard. And she let the crazy bitch know. No point in being nice if the chick seriously wanted to do her in.

"Oh, what he's supposed to be? And what the hell do you know about him? Change can be good if you haven't noticed!" Al raged, trying to get up before Keelie straddled her.

Left hand. The smooth sole of the shoe pressed gently. She knew what was coming but just couldn't pull away. She just couldn't. So she opened her big fat mouth.
"How are things supposed to be Keelie- tell me! And why can't he be different? Why can't any of us change? That's not how life is supposed to be! It's not routine. It's not normal. it's supposed to be exciting and thrilling- a roller coaster of a ride and if every day is the same damn thing- feeling the same damn things- if nothing's different.... then it's not worth living!"

What was she saying? What was she doing? Had she just- admitted to Keelie what she had felt all along? To Keelie? Well, she supposed she was gonna be either a vegetable in the morning or just plain dead as a doornail- so what did it matter?

Besides, he wasn't here. He wasn't here to hear any of it.

CRUNCH!

"Aldonza yelped in initial reaction before biting her lip. That's what the bitch wanted. God, what was Keelie's problem? It wasn't like Al had been doing anything wrong.
"What have I done wrong Keelie, huh? What?"

Her body came closer and Al was grateful when her foot came off her hand. She couldn't move two of her fingers. Great. Just great. Al grinned as Keelie moved close and resisted the urge to rip her fuckin eyes out. But Al knew she couldn't get out that exit door and she was pretty sure she wasn't gonna be able to kill Keelie. And even if she did- no one knew she was here. She'd die of starvation anyways.

"I'm gonna ask you somethin' personal. D'you love 'im, Aldonza? D'you even like 'im? Or are you jus' playin' with 'im, cat and mouse, like you an' me?"

Aldonza was obviously shocked by the question and the answer was on the tip of her tongue- so damn close, but she couldn't say it. She simply couldn't say it. Not to Keelie. No. Not to her.

Michael. The thought hurt. Everything that made her think about him hurt now. Gone. Done. And she- soon to be dead.

"Why do you care?" Al shot- moving to push Keelie off with her good hand, standing up and kicking her away with a swift front kick to her core. Keelie's body was rock hard- and Al stepped back a bit.
Too much like Michael.... What was going on here?
Al stepped forward and backhanded Keelie with an astonishing amount of force for one as skinny as she. She growled.
"Stop playing games- I don't wanna play- with you or with Michael? I'm sick of it!" And she hit her again, this time harder before kicking her again, knocking her backwards.

She was never one to back down from a fight- even one that she wasn't even sure how she had gotten herself into....

"Change?" Her wild laugh seemed to bounce off of the walls, magnified by the loneliness of the room and the long shadows that seeped forward from the corners. "Would you like to see what change brings, Aldonza? Maybe before I kill you, I'll let you get a good look at what change really is. To be honest, I'm surprised Michael hasn't already done that for me. But like I said, you fucked 'im up pretty good, baby. An' I'm here to make it right again. I owe 'im, you see. I'm repayin' my debt to 'im. Givin' 'im a chance to get your stink off 'is skin. And maybe he'll be mad for a little while. Mad that I snapped his pretty plaything right in half. But he'll thank me for it later. An' when he realizes how easy I've made it for 'im, guess whose arms he's gonna fall into?"

She flashed the other a quick, mocking grin and stepped in close. Aldonza’s kick connected with her stomach, and she doubled slightly, more out of surprise than actual pain. Keelie snickered, an ugly, guttural sound of genuine amusement at the fight in this one. Perhaps this was part of the reason Keelie hated her so. Had the situation been different, she would have really liked Aldonza. She would have appreciated her “incorruptible” pride and the good name she gave tough women. But she’d gotten herself in the way, and her stupidity couldn’t be forgiven. It had not a thing to do with mercy—these were simply the rules of the game.

She took the blow to the face in silence, the force of it barely enough to turn her head more than a few inches. When she looked again at Aldonza, her savage eyes glinted with irritation.

