The sound of the strike echoed through the room, but the protests became nonexistent. Becoming red, her cheek prickled painfully as a thousand needles continuously poked her nerves. While he had shocked her into silence, her mind raced, her eyes screamed her fear. That man spent years beating her. How many nights did she go to bed with fresh injuries, new breaks in the bone? So much time was spent with black, blue, and yellow bruises, pussy wounds, aching muscles.

Her body screamed almost every moment of every day with pain inflicted by that man and his court. Treated worse than the servants of the court, they were even encouraged to partake in her misery. Nothing the murderous man before her did could compare to what the man behind the door has done, short of killing her. As he lowered himself toward her neck, Emelia prayed he would sink his teeth in and drain her as the lucky blonde on the bed. Instead, the cuffs were broken, freeing her.

So caught up in fear, the fae was unable to comprehend the movement he made, the erotic tease of pulling her hand to his trousers, only to find it’s a knife she was to grasp. His voice sent terrible images through her mind, shivers down the spine, and tears down her cheeks. The warm knife felt foreign in her hand, her fingers folded over it, his hands firmly around hers, almost reassuringly. Even his voice changed, encouraging in the soft comfort, promising assistance. Emelia’s eyes snapped to his, her breath caught in her throat.

Many different kisses had been planted on her lips. Most of which were various levels of lust. This one was different, something that took her by surprise. She watched in horror as the patriarch walked into the room, immediately to be attacked by the man she thought she was about to sleep with. As her mind reeled with the situation and a torrent of emotion, her body moved of its own accord. Emelia stood, and with the grace fitting of a fairy, took slow, deliberate steps, pointing her toes and rolling from ball to heel effortlessly.

Before her was her father, glaring at her, cursing at her. ”Spineless, worthless. You can’t kill me, you wouldn’t.” The fae brought the knife’s point to rest above his heart, gripping it with one hand, the palm of the other cupping the heel. Memories flashed through her of her years she had spent decades burying under sex and booze. Holding her breath, Emelia finally jammed the blade deep into his chest. His eyes widened with shock. ”Jade…” Silently, she watched him as he slumped over, dead.

The patriarch was released, thudding to the floor, ripping the knife’s handle from her grip. Hesitantly, almost lovingly, she reached down and pulled on the man’s head, pulling him into a hug. What has she done? ”I’m sorry, papa…” Emelia whispered. Allowing the corpse to fall back to the ground, Emelia stood and stared at her “customer” with empty eyes. It was a miracle she did not walk out of the room in a daze in reaction to the blood that will forever stain her hands.

Xerxez watched as Emila crumple onto the floor in a heap of muffled sobs and tears. The pile of flesh beside her lay lifeless on the floor, his blonde hair scattered. A small pool of blood was beginning to form where Emila had stabbed the intruder. Xerxez wasnt one to invole him self in someone elses depression, but seeing Serafina's, his Sera, kneeled on the floor, tears streaking down her face, Xerxez pulled her up from the floor, gathering Emila into his arms and wrapping him self aroud her in a comforting hug. His hand snaked around her back as it playfully tugged on a loose blonde curl. "Shhhhhhh." He cooed Emila as he continued to play with the loose curl. 

When Emila's heaving chest had subsided, he pulled away, meeting his burning crimson eyes with Emila's own cold grey eyes. A bloody hand came up to brush a strand of hair fro Emila's face and tuck in behind her ear. He brought his face close to hers, slowly, as he tilted his neck, and met his lips with hers, pushing him self in aggresively. When he parted, he searched the room for his clothes and quickly undressed the prositute's corpse that lay on the bed. He tossed Emila the clothes as he sat down, speaking to her as he dressed. "I know it must be tough right now, Emila." He said, a hint of concern in his voice. "But, I am extremely proud of you. Shattering the bonds of fear from that man. You took control today. You. Fought. Back." He said with pride and joy. When we was adorned in his dark clothing once more, he stood behind Emila, kissing at the back of her shoulders that reminded him of Sera. His hands ran lovingly up and down her back her smooth back as his lips gradually moved up her shoulders, to her neck, meeting Emila's face. 

Whispering into Emila's ear, lacing his voice with seduction, he traced his fangs around ear. "You did so well, Emila. And eventually, the pain will fade with time." A firm hand rubbed small circles on the small of her back as it slowly listed downwards to the curves of her bottom. "So, how about you spend some time with me." Soft sensual kisses were planted on her neck as he continued. "Im still hungry, and you make even a better hunting partner then my mate." He whispered with malicious intent. A dark smile lay on his lips as he walked to face Emila bring her face into his neck. "You have a skill, Emila. Let me teach you my ways, hone the ways of a blade. Combined with your infinite aliases, you could be feared, Emila. Imagine what you were before." He paused to grab her hand, wrapping them up with his own and biting softly on the top her hand. "Small. Corward. Weak. With me, love, you could be a killer. A legend. And god help whoever fucks with… Jade." He said her name with hesitation, careful not to let the connotation of her name be negative. He hoped it would inspire her, giving her a reason to overcome this tragedy. He flashed a macrbe smile, teeth flashing in the light. "What do you say?"

