Shadow Betray You was at the end of it's line and turned in active, but if you miss us and want to RPG with us still you can join us Song Remains the Same if you wish to RPG with some of those who were on here and some new faces.
Welcome to Shadows Betray You, a crossverse Teenwolf and Supernatural site.
In Beacon Hills where all the nasties that go bump in the night live, it's no surprise that tensions run high and people fall hard.
Out here you never know if you're going to be fighting the forces of darkness or yourself, let alone where your loyalties lie.
Fight the good fight or let the world burn??
Join today and see what the world of Shadows could have in store for you.
For all our updates, visit our update thread » here «
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★ - Primarily set in Beacon Hills, CA
★ - December 2014
★ - Fall Semester
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Post by Erik Ragnor McCloed on Apr 29, 2013 8:19:04 GMT -5
The place was hopping and the wolf in Erik was on full alert. Dressed in black leather pants, a black t-shirt and boots, he made a figure that most men would hesitate to cross while still being casual enough to fit in with the crowd. His long blond hair was caught in a leather tie at the base of his neck and the wicked looking torque he always wore around his neck seemed to glitter when the light hit it. Being Celtic in design, many a scholar would have been in heaven to examine the golden emblem as it was a mark of his station as an ancient warlord. In fact, it was so much a part of him that Erik couldnt remember a time in his life that he hadn't worn it and would have killed if anyone had tried to take it.
Being opening night, the handsome wolf had had some business to see to before he could indulge in his first love... Music. Temperamental with the stupid demands of people, Erik had frightened more than one more messenger with his growls. Lexi had caught the drift of his feelings and shooed him off with an affection shake of her head once it became clear that the mundane side of things was about to drive him insane.
His band, Sanctuary, had set up earlier in the day and last minute tune ups were performed before he ever made it to the stage. Once the doors had opened, Erik had joined the guys and loosened up with a drink of whiskey as he eyed the crowd and gave directions for the music they would be playing that evening. It was shortly after 9 in the evening when the band finally took the stage and Erik, himself, moved to the mic.
From his position on the high stage, he could oversee the party goers and he easily found Lexi at the bar, taking care of business like usual and doing it with her normal flair. Yeah, some things never changed and it felt good that way. A wicked grin settled over his face as he greeted the patrons and asked if they were ready to rock and roll. When a resounding "YES" rocked the house, the blond shape shifter gave his band a signal and a heavy beat began to make the walls tremble around them. There was something so compelling about the music that it was almost..... magical when the first lyrics rang out. It was a song by one of his favorite bands, Nickelback.
ANIMALS. How very fitting he thought to himself just as he opened his mouth to pour out the first line of lyrics. To bad the crowd, for the most part, had no idea how apt the song truly was in his case.
Post by Misery Marie Martinique on May 2, 2013 14:51:57 GMT -5
The trouble with life was that no matter how much you wished it would just go away, it never failed to wake you up from sweet dreams with the sound of traffic and the promise of a brand new day.
Not that Misery Martinique was depressed or had a death wish or anything...she just needed a vaca from it all. Almost out of cash, the wily young woman had relied on spare change to get by. Not literally, of course. Spare change to the voodoo witch was a couple hundred dollars she'd stolen off a business man in a too-tight tie a few nights back. Still, it wasn't enough. Nothing ever was. Miz didn't know how long she'd been on the road trying to fill a void in her chest that was the size of a black hole. The days were too long and the nights even longer, and neither of them held the same electricity that had awakened the heart she didn't even know she had until it was ripped open.
Had being the appropriate word. That powerful beating organ in her center was beyond broken now. Turned cold and black once again, it was as if the blissful time in her life had never really happened. It was as if it had all been a dream turned to waking nightmare. But what the hell did she care? It was so much better this way. It made her a stronger person. A more calculating, potent witch. Anger was a fuel that ignited an inferno, and that bitter blue blaze was going to burn cities to the ground.
Speaking of cities and the trouble with life, you never really knew where it was gonna' take you, either. The witch had felt some inner draw to the sleepy California town close to Sacramento. And when a person had no determined path or plan, she followed the pull without question. Perhaps there was something there Misery needed. A heart's desire she wouldn't realize she had until she found it or it found her. The female figured it must be some ancient, powerful artifact that lured her to Beacon Hills, for she had felt such magnetism in the past and found she had quite a knack for discovering old, cursed objects. Miz usually either kept them to wield herself, or sold them on the black market.