“You think this is a game?” She caught on her fingertip the single drop of blood the tip of Aldonza’s shoe had raised on her lip. The split in her skin pulled itself together and crusted into a scab. “We’re not playin’, honey. This isn’t a dance, this isn’t make-believe. This, this is real. You ask me what you did wrong. You didn’t do anything, not on purpose. You just stumbled into the way. Not your fault, I know. In the end you’re just another one of his girls, just a dumb bitch with a lot of bad luck. But I’m not sorry. We all gotta play our parts, an’ your time is up.”

Keelie slipped behind her quickly and brought her arm down hard, striking Aldonza another quick, crushing blow to the back of her head. It was enough force to send her sprawling, but Keelie made sure to catch her, her arm snaking around the other woman’s chest and pinning her arms to her sides. With her other hand, she shoved Al’s heavy locks back from her neck and turned her victim towards the barricaded door. She paused for a moment, catching her uneven breath and chuckling. When she spoke, her voice was low and sultry, a disdainful mimic of the same voice she’d heard Aldonza use around Michael countless times.

“You see the door? That was your way out. You should have taken it a long time ago.” She paused and flashed Aldonza a pout. "Too late."

Her arm tightened slowly, patiently, a serpent crushing the life from its victim, drawing it nearer to the brink of death before burying its fangs. Before making the mess.

When he'd reached the third alley back and still hadn't found the turn, he'd broken into a run. His thoughts were a whir of panic, now, a tangled mess of questions and fears and regrets and threats. When he found her, he'd kill her--but whether "her" referred to Keelie or Aldonza remained uncertain.

Her scent was getting stronger, warm and fragrant beneath the cold and bitter musk of the pseudo-fledgling. Not his. He hadn't made her. But she'd tasted his blood, and it had made her strong. She'd been too young for it, like he had when he'd first been made. But he'd come to despise Keelie. Her thoughtless "protection" of him, her mindless dedication to a monster that loathed her had only made him hate her more.

And Aldonza.

He gritted his teeth, his pale knuckles turning the color of ash as he clenched his fists and finally found the turn. The door wasn't far down--in fact, it was in view of the main street. But it was barricaded. He could tear through it, but the time it would take to do it could very well be time he couldn't afford to waste. He circled back farther into the alley and found what he was looking for. Every muscle in his body rippled, braced and waiting. He kicked through the boarded window and lifted himself through, dropping the short way down and landing on the concrete floor in silence.

"Your arms?" Aldonza asked, honestly disgusted by Keelie's train of thought. "Your arms? I don't think so- He doesn't forgive easily. Just like you won't forgive me for- what did you say- getting in the way? Get over yourself. You're not doing him a favor. Micheal's a big boy. If he wanted me dead he'd have done it a long time ago."

How easily he had snapped Benny's neck- like it was nothing.... at any time- he could've done that to her. Any time.

"You're just lonely so you decided to play the hero to try to get back in the sack- I agree he's a wonderful lover. But honey you're twisted if you think killing me is gonna get you back in bed- you’re too sensitive," she taunted, not really thinking about what she was saying- letting her rash and unthinkable words spike with a hatred that Aldonza didn't know she was capable of. She had always been fairly nice to the other girls she knew- and kind to most men- but Keelie, threatening her so- and mentioning Michael as if he belonged to her- well, it provoked Al- maybe a little too much.

It wasn't a game. It was elimination. Mmmm. Fun. Aldonza barely even noticed the small hint of panic that started to edge its way into her mind. Dumb Bitch? The words pulled her out of her thoughts and make her growl before she tried to grab Keelie's hair and smash her fucking head into the ground.

Too slow. She was too slow.

Or Keelie was too fast.

Al couldn't help but yell as Keelie hit her- hard. The stinging pain on the back of her head from before turned into a sharp pain as Keelie knocked her backwards- Al almost sprawling.
Aldonza did black out for a few seconds but when she could see again- despite the spinning room- Keelie had caught her.

