Gossamer Bones

Her dress with its flimsy licks at the milky glint to her calves' sheen ceased its restless battle as the winds that whipped it silenced, and it was here that the mistress of Death stilled. Her lips curled mighty and wide and her cheeks rose to greet her crinkling eyes, for she knew where it was that her fair feet had so insistently met. The majesty of murder's sweet aroma, the dank musk of human essence that was so deliciously spilt, the faintest trace of a hunter, aged and bitter like oak wine; a master, a dominant, and she had found him. After countless millennia of solitude she had found solace unsought, a haven shrouded and kept by her brothers and sisters, and for an age as a sinner, a seducer of control, she was ready to face what her demons had so fiercely fought to ignore. So she walked forth from the mist and the evening black that cloaked her, her skin bared and pulled from what wispy cloth clung with the plumes of dewy gust at her thighs, at her nape, threatening to unravel the mess of strawberry gold from its bound place atop her head. What mortals passed paid no mind as her heels pitter-pattered and her moonlit arms swung free, all but a man with an especially delectable neck of which he seemed to enjoy flaunting and to whom she returned a coy smile in play.

A bench of little appeal met the flushed backs to her knees as she sat upon its furled tongue, her fingers knitted atop her lap and her back to its chill and metallic embrace, and there she perched; a dove of elegance beneath the anarchy of a tired sky becoming night. She awaited his approach, searched for his outline against the rolling shadows, for she knew he would come in time. And she would be ready.

Soaking in the waters of his elegant tub, the Dominus enjoyed the peacefulness of his home. It was a routine for him, cleansing his body of the decay smell and filth from interaction with humans earlier that day. Classical music played through the speakers, wafting in the air about him. His long legs stretched to the end of the tub, resting and relaxing in the warmth the hot water provided him. Servants wandered the halls, cleaning and preparing the house for any guests that might come to visit or even stay for a while. It was not uncommon for Demetri to hold parties or small gatherings in his abode. On this night he enjoyed the taste of the life juice he had acquired in the year 2004, aged almost 900 years now, it was divine. Holding the glass elegantly within his tender palm, he swirled to liquid about the rounded walls, mixing the aroma with the smell of candles which laid lit around his master bathroom. The lights flickered, casting shadows on the walls and illuminating his handsome features. As he finished drinking the blood of his previous triumph, he slowly stood from the water, wrapping his body in the loving embrace of a warm towel. Walking out of the bathroom, into his bedroom, he wrapped his dry body in a silk robe, made from the finest threads of Egypt. Pressing the button to the intercom, he spoke softly into the recorder, "someone come and clean the bathroom, I have finished with my bath." Lifting his finger from the button, he moved to his wardrobe, opening the doors slowly. As his blue gaze moved about them, his hands traced over the various shirts presented to him. They were arranged from color, to withe, and finally black. Most of them were long sleeved and made of the finest material around the world. It was very rare to find the Dominus in anything that was not expensive or what a common human would wear. He had elegant taste, expensive taste, and it was what he prided himself in.

Grabbing a button down shirt, a bright white color, he took it off the hanger and placed it on the bed. He moved to his slacks which hung from the hanger behind the shirts. Most of the pairs were black, with a few in a light khaki color. Demetri grabbed a pair of black slacks and rested them beside the shirt. As he dressed himself with undergarments and sock, he started with his shirt and pants, then finding a belt, and finally his shoes. As he looked over his outfit in the full mirror, he smiled his signature smile, one sure to swipe the ladies from their feet. He moved to the bathroom once more, watching as the servants had already begun cleaning it up as he asked. Taking a comb, he softly ran it through his hair, giving the natural wave a more kept look to it. Once he was finished, he lathered his toothbrush in toothpaste and rubbed the item across his teeth, making them shine bright and vibrant. Cologne was not a necessity, but he had acquired this very one from Indonesia, where a vampire had discovered one to lure human females, attacking their pheromones, and urging them towards him. It was not always that he dealt in the lives of women, but he did enjoy the attention. Spritzing it along his neck and once to his chest, he smiled once more to his reflection. As he stepped out, his servants lined the hall, watching him as he exited the flight of stairs to the bottom floor. One had stood beside the front door, opening it with a bow, allowing the Dominus to exit without a worry or a care. Demetri walked to his car, pulling his car keys from the pocket. The lights of his Mercedez Benz flashed as he unlocked it with the press of a button. Opening the driver side door, he lowered himself inside, fastening his seat belt and pulled out of his driveway.

