My Bloody Revenge

Planning

"What made you look so sour?" Lyra asks when Lydoran walks in. Even Malarath looks puzzled at his sons angry return.

"I stopped by the mansion and this letter was there, addressed to you." Holding up a black envelope with her name written in bold letters. Very fancy looking. He flops down next to her on the couch and hands over the envelope. "I already opened it and not sorry about it."

Lyra takes it, looks at the swirling letters adorning the front. Her name spelled out in red. Looking inside she finds an invitation and a separate letter saying she should wear whats inside the packages, including the collar she already got. "What packages?" she says out loud.

"There were some packages attached to the invitation but I burned the hideous things. The mans taste is tacky at best." Disgust clear in his voice. Lydoran lets out a heavy sigh but smiles when soft lips presses down on his in a warm, loving, kiss. 

"A masquerade ball?" Malarath asks eyeing the invitation.

"Had forgotten about Greg's annual ball. He has them once a year and everyone who is somebody gets an invitation. People flaunts their money and power. Main event is all the girls, barley teenagers often, and me." the bare thought makes her nauseous. A brilliant thought pops into her mind from out nowhere and thankfully chases away every miserable memory. "We are going to attend. All of us."

"We are?" father and son asks simultaneously.

"We are and it's perfect." Lyra says with a devious smile.

"What are we and what is perfect?" Jaze questions while walking in.

"We are going to attend a masquerade ball two weeks from now." Lydoran clarifies. All three looks at Lyra with different levels of disbelief, bewilderment and curiosity. Malarath is the next to speak but he sounds humored if anything, "The perfect part is apparently walking into a large house filled with crazy humans. May I ask, why we are going to do that?"

"I want my revenge and what better place then a ball filled with his own kind." Lyra keeps the devious smile glued on her face and rubs her hands like an evil villain.

" That looked creepy on so many levels." Jaze avoids looking at her and rubs his arms while getting shivers. "You have gotten damn scary."

"Says the guy who fucked her thoroughly." Lydoran fake coughs out with a wicked smile."I don't even want to know." Malarath mumbles and looks the other way but laughs right out when a pillow hits Lydoran square in the face, courtesy of Jaze. Lydoran is about to say something else but one look at the pillows in Jaze's hands he thinks better of it. 

"Now that we have settled that. I know a tailor who can fix us exquisite costumes. If we go there today he will make sure to have them done within the time frame." Malarath offers. Everyone agrees and gathered what they need before piling into the car and drive off. It takes about three hours to get to the little corner shop.

Everything inside is immaculately clean with a few racks and shelves filled with clothes. The entire decor is lavish with its baroque style and dark colors. Scattered lamps with dim lights sets a certain atmosphere that only enhances the stores appeal. Its spacious inside yet intimate. Lyra is so busy taking in every little detail that she fails to notice the man standing right behind her. "You should never forget your surroundings, mon chéri." a heavily accented voice whispered right into her ear, startling her.

"That was not nice Lárdomon." Malarath reprimands halfheartedly and gets a casual shrug back from said man.

"It's been a while, my friend." They hug. "Good to see you again. And you two as well. "giving  greetings to Jaze and Lydoran too. "Now tell me who the little beauty is." he more or less demands while eyeing Lyra from head down with lustful eyes.

"Lárdomon meet Lyra." Malarath introduces. "Charmed." Lárdomon greets with a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. His thick, french, accent gives every word a specific ring to it. He holds her hand loosely in his afterwards much to Lyra's dismay since the man spooks her a bit with his slender fingers, thin frame and intense gaze. Like the other three vampires, Lárdomon is also a handsome guy with otherworldly looks but its hard and cold compared to the others. He might be nice but the predatory side is not hidden and easily triggered. Or so Lyra feels when looking into his green/brown eyes.

"I recommend you to let go and step back now or else my son will get more annoyed than he already is." Malarath interrupts. Lyra takes the opportunity to snuggle into Lydoran who welcomes her eagerly.

"They can't be..." The look on his face shows doubt at first then envy before closing up completely and Lárdomon is his friendly and professional self again. "What occasion brought you into my humble abode?" 

"We are attending a masquerade ball in two weeks time and are in need of four complete outfits. Think you can manage that on such short notice?" 

"Please, who do you think I am." Lárdomon asks with fake hurt. With a sharp clap of his hands a stab of people simply rushes in and whisks them away into seperate rooms. Measures are taken and loads of fabrics are being held up then discarded or placed in a 'possible' pile. The two women handling Lyra acts as if she is a dress up doll as the talk among themselves but she doesn't mind. Fashion has never been her strong side or interest her much. Finally they seems to have come to an agreement and Lyra can put her clothes back on and be escorted to the others.

She glides up to Lydoran and takes his hand in hers, loving the feeling of comfort the simple touch gives. He leans down a leaves a loving kiss to her temple. Their open display of affection attracts the eyes of the owner, Lárdomon, but she ignores.

"You can collect your clothes in  eight days. They should all be ready by then." 

They thank him for all the help, exchange some pleasantries then says their good byes and drives back home again. Malarath in deep thoughts the whole drive back.