The smooth (stolen) black Jeep Wrangler fairly pulled itself into the already crowded lot belonging to a place called Screamers. Immediately Misery was struck with a sense of déjà vu that gave her pause. This was definitely where it was. The thing she wanted needed most. Shaking off the strong and unfamiliar twinge of hesitation, the brunette grabbed her flats from the floor of the passenger side and slipped them onto her bare feet. Her attire was anything but special and probably didn't adhere to the dress code of the too-cool dive, but the simple white linen dress with the plunging neck line and silver jewelry was just the voodoo woman's style. Besides the witch knew she wouldn't have a problem getting in. Not with the sleepytime and bemusement concoctions she had with her. Miz didn't ever plan on using magic on people that didn't deserve it but it never hurt to be prepared. And she was nothing if not perma-prepared.
Throwing her canvas bag full 'o' witchy goodness across her slim shoulders, Miz climbed out of the vehicle and locked it up tight. There were several items in the back seat that could do some damage if they fell into the wrong hands. Not that hers were right...but yeah. The line to get into the club was too long and full of big bouncy blondes and the dumbasses standing behind to hold their purses. Miz so didn't have time for this. Palming up a little satchel that had been waiting in her bag, the witch untied it, blowing the contents into the late summer night breeze. As soon as the glittering white powder found its way into the nostrils and lungs of the people in line it was as if she wasn't there. Miz strolled right up to the front no problem and didn't bother to stop for the man standing guard at the door. He'd gotten a little whiff of temporary confusion too.
Once within, the loud heavy metal music filled the woman with purpose. A heady bass beat thumped in time with her pulse and the electric purr of the lead guitar stroked the sleeping goddess within. Maybe she could use a drink and a dance tonight. Or two or ten...
Misery weaved through the crowd; her expression bored and empty as she regarded bodies tangled together in post-coital foreplay as well as others swaying to the music. Her dark chocolate gazed flickered around curiously; looking for the reason she was here or at least a fat wallet or designer purse to pay for tonight's fun. The voodoo witch made it all the way to the bar without finding a damn thing, so she slid onto a barstool and clicked her nails impatiently on the heavy wood surface. It was time to start with the liquid satisfaction, she supposed.
After placing her order of rum over ice with a twist of lime with the cheeky tender, the brunette yawned and shifted through her inventory. Besides the potion around her neck she still had a temporary transformation spell and a hex bag of something deadly. It was about time to restock up on her magical thing-a-ma-jigs.
The crowd erupted in a thunderous applause and Misery winced. Apparently the Justin Beiber of the rock world had climbed on stage to serenade his leather clad flock. What. A. Bore. Miz rolled her kohl rimmed eyes and ignored the bartender when he slid a tumbler in front of her; picking up the glass and so ready for that sip of spicy...
The booming voice that drifted back to her froze the female just as surely as a winter storm. Misery's dark orbs grew wide as russet moons and her lips parted in a soft sigh. No. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be him...here...now...tonight.
As the witch swiveled around on her stool to look towards the stage, her heart clenched in her chest and breath held in from regret, fear, anger... Yep, it was him alright. If the familiar gravely voice hadn't shaken her, glancing into the distant gaze of her once-upon-a-time lover did. Erik growled out a tune that Misery felt all the way in her black hole; his voice and the words he sang touching her as true as fingertips against her most secret parts.
And damn didn't that just piss the woman off something fierce! The wolf singing on stage had been the only male (or female for that matter) to ever gain her trust. He had been the only person to touch her deep and tempt her heart into letting him in.
And then he had left her. Left her cold, alone...in the fucking bed they'd made love in the night before.
A toxic mix of anger and pain pulled the female to a shaky stand. As strong and sure of her self as she had been moments before, Miz now had trouble breathing and could not stop her slight limbs from trembling like leaves on an autumnal wind. Leaving the rum over ice untouched the female bolted from the bar. She had to get the hell out of there. Except tear-blurry eyes didn't help much with that. When she pushed through a door she'd thought was an exit Misery found herself in a small break room of sorts, and her gaze immediately landed on a leather object that was more dangerous to her than the Necronomicon.
