Night’s Bleeding Edge (Amberyn & HotNSpicy)

[HotNSpicy]

Malach's penthouse loomed over Downtown LA, its concrete walls and dark glass glaring at a city that bled under his thumb. The broken signs of Skid Row flickered, light catching a blood smear on a rusted fence where vampires and shifters carved each other in the dark. The room reeked of copper and ash, its steel door bolted, runes scratched in the frame pulsing like an open vein. Los Angeles was a beast he'd gutted, its gangs were twisted to his will, but tonight the beast snarled, ready to bite. A scream from an alley choked off, and rain clouds pressed the sky flat. Malach's empire was forged in blood, but the streets were hungry, and something in the air felt like it wanted his throat.

He slumped at a huge desk, wiping blood from his knuckles. A chipped bead in his palm had cut like a knife into an old shame. A scrawny vampire kid stammered about a crew in East LA. Their knives were marked with Vesper's gang sigil, blood still wet. Malach's glare promised he'd tear them apart. His voice was a low, menacing growl. Power was his hunger, not the blood drying on his hands from a traitor he'd ripped apart an hour ago. But the bead dragged up a lover he'd gutted, left bleeding on consecrated ground. The shame burned raw. This was a wound he couldn't bury. One that didn't heal as he slept. He crushed it down, but it clung, heavy as blood.

Vesper Kerrigan stood near the window, her wrists and ankles were bound in silver manacles that burned red marks into her skin. She was powerful and strong, and having her chained was one less thorn in his side. She was sharp, and her fox-like eyes cut through him. She was the prisoner, but the intensity in her eyes made him feel like the hunted. Prior to the fight, Malach had only known Vesper by her deadly reputation. One of the fiercest in her gang, she was a formidable fighter. Her gang looked out for other lycanthropes, and that was bad enough. But they also hunted vampires. The battle had been a bloodthirsty carnage, and in the end Malach and his allies claimed victory. Those that weren't destroyed or sold were forced to flee the city for their lives. If not for her talents and ferocity, she would likely be dead like her lycanthropic kin. Instead, Malach gave orders that she was to be spared. She was truly dangerous and would make a potent ally in his war against the world. The vampire bound her to him in a profane ceremony that only the most dreadful vampires would even consider.

The vampire stepped closer to his captive prey, broken glass from a goblet or wine bottle crunching under his boots. His voice was rough. The long, bloody war took its toll on him. "Your crew thought they could bleed for this city and win." He spoke confidently to drown the way her presence clawed at him. It was as if her being here could tear open his past with a glance. He'd bound her and spilled her gang's blood. But her fire fed a hunger that he fucking hated. It was a need to break her, keep her and own her defiance. Whispers of her pack haunted LA's gutters. Their knives always out and their blood fresh. The storm outside snarled, and Malach felt the city's pulse, ready to rip his empire apart.

A sudden thud at the heavy door hit like a snapped bone, and a box slid across the floor. On the box was a cross, scratched in wet blood, still dripping. Malach failed to hold in the gasp that forced its way out. The bead clutched in his hand fell to the ground. His past, the gutted lover left bleeding on holy ground, rose in his throat like bile. The kid froze, but Malach shoved him out of the room. His calm hid a lie over rage that screamed to tear something apart. The blood cross wasn't just any mark. It was his sin, come calling. Was it Vesper's crew, carving their way back? Or her, the one he killed, back to bleed him dry. Meanwhile, the city's streets pulsed, red and raw.

LA's shadows swelled with bloodlust. Who was it that slipped that blood-marked box past the runes? Vesper's crew, knives slick with fresh blood? A rival sniffing out the scent of weakness? Or the ghost of his lover dragging his sins into the light. Rain pounded the penthouse glass while the streets below thirsted for blood. Malach turned to Vesper. Her eyes burned bright. "You feel it," he said with a voice that hinted at something darker. "This city's ready to fucking tear itself apart." The weight that settled in his chest pressed harder. "That cross means someone or something is coming for my throat. You can stay in chains and wait, or you can move. Fight with me, and keep this city together." He stepped back, giving her space. "I've bled for this city. You've burned for it. Don't pretend you don't care what happens next." The storm outside was already snarling, and something was coming for his throne.

