Hell to Pay
by SMYGO4EVA
In the days when her bloodlust was unquenchable, Shahrazad felt raw power course through her bloodstream. In these days, she thought back to Maxwell, the head of Iscariot.
Ever since they encountered each other, Shahrazad found herself remembering his piercing gaze, trying to resist taking a shuddering breath from his hand on her shoulder. Though he talked of alliances and keeping his enemies close, his deep, smooth voice lingered in her mind, his touch permeated her flesh.
Even though he had long left her side, his whispers rolled in her ears, from one to the other, her skin quivering and recoiling.
(..With her fangs…)
Fury bubbling in her chest, she had considered baring her fangs at the bishop, grabbing him by his hair, biting into his soft, pliable flesh, and then yanking her canines out, spraying blood and viscera across the room.
And all Maxwell could do was watch and buckle before her, with a scream pouring from his throat, his hands futilely grasping onto her shoulders. It was true that he encountered her kind, but he hadn't experienced what they were capable of firsthand.
She could have, but she didn't.
Shahrazad was a Methuselah; she had her lineage to uphold, and in these times of chaos and uncertainty, she needed all the allies she could get, even in such events when she had to hold her tongue.
She didn't just consider taking Maxwell's blood, to her chagrin. Sometimes, she didn't have fangs, claws, or an insatiable rage. Instead, she felt his gloved hands in her raven-purple hair, wandering, cloying, her body seizing as his touch slid against swollen, aching flesh.
She couldn't bear the thought of hearing sweet-nothings from the bishop's lips in her ear, that though she was a monster, she still was a fruit waiting be plucked.
But oh, how she wished for damnation at the very thought.
Shahrazad was a Methuselah. She was a monster. She was a monster in a human guise, but she wished to be a Terran, a human. She wasn't one to give in to temptation, nor was she to be an object of anyone's perversions, especially from a man of God.
"I guess that makes us even now, Bishop Maxwell…"
If she was to sacrifice anything from her very being, she knew, and she was certain that Maxwell knew, that there would be hell to pay.
(A/N: This fic was written in the darker and more twisted spirit of this holiday– Happy Halloween!)