Instead of listening to the radio, he listened for the thoughts of those around him, laughing as he heard of humans' feeble disputes. So simple those creatures were. They were worried of things like property laws, drama in a relationship, and many other things Demetri did not have time for. Slowly to a stop, his vehicle sat beneath the moonlight. As he exited the car, it flashed the lights as he locked the doors. The neighborhood was not a bad one, but such a beautiful object could cause the most honest of men to be less virtuous and try to steal it, in the very least, break into it. Demetri often walked with hands tucked in his deep settled pockets. He mimicked the moves of the humans, blending with them as a master spy. Here he did not worry about the weapons of man, the devices they could use to spot him out. He often found himself feasting on the weak and feeble here, but tonight was not a night to dine. He could feel himself in the presence of a female, one like he was. Dead and yet so alive. Demetri wandered from his place, making his way to her. Her skin was a glow in the pale moonlight, her eyes shone with intrigue and sophistication. Demetri took her form in, analyzing her curves and gifts she had acquired, either before her death or in her after life. This creature before him, was a unicorn in a field of lowly show ring ponies. He approached her with an extended hand, "one as beautiful and dainty as yourself should not be out in such a night. There are many dangers that walk this earth, searching for anything like you." The Dominus smiled at her softly, waiting for her hand in his.

The evening's moon was fair to the pale lady, to the ribbons of garnished gold and wine's froth that hung so sweetly, so delicately from the starlight wisp that was her nape, to the sweep of mortal chill that kissed her collar. In the seams of its violet light and the mists that rose from the cold place beneath her feet she waited; patient, unmoving, frail knuckles white with the pull of her lace fingers, calves whipped and churned in the winds that met her, that worshiped her presence on this threshold, on this hallowed ground of ancients. Petals like purple pearls folded with a sparrow's flutter, a groomed finger slicing through the night that constricted to away a fallen feather, a lash upon rosy flush, as her emerald eyes were closed from the moon's merciful sonata. Nostrils flared and blood lips parted as his scent, his essence was so teasingly threaded, so tantalizingly etched in the gusts of flower tails and human trusses that twisted through her hair like deft hands. His being; so close, warmth like skin, shiver like a touch, whisper through the trees' rattle like seduction, like a voice, like fingertips down her spine. How she had wished to serve one worthy, one wiser than she, one more powerful - never mind her forever lust to be served herself, to have once again the tiara instead of bowing her head to he who mastered it. For she was no lady, no matter how she pleased, and a bow was not becoming for the likes of she-demons.

His approach was noticed, but of course, despite the impeccable silence as his dapper shoes flew. The beauty, the fluidity, the wrath of his charm in his coming; how unbearable the mortals must fester, how they must swoon. She could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke, feel the heat off his palm as he reached for her, and for a time her eyes hid behind those dainty petals and she just smiled - the moon's lullaby in those cherry lips - a finger thrumming, playing gently a heart's notes atop her knee with the melody strung from velvet rose:

"Dangers like you, my lord?"

And her eyes opened.

So beautiful these creatures were. These pigments of white so bold and so fierce as they stood amongst the grey. But he; this man, this beast of such unholy and yet such ethereal origin, was beyond. Such skill in the chisel, such flawless sweeps to gossamer brush, to the crafter's hands, to immortality's mercy. His body rich like alcohol upon the tongue, hair caressed by the lamb's gentle touch in ringlets around his darkened face, a face that held eyes so brooding and so burnt like a stone graced by sun's golden treasury. His lips danced and his cheeks met fire and his hand hovered as he smiled, and oh so delicately her own came forth to slide, to grasp with the cold of his fingers at her wrist, to cherish the rough of a dominant beneath, and allowed with a collected breath her words to tickle at her teeth once again.

"I will try my very hardest to take that as a compliment," she laughed. "I do believe I have just enough tricks up these old sleeves to keep me from harm's way. Forgive me; I am Ophelia Catarina Iltani Bourgia of Iltalia. It is a pleasure, your grace."