Arms wrapped around Al as her eyes were forced to look at the door, her dark hair pulled back. She turned to look at Keelie and glared.
"Yeah, I probably should've taken that door a long while back but you know what- I don't care. I’m used to wearing out my welcomes."

She didn't want to run from him. She didn't want to die and never apologize. She didn't want to....

Aldonza wiggled and squirmed against Keelie's grip but it was just too tight. Any other woman- she'd be able to get away. What was going on? Aldonza kept squirming- kept squirming until she saw Keelie's mouth move slightly- and her lips curl just enough to make out.... fangs?

It must be the blow to the head. She was seeing things. And now she was gonna see Keelie either snap her neck or suffocate her. Either way she didn't like the picture. It wasn't pretty.

Aldonza was fading in and out- her consciousness fading fast. Had Keelie hit her too hard? Fuck if this didn't go away she'd be at the hospital again. Dammit. Well, it didn't matter though- really? She was going to die. On the bright side- no hospital bill. Woopie.

A strange sound startled Al and made her twist her upper body away from Keelie- just enough to see the boards of a window broken.... broken easily- and by who?

Michael. There’s a shocker. Wasn’t he done with her? Sure as hell seemed like it before.

He landed on the floor and looked up- saying nothing. She looked away- avoiding his gaze. Something had clenched in her stomach as she saw him and a secret part of her did want to cry out (the pathetic panicking part of her- the part that knew death was so close). But the guilt of before shut it up and kept Al silent and stubborn in Keelie's arms.

However, the sight of him did inspire her to writhe just a little bit more- push more against Keelie- just try to get away- though she knew it was impossible. Even Al- who was quite the fighter for her size..... She wasn't getting out of this. And what did Keelie think of him now? Was he still her little baby that she had to protect? He could make his own descisions.

Exactly. His own decisions. Al didn’t know whether he was here to save her or help Keelie out in murdering her. Maybe it was all just …. Al's mind went in and out and she shook it off with a grunt before lifting her knee to hit Keelie and started throwing elbows at her. There was no exit. There was no escape.

What had she gotten herself into?

His arrival was not silent to her ears.

Keelie flinched as she turned and noted first the eyes she knew so well, only it had been a long since she had seen them so hollowly directed at her. It was a look she knew well, and it made her skin crawl. But she was doing this for him. Her arm around the girl tightened, her lips curled. She stood up a little straighter and jutted her chin forward.

"Michael," she'd meant to say it solemnly; it escaped in a breath. Aldonza squirmed in her arms, and she tightened her grip further.

His eyes flashed quickly from Aldonza, to Keelie, and back. They lingered on her face, on the way she turned away when she saw him, on the bruises forming on her hand. Something in his stomach tightened. She was disgusted by the sight of him. He understood. He didn't come expected to be welcomed, and he wasn't about to beg for her to change. She had left. The only reason they had met again, here in a place so familiar to the one they'd first met, was so that he could let her keep the life she wanted when she walked out the door, the life that did not have him in it. He looked back at Keelie, at the fine trembling of her jaw. And the beautiful slant of her eyes.

"If you'd gone through with it, you would have had to face me eventually. Show me what you'd planned to say."

Silence. Keelie stared at him, not directly in his eyes but just beneath them. Her gaze darted guiltily to his and then away.

"Show me!" He snarled and lunged forward. She gasped and stumbled back.

"Michael, she's ruining you--"

"Is she?" He stepped forward, pacing around her.

"S-she's taking you over..." She turned slowly, keeping the girl between her and Michael.

"No, don't stop, go on," he turned the other way and started another circle.

"...you've lost sight of what you are."

"And you know?" He stopped, and she did the same. Finally, her eyes locked with his. "You know what I am?"

"Michael," she murmured, her voice almost a plea. “Michael, you’re the one who showed me. I know you remember. Stop playing her lapdog. It’s not right.”