 

[Amberyn]

She was supposed to be dead. They had been betrayed, their attack on a vampire nest becoming a slaughter. The vampire in the room behind her was ultimately responsible; his claws sank into someone who gave them up. Vesper had given everything to save as many as she could when the call to retreat had been given. Made the ultimate sacrifice, and here she was alive, and beyond pissed. She could feel him under her skin, taste his blood in her mouth from the archaic ritual he had performed. Dark and dangerous things that were spoken of in hushed voices by the elders of her clan. Something that most vampires frowned at, unwilling to tie themselves so closely to a mortal, to defile themselves by binding their life to a beast.

Her beast prowled around inside her, held below the surface by the silver shackles around her wrists and ankles. An additional chain ran from one set of shackles to the others, rattling as she swung to regard the vampire. One of his lackeys was sweating beneath his boss's glare, having just delivered news of a gang in the East, her gang. She didn't hide the smug quirk of her lips; they were still out there, still fighting. Vesper just hoped they had managed to identify the mole; otherwise, they would share the same fate as the others. Death or servitude, sold to Malach's vampire allies.

It was something that she tried not to think about. The all-consuming grief had threatened to take over when she woke, alive, healed and imprisoned. It was easy to turn it into anger, especially when Malach had sent for her and informed her of the ritual moments before beginning it. Since then, his presence had been a never-ending source of irritation, like a splinter that wouldn't come out no matter how hard she'd scratched.

Her chin lifted at his comment when he stepped closer, eyes mocking him. Oh no, her crew were not in the past just yet, no matter how much the bastard wanted them to be. They were still fighting, and Malach had made one fatal mistake; he'd given them something worth fighting for. There were those within her gang, her family, who would come for her when they found out she was still alive. The fool had tied his life to hers, perhaps believing it would keep him safe, and while it made her harder to kill, Vesper would happily fall on her own daggers if it ended him.

Her ears pricked at the sound of something hitting the door, eyes whipping to it and following the package that slid further into the room. She could smell the blood, her fox scenting the air. What was more interesting was his reaction. The unfallible power-hungry Malach was bothered by a mere box. Interesting. The lackey was hastily removed with a push, leaving her with the vampire as he tried to hold his rage at bay. Vesper let her eyes flick between him and the box, wondering what significance the mark on it held for him. It meant nothing to her, other than being something she could use against her new Master.

She refused to cower when he turned the full weight of his anger on her, an eyebrow raised as he pontificated. Was he truly so ignorant? Of course, the city was tearing itself apart; that was what happened when you forced your will on others. Some fell in line, but others fought tooth and nail for their freedom. Vesper kept quiet as he offered her an insight into his reaction to the cross. She couldn't bring herself to care. Boo fucking hoo. The big bad vampire had made enemies, and they were coming for him.

Now she did laugh, scoffing at his attempt to get her on side. "Aww, poor little bloodsucker," she taunted, a purr in her voice, "You pissed people off, and now no one wants to play with you." Vesper shook her head in disbelief, eyes darkening, "Of course, I fucking care. But why the fuck would I side with you?" She held up her hands, letting the chain between her shackles pull tight. "Maybe this is your idea of some sick kink, but it's not my idea of a good time."

Vesper let her hands drop, turning back to the window. "Let them come, they'll be doing me a favour."

 

[HotNSpicy]

Vesper's words bit into him hard. Not the taunts, he could endure those. It was her other words that pierced right through the calm he used as a shield. But his armor was cracking. That his options were running out enraged Malach and it was starting to show. It was bad enough this shapeshifter saw right through him and, now, there wasn't anything he could find wrong with her words. "Hmph!" The frustration in his voice was beginning to show just how deeply this was affecting him. Malach wondered if she really saw the big picture or if it was an attempt to draw his focus onto himself and not those she cared about and loved.