Raising her hand in his own, he reached his head down a bit and placed a tender kiss upon the back of her hand. His eyes targeted hers in this, and never left them. They were so bright and vivid, it was hard for him to pull away from her stare. As he sealed his lips to her skin, he pulled back, standing upright and smiled to her, releasing her soft hand in his own. He let out a soft chuckle, "perhaps it is me? Or maybe another creature? I have heard stories of the mangy dogs who travel in these parts." She spoke once more, this time it was much longer, allowing him to be reeled in by her voice. It was gentle to his ears, alluring and seductive. Even if she had not meant to be such a way with him, he could not help but find the feelings lingering within. The damsel was in no way, shape, or form of being in distress. She was at peace, resting herself so peacefully here. Demetri spoke to her once more, allowing the words to roll off his tongue in the most elegant manner he possessed. "I am Demetri Anton Sebastion Julian Marincea, the first." Laughing a slight bit after his last portion of the sentence. Of course he were the first. He was the very first of their race, or their existence. He had been alive for almost ten thousand years. He had taught himself everything there was about being a vampire, learning as the genes switched and changed about within him. "I am Dominus of the Toparchia. I have lived here for many years now, but recently have been looking to strengthen the numbers of my clan. The Werewolves have made a plan of attack and forced my hand to retaliate. I have lived a very long time, and when the wolves say such a thing, it shall not be taken lightly. If this scares you, I do not wish such a thing on you. But the threat is real and who knows what the humans have planned as well." Demetri thought over his words, trying to find something else to speak about to her. She was beautiful, a work of art. The only vampires to come to his borders thus far, had been Vixin, she too had blonde hair and blue eyes. Then of course, there was Ophelia. Her name alone rolled off his tongue in he most delightful fashion. "Dicendum, admodum pulchra es,"* he spoke to her softly. It was not common for him to speak Latin to another vampire, but in a case such as this, it was only his nature. Before English started its reign over the new world, Latin was all anyone spoke, even Lucian in his most savage and inhuman manners, knew the language. Demetri wondered if she did as well.



*Translates to "I must say, you are very beautiful"*

"It pleases me to hear the canine beasts do not scare you. That is definitely a plus. From all the stories of old, when werewolves could kill a vampire with ease have hopefully subsided. There is only one in particular you must fear. He is talented and witty. He is strong beyond his years, with intelligence to match. I have encountered him before, a couple times. But I would never wish such a thing to happen to any other members of our race. For the sake of my clan and their safety, please share your talents with me. What are you best at? As well as faults, if you would be so kind." Standing so close, pressed against one another, he could not help but to stare into her bright eyes. He felt at ease with Ophelia, listening to her doe voice and gentle tone. She was a god send to his ears and eyes. She spoke not only Latin but Italian as well. It had been so long since her heard such a beautiful language. He adored Latin, but most of the vampires had not spoken it back to him, let alone testing what other languages he knew. "Frui rebus tenuiorum, carissime."* To Demetri, life in the days of old had been much easier to hide what he was. It was normal for people to keep to themselves. The were more likely to wear darker clothes for it was cheaper than bright colored cloth. But now, there were social groups of people who had claimed a style and wore make-up, taken black for their own, even tattooing strange symbols on their skin, and praising their ultimate being, Satan. Demetri did not agree with the ideals they had in mind, for he knew the true devil of the land. Humans. They hated the different, even in their own kind. It made no sense to the ancient hunter. Listening to her beautiful Italian speak, he smiled and released a small chuckle. "Se posso permettermi, tu sei la creatura più bella che ho visto in migliaia di anni."* Taking her hand in his own once again, he pulled it to his lips as he stared deeply into her eyes. Lifting the gentle skin to his plump muscles, he placed a tender kiss upon her icy hand. His eyes never left her stare, no matter how hard they had tried. "My apologies Ophelia, it seems I have suddenly lost me sense of self control," he chuckled as he lowered her hand, but still kept it within his own, intertwining their fingers together. He did not understand the feelings he was feeling with her, as well as with Vixin, but he knew it was something he would not over look. These two gems had presented themselves towards him, glowing in their beauty and pride. The Dominus knew he was a very lucky male. Two beautiful women found a liking in him, and he could do nothing but smile.


*Translates to: "I enjoy the finer things, my dear" (Latin)
**Translates to: "If I may be so bold, you are the most beautiful creature I have seen in thousands of years." (Italian)

((Sorry it's not the best dear!))

