𝗘𝗺𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 - [𝗜𝗺𝗽𝗶𝘂𝘀 𝘅 𝗗𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱]

[impius]

Beneath the glittering skyline of New York City, far removed from the prying eyes of everyday life, lies The Impius. To the mortal world, it's a haven of pulsing music, potent cocktails, and the allure of celebrity mingling. But behind the velvet ropes and flashing strobes, a darker reality thrives. As the clock strikes midnight, The Impius transforms, shedding its facade of decadent entertainment to reveal its true nature: a hunting ground for the supernatural. Vampires stalk their prey in the dimly lit corners, werewolves seek release amidst the ecstatic dancers, and other creatures of myth and legend gather, drawn by the intoxicating scent of mortal life. The unwitting club-goers, lost in the rhythm and the haze, become the unsuspecting sustenance for the hidden world that feasts in the shadows.

Behind the shimmering obsidian curtains in the corner of the club, a world of privilege unfolded. Laughter and hushed conversations mingled with the rhythmic pulse of music as men and women, draped in finery, danced in a swirling tableau of wealth and influence. Yet, in a secluded corner, detached from the revelry, sat a woman who commanded attention without uttering a word. Her blood-red gown was a stark contrast to the muted tones surrounding her, a beacon drawing the eye. Her legs were crossed with elegant precision, her gaze sharp and unwavering. Honey-brown eyes, pools of intense observation, followed the movements of each patron, seemingly listening to the very rhythm of their hearts. As errant beams of light pierced the curtain's veil, they momentarily illuminated her face, transforming her eyes into the reflective orbs of a predator, alert and undeniably captivating.

The glass in her hand was a study in contrasts – delicate crystal marred by a viscous stain far darker and more potent than any whiskey or wine. Her fingers, long and elegant, ended in nails filed to a sharp point, hinting at a dangerous edge beneath the refined surface. She raised the glass, the crimson liquid painting her lips a shade that seemed to seep into something deeper, a stain on her very soul. With a deliberate grace, she set the glass down and moved, drawing back the heavy velvet curtains with an effortless pull. Her gaze locked onto the bustling bar across the room, a beacon drawing her into its chaotic energy. Yet, as she walked, a prickling sensation danced across her skin. She was being watched. An unseen observer, hidden in the shadows, following her every move. Fear didn't flicker in her eyes; instead, a faint smile played on her lips. The awareness of being scrutinized only added a thrilling layer to the game she was about to play, sharpening her senses and fueling the anticipation.

 

[Deranged]

The Dregs​

Though, with subtly distinct, or sometimes—sharp differences, the scent of evil was always a pungent aroma that was difficult to mask from the trained nose. From the nose conditioned to sniff it out, and trace it to it's varied sources. Evil they say, came in different shades and flavours; from lust, to wrath, avarice, envy, and even malice. Truthfully, those commonly used terms only represented the most distinct manifestations of what was essentially a spectrum of the same thing; the same sum of the choices that sentient beings made for themselves.

Or sometimes, had thrust upon them.

Coming into one of the most populous cities on the planet, the stench of evil wasn't something any reasonable person should be surprised to catch. Whether mild, or concentrated, it was bound to linger. From the ominous alleyways, to the crooked grins of scantily dressed women who lined the streets with seductive determination. Of course, there were the hotheads packing ammunition, and the ones who schemed and sought to relieve others of their hard earned valuables. That was not to say that traces of evil couldn't be found in the many tall buildings that dotted the city too. It was just a matter of digging deep enough to find it; and a certain man in the infamous club Impius, was certainly digging to find evil tonight.

He wasn't interested in petty burglars, pimps and their prostitutes. He wasn't even interested in arms dealers and the rest of their ilk—who were keen on sowing mischief and strife for their own selfish gains. No—the brand of 'evil' on his radar was far more concentrated, and quite unfortunately, much less controlled and mitigated.

As he swirled the burgundy liquid in his glass, he watched from his seat, as the ageing night brought out the worst of the people around him. How ironic that the statement didn't refer to just character. It was no big surprise, even for a first-timer at The Impius like him, to find that the finely draped men, women and dancers, lost more of their inhibitions as the night went on. Naturally, bodies began to grind into eachother, lips became looser, and the laughter became just a little more spirited and less controlled. The result of this was a familiar din that blended well with the pumping dance music, that was being shot at near deafening volume from hidden speakers.

To the untrained eye, eager dancers and tipsy club goers were being enticed away from the heated and hazy dancefloor, by very interesting men and women. In reality, this wasn't far from the truth. However, there was the fact that the men and women that began to emerge as midnight rolled in—pulling away the 'choiciest' picks from the writhing, hedonistic bodies—were not quite human. They were something more; or perhaps, it was better to say that they were something less—base creatures who have offered up their souls to forces beyond the conceivable realm, only to become servants of darkness. Slaves to desires and needs, in exchange for a pathetic life of secrecy.

