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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [private]  bite my shiny metal ass; lacey only
    #1
    He was not often a patient man, not on his own. Impulsive and rash, with little inclination to think things through before he acted. Before the dream that woke a slumbering beast, he would have rushed forward right on Kali’s heels, crushed his lips to Lacey’s, and oh, he wanted to. But he held back, eyes sharp and focused on her. Taking in so much more detail. The way she let some stranger kiss her neck, the warmth in her expression, the way the corner of her mouth softened into a Lacey almost-smile.

    The way she encouraged his return.
    And the change in her eyes, dark angel depths hidden behind an icy ring of white.

    He watched, all hint of earlier festivities forgotten, all interest lost, but his job was done anyhow. The gifts were made, the decorations scattered about in the trees, they didn’t need him to play normal or pretend nothing had changed. And they had their mother home, what more could they ask for on a holiday like this? So he let them celebrate, and silver eyes never left her. Give the children a chance to reunite, to cling and cuddle and hold their mother close.

    His turn would come.

    Kali clung to her side all day, relentless and demanding her attention, and how could Kerberos blame her? But eventually she settled in for a snuggle with Kharon, and Kerberos took advantage of the opportunity to sidle up to her, breathe in the scent of her--curious. Familiar, with a hint of ice, crisp and chill and fascinating. He brushed his lips along her shoulder, nipped the side of her neck sharp enough to make a body sit up and take notice. “Walk with me,” he crooned, and urged her along.

    He waited until they were out of sight, out of earshot, before he turned, met her eyes, walked her back against a tree. Stepped too close, brushing his muzzle against the side of her face, a wicked glint in his eyes as he grazed her cheek on the way to her ear. “You left me,” he murmured, taking another little nip, this time of the edge of her ear. “I didn’t like it.”
    Call me the world's sexiest killing machine.
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    #2

    this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
    search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness

    She could feel his eyes on her, could feel it as if he were right next to her. It made it hard to breathe, hard to pretend she was relaxed. But her babies were here and somehow they'd missed her. And he'd made them all beautiful gifts, so precisely crafted with his iron, a little piece of him for each of them.

    It pinched her heart to see him use his magic for good, and not what it'd been used for so many years ago. It hurt to see that he changed so much, that he was something better now, something incredible. It would've been so much easier to hate him and not have to feel the rejection that she was never good enough and never would be. He was perfect and she was still nothing.

    She was able to ignore his attention the rest of the time, put all her focus on the children and exclaiming with delight at their gifts and their stories, their happiness. She even held them close. A little. Though she had never been affectionate like they'd learned from their dads. At least someone had taught it to them. It was probably more desirable.

    When Kali had finally left her side to join her big brother, Wallace felt him slide up to her and she froze in place. Her heart raced immediately and she didn't take her eyes off her babies as he breathed her scent, brushed his lips over her shoulder. She gasped quietly when he nipped her neck sharply, finally glanced at him when he urged her to walk with him.

    Whatever he wanted, it was best the kids weren't near to see it. So with a quick glance at Reilly, she followed.

    Fear warred with an old ache that never seemed to go away. A stupid one that she hated with a passion. She was so stupid. She shouldn't have even been going with him, not especially without Reilly.

    He turned and met her eyes, and her heart hammered at an alarming rate at the look in them. She'd definitely made a mistake. She shouldn't have come with him alone. He stepped in close and she backed up, her brown eyes wide and mouth parted, until there was a tree firmly at her back and he kept coming, leaning in close. God, her heart was about to leap out of her throat.

    His solid muzzle swept against her face like the barrel of a gun. He was danger, and power, and grace. He was terrifying and erotic. It wasn't the same without the taint of fear. She felt it hotter, stronger when laced with fear thanks to him, practically craved it. She was so broken.

    He grazed her cheek and she caught a noise in her throat, locked in place with a roar in her ears that couldn't seem to drown out his sexy murmur. "You left me." His lips went to her ear, clipped the edge, and she took a breath and swallowed. "I didn't like it." Why was he playing this game?

    But she'd always been stupid, speaking without thinking. It was exactly what had gotten her in his grasp in the first place so long ago.

    "Disappointment sucks, doesn't it? Sounds like a personal problem," she said dryly, grateful for the strength in her voice despite her erratic pulse. She was such a fighter at all the wrong times. "Reilly won't appreciate this," she reminded him, throwing his name up like it might save her. Kirby never meant any of this anyway. She was just a body.

