* Trigger Warning: this chapter contains sexual content. Please take care when reading. If that's not your thing, feel free to move on to the next chapter.*

"Alastor, what have you done?"

His eyebrows raised in an almost goofy expression of self satisfaction. Was he drunk? Was he still riding a high like the one she had experienced?

"So you heard the broadcast?"

"Everyone heard it."

"I admit, not my best work. Still, nice to get back to old habits." He raised his glass to her in a salute before drinking. She could see red smudged fingerprints on the glass.

"Alastor," she didn't know what she was going to say next, but it didn't matter, he did not give her the opportunity. He threw his arm out letting go of the glass, sending it shattering against the wall.

"I did what I should have done the moment I saw him touching you."

"That wasn't… It didn't," Isobel stuttered as Alastor advanced on her. He moved like a predator. A drooling fox baring down on a rabbit. Instinctively, she backed up only to find a bookcase blocking her. Looking for an escape, her eyes darted back and forth. To her right a fireplace emitting an ominous green light and two wingback chairs stood between her and the door. On her left a modest desk stood pushed up the wall under a taxidermied skeleton of a 10 foot alligator, beyond the eerie swamp. She turned back toward the door, the only exit, but he had already closed the gap. He placed a hand on either side of her, his palms leaving smears of blood.

"Are you scared?" He spoke so low it was almost a whisper.

"A little," she confessed.

"Are you scared of me?" She hesitated, staring intently at his bow tie. He chuckled, nodding and leaning closer. "Or are you scared of how it makes you feel?"

Her eyes shot up, defiantly meeting his.

"There it is," he cooed. "I've seen that look in your eyes before. The same expression you had at the club when you stood covered in blood, surrounded by my carnage. You know, in that moment, I found you quite beautiful. I couldn't decide if I wanted to kill you or fuck you." He gently touched her face. "Let's be honest. You're not angry that I destroyed that feckless wretch. You just wish you could have done it yourself. You didn't come here to scold me," he brushed his thumb across her lips leaving a trail of red. "So let's skip to the real reason you're here."

He opened his deadly maw and his long, prehensile tongue snaked out. He slowly licked the blood from her mouth.

With a speed and force he was not expecting, Isobel simultaneously grabbed him by the ears and gnashed down hard on his tongue. He made a surprised groan as, for the first time, Isobel drew blood. As the thick, acidic taste filled her mouth, she sucked, sending a wave of pleasure and pain rolling down his spine making his tail stand erect.

When she finally let go, Alastor stood back. A trickle of his blood ran down her chin as well as his own. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Bad girl."

With a thump Isobel slammed against the bookcase, her arms tightly around Alastor's neck. She kissed him deeply, tasting more of his blood as he deftly ripped the red robe from her body. He licked, bit, and pawed at her, but she somehow wriggled from his grasp and sunk to the floor. Opening his pants she took his penis in her tight fist and thrust it deep until it hit the back of her throat. With fervor she pumped in and out, using her tongue and teeth. (Perhaps not as gently as she could have.)

With a sharp hiss, Alastor took a deep breath in through his grinding teeth as both hands took fistfuls of her hair. And in his heightened, reckless state, the usually stoic Radio Demon, groaned, "ah, fuck," as he came. Through heavy breaths he looked down on her, annoyed that she made him come first.

This time it was Isobel's turn to wipe her mouth. She sat back on her heels and stared up at Alastor, her green eyes glaring like a challenge, like a threat.

"Again?" she said with a cocky smile.

Without a word he took her by the arms and lifted her off the ground, turned her around, and bent her over the desk. She braced herself with her hands and arched her back. The straps of her black slip had fallen from her shoulders exposing her back. He could see her muscles ripple under her skin as he leaned over, pressing his weight onto her. She could feel his hot breath and the sharp edges of his teeth along the nape of her neck. One hand cupped her breast while the other ran along her inner thigh. His fingers found the thin fabric of her panties and then, after tearing them asunder, the warm wet crevices that lay underneath.

Isobel gasped and shuttered as he plunged two fingers deep inside her. He moved them in ways that made her pant and tremble. She lowered herself onto the desk afraid that her legs would give out. And as she climaxed, she covered her face with her hand to muffle her cries.

Alastor immediately turned her back to face him and lifted her fully onto the desk.

"Again," he growled. "Louder."

He hooked one of her legs with his elbow, pulling it up to her chest as he bent over her. She wrapped the other leg around his hips pulling him closer. She moaned and writhed as he pushed into her. His antlers twisted and clawed their way skyward, casting a sinister shadow over her. Isobel grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to her, shirt buttons flying. She kissed him as her hands ran through his hair and over his ears until she seized his antlers and demanded, "Harder, faster," to which he complied.

She moaned and cursed as she came for the second time. Her back arched and Alastor thrust his arms through the space holding her tight around the waist. He picked her up, her legs still firmly around his body and turned around. Dropping to the ground he laid her down on cool wet grass. His claws dug into the soft dirt as he grunted in her ear, "Again. Louder."

He played the part of a rutting deer, his body hunched over his mate, antlers gouging deep trenches in the ground. Isobel circled her arms around his middle and pressed her forehead to his chest. Her eyes closed as she matched his rhythm. They moved together until they both reached orgasm simultaneously.

Alastor brushed the hair from Isobel's face and stared into her eyes.

"Give me your soul," he said. She hesitated for a moment. Part of her very much wanted to acquiesce.

"No," she said.

"Why?"

"You already have everything else."

Disappointed, he rolled off of her, and they laid side by side looking up into what seemed to be the night sky.

"I have to tell you something," she said at length. He waited silently for her to continue. "I've been making deals. All of my followers have given me their souls."

"I know."

She wasn't really surprised. Nothing went on in the hotel that Alastor didn't know about.

"I think it's changing me."

"Is that how you were able to tear that worthless ram's horn off?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I told you once that you would be a formidable ally, you didn't believe me then, but as usual, I was right."

"You also said I was just like you, a predator."

"If not now, sooner or later."

Isobel sighed, resolved. She stood and looked down at herself. She was covered in smeared blood and could not tell if it was her own, Alastor's, or Vincent's. Her slip was ripped in a few places but still intact. Without another word, she left Alastor on the ground, stepping into the hallway as the door closed firmly behind her.