Two dark eyes peered through the frame of a well defined, chiselled face. They peered across the haze of hedonism and lust that only thickened with the arrival of the 'Dregs'. His information would appear to be sound. This clubhouse was a hotbed of the worst kinds of corruption. As he scanned around, his unnatural senses could catch several candidates for the first Dreg to be crushed here by his indignant hands. The strong and musky aura of the werewolves was very easy to catch; those ones were never much for elegance. Not that their vampire counterparts were truly half as elegant as they loved to pretend to be.

All it would take to undo their fineries was considerable thirst, and the juicy rhythm of a live pulse, after all.

The secret observer kept at it, using his senses to pick up, and size up which one of the unfortunate Dregs he would visit with retribution, and the gift of expiration. Auras—equally foul—jostled for position in his sharp senses. He screened out the 'lesser' ones first; it had been a while since his last run of 'cleansing', and he was itching very much for a bit of a challenge. He continued like this for a few moments more, until one particularly powerful aura drew his attention. He traced it rapidly to the voluptuous frame of a confidently sashaying woman. Her poise, her confidence, and most telling, her aura; they all painted her as a vampire.

They all painted her as his target for the night.

 

[impius]

The club pulsed with energy, the strobing lights casting surreal shadows on the sweaty bodies packed onto the dance floor. The music thrummed, a relentless beat that seemed to reverberate from the very foundations of the building. Up on stage, the alternative band played with wild abandon, lost in their own world as they poured their hearts into every chord and lyric.

Down in the crowd, visions of hedonistic pleasure played out in every corner. Couples ground against each other, lost in the throes of lust and intoxication. Some even sought out more secluded nooks to indulge in their carnal desires. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something far more primal.

Amidst the chaotic sea of bodies, one form stood still and watchful. The vampire now sat perched on a stool at the bar, the woman surveying the room with dark eyes that glimmered in the wash of colored lights. Her raven hair tumbled down her back in dark waves, a stark contrast to her alabaster skin.

Despite her unearthly beauty, the woman seemed out of place among the writhing masses. While they lost themselves in the music and the moment, she remained poised and alert, like a predator scenting the wind.

Beneath the illusion of revelry, darker currents swirled. In the seething press of flesh and the cloying miasma of heat and pheromones, something else hung heavy in the air. The coppery tang of blood. The feral musk of aroused beasts. The electric crackle of power and hunger.

The woman's nostrils flared as the heady bouquet filled her senses. It was a scent she knew well, one that triggered something deep within her bones. The hour of the hunt was upon them. The time when the creatures of the night emerged to feed their eternal hunger among the living, blissfully unaware lambs to the slaughter.

But the woman remained still, her hands pressed flat against the bar as if to keep herself tethered to reality. All around her, others of her kind were slipping into the shadows, readying to strike. Yet she held back, a curious example of restraint among the unrestrained.

Her gaze stayed fixed on some distant point in the crowd, unblinking and laser-focused. A slight, knowing smile curved her lips. She already knew that she had caught someone else's notice, someone who watched her. A game was afoot, and she would draw out her quarry, tantalize and tease until they could no longer deny the pull.

With a subtle toss of her head, she glanced at the bartender behind her with the sweetest of smiles. “Garrett, right? Would you care to dance with me?”

Garrett's hand froze, the towel slipping slightly from the glass edge as her question hung in the air. The burning intensity in his eyes softened momentarily, replaced by a flicker of bewildered surprise. "A dance?" he stammered, the word barely a whisper, his gaze still fixed on her, trying to reconcile the woman standing before him – so poised, so... captivating – with the request she'd just made of him, the mousy bartender. A slow, hesitant smile began to form on his lips, spreading across his face as disbelief gave way to a giddy, almost foolish hope.

She watched his reaction coolly, a small, knowing smile playing on her own lips, a subtle challenge in her raised eyebrow. "Unless you have pressing duties," she purred again, her voice dropping just low enough to be intimate. The unspoken invitation hung heavy between them. He didn't hesitate for another second.

“Not at all," he practically blurted, quickly setting the towel and glass down, his movements suddenly clumsy with eagerness. "Just... let me get out from behind here." As he shuffled out from behind the counter, she turned, her gaze scanning the room, a subtle shift in her expression – the predatory calculation replacing the playful allure – hinting that this dance was less about pleasure and more about positioning.

The real question was when they would decide to end this dance and make their move. But something in the woman's smile suggested she would be ready when they did.

After all, in this game of predator and prey, it was the ones who knew how to bide their time that always ended up on top.