    Wallace
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    #3
    His gorgeous goddess fired sass right back at him, and a slow grin spread across his face, amplifying the wicked glint in his eyes. “Mmmm,” he crooned, nodding and brushing the corner of his mouth against her cheek in the process. “A deeply personal problem.” She threw Reilly’s name in between them like a wall, and he chuckled, rich and dark as it vibrated in his throat.

    “Don’t give a shit,” he answered, crashing through that cute little wall like the wrecking ball he’d always been. A hint of a growl crept into his voice as he added, “And I don’t care if your pretty not-quite-purple friend appreciates it either.” He nipped the edge of her jaw, sharp and demanding, and brushed his lips against the spot, chasing pain with the soft touch.

    He pressed in closer, pushing her back against the tree and stealing a taste of her throat, dragging his tongue along her skin, another dark laugh sounding against her throat as his tongue stuck to her newly-awakened ice. He dragged in a ragged breath, moaning softly at the hint of pain and filling his lungs with the scent of her. His eyes drifted half-closed and he coaxed warmth back into the iron of his tongue until it came unstuck, then finished his lick with a groan. “You’re mine,” he crooned, daring her to tell him otherwise. “Even your skin knows it, no matter who you come back smelling like.” He bit the side of her neck again, a sharp scold to complement the jealous edge that crept into his voice.

    “Mine,” he growled again, pressing closer, pressing against the waking cold of her icy body, silver eyes hot and demanding. “Not Reilly’s, not his. They’ll never make you scream the way I can, Lace. They’ll never quite be enough, not even if you want them to. Too tame, too sweet, just a little too good to you when we both know how much you love it when it hurts just right. You gonna settle for someone safe who walks you home and steals a tame little kiss before disappearing, or you gonna take what’s yours?” He growled the last three words, pressing himself against her and making it damn clear exactly what he meant.

    He was hers, all of him, if she’d just open her ice-rimmed angel eyes and fucking see it.
    Call me the world's sexiest killing machine.
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    #4

    this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
    search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness

    Her heart stuttered when he crooned at her, his voice like silk and far too familiar even after all this time. He sent shivers down her spine, made her skin prickle and the frost over her chill even further. He so easily dismissed Reilly's name, and did she have any other defenses at all against him? Had she ever?

    "Don't give a shit. And I don't care if your pretty not-quite-purple friend appreciates it either."

    He nipped her again after growling it out, sweeping it away with a soft brush of his lips. Her chin tilted up as he pushed closer, pinning her firmly between himself and the tree at her back and bending to take her throat. She was so stupid, though, so bold at all the wrong times.

    "Woolf, you mean?" she started innocently, then lowered into a soft husky murmur. "I think he's the sexiest purple. Wouldn't you agree? Oh!--" she cried out as his tongue laved across her skin. Then became firmly attached to her icy cold and she blushed, tilted her face aside as he moaned, somehow solved the issue on his own and finished his taste of her.

    "You're mine," he told her, her eyes on the ground to her left and thick lashes hiding her pain. Because it felt so true. After everything, it still felt so true when it shouldn't. "Even your skin knows it, no matter who you come back smelling like." She gasped as he clipped her neck with a sharp scolding, his voice edged in what sounded like irritation.

    "Mine," he growled again, pressing against her harder and pushing out a groaned whimper. "Not Reilly's, not his. They'll never make you scream the way I can, Lace. They'll never quite be enough, not even if you want them to." It still sounded true, all of it. Everything. He was always so right and tears welled silently in her eyes, her face still turned away and eyes down. "Too tame, too sweet, just a little too good to you when we both know how much you love it when it hurts just right."

    She bit over her bottom lip softly and a tear fell. A dull voice in her mind had a rebuttal, that if he thought either of those men were tame he hadn't seen enough of them. Reilly with his red-hot Irish temper, and Woolf so completely unpredictable and his own style of danger. But she didn't say any of it aloud. She was overcome in finding the shell she'd been hiding in, hollowing herself back out so she didn't have to feel.

    "You gonna settle for someone safe who walks you home and steals a tame little kiss before disappearing, or you gonna take what's yours?"

    He growled the last of it and pushed pointedly against her, drawing her widened eyes immediately to him with another gasp from her lips. Take what's hers?? She searched his molten silver eyes, confused and definitely a little terrified. He hadn't played it like this before. It sounded too real, too genuine. He was getting better at this and it hurt like hell.

    "Why do you do this, Kirby?" she whispered, dropping her eyes again and looking to the side. "Why now after so long are you playing this again?" She shook her head and swallowed. "You already made it clear you weren't interested, not in anything more than sex. And you know I don't sleep around. It always means more than sex to me. It's not something you can give." Not to someone like her.

    Wallace
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