"Oh, my lord, I have certainly heard of him. I would not be so arrogant as to say I do not fear him, and, in a way, I respect him for this, but..." She smirked up to him, her fingers twisting into the hair at his neck as they pressed their embrace. "I would so like to taste him. For I do not flee; I disembody and dance over graves. My talents involve no single aspect, no single strength, for over the years I have strived to keep myself...well-rounded. I have acquired a select skill set regarding hand to hand combat as well as swordsmanship, both of which I was apprenticed when once a blade could pierce my skin, and have since been attuned. I much prefer to remain personal in battle; firearms I have no use for, unless it is absolutely necessary that a silver bullet be appropriate. For my usefulness away from battle, I am well acquainted with the anatomy and care of the vampire body and therefore the transition period of our youth, however - I do not clean. I will not find myself on my hands and knees before your bathing room; I will busy myself with murder but not with a scrub brush." A finger bobbed about behind him as her arms rested softly on his shoulders, pausing for but a moment of thought as she would cock her head to the side, watching him, testing him, waiting to see what he thought of her in his eyes. "As for my...favored skill; I control. It is a blessing, truly, but one rather difficult to explain. Here," she stepped from his chest in a single swift movement, gesturing with a sweep of her arm for him to remain. "Allow me show you."

With a surge of warmth that spread to her fingertips, Ophelia willed her powers to return to the surface. She could imagine them boiling, bubbling, festering within, and with not a stir to her flesh, she sent them forward onto Demetri. She tested the waters by undoing the tethers to his hand, taking control of its movements as she watched it stretch out towards her, palm up, satisfied as it awoke to her call. In a sudden swell of heat she commanded his body come to her, releasing the burden of will upon his limbs as they wound themselves around her, and once again she was in his arms. Her lips curled like a child's as her powers retreated, and she stared innocently up into his eyes. "Strange, isn't it?" She whispered, her breath at his mouth. "I find it quite helpful, though shamefully it seems to affect only those of our kind."

She watched as he placed yet again a kiss upon her skin, and yet again she continued to play coy. "Oh, my Dominus, you needn't apologize. I very much prefer you at a loss for control. E come un complimento, un gentiluomo. Ora, se posso permettermi questa, nessuno è più bella creatura che ho visto in migliaia di anni. Ma sono curioso...* What is it that you can do?"


* Italian translates to: And how you flatter; such a gentleman. Now, if I may be so bold, you are the most handsome creature I have seen in thousands of years. But I am curious...

Ophelia was brave. So she knew of the demon. Perhaps she even knew his name, but it was not something he wished to hear at this moment in time. They were experiencing something different and magical. He listened to all she said, making note of things here and there. But one thing she said, struck him more than anything else. She could control minds. But could she control his? His mind was the top of many well developed brains for Vampires. His will was strong and his intelligence stronger. He had studied languages spanning all over the globe, learned histories from before the Americas had been founded. He had even lived through all the wars, the battle, skirmishes and anything the humans decided to fight about. He often helped them kill one another, lighting the fires beneath their asses. His mind wandered back to her, slightly confused as she pulled from his form. But his eyes never left her, never moving from her stare. He lowered his hands to the side, watching her, still confused and curious. He dared not tap into her mind just yet. He was patient. But soon as she lifted her hand, he too did the same. His body was not under his control. He stared at the hand that reached for her. Immobilized, he watched closely. Soon he felt his body moving forward. His feet took one step at a time, drawing him near her. His arms opened up and wrapped themselves around her. He could not help but to smile at this move. She wanted to be near him, to be within his grasp. How could he tell such a beautiful woman no?

Now his chest was pressed to hers, his eyes looking down into her bright pools of crystal blue. His eyes scanned her face, looking over everything, copying her looks into his memory, never to forget them. Blue orbs observed her lips, eying the full look to them, her tiny nose, cute and petite. He looked to her cheeks, flush and red. Perhaps from their closeness to one another. But her eyes always pulled him back. She spoke once more and mentioned her liking for his loss of control. Moving his chin lower, he lightly pressed his lips to hers as he closed his eyes. The kiss was sweet and delectable. He paused in the moment, savoring it and its glory. As he pulled away slowly, his arms stayed wrapped around her. "I can do something pretty awesome.. I had no idea your power would actually work on me." He stared at her as he gave her a smile. Closing his eyes for a moment, he locked himself into her mind. "I can do many great things. This is my most powerful one. I can place images, words, ideas... anything really into your mind." He opened his eyes and smiled as he looked into hers. "I can do this to humans and vampires thus far. I have yet to try it on a Shifter or Mora. I have tried to do it to my greatest foe, but nothing worked. He is too strong." He smirked at her and then kissed her lips once more. This kiss was very quick.

