Kings of the castle

[Oriena]

Though she only noted it because she’d been looking for it, his flash of irritation was perversely satisfying. Oriena was both cruel and playful; very aware of the strings she tugged and more than willing to abuse the power until it snapped - or she grew bored toying with a dull partner, though that was one scenario which never ended well. She delighted in eliciting conflict; in burying right under another’s skin until they were no longer sure whether to love or hate her for it. As such, her past was littered with the unintentional corpses of friendships and lovers. And those were just the ones she’d liked.

Apparently he was willing to play, for which her smile erred a touch more genuine, and perhaps a shade darker. His attention was welcome; she’d provoked it, after all, and she captured it securely when he leaned in close, bold-eyed and cast in an edge of sultry challenge. Ori clearly enjoyed the control she had wrought, and her smirk brandished victory like a trophy. Or a weapon. Not that she was unaffected by his proximity. This close, he smelled good; a delicious mix of masculine and clean. The allure of sheer arrogance. Her breathing deepened, and she savoured the tension; daring him to push his luck. He answered with the unanticipated trail of his fingers shivering sensation down her arm.

She imagined he knew exactly how sensitive that touch would be.

Power pulsated with every thump of her heart, daring her to embrace its heat and feel the rush to her senses. She didn’t, but only because by then he’d retreated with her stolen drink. Not many would dare be so bold with Oriena; she was the sort of woman who dished out rejection with offhand malice and no care for the hearts she left bleeding in the dirt. Of course, it was the audacity she appreciated; a trait unsurprisingly common in men with large bank-accounts and the misinformed belief that it bought them the world. A sweet kind of poison, given her history, which was perhaps why she always treated them the cruellest.

Oh, he was trouble. Her favourite kind of trouble.

"First time, huh."
She laughed as she retrieved her own glass. "Then I ought to promise not to lead you astray."
That statement came with no promise, of course, and the distinct impression that Ori was inclined to do exactly as she pleased. He might have parted with a small fortune for this table, and he might lounge like he owned the place, but they were in the heart of her domain. "Only I’m not sure I’m feeling that charitable."
She smiled around the rim of her glass, and finished the last of its contents. He wasn’t the only one drinking hard, though her tastes were a little rougher.

Her gaze broke momentarily to search the bar, looking for Karmen in order to signal her empty glass, and it was about then she noticed the curious eyes of a man staring quite blatantly at their booth. Considering the warm-up spectacle on stage, he was looking in completely the wrong place. Not that Ori was offended by the attention, nor perturbed. She’d bet he was a blusher. "One of us has a fan."