With a determined look in her eyes, she reached out and grabbed him by the hand, leading him to the dance floor with a sense of purpose.

As they stepped onto the dance floor, she lifted his hand and curled around him, feeling his body against hers. She could sense his smirk, but she didn't let it deter her. Instead, she sauntered around him, teasing him with her movements, letting the music guide her.

Finally, she found her place in front of him, pressing her backside into him and dragging his arm around her waist. She moved against him, feeling his body respond to her touch. Her head leaned back so that she could peek up at him, her other hand sliding up his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair.

She moved to the beat of the music, feeling his body move with hers. She had chosen her bait carefully, knowing that he would be unable to resist her charms. And as they danced together, she knew that she had made the right choice. She had captured his attention, and she wasn't about to let him go.

Now.. where are you?

As the night went on, the two of them became more and more lost in their own world, oblivious to the music and the crowd around them. Garrett couldn't resist the allure of the woman in his arms, and soon he found himself unable to think of anything but her. He trailed kisses down her neck, feeling her shiver with pleasure at his touch. Her eyes, which had been such a warm, molten brown just moments before, were now transformed into a delicate but icy shade of blue.

“Would you care to take this somewhere else?” She breathed out as if his lips and the dancing took her very breath away.

It was clear to Garrett that she “wanted” more, and he was more than happy to oblige. Without a word, he followed her as she led him away from the dance floor and towards one of the narrow corridors of the club. The hallway was dimly lit, with shadows dancing on the walls. She moved with grace and confidence, leading him towards a closed door at the end of the hall.

 

[Deranged]

Push and pull​

Another cultured stroke introduced more of the nicely flavoured liquid to his mouth, and as he swirled the drink over his tongue, the taste accented the sights of his prey, giving him an extra layer of pleasing stimulation, while he silently schemed on how to bring her to her knees.

She looked every bit a confident quarry. The way she elegantly swung her gaze about, until at one point, she focused it on his general direction; he couldn't help the slight prickles of excitement that threatened to thaw out a section of his frozen heart. There was something in those glimmering orbs that were sunken into her gorgeous head—clearly visible to his heightened senses even from the considerable distance between them—that spoke of a dangerous kind of experience. The kind that graced the mesmerizing vampire with ideas of toying with him, no doubt.

Her subtle and calculated movements matched her aura; controlled, effective, and very powerful. He watched as she made short work of pulling the bartender into her dangerous orbit, and wasn't too surprised to see the squeamish idiot fall for the ploy—hook, line and sinker.

The sucker must be thinking that this was his lucky night. All those days spent cowering in the confounding aura of truly voluptuous beauties; all those nights spent twisting his tense fist over his throbbing shaft, while he shut his eyes and imagined pressing the soft heat of one of such vixens against his aching flesh; they've all led to this august moment. Now, by some stroke of luck, he had caught the eye of one of the choicest picks of feminine flesh on hedonistic offer.

"Foolish kid..."

The hunter couldn't help it; chuckling softly under his breath as he refilled his glass. His eyes never left the sensual movements of his calculating prey. He had no doubt that she had sensed his presence; after all, he had a very strong spirit. Besides, in the paranormal community, it was often not necessary to be in close proximity before one could detect the presence of another individual. There were levels and modifiers to the trait, of course, but he had no doubt that a creature emitting the level of—howbeit controlled—darkness as her, would be able to sense the latent currents of his suppressed spirit.

If that failed, she could always sense his focus. Ever since he singled her out, he had maintained a steady and intense level of focus on her movements, on her aura. He had been monitoring her keenly, waiting for the time that her thirst would overwhelm her beautiful charade of control. She might be experienced, she might be gifted, or maybe even reluctant about the darkness that has replaced the void where an immortal soul should be, but at the end of the day, she was still a beast at her core; mindless, thirsty; a slave to the corrupting powers that can bring nothing but senseless waste to the beauty of human life.

It was only a matter of time before she peeled back those layers of fineries that she currently adorned herself with—like an onion. The foolish boy in her predatory orbit would fancy himself in heaven. If she was particularly wicked, she would lead him into her softness; perfectly hide her own lack of heat by stoking so much fire in her prey, that he would find her sinful body hot to the touch. She would pull him over her, and wait for the exact moment when the idiot was swollen with fantasies. The fool would probably be grinning when she sinks her corrupting fangs into his flesh, and he expected her hold on the mind of her prey to be as firm as the potential grip that her sinful core would have on his overeager tool.

But of course, this idiot was lucky. Very lucky indeed. He had picked the best night to fall into the orbit of a dark temptress. The hunter would surely not let any of those things his scheming mind painted, to become reality. He would stop the temptress in her tracks before she extinguished another beautiful soul. He just had to track her movements carefully.