The corner of his lips twitched into a smile, his cold eyes instantly awash in an amusement that frightened her. Another look she knew well, only this time it was directed at her.

“You’re afraid I’ve lost my touch? Been defanged? Forgotten how to make you scream, Keelie?” His cold eyes flicked to Aldonza’s face, and still she refused to look at him. The crooked, mirthless smirk ebbed. It was to her, now, that he spoke. “Would you like me to show you why I danced around you before? Would you like to see why I’ve been so careful all this time?”

”No,” Keelie moaned, dragging Aldonza backwards. “Michael, no, if you come closer to me I’ll carve ‘er face.”

“Would you like me to show you what I had to hide every time we touched?” His voice was low, hardly more than a whisper.

Still, she would not meet his eyes. He looked to Keelie and caught her gaze. Their eyes remained locked, and in Michael’s flickered something calculated, something intensely concentrated. The vampiress hissed quietly and made a quiet sound not unlike a whimper. Her fingers relaxed, her arm fell away from her captive. She let Al slip to away, and Michael was on her within the next second. Keelie shrieked and howled in agony as he crushed his knee into the small of her back and twisted her arms behind her. His deranged stare moved again to Aldonza, and even the smirk was gone. She refused to acknowledge him. That was fine. She didn't need to look at him to follow his orders.

“Over in that crate near the door are some chains. Can you bring them?”

Aldonza gasped as Keelie squeezed tighter- her breath running out as her torso was crushed. "Ahh..." she cried out in pain before Keelie's grip loosened- her focus on Michael and his words.

Aldonza dared to look at him once, but the look was gone as she heard his voice, the power behind it, and the anger. And now- now Al began to tremble, shaking Keelie with her own reaction to Michael.

She couldn't breathe.... the grip was tightening as Keelie backed up. Aldonza clawed at her arms- trying to free herself- her mind screaming for air!
“Would you like me to show you why I danced around you before? Would you like to see why I’ve been so careful all this time?”

Michael.

She could only mouth the words and she couldn't even form an answer. Did she want to know? Yes, but not like this. Not like this. Not with him like this. So deranged- so out of control. Had she done this? Was this her fault? Maybe change was bad?

“Would you like me to show you what I had to hide every time we touched?”

Aldonza winced and closed her eyes at the grip. Still no air. And Michael’s whisper only made it worse, her guilt overrunning her senses. Everything hurt. Body and soul. the sound of his voice....
Daggers. Once again.

There was a pause as Michael just stood there- staring at Keelie. And then- then the grip around Al loosened and she fell to the floor- gasping for air and feeling the tears well in her eyes as she landed on her bad hand.
"Fuck," came her breathless voice. She turned to look at Keelie- who was captive by Michael in less than a blink. Al stared at him, frightened as he shoved his knee into her back and pulled Keelie's arms behind her.

His orders made her look down at the floor. She nodded silently and got up, rushing to the crate to pull out a heavy set of chains, rusted and old. She grabbed them with her good hand and forced them atop her shoulder before taking them back to Michael, kneeling beside Keelie.

She set them down, the chinking sound so loud in her head compared to the silence of the three of them.
"I'm sorry," she breathed, before looking up for the first time after she turned her back on him- to meet his eyes.

Needless to say, her apology took him by surprise. It hadn’t been what he was expecting. It hadn’t even been what he was looking for, this quiet admission. For a long moment he did not respond, but he lifted the heavy chains from her shoulders, his fingertips brushing along her arm, down her wrist, and pausing before the dark bruises over two of her knuckles.

“This…is the second time I’ve had to see you like this. Both times have been my fault. Perhaps I should be the one apologizing."

But he didn't.