They were enveloped in each other's warmth, and their skin would clash like silk and satin, sinew and pastel tissue, and her chin sat softly on the swell to his chest, savoring. How long she had awaited the coming of this stranger, this inevitable puppeteer to pull on her strings - but of course, she thought, no man, mortal or immortal, could ever touch her in such a way, mold her, control her, as it was not this that brought her pleasure. For one to dare to hold themselves as equal to she; it was a strange, blissful sensation, and the mistress for once wished not to overpower it. She had felt the restraint to the Dominus's will, the strength of his consciousness, the deftness to his mind's wanderings, and how refreshing it was to feel, to become, if only for a moment. He was powerful; yes, he was powerful, and how it tantalized. In a single motion and with the grace of only he, his lips were against hers, and before she could think, her fingers buzzed with a rush of power. She willed his arms to tighten, his hands to roam, to brush over her shoulders, her stomach, her chest, and her eyes fluttered closed as she fell deeper into this bliss. Her own hands twisted into his hair, ravishing what skin they swept with gentle plucks and caresses until, with his taste lingering on her tongue, he withdrew. Her eyes remained sealed as his voice played at her ear, but then, with sudden revelation, they opened to his mouth unmoving and his words unending.

Her smile grew as he spoke to her in the silence of her mind, as he flooded its confines with an echo that threw a shiver down her spine, and she cocked her head to the side. "Spectacular," she breathed. "I've never had the pleasure of having someone in my head before. Show me something else," She leaned into his second kiss, wanting more, craving all, and as he once again removed himself, she shot him a disapproving look. She slide her arms from his shoulders and returned them to their place behind her back, crossed and braided, and she teetered forward on her toes with eyes burnt on his lips, teasing, pleading for him to take her back. "Paint me something that only I will see."

Smiling as her heard her words, he chuckled softly. He watched as her stance changed, appearing innocent as could be, but her thoughts spoke differently. He thought for a moment of the way he would wish to share an evening with her. It came to him almost immediately. "Close your eyes," he said softly. He watched and waited for her to do so. Once it appeared her eyelids were sealed, he softly stared. As his powers moved through her mind, he cleared her thoughts of anything, allowing her to see a bright moon, illuminated against a dark night sky. Twinkling stars could be seen near and far, sparkling as bright as the sun. As her view moved from the sky, sounds of water crashing against the rocks could be heard. He allowed her to see a great wave roll from the sea and crash against the sand of the beach, pushing the tide to travel close to the dry sand. As it pulled the water back to the ocean, it left tiny sand crabs rushing for shelter, trying not to be forced once more. Smells of the ocean filled her mind, forcing her nose to believe she was actually there. Panning her view to the right, there were two silhouettes. Both were standing, shoeless and watching the waves as they held each other's hand in their own. Details of their clothes were impossible to see, only the outlines of their bodies from the light of the moon.

Demetri zoomed in her focus, allowing detail and definition to be seen. It was the two of them, she to his left. Her hair was let down, breezing softly with the wind, as if a puppet master were pulling her hair. Demetri's thick locks also moved with the wind, taking in the sights as he looked to her. Their heads turned towards one another and she laughed, sounding just as she would in real life. He let out a chuckle and smiled to her. Slowly he pulled himself to face her as a great wave crashed feet from them, forcing the gentle waters to slide over their feet. As it drew back, it covered them in sand, holding their places. Demetri spoke in her vision, while his lips stayed shut. "It is such a wonderful thing, being with a gorgeous woman below a beautiful night, all alone. Only the waves and nature to disturb us." As he said this, he laced his fingers within hers, making her feel as if they were really touching. He pulled her closer to him this way, causing her to rest against his chest. His blue eyes peered into hers, giving her the dashing smile from before. He placed a chilled hand to her cheek, brought her lips closer to his and gave her a passionate kiss. It sent feelings all throughout her body, encouraging her mind this was no imagination, it was real. Wrapping an arm around her back, he pulled her closer and slowly laid them to the floor. He rested on his hands and knees above her, but his kisses never stopped. The longer they kissed, the passion grew. As he broke off the kiss, he gave her one last smile and made the images disappear. He allowed her mind self control once more and stood, waiting for her to open her gorgeous eyes.

