Luke Jacobs (aka Lucian Iacobelli) (luke_jacobs) wrote in btvsal, @ 2009-12-06 15:45:00 |
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Current music: | Three Days Grace, "Pain" |
Show Daddy What You've Learned
Who: Luke and (introducing) Michele
Where: Les Deux
When: Sunday night (December 6)
The ambience at Les Deux was European; the patrons, trendy American. The LA hot spot was always busy, but the vampire had a standing reservation whether he decided to drop in or not - and these days, it was more often not. What could he say? He'd long ago been domesticated and who needed a meat market when one had a gorgeous wife waiting at home? Someone looking for meat, of course, but Luke wasn't interested in blood tonight. Strange concept, wasn't it? Sitting in a dim corner, he was surrounded by beautiful women, though they'd given up trying to catch his attention when they'd realized the mysterious VIP was much more interested in his Laphroaig single malt than the wares they were displaying this fine evening. Truth be told, he would have preferred to be alone with his thoughts, but the concept of doing such was tedious and would have made him feel as whipped as Damon. And if he dared remained home in his current temperament, that lovely wife of his would have had her curiosity piqued a little too...intensely.
Tonight was going to be a special night, at least for Michele Odette d'Estaing. She was thrilled to finally have tracked him down, although she wasn't too happy for the reasons that she finally did. She had always wanted to be by his side, instead of Lena, but she had known when to stay away. However, she had grown in power herself since the 1750s. Now she was a force to be reckoned with herself. Decked out in a tasteful yet elegant green dress that showed just a hint of cleavage and went down to her knees, she made her way inside the club and, once she wiggled her way past security, made her way to Luke's VIP table. "For someone so well known, it's strange to see you alone tonight," she said to him as she walked up, her voice still retaining the French accent she was born with long ago.
He'd just lifted his tumbler when that voice struck him. His gaze locked on the amber contents of his glass and his thoughts warred inside of him before downed the scotch and bit back a hiss at the burn. Reaching for the bottle, he poured another and that cool, hard mask dropped into place as he finally lifted his gaze. Not matter how distant he appeared, there was no denying the quick flash of lust in his clear blue eyes. A dark, sinful smile tugged at his lips and, with a touch of carefree decadence, he let his gaze intimately roam the curves of her body as outlined by that borderline modest green dress. "Well. Yours is very close to the last face I expected to see any time soon, ma chérie. You're looking...healthy."
"No thanks to your wife," Michele pointed out, making herself at home at his table. While her dress was considered modest in this modern time, well, there were some things that she just couldn't let go of very well. It just so happened that her sense of propriety was one of them. A women didn't *have* to let everything hang out just to get attention, if she knew what she was doing. "I may look healthy, but you look downright brooding. Anything going on?"
Michele. Her name echoed over and over in his head, a thousand insidious whispers all chanting her name. If ever there had been a woman to cause him to stray from Lena's side, it was this one. There'd been a time when she'd incited his passions, inflamed the blood within him. She'd been everything that he was not and he'd taken the most intense pleasure in stripping everything from her, one by one. Even now, the recollection brought him a semblance of satisfaction. Setting his glass upon the table, he leaned over, his lips brushing against the curve of her ear as his fingertips stroked the curve of her jaw. "Les vrais paradis sont les paradis qu'on a perdus," he murmured softly against her skin. No doubt, the women nearby were wondering what this woman had that they did not. Let them wonder. Mere mortals could never understand the lure of a power such as Michele had possessed. Such as Bella possessed.
"Oui, oui ils sont, mon chéri." Being without him for so long, knowing that she had to stay away, had been a trial on the very fabric of her being. If such a being as her had a soul, she would say it tore it apart, but souls were a fallacy, anyway. Luke had taught her that. Being near him made everything else in the room fade away into nothingness.
So cold. So fragile. And yet...not. There was still power within her. Her innocence had faded the moment he'd turned her, but there were always remnants of what had come before which lingered. For those such as Damon and Elle, those traces were much more noticeable - to the point of being distasteful. Michele, however. There was a time that he would have considered her his magnum opus. His gift to the world. A sinister "Fuck You" to the PTB.
