It's a Seeker's Game

From the moment he laid eyes on her, there was something about Mariah that ignited a fierce longing within him, a hunger that could not be sated by mere words or fleeting embrace. Morbid creature that he was, he saw no issue in the obsessive nature he possessed. It was commonplace within his bloodline, and what a ravenous affection it was. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word only serves to fuel his desire, stoking the flames of passion that burn within him. He longs to possess her, to claim her as his own, to wrap her in his darkness and never let her go. It’s an irresistible temptation. One that threatened to overtake his rationality. But, he was not raised to be a brute to the fairer sex — even if he was just that, a brutish man.

It’s intoxicating, the effect he has on her. Her surprise is shadowed by the challenge in her silver eyes, despite the freeze of her limbs keeping her rooted there with him. As she speaks, he is wrought with the urge to hear her voice cry out. His gaze roams her face, watching as her lips form words, trailing down the soft expanse of her throat. He almost forgets to answer in favor of imagining pressing his fangs to her jugular, just to feel the blood pump there. "Cruelty, my dear," Caedes replied, his voice a low velvety whisper, aching. "Is indeed a matter of perspective. But what of desire? Is it not equally subjective?" His words hung in the air, a bold question with an unspoken but clear meaning, as he traced the outline of her defiant features with a knowing gaze. His lips pulled back in a smile, one so godless in nature. She could redirect the conversation, avoid him all she wanted, but his hunt would hardly end there.

He watches her with a predator's gaze, calculating, waiting for her to stray so he could coax her back to him. God, how could he make her understand? Shall he cut the hearts of numerous animals, line them up for her and say ‘Here, you can have these, or mine, shall I cut it out for you?’ It’s enough to drive him mad — For a moment he does lose his mind, “Tell me. Would you have me beg? Pray? Would you have me on my knees, mind overtaken by you and only you?” The dire brute rumbled, slowly, steadily advancing on her smaller frame. And those emeralds, already so ablaze with infatuation and possession, burned holes into her pretty little skull. He sees in her a reflection of his own darkness, a kindred spirit whose inner fire matches his own, and he finds himself drawn to her with a ferocity that extends past obsession.