[ P ] corrupted sin

[m] sexual themes

He thought freedom would feel different, but the weeks since his release from the cell had been steeped in a simmering tension. Murrough and the lawyer had become distant shadows, their presence barely a whisper in the midst of his roiling emotions. The only solace he found was in the bar, where he immersed himself in its dark embrace more frequently than he cared to admit. The regulars began to recognize him, and he found a disquieting comfort in the bar’s dim corners, where he could lose himself in the haze of alcohol and brooding thoughts.

It was on one of these nights, after a few too many drinks had blurred the edges of his reality, that he saw her. A jolt of anger surged through him when he turned and saw her seated across the room. He knew he should remain seated, but he was never really good at self-regulation. Rising from his seat, he moved towards her with a predatory grace, his smirk a mask for the seething rage that coursed through him. He had unfinished business with her, and she was fortunate to have Murrough’s protection the day he was released. Now, however, he was determined to make his presence known, to exert his dominance in a way that would leave her trembling.

As he closed the distance between them, his orange gaze locked onto her, burning with a fierce intensity. He wanted to make her squirm, to hear her plead for him to stop, but the taste of her blood alone wouldn't be enough. What he craved was to desecrate her in a manner that would strip her of her dignity, to dominate her in the most personal way possible, to make her feel his power in every part of her.

Malachi knew exactly how to reclaim his power and obliterate hers. Where better to do it than here, in front of a crowd of prying eyes.

He found the velvet of her ear, being careful the next words shared were for her only. “Make yourself useful and bend over the table,” his voice was cold, each word a command laced with menace. His gaze never wavered from her, a silent promise of what was to come if she disobeyed. He pressed his larger form against her back as he rounded her, his chest a heavy weight that pushed her down. His breath was hot and intrusive against her ear as he leaned in, ensuring that his next words were for her alone. “Murrough isn’t here to save you this time.”

The presence of the other patrons meant nothing to him; if anything, it only added to his thrill. Somewhere deep inside, he suspected she wouldn't resist him—if she did, it would be due to the eyes watching them, not from any true defiance. Her locked-away desires were irrelevant; he was driven by a primal need to dominate, to reclaim control, and to revel in the power he could exert over her.

TABLE BY AMANDA

Another escape plan gone right, she's broken the chain of her brother's suffocatingly short leash and collar and has turned her outting into a game to keep Enzo occupied. She's scattered clues around the towns between Rionna and Edinburgh; loose lips were encouraged, her scent laces her usual frequent stops but she's left a perfect trail for Enzo to circle, until he catches on and uses his scary yet ever clever mind to find her. She knows he'll catch up eventually, be it him and Matteo or he'd be tailing the meatheads he would send after her.

Moments on her own are hers and hers alone, and she makes the best of them. Tonight, she's carelessly sipping her drinks and dancing the night away in a tavern. She's made new friends, even if they're only keen on devouring her body with their eyes or getting a taste of her skin, and some faces around her she picked up in Rionna–women from the college, all accepting her promise of a great time too easily. One of them purrs in her ear as her lips find the rim of her glass once more. "Someone looks like he's ready to have you for dinner tonight. she giggles and nudges Alessa's head to the side. Her mismatched gaze searches eagerly for the face her friend guided her to. When she finds a familiar, blazing orange gaze burning into her as he stalks towards her, she finishes the drink she played with, forcing it down.

She can feel the intensity of him locking in on her, like she's his prey and he her predator, hunting down what he hadn't quite struck down the first time they crossed eachother's paths. She doesn't know him well enough to read his tells, but she's seen the outcome of the victim of one of his hunts and she can remember vividly just how brutal a man like he can be. There's a ringing in her ears now as he nears her, the voices around her are distant hums as she watches the distance between them close faster and faster.

She could run, slip between the many bodies around her and see how far she could get before he tracked her down. The little, ignorant voice in the back of her told her to do it, if only for the fact that she would be lying to herself if she said she wouldn't find some sort of thrill in—even if that meant he sunk his teeth into her the second he caught her. Instead, she stays where she's seated, another drink being slid her way and she attempts to steady the rapid pulse she's somehow raised without noticing. Ears pull back against her crown lightly as he takes no time consuming her personal space and replacing it with ever ounce of his.

"Make yourself useful and bend over the table", his chords coax the ringing from her ears, but her heart is still hammering in her chest as his warm breath seeps into her. The intoxicating perfume of sandalwood is rich and potent as he envelops her, only strengthening the pull of his chain that he's wrapped around her whole being. She dared to ignore his words, the thought of doing so was the only attempt she had before he circles her and presses the weight of himself against her back, leaving her with zero choice in the matter. Once more his muzzle finds her ear, cool tones dripping down from a sinister tongue. "Murrough isn't here to save you this time". She remembers the shockingly fast intervening Murrough executed, prompting Malachi to release her muzzle and let her go. He was right, and the feeling in her gut clawed at her, only spiraling her heart into a faster pace. Noone would think twice in this moment, most of them were throughly entertained or drunk to give two shits about the two of them.

"How depressing, i don't even get the opportunity to run—" she begins to coo, her eyes anywhere but the paws that rest just before hers, not daring to twist and find the face she knows is emanating a churning fury, waiting to be released. She stops herself short, wanting to lash venomous chords at him about the victim he more or less let get away and make a mess of everything–but that was a lesson learned previously. Her heart feels like it's in her throat, hammering away as if trying to escape her body itself and run as far away as possible. She remains—or atleast attempts to appear—unphased by the monster that's ensnared his prey, ready to play with it until he's bored and ready to devour it.



"matteo"
"alessa"

**m for sexual themes**

He could feel her tense beneath him, no matter the part she tried to play. No matter how sweetly she tried to speak to him or how she dangled something so desirable in front of him, he would not allow her into his head. To chase her would be thrilling, he did not deny, but it would also give her the chance of being faster than him. Malachi was no doubt stronger than her, if need be, but he could not promise or convince himself that if she took off with the adrenaline pumping through her body, he would be able to follow through. A soft growl formed in his throat as he pressed further into her, his neck resting on her shoulder as he dragged his teeth across the soft skin of her cheek. "Let's leave that up for another time. I've already made up my mind." He could feel some prying eyes here and there, but the idea of them watching only enticed him further.

Malachi pulled one of his legs and placed it between the back of her thighs, nudging them apart subtly while he nipped her ear hard enough to draw blood. "You heard me, I don't like to repeat myself." He drew his chin back away from her face and lined his cold nose against the back of her spine. It was a dangerous game they were playing, but the patrons of this place would not blink an eye at him or his actions.

He would only give her a couple of moments to comply. A part of him wanted her to fight, wished for her to take off running so he could kick his own adrenaline in for the chase. If he caught her, however, he could not ensure that the punishment to come soon after would be light.

TABLE BY AMANDA