She was rendered thoughtless, wordless, utterly motionless, and as if the Dominus had painted for her a taste of her own medicine, she had no desire, no will to move, and so she fell into whatever bliss he had concocted. She closed her eyes upon his command, her body ceasing its rocking as it stood still a ways from his touch, a touch in particular she wished to fill this emptiness now at her skin, and she waited. Anticipation would hint at her lips, her fingers with excitement, a nip and a chill down her back, persistent to claw, unfavorably, at what civility she clung to, and then there was nothingness; nothingness, and warmth. She had opened her eyes, though she had no memory of doing so herself, and the warmth caressed in plumes of salt and sea around a raised hand - a hand she concluded must've been hers, and she twisted it in the hollow dark as if expecting to grab hold of something she knew, something real, for this place was no reality of hers. In an effortless pull of some unknown ghost her view was altered, and no longer was her hand her hand, nor were her eyes her eyes, for she had become the beholder of strangers' wanderings, the audience to what she could feel, what she could sense, but not what she was, and with a submissive purr she dismissed it as all she could be. She watched as his mind's workings unraveled for her, as her senses both aloof and incredibly there would send her body reeling, and away would all thoughts partaking in the sensible flee, for only this lust remained for them to share.

In the haze of a dream the two strangers stood; separated by but a reach's distance and yet so intricately wound in each other's being - lovers resilient, their bodies free of restraint, and their feet bare in the sand swallowed by the waves' rhythmic pounding, a pounding that they could feel in their bones, the carved chasms warped in their flawless flesh, and their faces turned in the light of an autumn moon. With a second pull, Ophelia's perspective was zoomed with clarity, with knowing recognition as the once strangers were revealed to be quite the contrary, and to her curious pleasure they began to move - without, she would add, the assistance of nearly invisible strings. She watched as she laughed, as her lips parted and her voice spilt from a tongue that was both hers and not, and as her Dominus spoke with the same gentleness to his sweeping gaze, to his grin disheveled by stray strands of wild hair, and she smiled through her eyes as if she was there, as if she could touch him, and in this moment she allowed herself to believe she could. She allowed herself this loss of control, this loss of what she knew, what she could promise to the inevitable, and she bent to his fingers as if they could mold, for she would allow them to mold. They reached for her to their own compliance, and his lips would draw kisses from her skin at their own will, at their desire, and how wonderfully arousing it was to grant them this wander, to grant her womanly dominance silence. She fell to the ground with his arm around her, her body alive with each press to the surface, each breath between their lips, each moan against his thrashing tongue, and her back arched from the pitted sand and her hands fumbled to clasp onto flesh, mouth imploring as it searched for his pleasure before it was met with nothingness. She stole a glance through threaded lashes of the satisfaction, the happiness to his face's chisel as it began to swim in blur, as what she knew then to be reality shed from what awaited behind the dark to closed eyes, and she choked back a whine.

"Well," she whispered, breathlessly, her eyes opening to his already missed figure. "You certainly have a way of telling a girl what you want, Dominus. Though, I do believe that you cut that kiss a bit too short." She crossed her arms against her chest and peered up to him, doe eyes innocence in jade, fingers buzzing as she gave him an unseen push towards her. "The audience wishes for an encore performance."

As she wrapped herself around him once more, he could not help but to smile. His eyes moved to her own, staring into her deep pools of lust and ambition. Her ambitions sure were high. But the Dominus could not tell her no. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close just as before. His eyes moved down her face, analyzing her eyes, lips, nose, cheeks, and chin. The desire to be around her was strong, much stronger than anything he could have imagined to feel. Just as her audience had commanded, he pulled her close, placing a strong hand behind her back, and hung her close to the floor. Her hair rested among the floor, moving fluidly like a water fall as it plummeted to the ground. He stared into her eyes and gave her a seductive smile. As he leaned down to meet her, he placed his lips to hers. The fire that rose from the connection was strong and overpowering. It rushed through his body like a tidal wave, hitting every sensory he had within his body. As he slowly deepened the kiss, locking their tongues together in an elegant dance of speed and aggression. When the kiss was finished, he stood her back up straight and smiled to her once more. "Ophelia, veni mecum*. Cum gente mea in te desiderem**. You shall make a great and beautiful Knight amongst my ranks. Come with me tonight, and we shall celebrate in your acceptance to my lands. No longer will you have to wander the streets. Solus nec ultra esse***."

*Translate to Latin: Come with me.
**Translate to Italian: I wish for you to join my clan.
***Translate to Italian: No longer will you have to be alone.