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 Insatiable (Unfinished - WIP)

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Draven
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PostSubject: Insatiable (Unfinished - WIP)   Fri Nov 09, 2018 8:38 pm

She had dreamed of him again. This man of charismatic masculinity and power. She had dreamed of him as far back as she dared to remember. Each dream always seemed to last forever and yet managed to not be long enough and the only cryptic message he ever gave was:

"Soon."

His deep, husky voice never failing to awaken her in a state of chaotic desire and arousal. One that seemed to sear virtually every nerve ending into a frayed mass of hyper-sensitive awareness. She felt a connection to this man that she could not comprehend or explain. It ran far deeper than anything she had ever experienced before, stronger than any force of Magick she had ever encountered. Tonight, however, it seemed much different. His presence was stronger, more powerful than she had felt before. She felt his presence long before he even showed himself from the shadows behind her. An arm snaked out and wrapped around her waist, pulling the curve of her backside against the lean line of the front of him. His opposite arm slid around the other side of her, brushing along the side of her left breast before extending out in front of her so that she could see what he held in his grasp. An ornate, gilded-edged rose of a rich purple hung suspended above his palm, levitating by his sheer will alone.

"I will be home soon." His voice sent a visible shiver down her spine, one that he felt burn through his blood and straight to his loins. A low groan vibrated against her ear and his right hand trailed from around her waist, down over her stomach to cup the heat of her burning through the black leggings she wore. "You test my patience, Amanda. I am so close now that I can almost taste you on my tongue. I will have you." The sheer confidence in those husky words triggered something in her, some kind of hidden switch that made her press back against him, hips shifting in slow, lazy circles that had his strong fingers digging firmly into her hips.

"Then come get me. I've been waiting." She teased, wanting nothing more than to turn around to see his face, but the firm grip of his hands prevented her from doing so. Instead, he moved them forward, pressing her none-to-gently against the wall of solid, barely visible darkness that made up the wall inside of their little dreamscape. His left hand shifted, moving upwards along the front of her body to grip her throat, fingers pressing oh so gently as he turned her face to one side. She felt his breath at her ear again, lips brushing against the lobe of it as he spoke.

"If I could have had you, I would have taken you the instant I had laid my eyes on you. I do not care if there is a room full of people. The next time I see you, Amanda, I will claim you as mine."


In that moment, the dream shattered. Amanda awoke instantly, sitting nearly bolt upright in bed. Strangely, she still felt his touch on her skin. Slowly, she ran the palms of her hands over her face and sighed deeply. This was proving to be too much of a distraction. She still had yet to discover the purpose of him invading her dreams. All that she knew was that she felt. It was something so intense that it had begun to eclipse everything else in the waking world. The shrill ringing of a phone cut through the haze of sleep still clinging to her. She mumbled something unintelligible before groping out blindly through the darkness. Her fingers; with their array of different silver rings, closed over the slim smart phone, pulling it with her beneath the covers. She groaned inwardly at the number that flashed across her screen as she flopped back onto the bed with an agitated sigh.

"Shayne." She answered in a husky voice still laced with the edges of sleep. The phone's screen came alive with nearly blinding light and she squinted against the harsh glare.

"Amanda." The man on the opposite end spoke with a voice that could have been considered compelling and beautiful if she didn't have the voice from the man in her dreams stuck in her head. Nothing compared to that.

"What is it, Gabriel?" The sheet pooled at her waist as she sat back up, running her free hand through her sleep tangled black hair that barely brushed the line of her jaw. The underside of her head was buzzed down to the scalp. With the thick, blackout curtains shut, there was no real indication as to the time of dark, but if she had to guess, it was just past seven in the morning. She reached into the drawer of the bedside table and removed what looked to be a case full of black papered, hand-rolled cigarettes. They were not filled with tobacco, instead she had pre-rolled them at the beginning of the week with carefully cultivated Marijuana that she grew herself. She placed one of their un-filtered ends between her lips and sparked it with a single flame from her fingertips. She inhaled slowly, holding the smoke in her lungs for a brief moment before exhaling the cloud towards the ceiling. She reached down and grasped the pentacle hanging from a long silver chain around her neck. It gave her nerves a sense of peace and calm the moment she touched the pendant.

"My apologies for waking you so early. I won't take up any more of your time than necessary." He paused for a moment, taking a deep steadying breath. "We are sending someone to collect you."

