"Hey there, beautiful."
Ira’s high red heels stopped clicking on the sidewalk. Her eyes were on the ground, her fist clenched tight around the handle of the bag. She didn't realize how long she walked, and she didn't care at this moment. Her prey just sauntered up to her like it was nothing.
Like it was nothing!
"You fucking piece of shit..." She whispered in a snarl, dropping the bags to the ground. She slowly lifted her head, her red eyes gleaming with bloodlust, her fist clenched and ready to deliver a vicious blow.
A blow straight to that swollen blue eye-
Wait.
... Wait...
Why was his eye… swollen?
Her eyes opened wide, seeing his face. Her gaze focused on it, studying it, taking in every single detail.
There was a bandage over his nose and left cheek. His left eye had swelled shut. He gave her a brief smile, though the cut on the right of his lip caused him to grimace. He held a rose in his hand, lifting it up towards her, his voice soft and light, "I'm sorry I'm late. I had a little trouble earlier."
Someone hurt him.
Her hands shook; her bloodlust shifted, desperately searching for a new target. "... Who did this? Who hurt you?"
Tristan chuckled, shaking his head, holding up his other hand to wave away her concern, "It's nothing babe, just some nobody-"
"WHO TOUCHED YOU?!"
He blinked, hearing that roar. He lowered his hand, his smile fading as his eyes widened with alarm, "Ira, I'm okay-"
She shook her head, her wild hair trembling like a flame, "Someone put their hands on you. Someone touched you. Someone hurt you. Someone marked you. Unforgivable. This is unforgivable, how fucking dare they!?" She looked down again, shaking as the hatred she kept inside her bubbled out and adapt to the change.
Her voice lowered an octave, shuddered in wicked whispers, "Kill them, I'm going to kill them, I'm going to find them, I'll rip them apart." The smell of iron and ash filled her noses. She whispered her promises into the wind, her murderous intent pouring out of her, "Tell me who they are, and I will find them and rip them apart. I will kill I will..."
"Baby... stop." He whispered, walking towards her. He didn't know how to feel about this, seeing her shaking, hearing her growl and murmur incoherently. A part of him telling himself she was just emotional, that she worried about him. Another part was far more concerned about her instability. She shifted side to side, like a twitching, growing flame, wanting to consume and destroy.
He was afraid of this.
The longer they were together, the more he saw this unstable side of Ira. Underneath all of her confidence and dry-wit was magma, simmering and threatening to push through that self-possessed surface.
This was a warning, a loud, beeping warning that made the hair on his neck stand on end.
He should panic.
He should run for the hills.
Yet he didn't.
He stood right there in front of her.
Her anguish at his pain, her passion for him, how possessive she was...
It made him feel like the most important person in the world.
His arms reached out to pull her close. He felt her stiffen and gently stroked her hair with his free hand, nuzzling against the curls, "I'm here, baby. I'm here. Don't worry about that anymore. I'm fine."
Her shoulders shook with barely contained anguish, her gaze unfocused in those wide eyes. The sound of drums kept pounding in her ears; the smell and taste of blood overpowering her tongue and nostrils, "I couldn't protect you, I didn't-"
"Ira, please!" He hated this... Hated when she wasn't here with him anymore, "Come back to me..."
She stopped, her wide eyes slowly closing as he kept stroking her hair, calming her down. She shook her head against his chest, shuddering, slowly coming back to reality, "... Was this why you were late?"
He nodded, kissing the top of her head, sighing in relief as she returned to him so quickly. "Y-yeah. I... I stopped to get you flowers, and some assholes made a name for themselves." He slowly pulled back, lifting the rose to show her, "This was the only survivor." He gave gently sigh, his blue eyes misting a bit at the frustration of the day took its toll on him, "It reminds me of you. My burning rose."
"Cheesy." Ira tilted her head, looking at it before sighing, "I was so fucking mad at you, Tristan. I was going to kill you."
"I tried to call you, baby."
She nuzzled her head against his chest, trying hard to hide her embarrassment, "I didn't bring my phone..."
Tristan chuckled softly, "That's all right. Besides, I was pretty upset too. They still made me miss a date with the prettiest woman in the world." He took in her red, keyhole top, his hand moving from her hair to stroke her bareback, "God, you're gorgeous." He growled, flustered, "And I missed a fancy dinner with you too. God damn it."
She chuckled, rubbing her forehead against him, moving her head up to look at him, "I got plenty to go. I'm pretty damn hungry since you made me wait so long." She narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing into a pout, "Thanks to some dicks. You need to tell me about them."
He shook his head, "No, I don't. It's not a big deal, I promise." He sighed again, forlornly, his voice trembling a bit as he remembered the wound he left, the screams. He closed eyes tightly, trying to shake it away, "I don't want to think about them anymore. I..." He flinched, his hand moving to scratch his cheek. Instead, he changed his mind, gently placing it on her cheek, stroking her warm skin, "I just wish I was the more handsome company for you tonight, Ira..."
"What are you talking about, Tristan?" Ira nuzzled her cheek against his touch, lifting herself up more so her bright eyes burned into his deep ones. The cuts on his skin, the pain, and warmth he had in his wet gaze. He was breathtaking. "You are... absolutely beautiful tonight."
His eyes widened before they softened at those words, his breath caught in his throat. To Ira, even now, he was beautiful. She wanted him, "Ira, Thank-"
Her lips pressed against his, moaning against them, cutting off his words with her passion. He flinched as her lips pressed against the cut. However, that bit of pain was worth every moment of tasting her lips, savoring them. His eyes closed, and he dropped the rose to pull her closer to him, moaning into the kiss as her lips parted against this. He happily followed suit, tasting her as deeply as he wanted to.
They stood there for several long moments, in each other's embrace before slowly she pulled back, a grin on her face, "I want many, many more kisses like that from you."
Tristan was trying very hard to calm himself, his hand struggling not to run under her shirt, "I would love to give you as many kisses as you want." He grinned, his cheeks red and warm, "Among other things."
Ira smirked, raising an eyebrow, "Oh? What things?"
He gulped, struggling to remember words, "The things we shouldn't do on a street corner, though the moon is lovely out."
Ira blushed before laughing, nodding, "Okay, fair enough." She looked back at the giant bags behind them, musing before she nodded to herself, "Let's have some dinner first at my place, then you have all night to describe such things."
Tristan groaned, biting his lip and nodding, his breath hot. Maybe this would not be a waste after all, "Whatever you command."
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