Chained in Darkness: Esoterica and Machiavelli

[Mahalia]

He had been a thorn in her side for over six months, and finally, he belonged to her. As soon as her fledgling, Amira, had called her on the cell phone, and told her that her men had captured Nightshade and were bring him to her Manor, Mahalia started glowing at the idea of all the things she could do to the hunter to make him pay for his actions, and daring to oppose her.

He was in the dungeon of her Manor now. Chained in darkness. Wearing way too much clothing. She really would have preferred him in nothing but a smile. There would be time for that, however. The two of them would have all the time in the world.

The vampire queen made her way through the dark room, lit only by candles to the wall where the others had left the hunter chained. She walked up to him, a satisfied smirk on her face. "So, you are the great Nightshade. I was expecting much more out of someone with your reputation. So what am I going to do with you?" The redhead stopped only when she was directly in front of the hunter. She grabbed him by the back of the head, forcing him to look directly in her eyes, as she contemplated the possibilities.

 

[Machiavelli]

The Nightshade, or, in more normal names, Nicholas Knight, had been captured, finally, but probably one of the worst enemies who could have caught him - The Vampire Queen Mahalia. She wasn't known for mercy or kindness, particularly, but rather for only feeding on her own kind, establishing her dominance over her own kind in the same way they attempted to establish their dominance over humans. The bite. Or the "Embrace" as the more romantic of their kind called it.

He had only ended up in this situation because of his own foolishness, believing a series of tips and rumors that had seemed just a little too helpful, ending up with him storming into a trap. He'd been more than a little frustrated in the few moments of consciousness he'd had there at the end.

And so he'd ended up in a basement room, tied to a metal chair with sturdy ropes, black leather jacket, white t-shirt, and dark denim pants all a little stained and smudged from the blood of vamps he'd fought before they had overwhelmed him. A shock of black hair stood in a mess atop his head, and intense green eyes stayed locked on the door. They only shifted as the door opened and a woman appeared, pale and dangerous. The Queen herself. Her red hair was an attractive contrast to the paleness of her skin, and there was a satisfied smirk on her lips that he might have found appealing in a different situation. Her hand fisted into his hair and forced his eyes up, looking directly into her own as she mused.

"I'm sorry to disappoint." He said dryly, as if only slightly miffed by the situation at hand.