"Excuse me? Collect me? You certainly haven't learned any tact since the last time, Gabriel. I am not an object to be collected."

"Please, Amanda. This is of an urgent and dire nature. We need your assistance."

She scoffed faintly, but decided it wasn't wise to press the issue. At least just yet. She would wait until she was face to face before she did that. It was certainly more entertaining.

"Fine. Send who you must. Don't expect much else but for me to listen. You drew the line last time and I will not cross it unless your intentions are perfectly clear." She didn't wait for him to respond, instead she hit the red End Call button and all but tossed her phone to the end of her bed as far away from her as possible. It was time to get to work.



Amanda Shayne was not your average Witch. She wasn't even close to being an average woman. Wavy black hair fell in a wild mass to her jawline, the underside kept closely buzzed to her scalp. Piercing, soul-searching chocolate brown eyes glittered with strength and mystery. Smoke curled up thickly from the small, fireproof bowl in front of her. It's sweet and earthy scent both cleansing and relaxing as the herbs slowly burned to ashes. With a single black raven feather, she expertly wafted the smoke around, forming a large circle. There was no need for ritual words. She was a Natural Witch, not a Made one. What she knew, she had been born with, it had not been something she studied. The bell to her shop jingled, but she neither broke concentration nor her focus as she addressed the newcomer.

"Give me a moment, love, and I will be right with you." Her voice flowed methodically like honey as she spoke. Using the feather, she pressed the smoke back down into the bowl, grounding her power. Immediately, the burning embers of herbs snuffed out as if they had been doused with water. Snapping out of her semi-trance, her dark eyes lifted up, taking in the figure who had just walked in the door. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the alluring brown eyes of the man walking towards her. There was something about them that made her breath hitch almost painfully in her chest as she watched him move closer.

"Take your time, beautiful." He replied in a very familiar deep voice. She knew that voice. Quite intimately. It was the exact same voice from her dreams!

"It's alright. I'm already finished." She replied, pushing the bowl and feather aside. There seemed to be a hidden innuendo behind his words. Had he meant for her to take her time with the Cleansing, or had he been speaking about her blatant staring?

"A pity." He mumbled beneath his breath, though the faint arch of her brow told him that she had clearly heard him. "I was sent here by-"

"The Order." Amanda finished for him, indicating with a sharp, dark purple nail towards the chalk rune drawn above the door. "That allows me to see who you really are, Michael. Archangel General for the Order itself, the leader of their great numbers."

He stepped fully into the light, revealing shoulder length black hair fastened into small braids. Permanently tanned skin hinted at a mixed heritage and was finely draped over a slim, lean, athletic build.

"It's the Aura, isn't it?" He inquired, speaking of the large Spectral wings that were a commanding presence at his back. Those wings were only visible to those who could see to the other side of which he was certain that Amanda could.

She shook her head faintly. "No, it's your power. You keep a lot of it hidden. You are powerful enough to become Seraphim."

Michael felt a painful constriction in his chest and he looked away from the Witch. If she only knew... She saw too much, connected with him on a level no one else had. He had felt it immeiately. If she had felt it, there was no visible indication that he could see. Then again, her hands weren't visible...

She felt the ends of her nails digging into the wood of the shelf beneath the counter. The instant connection she had felt snap into place between them had rocked her to the core. Her knees felt weak, shaky, but there was also a sense of being grounded, a sense of strength. After a moment, she casually placed her hands back onto the counter to collect the bowl.

"You see much, Ms. Shayne."

"More than you realize. There was no offense intended."

"I'm not- w-we need your help." He managed to stammer out, hoping to change the subject before it got out of hand.

The Witch nodded once, sighing softly as she made her way around the counter to lock the door of her shop. She flipped the Open sign to Closed with a mere flick of her left wrist.

"It must be important if they sent you and not a liaison." Amanda stepped past him, moving with natural grace towards the back room. "Follow me please, Michael."

The sound of her saying his name shot a tingle down his spine. If she kept talking like that, he would follow her anywhere. Without warning, his eyes dipped down to the hypnotic sway of her hips. "Mmm, gladly." He mumbled beneath his breath as she slipped behind a beaded curtain. The mental images that raced through his mind...

Amanda smirked faintly, entirely aware of how affected he was. It was almost as if she felt exactly what he felt and she was now a hundred percent certain that this was the man from her dreams. A connection like this was very powerful and very rare, almost unheard of. Her curves were enveloped in form hugging black clothes. Leggings were tucked into knee high, flat-soled boots that barely made an sound across the original wood flooring of her Colonial-era home.