Emelia did not resist as she was gathered up, and wrapped in a comforting embrace. It was rare that such touches were not sexual, and it almost pulled her back into reality. She began to sob in earnest in his embrace. It was unknown if they were tears of regret or relief. To never have to be on the run again was such a liberating feeling. The tears slowed to a stop, and he pulled away. It didn't even bother her that she didn't know his name, he was her savior. Then his lips pressed into hers, aggressive, and if she had to guess, passionate.

His entire demeanor seemed to have changed when she took this face. She must remind him of someone he cares for deeply. Handsome withdrew and began searching the room. Clothing was tossed at her, though both of their tops were not in the best of conditions. Slowly, just running through the motions, Emelia pulled the leggings on and found her top. They had to get out of here. Two corpses, two bloody pools staining a once reputable whore house. She would have to send recompense to apologize in the future. His words of praise pierced her drifting thoughts. 'I fought back…'

It was the first time she had ever fought back against Oberon since she first ran away. Was running the only thing she knew how to do? Today, it took a stranger to finally show her another way. But was it the right way? Handsome, as she had named him previously, startled her out of her thoughts with lips at her shoulders and hands on her back. She shuddered as she leaned back into him, tilting her neck for ease of access, a light moan escaping her lips. It was becoming incredibly clear that she was in an emotional, easily manipulated state, and she didn't care. His voice was seductive, his touch sending shivers through her nerves. Emelia knew exactly what he meant by hunting partner, but didn't know who he was comparing her to or how she was better.

Yet, with her face now in his neck, she figured that his mate was like him, and was used to being bit by the woman. The prostitute looked at her hands wrapped in his, the soft bite on the top. She could easily imagine them entwined in each other's embrace, panting with lust. Cold, gray eyes snapped up to his at the sound of her birth name with disdain. "Jade is dead. A cowardly slave tortured to death." Her voice was flat. But his smile was intoxicating, even if it was full of the promise of pain and death. "I am Anon Y. Mous. And you, Handsome, have earned my time filled with whatever activities that tickle your fancy, even if it means murder and mayhem. I know the back exit, so we don't draw attention from my colleagues just yet."

“Yesssssss.” Xerxez hissed, “Jade died a coward’s death.” He stepped forward to gather a blonde curl in his hands play with it between his fingers. “Anon lives on, strong enough to kill or be killed.” Xerxez dropped the curl, walking away from Anon towards the door, carefully peaking outside to see if anyone had heard the commotion. The coast was clear for now, but he needed to leave. Now. He was already taking a risk with keeping his play thing alive. “Lead the way, hot stuff. Get us out, and I’ll take lead.”

Once outside, the sun had completely set, leaving a dark blanket over the moonless sky. The cold air caused a chill to run though his body, and stung his nose. He cast a look behind him, Anon following in tow. A mischievous smile crossed his lips as he called out behind him. “We stay in the streets mostly, out of buildings.” He said, dismissively. “If you’re… friends… back there are discovered the whole city will be on alert. If we are cornered, I can fight my way out of anything, but I’d rather not be discovered at all.” He explained, the pair coming up to streets of Iria. He quickly threw an arm around Anon pulling her into him to appear as a simple couple taking a nightly stroll.

This part of the city was quite, most of the residents turning to bed for the night. He started walking towards a well known area more popular at night. Bars would still be open, and stragglers would be bountiful there. “My race honors secrecy above all. A shame, considering our strength and killing intent, but it is what it is.” He growled. “So you better not disappoint me, Anon.” He said with a snarl. “I’m taking a chance with you, and if it means anything, I sense promise within you.” He tightened the grip around her, giving her a considerate squeeze.

“Pay attention.” He set his gaze ahead of him, a street well lit with patrons wondering street in great numbers. Smell’s assaulted his senses as music, conversations, drunken laughter blended into one incoherent mess. “Lets play a game.” He pointed to the throngs of crowds and bars, and shops. “I can’t drink in public. It needs to be secluded, somewhere people won't accidently walk in on something they shouldn’t.” He explained. “Private rooms in bars, around buildings in the shadows, behind locked doors.” They walked down the the sidewalk path, passing by crowds as he leaned into Anon to better whisper into her ear. “The game is, you control the scenario. You pick where we go, who we choose, you lure them to somewhere private and I’ll follow you’re lead. Once everything is right, the real game begins.” A devilish grin grew on his face, exposing his fangs as he growled lowly in anticipation. “Are you game?”