He turned towards Vesper again, his crimson eyes blazing with anger. Her fearlessness was a part of her he respected, even when it scorched his pride. "You laugh at death?" His voice growled out the question, before shifting to a more even and reasonable tone; as if ready to negotiate. He paced back and forth between Vesper and his desk. The silver shackles glinted in the light and clinked as she moved. He looked directly into Vesper's piercing eyes. Her will was as strong as his, and now that they were bound by blood, they were both stronger. He wasn't going to intimidate her or make her fear for her life, but he could make her fear for those she loved and cared about most. "Your gang, your family, you think they are safe. Hiding and plotting in those rat's nests in the East?" His voice was a calm menace. "Kael wears that scar on his cheek like a fucking badge. A Purple Heart or some shit like that. And Mara… " He laughed before he could finish. "Mara, she carries that dagger like she is holding a lover. I know their every heartbeat, Vesper."

The vampire seized her chain, yanking her in close. A faint sizzle hissed from his palm as the purity of the silver scorches his skin. The sharp sting was crushed under the weight of his anger. "Sick kinks? You feel my blood in you, don't you?" he rasped. The ritual's bond was defiling for both, but Malach already viewed his blood as tainted. Some vampires boasted of pure blood or royal blood. To Malach, there was no such thing. The ritual was the means of tethering Vesper's beast to his will. "These chains mean nothing! It's me slithering through your veins, feeling your fury." Whether Vesper realized it or not, her defiance was the thing that betrayed her crew's shadows. "Every growl of your fox guides me to them." He released the chain with an exasperated grimace. Its clatter rattling against the penthouse's floor. His gaze locked with hers, giving fierce respect. Then, in his most condemning words yet, he spoke in a grave tone. "Your strength will lead me to their end.

Pacing back towards his desk, with the hunger of stalking lion in each step, he spied the box. Giving it a quick second glance he stopped and turned back to Vesper. "Your ferocity is unmatched. It's a force I respect," he said with words that honored her resolve. "But ferocity won't save Kael when my claws rip out his heart by dawn and put it in a box just like that one on my desk. And Mara? She'd break as my thrall, cursing your failure the whole fucking time." His smile was grim, respecting her fight even as he envisioned her gang's ruin. "Or I'll bind each and every one of them to me, just like you, their blood chained to mine. His words were like knives, each one sharpened by his regard for her strength, and cruel in their certainty.

He turned back towards his desk and pressed a button just out of sight under the surface. The penthouse doors slid open with a quiet hiss. Two vampires charged in, dragging a young werewolf, newly turned. His eyes were wild with torment, and his fur matted with blood. Malach yelled with a rage that startled even his servants. "Look at him, Vesper!" He gestured towards the tormented creature. His voice shifted back to a more leveled tone. "One of yours, caught by our shared enemy, the hunters who would slaughter us both. His hand now hovered over the young lycanthrope's throat, while his claws flashed in the penthouse light. "You know, I could have him gutted right here. His blood pooling on the floor just to prove I can reach anyone you love." The werewolf's whimpers interrupted Malach, a primal hint of his strength now trapped in fear.

Malach's gaze switched to the box on his desk, its sigil a dark omen in the glow of surrounding light. Vesper's glance at the box heightened Malach's vampiric edge. She had seen his unease. He walked back over to Vesper, she had witnessed his unease. "That box, it vexes me," he admitted out of respect for her keen perception. "It's from those hunters, Vesper, the ones who would burn this city down to destroy us. And your crew, they are in their sights." He tapped the box lid, the aroma of blood hung in the air. "This box holds their fate. The names of your people, all marked for death. So, if you can be a good little pup, I’ll turn you loose. I can use the extra help.” He said with an unyielding tone.

He leaned in closer, his breath cold against Vesper's ear. "You think they will save you?" his voice now delivered taunts of their own. "They are prey, Kerrigan, and you're the bait for our shared enemy." He stepped back and let the words sink in. "Serve me, and I will protect them. But should you defy me, I swear I will make you watch them bleed." He motioned to the box on his desk and then young werewolf. "Their fate is in your hands, those insufferable hunters don't care about your family. They will rip through them, just to get at me. Vesper, you know I speak the truth."

