09-14-2018, 05:46 PM
He didn't bite her hand off. Oriena wasn't sure she'd have minded if he did; a challenge like that fired more interest, sometimes, than sparring words. Few people were unpredictable in a way that truly enticed her attention. And she was fickle anyway. But she'd seen first hand the volatility of his temper, violent as a crack of bone, only to be reigned in just as quick. It had disappointed her at the time, but now she realised something. The control mattered to him.
The lure set its hooks. Ryker stared down with narrowed eyes and called her unwise; named her a girl like she would wilt beneath the larger presence once its weight began to crush. Dismissive, and yet he invited her indulgence anyway. The arrogance radiated from him, victory assured. She laughed. "Ah, well, that depends on what it is you think I want, and how you suppose I plan to get it."
He pointed out her presence at the ball; led the cop by the nose to understand what she had done, and how. Oriena herself provided the why. Ryker was not stupid; he knew he dealt with a woman for whom the puncture of jagged glass shards was only a means to an end.
She pat the steel of his chest before the heat of her hand slipped away. He might toss those odds and decide showing even a modicum of interest was not worth the risk of looking stupid. It was all about power for men like him, but Oriena was not interested in power. "Nothing it'll kill you to lose. A secret for a secret, unless you've a better offer."
Kas loped to his feet, frowning. He hated being back here, but he knew the pits and the pits knew him. An old life. He didn't want to lose his thoughts again. Angry Man tried to touch him and Kas flinched back, a growl low in his throat. No one hurt him anymore, but he did not invite the contact of those not pack. The warning was clear but Angry Man only smiled. He stared too. It was rude.
He smelled like lust and anger. Wriggling like a pup for first snow. Or first blood maybe. Hunt was good; Kas had wanted to kill the one who smelled bad, from before, but this place made all good bad too. Dark and starving until hunger drowned everything silent.
He grunted and gestured a paw. Led Angry Man to where he would lose his soul. No one stopped them from the competitor's entrance; long steps down, arching pipes above. No luxury here. Blood smelled thick. Sweat. Shit. Kas pulled the shirt over his head angrily, discarded like bones with no meat. Handlers briefed Angry Man, surprised by the sanction. Not like they usually let just anyone fight for the patrons.
None bothered Kas. He was known. He was remembered. No one even got close. Stinking like fear despite his low shoulders imparting no harm meant. They wondered why he was out on his own. Which handler had probably lost their throat to his teeth, despite no blood on his lips. Because he was a monster.
He stalked into the ring, roughly round, pitted walls too high to climb (he had tried). Usually Kas had fought in the cage though; a top dollar draw with the eyes like gold coins. Those feral eyes absorbed now, nostrils flaring. Energy rippled. Far too gleeful. Kas stalked, unblinking. The coiled energy of something wild. But he would not strike first.
The lure set its hooks. Ryker stared down with narrowed eyes and called her unwise; named her a girl like she would wilt beneath the larger presence once its weight began to crush. Dismissive, and yet he invited her indulgence anyway. The arrogance radiated from him, victory assured. She laughed. "Ah, well, that depends on what it is you think I want, and how you suppose I plan to get it."
He pointed out her presence at the ball; led the cop by the nose to understand what she had done, and how. Oriena herself provided the why. Ryker was not stupid; he knew he dealt with a woman for whom the puncture of jagged glass shards was only a means to an end.
She pat the steel of his chest before the heat of her hand slipped away. He might toss those odds and decide showing even a modicum of interest was not worth the risk of looking stupid. It was all about power for men like him, but Oriena was not interested in power. "Nothing it'll kill you to lose. A secret for a secret, unless you've a better offer."
Kas loped to his feet, frowning. He hated being back here, but he knew the pits and the pits knew him. An old life. He didn't want to lose his thoughts again. Angry Man tried to touch him and Kas flinched back, a growl low in his throat. No one hurt him anymore, but he did not invite the contact of those not pack. The warning was clear but Angry Man only smiled. He stared too. It was rude.
He smelled like lust and anger. Wriggling like a pup for first snow. Or first blood maybe. Hunt was good; Kas had wanted to kill the one who smelled bad, from before, but this place made all good bad too. Dark and starving until hunger drowned everything silent.
He grunted and gestured a paw. Led Angry Man to where he would lose his soul. No one stopped them from the competitor's entrance; long steps down, arching pipes above. No luxury here. Blood smelled thick. Sweat. Shit. Kas pulled the shirt over his head angrily, discarded like bones with no meat. Handlers briefed Angry Man, surprised by the sanction. Not like they usually let just anyone fight for the patrons.
None bothered Kas. He was known. He was remembered. No one even got close. Stinking like fear despite his low shoulders imparting no harm meant. They wondered why he was out on his own. Which handler had probably lost their throat to his teeth, despite no blood on his lips. Because he was a monster.
He stalked into the ring, roughly round, pitted walls too high to climb (he had tried). Usually Kas had fought in the cage though; a top dollar draw with the eyes like gold coins. Those feral eyes absorbed now, nostrils flaring. Energy rippled. Far too gleeful. Kas stalked, unblinking. The coiled energy of something wild. But he would not strike first.