Latch On Because Love's a Killer – Raivh and Rie Seraphina

[Raivh]

Loud music pulsed through the speakers as various colored strobe lights flashed and spun around the club. He sat at the bar, trying to mind his own business, but the woman beside him was making that increasingly difficult. Her right hand was on his thigh now, her left holding a glass of wine that was the same deep red painted on her lips. She spoke to him as her eyes flitted about the side of his strong jaw as he sucked down his third or fourth glass of whiskey for the night.

He'd been given his assignment a month ago, but he hadn't found any leads until last night. This wasn't his scene, never had been. The pounding beat in his ears had his head throbbing. He stiffened, feeling the woman's hand slide over the front of his jeans. Pulling the glass of liquor from his mouth a few inches, his eyes dropped down, watching her hand shift over the bulge against her palm. Her thumb toyed with the zipper before she wrapped her entire hand around his crotch.

Were women always this forward in this joint? The sinew flexed at his neck, which caused his jaw to grow taut as he clenched his teeth. She leaned forward and took his earlobe between her teeth and bit hard, which caused him to wince and jerk his head in her direction. His hips thrust up into her hand, which was clearly just what she'd been aiming for because she released his ear and an airy laugh passed between her lips.

“Why don't you put that phone away and come with me?” She was a seductress. Her words flowed coolly into his ear like water down a river, calm and inviting.

He brought the amber drink to his lips again and took a large swig of it, drowning down any possible confirmation that he was having the same thoughts as her. It would be a dream to take her to a nearby hotel. He could practically feel himself inside of her already, but he wasn't here to find a good fuck. He was here on business. His target was another one of those fucking leeches.

Rumors were dancing all over the city about men and women being found dead, the very life force sucked right out of them. She was likely just one of many, but she was his to find, secure, torture, and eventually kill once he'd gotten enough information out of her.

“Look,” Colton said, turning his face to the woman. Her hand was still stroking him, only now she'd undone the zipper on the front of his jeans. He knew she could feel the swell of him in her palm, the heat and pure instinct to take her up on her offer was killing him. She gave him a squeeze, and Colton caught the glance the bartender gave when he grunted.

“Yes?” The woman asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He focused on the round mirror behind her, his reflection staring back at him. She'd set her wine down and was now running a hand through his hair, tousling the short light brown locks so that they stood this way and that. He could see the back of the woman's neck. Her hair was pulled up, her bare back revealed by the low cut of her dress from the rear. His green eyes traveled to the small of her back, her hips. He could imagine himself throwing her onto the counter right here, imagine her breasts pressed against its damp surface, hands clamped tight over her hips.

The thoughts he was having were getting the better of him. He wanted to fuck her. It had been months since his last bout of sex. It wouldn't take long. He could do it, take her up on the offer, bring her to the hotel just up the block and listen to her scream while he plunged deep inside her. His commander had recently brought to Colt's attention that he was becoming an ass, full of angst and pent up rage. It would be good to relieve some of it. Colt chuckled at the idea, and the woman sat back, leaning away from him.

Just a few seconds before, her tongue had been in his ear, but now she looked at him like he'd struck her. “What's so funny?”

“What?” Colton replied, grabbing a hold of her chin. “Weren't you having fun? I laughed because I was enjoying myself.”

The woman relaxed, and Colt engaged in conversation with her. That was a lie, though. Really he'd laughed because even if he and this woman went through round after round of heart-pounding, hot, sweaty sex, he was still going to be an asshole. It wasn't in his nature to be terribly kind or caring. He killed for a living.

 

[Rie Seraphina]

Ah… Here she was again— standing at the entrance of the club her brother had claimed she'd been visiting 'a little too damn frequently'. Lucia didn't have any plans to stop by that evening, truly, but the fact that her little goldfish (an endearing term she called humans) ended up tasting like absolute crap left her with no other choice.

She could still feel his trembling hands grabbing ahold of her ankles, tears running down his face as he pleaded with her to let him go. She could still see the terror and anguish in his eyes as he realized she wasn’t going to budge, and how during his final moments, he'd screamed that she was a “murderous monster" that he was going to “fucking slaughter and kill”. It was honestly a little amusing, in Lucia’s opinion, that such anger-filled words could come out of the mouth of someone who'd just whispered sweet, loving things in her ear— someone who'd touched her in ways that screamed I need you rather than I want to kill you. It was always a fascinating yet disappointing sight to witness someone transforming into an entirely different person due to fear; and how the sight of death could genuinely make a person take off their carefully crafted mask of pretense.