He looked into her eyes for a moment and turned to Keelie, lifting her by the hair to loop a chain beneath her shoulders. The vampiress hissed in pain, dark, splotchy tears spilling from her jungle eyes. She turned her blurred gaze on Aldonza and, for a moment, a searing hatred bubbled up through the pain until the chain pressed into her skin and reduced her to another sob. Michael pressed his knee harder into her back and pulled the chain tight, weaving it beneath her and binding her slowly, calmly, like a spider going about its simple, reclusive duty. He tugged the chains until they dug into her skin and she whimpered in pain, and when he heard that fascinating noise he pulled harder still. The joints of her shoulders and wrists popped in protest, and she pressed her face into the ground, her eyes turned towards Aldonza, her fangs just glinting above her dirty lip.

He moved down her body from her shoulders to her ankles. When he finished, he released her, and Keelie’s first reaction was to struggle against the chains. Michael remained kneeling, his eyes passive as he watched her squirm.

“That’s good,” he spoke calmly, like an instructor might speak to a child. “Test them for me. Make sure I did them right. How do they feel?”

Keelie twisted on the ground and struggled towards him, her teeth bared like a wild animal, her eyes red with tears and murder. He lunged forward, making sure she was well away from reaching Al. His hand closed about her cold throat and pinned her head back against the ground with an audible crack. Still holding her, he spoke again, his voice a dry monotone.

"How badly did she hurt you? Do you need to go a hospital?"

His fingers trailed down her arm and she shuddered at the touch- her body achy from all the squirming and bucking. Her body aching from everything that had happened tonight. he hesitated and stopped- just before her hand- her fingers bruised and starting to swell. Al wasn't going to lie- it hurt like a mother, but not as bad as the ribs. No, that definitely took the cake. Benny sure knew where to hit a girl. her good hand moved slightly, aching to touch his, but she held back- sighing as he took the chains away from her- relieving her of the weight.

Al stared down at Keelie and honestly, felt nothing for her. no pity. no- nothing. the only one who concerned her now was Michael.

“This…is the second time I’ve had to see you like this. Both times have been my fault. Perhaps I should be the one apologizing."

Aldonza felt a shaky laugh escape her throat as she shook her head.
"I'm used to it." she said, a small smirk finding it's way into her eyes. She just had a knack for getting herself into trouble. he knew that. and she lived on that thrill- that chase, that run, that fight, that adventure that was Aldonza's life. Vivacious and Free. All she ever wanted- was to run- to live this thrilling life to the fullest- enjoying the highest highs and the lowest of lows. She was living- and in the realm of her perception of life.... this was just another part of it.

He wrapped Keelie in the chains then, Al scooting back just a little bit to watch- getting out of his way- lifting her bad hand and examining it for the first time tonight. her head still was fuzzy and things were going in and out- maybe she was still lacking oxygen? The room spun and she shook it off before staring at her hand- amazed by the new colors appearing just under her skin. She tried to move each finger in turn. Three broken. Great. Just great. the movement itself made her eyes water so she stopped and held her hand to her chest- looking down to see her dress dusty, tattered, and slightly torn at the chest from her rumble with Keelie. She almost smiled.

But she didn't. It wasn't the time or the place to be humorous.
Aldonza risked a glance at Michael once more before she heard Keelie's shoulders pop. It didn't affect her at all. She didn't squirm or cringe. This was business after all wasn't it? And now- without the panic of before- she could think a little clearer.

Key word being a little. that blow to the head was a doozey.

Al watched as Michael let Keelie go- letting her buck and rear trying to break the chains. Al shuffled back a little farther and finally stood up when Keelie lunged- fangs bared and eyes red.

Fangs. She really had fangs. And Michael? Michael....?

Michael moved towards her- fast. And Aldonza jumped back as he smacked Keelie's head into the floor- his hand around her throat. It was so easy for him.... like before. She had seen this before.

He spoke without looking at her, his eyes on Keelie. Al wondered what he was going to do. She wondered what he was. And she wondered how the hell she was getting out of here. With him?

Did she have to go to the hospital? Her head hurt- yeah and she was having trouble focusing. So yeah- that might be bad, but she had the feeling it was just a concussion. She could wrap her own fingers if need be- they'd been broken before, but on the other hand. It happened.

"I'm fine, she replied simply.