He watched the contrasting pair glide to the dancefloor; both tingling with excitement, but for different reasons. Naturally, she led the idiot along; pulling him into a teasing dance that was sure to get his blood warm enough, to temporarily remind the consumate temptress what it felt like to have warmth coursing through her veins—when she eventually filled her hungry mouth with his vital essence.

He watched this charade for a few more moments, until a warm pair of soft hands landed on his shoulders, squeezing them in a way that communicated the owner's intentions before their eyes met. He gave a soft snort, raising his glass to sample more of the delicious wine he had been enjoying since he arrived. Unsurprisingly, the newcomer woman draped herself over him, deliberately pressing the warmth of her soft and ample breasts into his back as she leaned in to whisper.

"Hey handsome, she's not the only delicious thing in the club tonight, y'know?" Her voice dripped with lust—marinated in intoxication, and no doubt, the arousal that made her nipples stiff. She seemed to enjoy rubbing the pebbles over his sturdy back through the bust of her expensive silk dress. She wore a scent that was sure to cost a lot, and when the hunter allowed his eyes travel to meet hers, he realized that her confidence was well placed.

She was attractive by all standards. There were even traces of a few tasteful procedures to augment and highlight her best assets. Her deep blue eyes shined with the depths of passion—from a curtain of styled and glossy brown hair, and it heated her alcohol flavoured breaths as she pressed him with a truly seductive smile.

She looked not only wealthy, but also used to the attention of fawning or lustful men. If he had to guess, she was a celebrity of some sort, and his stoic calm and intensity must've stood out to her; attracting her like a moth to flame. "Focus on me with half that intensity, and I promise," she paused meaningfully, drifting deliciously closer to grind her nipples into his back. She couldn't help her breath catching, instead, she fully embraced the natural reaction from the needles of pleasure that wracked her for the move.

"I'm gonna have you holding me with no intention to let go before long," she chuckled seductively, causing him to smirk. She drew encouragement from it like he calculated, completely oblivious to the quick calculations that the hunter made. Should he entertain her? How would he be able to use her for his objectives? Sure, she promised a good and satisfying fuck—if the plush heat of her grinding body was any indication, but he had a Dreg to deal with, a vampire to snuff. How would he be able to use this regular woman to achieve that objective?

"Care for a dance then? Maybe you can warm me up with that sweet ass of yours," the man rumbled, inhaling meaningfully, as he angled his turning gaze in a way that drew his nose closer to the opulent cleavage nearly sandwiched against his back. The queer of perfume, sweat, and pheromones, was almost dizzying—even to his stoic and calculating mind. However, seeing as the woman squealed with shaky breaths before purring at the feel of his beard tickling her sensitive flesh, he knew that he had achieved his intentions with the move.

Wordlessly, she circled to his front, pulling him up to gaze passionately into his dark eyes. "Name's Selena," she whispered; "I want you to know what to grunt when I grip your cock with the most mesmerizing snatch you've ever had." With those words, she pressed a kiss to his lips, and without further ceremony, led him sensually to the dancefloor. As he calculated, she made a beeline for the swaying vampire and her unsuspecting prey. Clearly, a need for competition and domination had been sparked inside her.

She grinded against the hunter with artful and seductive moves that impressed him in spite of himself. It wasn't hard to see that she was really putting in the effort to show him that she was a better pick than the vampire, for a night of debauchery. As soon as the rival pair began to exit the dancefloor, Selena leaned into the hunter to whisper; "why don't we follow em, handsome? If she's any bit as bad enough for you as you think, I'm sure she won't mind a little foursome with her pathetic boy toy,"

It really wasn't much of a suggestion. Selena didn't wait for him to respond. With a racing pulse, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, following the rival pair without much in the way of subtlety or disguise. The hunter grinned. He wouldn't have minded trailing the vampire and the bartender alone, but he had to agree that going in solo would pose a few risks.

The vampire would have all the control in the situation, as far as the bartender's life was concerned. Since he wouldn't be able to directly follow them alone without raising a few brows—possibly from other Dregs too—he would have to wait a bit before dipping into the shadowy corridor after them; and by then, even if he pressed the cold steel of a blade, or barrel of a gun to the back of her head, she could easily just ignore his presence to thoroughly consume her prey.

With the vitality of a fresh feed, she would be able to easily heal from damage, and all in all, the poor bartender's chances of living to regret his horny folly, would be incredibly slim. However, with Selena in tow, poised to initiate a foursome of debauchery, the vampire would not have the privacy and space away from him that initially prompted her to move things to the dark corridor.

It remained to be seen how things would play out, but right now, it was looking like an interesting win for the hunter.