would it ever end, this yearning? it was not a gentle thing born of affection and tenderness, nor one wrapped in fanciful dreams. instead it is a vicious, thirsty thing, sparking to life every time she thinks of him. a needy and demanding wanting that brings her to pace, every nerve set alight.

until, finally, she looks for him. leaving the den and their half-grown children, sliding through shadow and moonlight in a hunt for her husband. from the highest cliffs to the quieter nooks and crannies of the bluffs, from the heart to the edges, following whatever she might find of his scent.

and when she thinks him near she calls for him, urgency woven in the tones of her voice. tonight she would lay claim on him, again, and remind him of where he belonged.

@Apollinaire

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They are not star-crossed lovers, chasing eachother through lifetimes to unite. Their love is not one of fairytales or myth. Theirs is a primal desire, a surge of want and need. Power was a constant in their pairing, and both desire it like they desire flesh & blood. And yet there was no pull of opposites, no clash of teeth or claw. They, somehow against all odds, worked together like a well-oiled machine, desiring the same thing even when they went about it in different ways.

She wore a crown of molten gold and he a golden collar.

In this world of women devouring men, he was on a pedestal. He was the hound that commanded the pack. He was the prized possession. And he basked in the glory of that title, standing by the throne with a bloodied sword in hand.

One snap of red-nailed finger and he shall lunge for your throat. One bat of a chartreux eyelash and he shall tear your heart out and bring it in front of the throne, wrapped neatly with a ribbon ontop.

Her call - his command.
A whisper from her and empires would crumble at her feet.
The world would scream in a cacaphony of agony.

@Louve - his sweet little wolf. His Queen. His Matriarch.

"Tu as appelé, mon amour?" "You called, my love?" He materializes before her like a summoning, emerging from the shadows that wrap around his form.

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@Apollinaire had never let her down. most in her life had, at least once, but him? he had been a loyal protector for as long as she had known him; a loyal partner, now, who she knew would lay down his life for hers without pause. a husband turned shield, and though she could certainly fight her own battles there was a brutal efficiency to how he moved through a battlefield.

emerging from shadow she senses him before she sees him, turning to watch as the darkness slid away from the ruddiness of his coat. it grasps at him, inky fingers desperate to drag him back in to the black, but he would cast aside even this for her. louve's power is greater than that of mere shadow, for she would thrust him in to the light, to revel in the glory afforded his position.

"tu dois leur apprendre à se battre," you must teach them to fight she demands of him, though there is a strange huskiness to her voice. louve moves closer and looks to twine herself around him, to press her flesh against his own as if she might envelop him entirely. "ils doivent être prêts à protéger notre famille et leurs frères et sœurs." they must be ready to protect our family, and their siblings.

ah, and there is the reason for the rasp of her voice, the way she reaches to nip sharply at his shoulder. for though she is not pregnant yet she makes her desires known; the greedy little wolf wanted more.

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It was all a perfectly crafted game of chess in the depths of his mind. Scheming and playing his part. Why would he blunder and let down the Queen piece so carelessly? That would be a great mistake, perhaps the mistake of his life. Perhaps the last thing he does.

Non, carelessness was not appreciated in this woman's world. The careless meet their bloodied ends quickly.

And he devours the careless after the women were done with them.

He would cast aside any shadow for a moment to bask into the light reflecting from @Louve's crown. Even when madness grips him, all consuming and needy, would he heed Louve's voice above the high pitch of insanity. It was an impossible power to rule above the madman's hunger, and yet here she was - tugging at his reigns without a second thought.

It awoke a different kind of hunger within him.

Her words - his command. "Je leur apprendrai à tuer." "I will teach them to kill." His voice is a deep baritone. Ready. Ready to bring her wishes to life and go beyond them. Ready to satisfy. As if she reads his mind, she twists around him like a great serpent. As if to try and bind him to her, and he presses further into that chartreux flesh. Willing & more.

Siblings. The mystery of her husky voice reveals itself, and it brings a tiny smirk to the corner of his lip. Not smug, although it may be the result of such sinful thought. "Si seulement ils avaient des frères et sœurs à protéger." "If only they had siblings to protect." he teases with a playful sparkle in his blood-red eyes. He would be more than happy to oblige to her command.