The jacket was the same one Erik had worn the night they had met. It was the very same one she had tried to steal and then been caught with, later only too happy to take the punishments. A compulsion to thieve and burn the leather overrode the urge to flee, and so the witch snuck in, quickly grabbing the jacket and then backpedaling out of there. She had to leave. Like now. As if the cursed male might sense her presence or at least the movement of his precious leather, Misery rushed back out into the crowd; chocolate gaze locked on sweet freedom waaaaaay on the other side of the club.
Post by Erik Ragnor McCloed on May 4, 2013 9:45:00 GMT -5
Erik wasn't a man known for his ability to remain in one place for to long. His history was so warped that his life wasnt his own, nor was his future. A fact had been brought home to him hard that eve so long ago. Bound by duty to a vengeful Celtic Goddess, the path his feet had to take seemed destined to be a lonely one.
For a time, he'd been content with that. Until he'd met HER.
The ebony haired vixen who'd stolen his heart away as much as she'd tried to steal his favorite leather jacket. Vivacious, snarky and full of the ability to put him off center, a bayou witch had derailed his life with one action and he'd never been the same since.
For a time, he'd actually dared to be happy. To hope and dream of more than just a never ending future of duty to a bitch goddess who only wanted him when it suited her and then left him cast aside like a forgotten toy. After decades of being ignored, he'd dared to dream of a life of his own with a love of his own.
Only to have it end so badly.
With the threat against his voodoo queen hovering over his head, Erik had been forced to make a choice that was not of his own. For all her careful words, the Celtic Wolf had heard the order in Nel's tone and had no doubt the bitch would follow through with her threats did he dare to disobey her.
So, he'd left his mate in their bed, alone and sleeping the sleep of the truly satisfied. If he'd been able to die, he was pretty sure his broken heart would have slain him there as he hovered over her and planted one last gentle kiss to her brow.
But a warrior did what a warrior had to do to protect those he loved. So he'd done exactly that and left while she was still alive and breathing. What good was staying with her if it would only lead to him grieving over her chilling form and being haunted by the fact he was responsible for her death? He knew she would be hurt by his actions, confused and angry even but at least she would be alive. Alive and vibrant with her energy.
It wasn't much but it was something.
For weeks and months after that, he'd watched her from afar even as Nel pulled him back to her side, time and time again. How many times had he been forced to do the goddess's biding while having HER image in his head? Eventually, time had lost all meaning and when she finally released him once more, he'd sought the comfort of an old friend in Alexis James.
Thank the gods, she'd welcomed him back with no questions and set him to work in short order. Again, it wasn't much but it was something.
Which was how he came to be singing on stage this night. The feel of the music let him get lost and forget for a little while. The bouyance of the crowd drove his adrenaline higher until he was pretty sure the hair on the back of his neck tingled.
And then he realized it was doing just that. Standing on end with energy. Some sixth sense narrowed his gaze as the last song faded and he pulled off his guitar, preparing for a break. He wasn't sure what had awoken the predator in him but his stride was long and fluid as he left the stage and followed the pull that held him in its sway.
Right into the path of a beautiful vixen once again stealing his jacket. By the gods, the woman was doing it AGAIN. Torn between amusement, fury and disbelief, Erik planted himself in her path and waited until she walked straight into him before plucking her up with all her petiteness and yanking the jacket out of her arms.
"I believe this is mine, lass.." he drawled in her ear even as he hauled her towards a back store room where they could have a little "chat" beyond seeing eyes.
Post by Misery Marie Martinique on May 15, 2013 14:31:50 GMT -5
Sweet freedom was so close Misery could taste it on the back of her tongue. Mmmmm....like dark chocolate. As she pushed through the other patrons to make her way toward the exit the witch felt more like a tiger in a cage. Out of control. Helpless in all her so called power. Despite the flimsy dress Miz felt too hot and a trickle of moisture escaped her temple to run down her smooth cheek. She brushed it away with her hand and cursed. Screw this. What the hell was she panicking about? Why was she running away like a scared little girl? Erik had been the one that had stolen her heart and then disappeared into the night like a bad outlaw. She had done nothing but tried her best to move on.
Anyway, she was almost to the door and would have some kind of revenge and he would be none the wiser until he went to retrieve his baby. Misery collided with a brick wall that definitely hadn't been there a second ago. Letting loose another curse that would make a sailor blush, the petite Cajun woman scowled and looked up into the face of...
McCloed. The wall was her lover and her enemy all wrapped up in a go'damn big sexy package. Dark russet eye narrowed to mere slits. What do you know? Confronted by him, all that panic turned to pure scorn. Hands fell down to perch on her curves and the witch opened her mouth to let him have it...