So what now?

”I’m used to it.” She tried to laugh and forced a smile. He looked at her calculatingly before dutifully turning his attention back on the writhing creature before him.

“I’m not.”

Keelie’s efforts to escape had slowed. Each movement she made seemed to only drag the chains in tighter into her flesh. He grabbed one that crossed her upper back and another that bound her knees, lifting her as carelessly as though he were handling a mannequin. He brought her to the window he had entered through and sat her up against a crate so that she faced it. For a moment or two he knelt beside her, looking out into the night and forcing her to do the same with one persistent hand.

“You’re making a mistake, Michael, don’t do this, not to me. It’s me. Remember? You taught me everything. But what are you doing now? Forsaking it all? For her?”

“Did you notice, Keelie, the direction this window faces?”

Her eyes flicked back and forth, her lip curling no doubt with the start of another retaliation. His fingers slipped up across her lips, and he leaned in closer to her ear.

“East,” he whispered, as softly as if the single syllable was one of intimacy.

The cruelty of it seemed to hit her all at once, for the woman cried out in a sudden, raspy panic. Her eyes widened—he watched the fear dawn in them as he stood up and stepped back. He watched her panicked antics for a moment longer before he lunged forward to strike her hard across the face. She seemed to stare up at him, her lips still parted in outrage, but her consciousness waned and her shoulder slumped forward.

At last Michael turned his back on her, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet Aldonza’s gaze again, not yet, perhaps never if she so chose. And she had. They had already chosen, and in his quiet rage he’d forgotten. He stepped closer, his eyes on the ground, on the wall over her shoulder, on her bruised hand and the state of her dress.

“Fine,” he repeated the word quietly, nodding his head once, just barely, in agreement. She was fine, alive. Breathing. “Let’s go.”

He turned away towards the door and crossed the small warehouse in silence, his arms feeling heavy at his sides, the entire night feeling surreal and incomplete around him. Not like the night she’d confronted Benny and he’d carried her away to be his just like he had wanted. Then he had known the outcome, been sure of himself, headstrong and reckless in his way. Now, he didn’t know. Now, everything was in her hands, and he was struggling to keep himself from either begging her for forgiveness or wounding her further so she would simply leave. He lifted his hands and threw his weight against the crates stacked against the door. Their motion stirred a thin cloud of dust and debris, visible in the moonlight that spilled through the partially-open door. He showed a flat smile and inclined his head to the night, his eyes daring to flit up to hers for a second before they wandered out into the street.

Instead of waiting, he stepped out first, not sure if he should wait for her to speak or if he should simply take his leave. He was awash in unfamiliarity, something he had never known with her. It was cold, unsettling. Was this how she'd perceived him?

I'm not.

That's what he had said, his voice so very emotionless. She almost cringed but she didn't. This was just how he was sometimes. She was trying to lighten up, trying to forget the panic that had just started to ebb from her veins.

His voice fell away as he moved Keelie too sit- just before the window. Keelie started speaking again and Al only heard half of it. Forsaking? For her? Was Michael forsaking something for her? Was he? He turned to speak to Keelie, his words as close as he could get. However, she didn't understand what he said.
East?
Keelie began to writhe again, her words a mess of panic.

"East?" Aldonza whispered in confusion, hardly making a sound.
A solid blow from Michael struck Keelie across the face and Al winced from the sound, a smacking that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Keelie quieted into unconsciousness and Al froze as Michael turned away from Keelie to walk towards her.

"Yeah, we can go- Michael?" she asked, another non-characteristic whisper as she shook off her dizziness- fighting to keep her body awake.
"The exit's block-" her words fell away as Michael easily shoved his weight against the crates, creating a dust storm of sorts. Al coughed and stepped forward, her stride unbreakable despite her shoeless form.

He gave her a smile that she didn't understand and couldn't read. She'd have said it was sad had it been anyone else. With Michael- she could never tell. She hesitated for a moment, watching him for a moment- looking him over. Michael.