He took another step back and crossed his arms. A smirk formed on his face. "So, what's it to be then? I am running out of patience." He paused. "You need to choose because that wooden box means they are running out of time." The air was now filled with tension from the urgency in his words. "Are you going to save your family or will you let them all die because of your pride?" Her answer would either bind her to him or burn them both.

 

[Amberyn]

She suppressed a laugh as he huffed. There was something infinitely funny about a vampire having a temper tantrum, well, until they turned it on you. Amber eyes locked on him when he started to pace in front of her. He seemed to use up some of his restless energy doing so, because when he next met her eyes, he appeared to be back in control. Her chains rattled as she took a step towards him, her hands clenched into fists at the calmly delivered threat to her family.

"You fucking bastard," Vesper hissed, her hackles rising. Those were things no one should know, no one outside their gang. She let her fury hide the fear that threatened to swallow her. Whoever was feeding him information was someone close to them. Before this, she would have sworn blind that none of their inner circle would be capable of betraying them, especially not to a vampire.

He brought her closer, fingers wrapped around the silver chain. Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the stench of melting flesh. Malach was too far gone in his anger to care, or perhaps it was just a show of strength to emphasise how out of depth she was. It wasn't a bad performance, and she felt her fox shrink back from the rage he brought to bear on her. Gritting her teeth, she did her best to ignore the feel of him beneath her skin, the way every word dug deeper, refusing to let her ignore the truth of them. She was unable to hold his gaze when he laid the blame at her feet. Never, she vowed. She didn't know how yet, but she would not let him use her to hurt her family.

For a moment, it seemed that he was done with her, leaving her to return to his desk. Her relief was short-lived, her eyes turning from the window to regard him with disdain. Vesper didn't want his respect; she wanted her freedom. The one thing he would never give her. She inhaled sharply as he returned to the topic of her family, not threatening, promising. She was moving before she realised, the chain anchoring her to the floor pulling her back before she got to his desk, her teeth bared at him.

"I will kill you before I let that happen," she swore. It was an idle threat, she knew it, he knew it. He'd taken care of that.

There were no words to express how impotent she felt as the door opened, a young werewolf was dragged in by two of his cronies. The kid was barely out of his teens, his body trapped halfway between human and wolf, terror rolling off him. Vesper startled at the loud command to watch, feeling the lash of the words, the demand that forced her to obey even as every moment killed her a little more. She didn't need him to tell her who he was; she recognised the wolf, Jared was his name. Newly turned and yet to learn how to control his shifts. A prime target for one such as Malach. She was rigid with fear and disgust, the wolf's whimper making her wince.

The spell was broken when his attention veered back to her. Golden eyes wrenched away from the prisoner, following each steady stride towards her. It surprised her that he admitted a weakness to her, especially with other witnesses in the room. That made her feel uneasy. Ah, there it was. The crux of the matter, he knew who sent the box. Vesper had to admit it was a good gamble. The mention of the hunters made her skin prickle; her fox no longer cowering, standing forward and growling at the thought of the human hunters. They claimed that her kind were the monsters, yet they slaughtered children, burned people alive, and crucified them with silver.

Oh yes, she knew exactly what they were capable of and worse, she knew Malach wasn't wrong. She didn't pull away when he leaned close again, her eyes locating the werewolf behind him. Her nails dug into her palms, and she felt a sting as she drew blood. You're the bait. Fuck. Vesper shook with rage. At his casual threats. At his manipulation. At the impossible situation in front of her. She couldn't let her people suffer the same indignity forced on her. He stepped back, smirking as he demanded her decision.

Silence reigned, his words lingering in the air. One breath, two, three. Deep breathing was doing fuck all to improve her mood, but it gave her a few moments to collect herself. With one last look at Jared, she turned her body towards Malach, putting a little distance between her and the young wolf. He needed her, that was clear, and while she knew Malach wouldn't hesitate to go through with his threats, Vesper needed something from him before she swore herself into his service.

"How exactly are you going to protect them while they fight you at every turn?" she questioned him, making herself relax her hands in an attempt to feign nonchalance, "Give them the East. They stay in their territory; you and your vampires stay out of it. There's no reason for them to hunt your kind if they're not a threat."