The big Celt plucked Misery up off the ground and took the trophy right out of her hands before she could argue. They started a long-legged stride right back towards the break room, or so Misery assumed since she'd been thrown over his shoulder cave-man style and all she could see was upside down.
"You animal! Put me down!" The petite witch yelled and begun to pound on his back and kick her legs. Truth be told Miz knew all the squirming wouldn't do much good for escape but maybe she'd knee him in that too-perfect face or somethin'. "You betta' put me down right now McCloed or I'ma curse your man jewels into pecans!"
Of course he did no such thing. Erik toted her back to the very room she'd come from and kicked the door closed behind them before setting her back on solid ground. Fuming, the Cajun shoved him as hard as she could ( not moving him an inch, I might add) before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips again.
"You got no right to touch me like that you big ape!" She shouted; her Louisiana drawl thick and her pretty face screwed up in anger. "How dare you lay your hands on me?! Just who do you think you are?!"
Misery felt like she couldn't breathe. The air was too thick and he was too close; the room way too small. Her skin was on fire where his fingertips had been, as if his mere touch had seared it. Needing some more distance between them the witch took another step back and shot silver daggers at the male with her glare. "I mistook the leather for mine." The word leather came out as 'leatha'. "Just keep the damn thing and get outta' my way. I'll be leavin' now."
Post by Erik Ragnor McCloed on May 21, 2013 8:51:16 GMT -5
Even though Erik had seen her out front, his eyes couldn't help drink in her features as she stood spitting in front of him. Her fury only made her more magnificent in his eyes and her words went in one ear and out the other. After all this time of not seeing her, the wolf felt as if his soul were waking up from a long winter and it was starving for anything she could offer. Her scent teased his enhanced nostrials and he wanted a taste of her so bad it was killing him.
He knew better than to go there, however. He had no doubt that would end with her handing him his balls for real. His voodoo queen was no one to screw with when she was pissed off and she was definitely pissed off at him at that very moment. Which, he knew he couldn't blame her for. Not really. Even though he hadn't had a choice either, she didn't have a clue about the reasons he'd been forced from her side.
Those thoughts only brought him back to reality and immediately his face went impassive even as he cursed himself. By the GODS, when the hell was he going to learn? Why hadn't he left it all well enough alone instead of playing Captain Caveman and dragging her back to his "den"? It was only a god damned jacket, after all. If she wanted the thing bad enough to snatch it right out from under his nose, he should have just let her have it. It wasn't like he couldn't afford another.
Thing was? It wasn't the jacket he wanted. Not really. He wanted the woman holding it and nothing could have stopped him from going to her side. Happy Happy Joy Joy.
"Now Lass... ye forget.. I know ye too well. Giving ye something personal like that would probably have my balls developing some untreatable rash or something." he retorted, deciding to play it her way. "Ye still aren't a very good liar, love.... Yer nose still twitches when you get riled. "
Post by Misery Marie Martinique on Jun 4, 2013 15:29:06 GMT -5
Misery didn't know what to expect from the cursed male, but nonchalance certainly wasn't on the list of reactions she wanted from him. What could he really say to make it better? Nothin', that was what. Still, a little groveling would have been nice. A little begging for forgiveness or a weeping confession of his undying affection would have made the voodoo witch feel a whole lot betta'. When she got none of that and caught a smarmy smirk instead, you could fairly see the steam coming out of her ears.
If she was a cartoon character, that is.
Since she wasn't the big little female narrowed her russet eyes to slits and cast Erik the baddest, meanest look she could muster. Which despite her size was pretty darn scary. Oh Miz wanted to give him hell but she wasn't willing to let him know she wasn't completely over the 'breakup' yet. So what was a girl to do?
Clicking her tongue against her teeth the Cajun woman had to wait a few heartbeats before she responded to his first remark. Misery was so irate anything before a count to ten and some deep breathing exercises would have been automatic and very permanent hexing. Which she should have done anyway.
"You gone mad if you think I didn't keep somethin' of yours for that very purpose." Misery lofted a slim chocolate brow at the male and grew a thoroughly wicked expression. "You just wait for it. It's comin'..." And then she proceeded to mumble something almost incoherent about how even incurable rashes were tolerable and what she had in mind was much more serious.
A rash? Was that all he thought of her?! The frickin' nerve!
