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     "I didn't smell you come in, little dove," Feline eyes took in the two before her, crystals that dangled off her wrists shined like raindrops. "But the scent of sex does attract me."

     Sometimes Alsie forgot just how beautiful Elizabeth was, how stunning she made the simple cloth of a robe on her supple body look. And she was; adorned in silk that fell down her legs like a moonlight waterfall, she was an enchantress made to beguile all men and women. With her platinum hair done up in swoops of curls, her eyes marked with the perfect cut of black, she was what people feared and loved all at once.

     Alsie's fingers circled her throat, still frazzled from her speech and spilling such silly, little moments of her life as if they actually meant something. She wouldn't blame James to feel incredulous towards her, to now understand that the lioness he had caught in his den was actually the mouse running from the hunt. Of course, she wanted to exact her revenge still, to be able to do what the warlocks has done to her, but wasn't that just a normal reaction to something so wicked? She couldn't think right, was barely able to see the room.

     "Who invited you?" James seemed at a tilt; his voice was rough and his demeaner was on the offense.

     "Invitations are for those to be welcomed into a place not of their own," Her eyes swept over Alsie, taking her in as a serpent would before it would strike. "Whereas this is my kingdom, Jimmy. One you built for me. An invitation is unnecessary."

     Alsie couldn't handle these two power houses before her, mind reeling with the smell of the Countess' rich, French perfume and the subtle musk of the carpets of the hotel room. She could practically feel the attention of the striking, pale goddess following her as she trudged away from the opening of the room to fall onto the edge of the dust-covered bed, her black dress pooling over her luscious thighs.

     She let herself fall deeper into her own humility, wallowing in the past she had brought up again.

     "You have a cozy, little penthouse to suit your every need," James snarled, poking around in his pocket until he retrieved the red cloth he had stashed away. He decided to twist it around his neck, covering up the haunting image of his self-afflicted wound, closing the window inside the smallest portion of his fragility. "The rest of these halls happen to be mine, you devious creature."

A Flash of Red | JAMES MARCHWhere stories live. Discover now