004: I'm the new king, I'll take the queen.

Leighana sat in one of the plush blood red Victorian armchairs of the lounge club a little ways from the barbaric behavior of her captor, his mindless goons and their pretty little dolled up whores. Her nose turned up in disgust as she watched Marcus' (one of the lackeys) hand run up the thigh of the prostitute's leg who sat on his lap, bringing her dress up with it as he devoured her mouth with his own. She looked away to the other side of the room towards the bar, but could feel a pair of eyes on her. A pair of eyes who's gaze made her feel just as dirty as the women not too far off that she detested.

"Are you feeling left out, Cherie?" the owner of those eyes asked, causing her body to stiffen instantly in alarm. When she had been with Gambit the pet names had been annoying but when he said them they seemed menacing, as if they had an underlying message in which she could not decipher, which knowing him, his words most likely did.

"Not in the least," she replied easily without looking away from the bar. If she was not afraid to lose herself around these men she would be drunk off her ass by now, just to forget the past week's events. She didn't want his attention, she didn't even want to be here. As irritating as Gambit could be and as prideful as she was, she couldn't help but be hopeful that the handsome but obnoxious Cajun man would burst in and any moment and bust her the hell out of here.

Hearing him get to his feet, his expensive Armani dress shoes clicking against the hardwood floor, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and thought to herself, Damn it. Feeling him squat down beside her, she felt her body tense further if that were even possible, Leighana was basically ready to spring out of her chair at any moment. His fingers began to play with the thick curls in her hair before they slid lightly over her jaw, down her neck, and settled on her chest where the black 40's halter dress she was wearing showed her small cleavage. She managed to resist the reflex to pull away from his touch, to use his own cells against him, kill him, but she knew it wouldn't work. It would just make him angry.

"You know, we could have some fun too," he stated, his warm breath fluttering over her skin causing her to shiver, and not in a good way, "You and I." Leighana could feel those dark blue eyes burning holes through her skin as he spoke.

"Entertainers don't need entertainin' hon" she replied dryly, making him frown, but he wouldn't be put off so easily. His sly smirk was back on his face, stretching his lips to one side, forming a deep dimple. To other women it would be one of the sexiest things they had ever seen. Leighana didn't deny that the man was attractive, but the ways about him, the things he did, they way he treated people made her sick to her stomach.

"Then entertain me," he ordered. She could hear the authority in his voice, mingled with more than a splash of entitlement. For a moment Leighana lost herself, or her common sense, turning her head to face him her dark brown eyes glared into his deep blue ones.

"You can go fuc-" in an instant he had his hand on her throat, squeezing just enough to cut off her vocal chords and restrict her airflow. Her hands snapped up to the ones around her neck. Automatically her reflex was to sicken him, use his own body against him. Possibly make his arteries clog with their own fluids, but he just smiled at her, her struggling amusing to him.

"You know it doesn't work, Love," he said to her, his voice light as if he were chatting idly with a friend. Crazy bastard. Suddenly she could feel her own organs constricting, clogging and she started to choke, gasping for air.

"Stop it," she managed to struggle out, but it sounded like a series of gurgling sounds.

"What was that, Belle?"

Leighana tried to speak again, but not even gurgles were heard, that's when he finally let her go. Crumpling over she gasped for breath and coughed heavily, her hands clutching tightly at sections of her torso.

"Mr. Depaul, we've got trouble," Lyle, another lackey stated.

"Handle it," he replied, not taking his eyes off of Leighana,

"But they're asking for-"

"Handle it," he stressed, his voice a low growl. The man turned around to leave with Marcus' who basically threw the prostitute off of his lap in an effort to follow the other man. "Leave," Depaul said to the prostitutes sitting around the room, turning his head only slightly to indicated that he was indeed talking to them. They had learned nights before to listen to his words and not try to lure him away from the girl before him so that they would be the ones to sleep in his bed. No, they knew better, it only made him angry and they saw what he did to people when he was upset. They filed out quickly, leaving her alone with the man who now lifted her chin gently with his thumb and index finger so that she was looking at him.

"I don't understand your unwillingness," he started, his thumb grazing over Leighana's full red painted lips as he stared at them. Again she felt like she needed to empty the contents of her stomach. That is if there were anything with in it to begin with. "I buy for you expensive dresses from Paris, give you an audience to sing in front of who adore you, there are people that will wait on you hand and foot if I tell them to and all I ask of you, all I want from you, is for you to stand beside me," he spoke.

"What do you really want?" she asked, her eyes cold as she glared at him. He just smiled, licking his lips, his eyes looking at the dark wooden floor for a moment before returning them to her.

"Since I am the new King, why not take the Queen while I am at it?" he asked, the arrogant smile never leaving his face. In a way Depaul was the new King around. He ran the criminal scene, nothing went down that he didn't know about or had any say in. He was definitely one of the most feared men in New Orleans, Gambit being on the top of the list as well. But what made him think that Leighana deserved a high title such as that? A girl that played her guitar and sang on the streets for petty cash.

"I know who your father was Cherie. I know that you know certain things about these so called criminals, their codes and lifestyles. I know what you can do and I will get them out of you. I can make it enjoyable," he said as the back of his hand caressed her cheek, "or I can make it less so. You choose."

Where the hell was Gambit when you needed him?

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A/N: So sorry that this chapter took so long. I had six weeks of summer school and some things to deal with about college that had be having panic attacks and not sure if I'd be able to continue. Thankfully I've gotten everything straightened out (except the getting my tuition money back which they better do soon) and will be attending community college for a year and transferring to a school that actually had my major.

Anyway the song for this chapter is Knife Party by The Deftones. Give it a listen. I'm sorry that there's no Gambit in this chapter, but he wasn't necessary. I wanted you to get to know just was sort of man Emile Depaul is and compare him to Remy.