The witch was all hot and bothered now and it had nothing to do with the mattress mambo. It had everything to do with the fact that even confronted by her, the Celtic didn't even think she warranted an explanation or god forbid, an apology. It wasn't so much his following words that set her off as it was the la-dee-da way in which he said them.
Oh, it was so on now.
"My nose?" The fiery female was all red in the naturally tawny face and her skin fairly glowed from the heat radiating off of it. "My nose twitches? That all you got to say to me? After....whatchoo done?" Misery was spitting mad. Even though she wanted to keep the pain out of her voice it was pouring out of her like a burst rain cloud.
"You wanna know how I know you're still a lying, two-faced, back-stabbin', heart-breakin' dog? You're breathin'. And your lips are movin'." she did the 'blah, blah, blah' gesture with her hand. "And you're STILL standing in my way!"
Post by Erik Ragnor McCloed on Jun 11, 2013 11:43:10 GMT -5
Erik wasn't exactly sure what he'd expected but the temper wasn't surprising. He had left her without so much as a by your leave and she had every right to be angry. Thing was, Erik knew he hadn't had much choice and it was only by the Morrigan's interference that he was here now. Even now, he knew he was on borrowed time and he didn't doubt that Nellie had her beasts of burden set to watch his path. It wouldn't do if her "pet" strayed again and the very fact that he was standing here with his former lover could be marking her for punishment.
Unfortunately, he couldn't have helped himself had he tried. He'd needed to touch her, inhale her scent even as he need the air he breathed.
Just once more, chanted the beast in his soul. Just once more.
The only problem with that? Once would never be enough when it came to Misery. She was the other half of his soul and his wolf's mate. As the small mark at the base of her neck where, even now, his bite warned all others away. The memory of putting it there made his inner canine growl with need and it took everything in him not to press her back against the wall and get inside her right then and there, to hell with the consequences.
Which definitely would have gotten his balls on her mantle as the furious little witch practically scolded him with her tongue. Damn, she really was fucking sexy in a temper though, he thought absently to himself as her eyes flashed with rage and she practically lashed him with her words. By the gods, he wanted to taste those lips and her words fell on deaf ears because his big body was all ready moving, unthinking of the price he'd probably pay for his actions.
"Shut up and kiss me, A Ghrá mo Chroí (my beloved). Whos talking to much now? If you wish ta kill me later, so be it but first, give me your lips..." he whispered against her lips even as they claimed her still furious ones in a kiss that was all encompassing and filled with everything he'd withheld from Nel. Whatever the cost he'd pay later, he figured it was worth it to sip such sweet nectar from the lips of .. ok, well... angel would be pushing it but to him... the best thing in all his immortality.
By the gods, he'd missed her. Missed the feel of her body against his, the smell of her scent upon on his skin. Even now, when he knew that she'd just assume scalp him bawled as look at him, she still had the ability to bring him to his knees.
Yup. Maybe he was as masochistic as Lexi always insisted.
Post by Misery Marie Martinique on Jun 21, 2013 9:01:14 GMT -5
Standing before the big Celt, Miz could feel the temperature in the room start to rise. Her skin tingled and felt way too tight for her bones and her body hummed with an insane amount of electric energy. Good lord, this was what she had missed so much. This powerful animal magnetism. The voodoo witch reflexively brought her slim fingertips up to the base of her neck. A place that since Erik had marked her, she'd felt a deep pull; as if he were at her vein drawing precious life's blood. It was an intoxicating sensation. Even now, though they were standing 3 feet apart, she could feel it. And Misery wanted to curse him for it.
The petite brunette crossed her arms over her chest, acid spitting angry, but desperate as hell for something she didn't understand. Misery wanted to hate him, but damn if the intense pound in her chest spoke another truth. Yes, she did still love and crave him. He was the kind of drug that a woman could never, ever kick.
The female watched his face carefully after her little outburst, and grew anxious when his expression shifted from amused and a little annoyed to outright ferocious. Her big brown eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and her lips parted in a quiet gasp and Loa help her Miz thought the wolf was going to explode right back at her. Which, despite all her bravado, was rather frightening to be honest.
When that husky, growling demand escaped him it all the witch could do to remain standing. Her legs had become Jell-O. Bullshit there was always room for Jell-O because right about now Misery needed strength of mind and body...which had fled like all the moisture from her mouth. There was really no arguing with the wolf. Not when her body started moving before her brain registered the action.