Aldonza followed him and blinked once as he walked silently.
"Michael please...." she said, her voice finally above a whisper. She moved forward quickly to catch up to him and outstretched her left hand to touch his shoulder before she remembered her fingers were broken.
"Dammit," she yelped in pain as her hand screamed from the impact.
Al pulled her hand to her chest quickly and tried to shake it off- the tears of pain in her eyes only making her look more pathetic.

Yeah she was a regular Cinderella tonight. Dusty, torn, barefoot, injured, and single.
Just peachy.
"Michael, please explain. I don't understand. She had fangs... and-" Al trembled slightly as the wind hit her body- penetrating her dress.
"You- you moved those crates and you-- East? Michael please make me understand what you are. I promise- I promise I won't tell. Why couldn't you tell me? what can't you tell me?" she pleaded- looking at him, Micheal's eyes still not meeting hers. She sped up and grabbed his arm gently with her right hand this time and turned him to face her, lightly letting her hand collide with his cheek to turn his icy blue eyes towards hers.

"Look at me now- please Michael? It's just me- just Aldonza... Can't u tell me?

He paused as she drew her hand to her chest, turning to regard the pained woman before him, unsure of what to do. The strength in her was not gone, but there was a tender vulnerability in her now that he could hardly look at—not out of malice, but because it scalded his frigid heart to see. Aldonza, his Aldonza. And he had chased her straight into the clutches of danger once again.

Michael moved closer to her, peering down into her unshakably heated eyes like a boy ashamed of being caught behaving like a child, and stood apologetically before her. But what to say? Their sharp exchange of words from before still burned under his skin, and part of him still wanted to do what it always did. Chase her, corner her, force her, hurt her. But tonight it was not the part of him that had won out. He slipped his hand behind her neck, beneath her hair, and gently pulled her into a kiss, taking care not to crush her wounded hand between them. When he let her go, he cast her a quick, meaningful look, and let his arms fall around her.

“I’m going to carry you. Let’s go home.”

Without waiting for her response, he slipped an arm behind her knees and the other beneath her back. Cradling her against his chest, the scent of her hit him at its fullest almost instantly. It was enough to stir the familiar hunger her presence never failed to spark. He immediately rejected it.

“Fangs because she isn’t human. East because of the sun.” His voice was low, nearly a murmur, and without inflection. “The crates I moved because we are able. The rest I promise you’ll know before the night is over.”

Michael started out behind the warehouse, his gaze flicking warily across the varied shadows such alleyways offered. Part of him suspected there were others, and he would not be caught off guard. He paused in the shadow cast by another building adjacent to the one they had exited, eyeing a set of escape stairs that ended a story above ground. Shifting her carefully so her weight rested entirely over one arm, he sprang to the platform and eased her back into a more reliable grip. Looking once into her moonlit face to note her reaction and to be sure she was alright, he began to ascend the stairs along the building's side.

He kissed her, soft and lingering, and Aldonza felt her eyes close as she fell into the gesture- relaxing if only for a moment in his gentle and uncharacteristic embrace. She sighed as he pulled away but as soon as he tried to carry her she frowned and smirked a little bit- her fingers causing her to grimace as she was scooped up.

"Dammit Michael I'm not a child- I can walk- my legs are fine- my heads a little woozy but I can walk fine- I--" she smarted off with a chuckle, but as he pulled her close she inhaled the scent of his body and instantly pressed a cheek to his chest. She was childish to act so- attached to him, but he knew anyways-
All sarcasm was lost as she simply smelled him- the way he didn't even seem to sweat after his wrestling with Keelie and the way the dust clung to his clothes- the smell of sawdust from the crates and the cold frost of skin just underneath his shirt. Al bit her lower lip as the memory of his frozen skin brushing across hers made her tremble.

