The witch walked into the bar, gently giving the general place a once over. An appraisal of sorts as she strutted into the bar as if she owned the whole place. She bit the back of her tongue to try and keep herself from the obvious retching feeling that was nesting in her gut.
This place stank of man sweat and booze. It was also hard to miss the stench of dog breath and wet fur that was in the air.
Wolves, she said half to herself as she hissed under her breath. She let her gaze scan the entire room as it finally landed on him.
She tensed when she saw him. She had not come here for pleasure. At least, that was what she told herself. She had come for the sole purpose of saving her clan. It did not matter if she had to give herself up to fulfill her objective, and that was the truth.
She stalled at the doorway as she scanned the general expanse of this very dark and smelly room one more time. She could do this; she told herself as she let the smell waft closer to her.
Her long black hair tumbled behind her as she turned her head from left to right. She looked like she was on a hunt for something or someone, and she was. She steeled herself to take one step after the other. It was like a resolve that she reinforced herself with so she would be able to see this through.
Her eyes locked onto his for a brief second, but she quickly shifted her eyes away from him. His blue eyes were ferocious, and they indeed resonated with the strength of an Alpha. She could not look away fast enough; she knew that she had already drawn his attention and was going to have to deal with that.
She let her gaze lock on his as she came closer. There was something about his eyes that made her knees weaker than she could bear, but she needed to press on, she told herself.
Jackson had seen fascinating creatures before but none as alluring as this one. Her black hair almost shimmered in the dark, its delicate curls shining with class as she walked through the room.
She was dressed in black. Her eyes were no exception, as they shone like black pearls in a vast area of light. She was a spectacle to behold; he surmised as he tried to maintain a neutral expression.
What was a woman like her doing in the slums like this? He imagined that there was a certain type of way that female wolves looked. They had a boyish charm around them, and that didn't exactly do it for him, but he was not one to complain. But she was different. She was neither a vampire nor a wolf. Shapeshifter? He quizzed himself inwardly as his instincts took over him, and he sniffed in her general direction.
Wolves had a distinctive sense of smell, so it made sense that they were able to tell creatures apart just by their smell, but he could not pick anything off her. Who was she?
Jackson could not take his gaze away from her. Was this some sort of compulsion trick?
No. he told himself. It was most definitely his own lust that was rearing its ugly head against him. She was quite a specimen if he did say so himself.
He gave a kind smile. She then grinned as well.
She was steadily making her way to him when she was intercepted by Joe.
He almost slapped his temple as he watched the burly-featured man come in between his line of vision and hers, grabbing her by the hand, his bear in hand and what he assumed to be an alcohol-filled stench.
He could almost sense the danger that was lurking and not because he was not sure what Joe would do in a drunken state. He was afraid for him, and he had no idea why.
There was a type of fire in her eyes that spelled danger, should she be crossed, that is. It was the type of look that small animals would have. The drive to do what needed to be done when a bigger, much larger prey attached and, in this case, Joe.
Jackson did not take a full second before he shot from his seat and made a beeline for them.
"Who ye' princess?" he said amidst drunken laughs as he held fast to her wrist, refusing to let them go.
"Let go of me." He heard her say with barely controlled anger.
"C'mon, honey. We could all use a little bit of fun." He said when his full frame shot back with such force that Jackson took a defensive stance instantly.
"I said let go, you hairy imbecile!" she screamed as she reached her hand out a couple of centimeters away from her to form an invisible grip in the middle of the air.
It did not take a split second for him to understand what was going on.
Joe's full body had been thrust away from her as she suspended him in the middle of the air in the invisible choke hold that she had formed in her hand.
Her hair stood erect like they were being charged by static electricity while her eyes seemed to attain a certain glow about them that he could not just take his from. If it was not a matter of life and death, he would have wanted to stare intently at those eyes all day long. Jackson could see Joe's eyes bulging as he dropped his bottle unwillingly from the length he was suspended from. He was writhing in pain as his bones began to crack gently.
There was a book that was suddenly floating beside her. Was this the grimoire that he had heard of for so long? He was old but not that old to have crossed paths with a witch and live to tell the tale. Well, that was the assumption. Witches were usually given a grimoire at birth. It chose them in a way. They became lifelong partners, and the day that they lost their lives, the life in the grimoire also ceased to be, disintegrating into ashes.
It sort of made sense when you think about it. The witches' farewell song.
'Ashes to ashes and dust to whom created the dust. So doth the cycle of life be.
Sleep, dear sister, and never be afraid of the embers. For our light will watch over you.'