And boy did she move.
One minute the voodoo sorceress' feet were planted firmly on the ground, the next she had flung herself into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him for dear life, mercilessly ravishing his lips as if it were the last thing she would do in life. And she could not get enough of him. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, the hungry female kissed him roughly, as was always their way. She was a thief but he had stolen her soul and only a drink from his lips would keep her from dying right here, right now.
When the woman's chest begun to burn from lack of oxygen Misery broke the kiss on a heavy sigh. Gazing down into his searing azure eyes, the witch regained some sense of her previous ire and...hauled back and slapped him hard across the whiskered cheek.
Post by Erik Ragnor McCloed on Jun 25, 2013 11:20:19 GMT -5
By the Gods, he'd missed his arms full of sweet, willing woman. Well, ok, maybe sweet was stretching it but to him, Misery's taste was like ambrosia from Mount Olympus. If he could be abstained from her lips alone, he'd have been a very happy man indeed. How had he gone without her for so long? The moment she'd launched herself at him and he'd caught her to his chest, Erik felt as if his own knees might buckle from the relief of having her near once more.
Kiss devouring her mouth as if to pull her very soul into his own, the wolf twisted until he had her pressed against the wall, arousal pressing into her core. A growl started to rumble deep in his chest and it clawed its way out, breaking free as the need to breath broke them apart and his skull snapped sideways with the force of the slap she laid on his chiseled features.
Unfortunately, instead of setting him back on his heels, it only turned him on more and he snagged her hands, holding them above her against the wall as he put his forehead against hers. Yup, he was definitely a masochist if the erection he was sporting just being near this woman was any indication. Logic told him he was playing with fire but, by the gods, how he wanted to get burned.
"A chuisle mo chroí, ye tempt meh like no other. I want ye, right ere' right now but tis not safe." he growled, pressing his lower body against hers in helpless need even as he tried valiantly to get a grip on his animalistic nature. "Do ye have any clue what ye feckin do ta me, love? Ye have the power ta reduce me to an adolescent male, unable ta control his own hormones. Tis gonna get us both killed. The very feckin thing I've been tryin ta avoid."
Drawing in a deep breath, the man tried to think rationally but the wolf inside refused to be quieted. It paced and snarled, wanting its mate as the tawny haired warriors gaze fell once more on the bond mark.
Take her. Mark her again, the beast tormented. I can't! Its not fair, snarled the warrior. Back and forth the battle went as his dual personalities warred.
Post by Misery Marie Martinique on Jun 26, 2013 10:52:11 GMT -5
Misery pulled back her slapping hand with a gasp. Boy did that sting. And not only was her hand throbbing now, but her heart, her head, and a pulse between her legs that had begun as soon as she'd laid eyes on the wolf. Chest heaving to get some precious oxygen into her lungs, the witch fully expected the large male to drop her on her ass for that stunt but nooooo, Erik grasped her wrists so swiftly she didn't have time to fight it, nor did she think she wanted to. Not when the rigid length of him was pushing oh, so deliciously against the pulsing need below.
So he was just as desperate as she...
Misery's back was against a wall, figuratively as well as literally. When Erik pressed his forehead to hers ad the witch could feel his frantic panting breaths against her skin, the lover inside of her wanted to wrap her man in adoring arms and hold him until the pain passed.
But the wolf wasn't hers anymore, was he?
The desolation in the male's voice pulled at Misery's heartstrings so tightly she was afraid they might snap. Her body was trembling and her core sore from the pressure of his thrusts and her desperate need of him. That desperation in combination with her powerful emotions was a tempest that shook the room around them. Sparks of energy flickered around the pair and the lights began to twinkle off and on. Helpless with her hands bound as well as dangerously stimulated, the petite woman felt ready to explode.
"But you could have had me! This night and every one until the ever after!" She pleaded, screamed; angry and miserable and wanting so badly to be unforgiving. He had left her, so why now was he acting as if it hadn't been her heart that was broken. Goddess how she wished her hands weren't pinned so she could hold his face; to make him look her right in the eyes to know the pain of which she was speaking.
Unbidden tears began rolling down the proud witch's cheeks, and her voice was husky with that misery. "If its death you want to out run then let me go. He and I have become the best of friends." Now that misery was covered in anger, though the moisture still flowed. "I've been walking around a living corpse. There has been invisible blood on your hands since you left Erik. I've died a thousand times..."