"Deja vu" she whispered, smiling as she looked up at him, her good hand clutching his shirt lightly- almost afraid to wrinkle it. her own dress was ruined- why should she ruin his?
"Thanks..." Shit. he certainly seemed to save her life a lot- then again he was the one who endangered her. But maybe- maybe it was all her fault? hell, she was the onne who went with him- who agreed to work for him- who wanted him. She brought all this on herself.

And this moment- in his arms- no matter how many bones were broken in the process- something told her it was worth it. Something told her he was worth all of this. very thought came slower and slower as she thought- she felt as if she were falling asleep. Wake up. Wake up- she told herself. Stay awake. Stay alive.
Why? Why the fuck was he worth broken bones?
Because she lov--

“The crates I moved because we are able. The rest I promise you’ll know before the night is over.”

"Not human?" she asked, blinking a couple times as her mind began to perk up. The strange comment and the awful possibilities it had made her mind sharpen. She opened her eyes and gripped his shirt a little tighter. She didn't cringe. She didn't shake. She was fine. Yeah- something was wrong here- he had a secret- a dark one.... but she knew he had a secret all a long- and she wasn't running- at least not yet. She'd listen. She was ready to listen- and despite all her reservations about Michael Charkov, she trusted him.

"Okay" she said- her voice soft. "Okay..."
He set her on one arm and began to climb an escape ladder that she hadn't noticed before. She was too lost in her own thoughts. Fangs. She wasn't stupid- she knew the legend. It was just a myth though. But Keelie had fucking fangs. And Michael could move those crates- and was he? Like her? If she was- well... it sounded stupid to say it- to think it, but damn.... vampires? Honestly? Panic began to edge in on her trusting mind. But Michael could've- this whole time he could've- if he was--- and he hadn't--- because??? Why?
He stopped and searched her face and Aldonza frowned. What was he looking for? Despite her instinctive panic- the low growling of warning just beneath her skin- she held on to Micheal's shirt tighter and moved towards his searching face to press a quick kiss on his lips.
"I'm alright Michael-" she answered his gaze. "Let's go home. Please?" she asked, repeating the word from before as she laid her head on his chest as he climbed the stairs, the word home echoing a longing. Home. Their home. He had called it home. When they first met she just thought it was a house.

Her characteristic protests nearly made him smile. Instead, he kept his focus on the uncertainties of the path home, his expression little more revealing than a wry grimace. At the first sign of trouble, he'd place her in a corner and never let them past. Them? Truth be told, Michael had only a vague idea what Keelie had meant by her little blood-sport. The act seemed to him to be the desperate, maddened schemings of yet another young vampire incapable of adapting to its new potential. But he knew she'd had friends. He knew she'd gotten involved with a coven.

He wasn't worried. Michael Charkov didn't worry. But he was vigilant.

They traveled by rooftop, the buildings in urban Demaitre close enough together to easily cross and the vantage point being much clearer from such heights. The return seemed endless, the picture they made of him carrying her back to a place she herself had acknowledged as a home feeling ethereal even to him. At last they returned to street level, and having seen no sign of any other pursuers, he allowed himself a few furtive, cherished glances at the woman in his arms.

The house was dark. It always was. The only light that might have been on was hers, and her absence for the evening found the place completely still. Was it she, then, that breathed life into the word? "Home?" For the thousandth time, he convinced himself that it did not matter, that more pressing issues--her health--should be considered first. And so he carried her up the shadowed drive and with one hand opened the door. More darkness.

He brought her to her room and placed her gently in her boldly-adorned bed. He hadn't seen this room, he realized, since she had first moved in. The place had been strictly hers, and he hadn't dared to intrude. Not out of politeness, of course, but out of unprovoked hatred of what she did, of what he'd hired her to do. Her den. Michael knew that at least several other men had at some point been here, been on her bed, had lain beneath her, willingly helpless...

"Now tell me how to make you comfortable. I'll bring you more blankets if you want to stay here and--what else would you like? Something to drink?"

He eyed her hand. He'd wrap it himself, if she let him. And no doubt she'd have plenty of other bruises to show for the violent encounter. He'd tend to those as well.