"Still so beautiful," he murmured, sitting back slightly, though his fingertips continued their path down the graceful column of her throat. Dropping his hand away, he reached for his drink and cast a steady gaze on her profile. "Why are you here?"
Such a human emotion, to miss someone. And yet, she had. He probably knew that, though. He had made her, after all. Had made her into everything that she was, and not just a vampire. Her personality, her wants, her fears, all shaped by him. "I wanted to see what you were up to," she told him. It was the truth, after all. "It's one thing to be told by another what you are doing. It's another to see it."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Stretching his legs out, he regarded her evenly, even as a new thought occurred to him. It was a longshot, however, and highly unlikely. Yet how very interesting of Michele to appear just as Bella had gone missing. It would warrant further consideration. "Stand," he told her, motioning with his glass to the vacant spot between the crush of bodies surrounding his table.
"It shouldn't shock you that I take an interest in anything that you do," she pointed out to him. Michele had actually religiously followed everything that he had done for the past two hundred and fifty years. When he asked her to stand, she did just that, moving to the spot where he asked her to go. She was trained, after all.
"Turn," Luke said, taking satisfaction in the power and the show, as well. She really had turned out to be a desirable woman, despite her youth. He didn't have to stand or raise his voice to know that she could hear him. "You realize what Lena will do if she knows you're here."
She did as he asked, making a slow turn for him. She knew that he enjoyed the power. It was part of why she did what he asked: to please him. She also knew that he liked young, innocent looking girls. It was what made him want Lena, her, and now a few others. That, and his seeming fetish for Slayers. She had that on Lena, but now he was going after others. Unacceptable. "I know," she answered him. "Do you have to tell her?"
In the blink of an eye, he was behind her, his hand splaying across her lower stomach as he pulled her back against him. "Lena is...very, very perceptive," he whispered against her skin as his lips grazed the side of her neck. He could still recall the taste of her blood, the warmth as it flowed across his tongue. He'd left his marks all over her body...once upon a time. Watching the vibrant streaks of red cross her pale, creamy flesh had been positively intoxicating. "It's a gift. I won't have to say a word. And it would be very..." his free hand rose to her throat, his fingers tracing along her skin again, dipping into the hollow at the base of her throat and then down between the swell of her breasts, "very...unfortunate to see you meet your end. You're much too special for that."
She remembered this. She remembered the feel of his hands on her, when they were caressing her and when they were hurting her. He was so good with pain, blending it seamlessly with pleasure that it became impossible to tell the different but was too intoxicating to get away from. *He* was intoxicating. He was a habit that she just couldn't break. "I have no intention of meeting my end," she said to him. "Lena won't know that I'm here."
"You're still so naïve if you believe that, love." His lips grazed her skin again and he bit down roughly on the tender flesh of her neck, without fangs and not quite hard enough to draw blood, but it was enough to remind her of those days when he couldn't get enough of her. She was the first Slayer he'd ever tasted – the others had simply been kills. If anyone could be blamed for his current predilection, it was her. She'd just tasted so goddamned good. "You're here for something, Michele." Lovely as she was, he wouldn't abide any threat she might attempt to pose to Lena. The hand at her stomach inched down and his fingers hiked her skirt up so that he could grab the inside of her thigh as he held her body flush against his. "Tell me what it is."
She very well might still be very naive in some ways. Lena had disliked her ever since Luke brought her home. Things might have been different if Luke hadn't turned her, though. Once that happened, Lena saw her as a legit threat and threw her out of the house, swearing to kill her if she ever came near Luke again. It wasn't that she didn't take the threat seriously, it was just that she could only stay away from him for so long. She shivered when he bit into her flesh and as his hand slid up her skirt. "I wanted to see you," she said, sounding breathless even though vampires don't breathe.
His fingernails - although trimmed neatly and buffed (it was the 21st century, it wasn't a crime for men to have good grooming habits) - dug into her soft skin as his hold on her thigh tightened. "More," he murmured against her ear, a few strands of her blonde hair fluttering as he exhaled. "The truth." Withdrawing his hand, he gripped her shoulder and turned her around to face him, his other arms snaking around her slender waist. His blue eyes were clear as he searched her gaze and then that hard, almost mean smirk tugged at his lips. "You've been gone too long for this to be an innocent visit, love."