Her brother once stated that he believed she was strangely obsessed in wanting to see how people were like in ‘life-threatening situations’ (whatever that meant), and how she possibly inherited their father’s sadistic nature. It was a sentiment she honestly pondered on for a bit but ultimately, she came to a conclusion that that wasn't it at all. She was simply fascinated with how everyone —be it a human being or the undead— valued their lives so much; how they would immediately drop the many impressive personas they painstakingly crafted for years just so they could earnestly beg for their lives. Hoping you would take pity on them.

That was something Lucia could never personally relate to as fear wasn't something she felt. She didn't fear death for she had nothing to live for (Not to mention, she was technically dead already), and she wasn’t afraid of losing anyone as she had no one she truly loved to begin with.

Life was purely just another fun game of Russian roulette to her; where it was a matter of pulling the trigger again and again and again until it was finally her turn to go.

---

As she leisurely made her way through the crowded club, she could feel the ogling stares of men who couldn't keep their eyes off her body, and the envious looks of women who could only wish to have her beauty. She decided to go with a rose-gold bodycon dress that evening— one that showed off her lean but curvaceous figure. Her long black hair was neatly combed in place, while her lips were painted wine red; a stark contrast to her extremely fair skin.

There was no denying that it felt wonderful knowing there was an infinite amount of goldfishes vying for her attention but... Tonight, she wanted to find someone genuine; someone who didn't have any of those intricate masks she needed to strip away. She longed for a prey who would put up a good fight, one that was as real and fearsome as she was.

In the process of observing her surroundings, Lucia felt her attention being drawn to a particular individual— a man who happened to be seated at the bar. There was something about his presence that pulled her in, striking an odd sense of curiosity and excitement within her. It was an inkling that told her she'd found the perfect goldfish for the night.

Thus, she naturally found herself sauntering towards the bar, walking right past him and taking a sit at the opposite far end.

“Good to see ya’ again, miss.” The bartender greeted. “What will it be tonight?”

“Hmm, how about…” It was then that she turned to look at the man, an enigmatic smile crossing her lips as her hazel eyes met his green ones. An air of intimacy lingered over their gaze for a second, before Lucia casually turned away. “... Brandy? I have an undying need for something strong yet sweet tonight.”

“You got it.” As the bartender left, she would occasionally glance at the man invitingly, paying absolutely no mind to the clingy lady next to him.

If there was something she truly enjoyed doing, it was playing coy with her targets.

 

[Raivh]

The woman appeared perplexed by Colton's nonchalant reply. She shifted, almost uncomfortably, in her seat. Leaning forward, Colt reached out and cupped her face against his palm. With a lighthearted grin, he ran the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. This brought the woman's confidence back and she ran her hand back up his thigh and traced the crease along his groin.

Just as the woman's nimble fingers were working past the fabric of his briefs, his attention was drawn elsewhere. Again, his body stopped responding to the woman who now had him fully cupped against her palm and was kissing and sucking along his neck.

Colton kept his eyes fixated on the woman talking with the bartender. When she flashed him a smile, he felt his blood go cold as ice. Immediately, he slid his hand over the woman's and pulled it away from his crotch.

“Thanks, but it looks like I'm not interested after all.” he muttered to her as she gasped in disbelief and disgust as he rose to his feet and brushed her off. The bartender was beside him now, mixing a drink for the woman across the way. Colt tugged the zipper back up his jeans and quickly, snatching his phone from the counter, and then leaned over the bar.

“Hey,” he said, catching the bartender's attention. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and traded it for his wallet. He pulled out a decent sum of money and placed it on the counter. “That should cover her drink and at least five or more, right?”

The bartender looked down at the bills and nodded.

“Good,” Colt said, grabbing a few more bills and placing them on top of the others. “Whatever she wants, give it to her, just make sure they're strong. Another whiskey for me.”

Glancing in the woman's direction, he gave a half-grin. Without hesitation, he made his way around bar stools and patrons and brazenly took a seat beside her. Every hair on the back of his neck was standing up.

“Good evening, Love,” he greeted, giving her knee a quick squeeze as the bartender approached them and placed their drinks on the bar before them. Colt let his hand move away then, fingers curling around the cool glass. “I've been here waiting for a woman like you to show up.”

The woman across the bar that he'd abandoned was watching the two of them with a most incredulous expression on her face. In a huff, she got up and found the nearest man to her, grabbed him, and wandered off into the crowded dance floor. Colt watched for a moment as the woman eyed him once again as she ground and swayed against the other man. It was an apparent attempt to lure him in again.

He turned his gaze from her and fixed it on the woman he was now seated beside. “Others here have no class,” he murmured. “So why are you here in a place like this?” His green eyes were dangerous as he brought the glass of whiskey up and took a swig.