More than happy

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it was the kind of promise that sent shivers down her spine, reaching to all the darkest parts of her soul. the way he said it made her purr, envisioning the whirl of deadly claws on the battlefield that would one day be their children. picturing the true might of their family, and the awed eyes that would follow. imagining the pain that they would bring, elevating the dieudonne to new heights.

none would dare cross them.

"ils seront glorieux." they will be glorious she murmured as she moved her lips to his ear, giving her own promise in return. "le sang de louve et d'apollinaire." the blood of louve and @Apollinaire. as if they would be names spoken in the history books, as if their offspring would be revered.

they were born of gods after all.

"ils pourraient," they couldshe whispered as she slid her lips to his throat, revealing sharp teeth, pressing the points ever so gently over his pulse, "elles vont." they willit is a demand as much as it is a promise as she shifts ever so slightly and seeks to sink her teeth in to his flesh, to break through the skin just shy of his jugular, to taste his blood upon her tongue.

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Promises. So many promises that he intended to fulfill. After all, he had promised and delivered not only once, but multiple times. @Louve knew that, and by the way his words pulled on the tethers of her desire spoke volumes. Battles. Conquering. The Dieudonne name was now simply spoken in hushed whispers of dark corners out of fear for their wrath. But in the future? Oh, it will be chanted and praised. It will be an Empire.

And at the forefront of that empire - him & her.

"Glorieuse." "Glorious." He agreed with a soft coo. "Nous sommes arrivés jusqu'ici. C'est simplement le début." "We - have come so far. It is simply the beginning." Louve was now both Matriarch and Queen - the plans had went splendidly well. They had one litter, but that was simply the beginning. Nobody can stop them now. And he wasn't going anywhere.

blood-shot gaze twinkles with the spark of playfullness and desire as she presses with words & flesh. Her demands were neverending and yet so sweet that they brought him down to his knees. He felt the warmth of her breath against his skin, a shudder running down his spine. And then he felt her teeth digging straight into his soul. He wanted her. Oh, how he wanted her. "Prends mon amour. Prenez tout ce que vous voulez." "Take, my love. Take all you want." His flesh, his blood, his soul. It was all hers for the taking.

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everything was exactly as it was meant to be. he, a powerful beast, prostrated before her. only she could bring him to his knees, only she had that sway over him. dozens he would fell with teeth and claw, tearing through them, laying ruin to the many and yet SHE could stop him with a word. her voice above the crowd; her voice above the masses.

it gave her a thrill like no other, and she rides high as she murmurs these things to his ear. "tu es à moi" you are mine, as if he needed a reminder, "seulement le mien."only mine. demanding with her words, her teeth, smearing blood across his flesh. painting him in her image as if she were the God and he the mere puppet on her strings.

"tu vas où je vais,"you will go where i go "fais ce que je demande,"do as i demand (oh and how she grins as she snaps at his flesh, marking him again and again, "et tuez tous ceux qui s'élèvent contre moi." and kill any who rise against me. a shiver courses down her spine at the conclusion of her little speech and she moves beneath him, finally.

to take.

-fade to black-

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Her voice will always sound above those that screeched a thousand desires for flesh in his skull. Hers, and only hers. She was the Queen of his heart and his mind. Queen of the undead. With her by his side, he could feel the moonlight shine upon him, power coursing through his veins and elating him higher & higher --

Until they touch the skies.

And there they shall rule over the stars, their kingdom will spread vast & mighty. Their sovereignity will be eternal.

All will bow to their utter dominion.

They will paint the world a beautiful red - the red of those that stand before them. They will drink the sweet ambrosia until time itself ends.

You are mine.
Only mine.

"Seulement. Pour l'infini et au-delà." "Only. For infinity and beyond." Her voice played with his imagination, her breath hot like smoldering fire, burning him alive. Her teeth burried in his flesh, the pain white hot and yet he felt ecstatic.

A satisfied gasp left the bloodhound's throat. Pure, pure pleasure. It felt like nothing else. He did not want her blood - he wanted her fangs to sink deeper until there was nothing left of him but bone.

You will go where I go, A purr, a bite of his lip to stifle another gasp as her fangs pierced his flesh once again. Do as I demand, He gulps as a shiver slithers down his spine, his loins burning with fervant desire. Oh, he will do as she please. He will --

-- kill any who rise against her.

fade

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