She felt like the young girl she once was under that hard gaze. "I heard you were courting a Slayer," she said quickly, looking away. "I was jealous." There, the truth. Jealousy, another very human emotion.
At her answer, Luke's look softened slightly and he smiled - a real, honest, amused smile that gave him an air of boyish charm. "Mon amour," he chided as he kissed her temple and then tilted her head back. The way he claimed her mouth was both tender and possessive and their lack of breath meant he could take his time in exploring the familiar taste and texture of her kiss. Centuries had passed, but he remembered everything about her. Perhaps it was just one more legitimate reason Lena had to view the girl as a threat. When they finally parted, he traced the curve of her lips with his fingertip and smiled, thoroughly unrepentant. "Of course I am."
When he kissed her, time stopped. She truly had missed him. She felt like she was incomplete without him around. She had been away from him for so long that her memory had become faulty. She didn't remember his lips being quite so good. "Why are you, though?" she asked him once he admitted to it.
"Why not?" he countered. "You remember how good it was." He supposed that was a matter of perspective, but the pain he'd brought her had been so fucking satisfying. That she'd grown to love him had just been the twisted cherry on top. Watching her transformation had been extraordinary. Why wouldn't he want to experience it over and over again?
It was good, and she wanted it back. It may be because her inner demon caused her to look back on things with a completely different perspective, but she relished in those memories. Then again, she came to love him while she was still human. It had been beautifully twisted. "That's true," she said to him. She could understand him wanting to recreate the experience, she supposed. Didn't mean that she had to like it.
Looking at her, the want, the desire, in her gaze, Luke couldn't help but think of Bella - and, to a lesser degree - Jamie. The latter was sweet, innocent. She wouldn't see what was coming until it was too late. He had her right where he wanted her and, in the moment, he even toyed with the idea of letting Michele in on the ultimate action. What was that old saying? Violence begets violence? Watching her with Jamie might be quite the visual stimulant indeed. But he decided against saying anything, if for no other reason than he was selfish. He wanted the Slayer for himself. And then there was Bella. Nowhere to be found, but off-limits nevertheless. She would have been a much greater challenge. He imagined it would have taken much dedication to break her down so completely as he had Michele. The demon within him lusted for the opportunity to hear her screams and to taste her tears. He wanted it - more than he was willing to admit, and only that because of his friendship with Damon. The idea of anyone else having her first was enough to bring the hard, icy glint back to his gaze. "You aren't planning to stand in my way, are you, ma petite?"
"Of course not," she said to him. She didn't even know which Slayer (yes, she knew that there was more than one around now) he was playing with, so she couldn't do anything to that one. No, she had a slightly different plan forming in her mind, though. She hoped to eventually make it to where he couldn't fool around with any Slayer, then he would have to take her back. She would be the closest thing he would have left. She smiled at him. "You can do whatever you please with her." Hopefully, he'd get tired of her before she got to her, whichever one she was.
"Bien." And yet, even as he said it, Luke knew he'd have to keep an eye on her. Her sudden appearance - if it was sudden at all - could only spell trouble for him. Whether it was with the Slayers or with Lena, it didn't matter. Then again, since when had he ever backed down from a challenge? Pulling her close again, he rested his cheek against hers and held her loosely, swaying absently to the beat of the music.
"Let us focus on a more...pleasant topic, shall we?" That heat was back in his eyes as he glanced around them. So many victims, so little time. "It's been a long, long...long...time," he whispered against her ear. "Be a good girl and show Daddy what you've learned."
She wasn't sure if he believed her, but he seemed content enough to drop the subject, and that was good enough for her, at least for now. When he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, she felt like she was in her own little spot of heaven. "Yes, a much more pleasant topic," she agreed, looking out at the people with him. "A good girl...," she said with a vicious grin. Oh, she could show him what she had learned. So many things.