"I have not worked with the Order in years. What makes them so desperate to seek my assistance now?" She inquired as she casually pushed the sleeves of her black sweater up to her elbows while she made her way into the small kitchen. Amanda began the task of brewing a pot of coffee.

"There have been recent developments that have required us to seek your skill set."

"In other words, Gabriel suggested my services and they have sent their most prized General to collect me to ensure I arrived safely." She made it a statement rather than a question as she carefully hit the brew button. "Please make yourself comfortable, Michael." The unspoken phrase of 'this is now your second home,' seemed to almost hang at the end of that sentence.

By the Light, the sound of his name off of her lips was nearly his undoing. He slid onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar before he embarrassed himself with his instant arousal. He normally wasn't keen on feeling this way about anyone, but this, this was different.

"The Seraphim-"

"Please don't give me the Order's official line. I've heard it enough times. I want your personal opinion."

He was a bit taken back by her bold suggestion. "My opinion?"

"Yes. Why do you think they are seeking me out?"

She watched, keenly interested as he sheepishly ran the palms of his hands over his face to hide the subtle blush that tinted his face.

"Because we are Fated." He grumbled.

"What?" She asked dumbfounded. A Fated Pair was a very deep emotional and spiritual connection between two people, lovers who were destined for the other. They were known to share emotions and thoughts. It was rumored that the strongest Fated Pair could even communicate through dreams and telepathy.

"That is how I was able to visit you in your dreams."

Amanda cleared her throat. Apparently, it was her turn to blush and she felt it burn up the back of her neck. She attempted to cover her unease by getting down two black mugs from the cupboard. She continued to be contemplative as she poured them each a coffee.

“If I had to guess as to why the Order wants your assistance, I think it may very well have to do with the connection we share. So far, there is no one else known that is Fated. There hasn’t been a Fated Pair in centuries.”

She set the mug down in front of him and circled around the breakfast bar to sit across from him. “How did you learn we were Fated?”

He glanced up at her, giving the barest of smiles when their eyes met. “I felt it snap into place when I first saw you years ago at the Cathedral. You were speaking with Gabriel rather heatedly about something. I didn’t catch the subject matter, but the look of sheer agitation was enough amusement for me. You do not get along well with him, do you?”

Amanda snorted faintly. “Not particularly, no. His views about my kind are very narrow minded, to put it politely. But he knows I can get fast results and must suck up his pride to follow the orders of the Seraphim.”

“He does not like Witches?”

“No. He does not like anyone who doesn’t view the same beliefs as the Catholic Church. I was born this way, Michael. My gifts and abilities are inherited talent. What I can do came naturally to me, I did not have to study a Book of Shadows or join a Coven. I firmly believe in the cardinal rule of ‘And it harm none, do what thou will’. I’m a Protector and a Healer. I don’t deal with Black Magick, or whatever it is that Gabriel may have accused me of doing.”

It was his turn to snort in lieu of laughter. “He has painted a colorful picture of you. I am pretty sure he has accused you of dancing naked under the moonlight beside a pyre and worshipping the Devil.”

She smirked. “I have only danced naked once beside a pyre.”

The look on Michael’s face was priceless as the visual image flashed in his mind. Before he could fall fully into it, she continued.

“I have never worshipped the Devil nor do I intend to. I won’t even touch a Ouija board for that reason. Bad mojo.”

"Yes, they're portals to a very dark realm Not something anyone should handle, even if they are experienced in the matter." Just the thought of any creature, Demonic or otherwise harming her... Michael stopped his thoughts unless his abilities surfaced at the most inopportune moment. "We have found it, by the way."

That simple sentence had her breath hissing out through herf teeth. "That didn't take as long as I had originally expected."

He gave a soft laugh that sent a shiver down her spine. The comfort of which she felt in his presence still amazed her. Normally the energy of other people overwhelmed her. His did not. There was a sense of safety, of peace. Her dark eyes narrowed faintly and unable to snap the filter on her mouth in place, she spoke her thoughts out loud.

"You knew where it was." Amanda made it a statement rather than a question. There was a long drawn out silence. Was that pride she sensed from him?

"I had a suspicion." He finally admitted, though still not entirely answering her question.

"Of course you did." There was a thread of sarcasm in her voice that let him know that she didn't quite fully believe him.

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