Thread: ▬▬ { PALISADES } ⋮⋮ echo & dogged

Cillian had had enough with that useless nagging bitch and stalked angrily into Palisades. The double doors slammed back loudly against the wall nearly cracking from their hinges and his immense six foot four inch body barely cleared the top of the door frame. His green eyes blazed, his face murderous and his long hair flew back behind him as he stalked to his usual seat in seething silence. Fury rolled off the werewolf in waves and few dared approach the massively muscled man. A scar ran through his eyebrow, just barely missing his eye, lending even more ferocity to his already terrifying visage. The chair groaned under under his two hundred fifteen pounds and he leaned back with his long legs outstretched toward the stage. A little blond top heavy bimbo asked for his order with a quivering tiny voice. Cillian answered her with a scowl and growled out in a thick Scots burr, Guinness and keep it coming. If I have to ask, you not only don't get a tip, I just might beat your skinny white ass. he smiled and it was a scary smile that was deadly serious. The girl nearly stumbled over her own feet, unable to get away from him fast enough. The huge mean Scots said the same thing every time he came in and no one was going to challenge him on whether or not he'd carry out the threat. Rumor had it that he was an acquitted murderer and ex con. A pale scrawny skank rolled along a pole, her bones showing clearly and Cillian idly watched her with unveiled contempt. His lip curled to bare his teeth at this pasty, skinny excuse for a woman and he hoped someone decent would shake it up there. A real woman with actual curves and no silicone implants. A chick with a real ass that wasn't going to blind him with ridiculous glitter. That shit got everywhere and it was the last thing his excellent lupine scenting would put up with. It stunk and it irritated his keen eyes, messing with his low light vision. Apparently the waitress got smarter this time and started him off with a six pack. The giant Scotsman took out a large wad of cash, peeled off a hundred dollar bill to put on the table and locked his sharp green gaze on her. I make a lot of fuckin money so if you keep this up, you'll make more profit at my own table than all the others combined. he stated gruffly, knowing money talked loudest in a place like this. Loyalty and ass-kissing were guaranteed if you had the cash waving around up front, especially for the manager to see. He grabbed up a Guinness with a large hand, showing his long forearm tattoo a black tribal pattern that had taken almost a year to complete. The pain had been so delicious, he'd decided to have the other forearm done to match. Cillian wore a black t-shirt and jeans with thick, custom-made biker boots. When you were as big as he was, they didn't make shoes or clothes in that size! The werewolf could easily afford it though with his business. Training guard dogs was a thriving industry and he had a well-earned reputation of being the best around. As a lycan, he had a natural advantage when it came to canine communication that no mere human would ever be able to compete with. He could and did work with several different large and medium sized dog breeds trained to guard, kill and protect. When he took on the police and a military contract to breed up dogs specially for highly advanced training, it made Cillian Macgregor a comfortably wealthy man. But that was just the human side of life he must endure to make his way in the world. His pack had exiled him over the killing of one of their own werewolf kind. They didn't ask why he'd done it, nor did they care. Despite the arranged mating to a bitchy shrew that was frigid, he knew it was invalid since his expulsion. The Murphy Clan hunted him and made no secret of it. Cillian had protected a child--it was just a five year old girl, a mere lycan cub and some sick fuckin asshole decided to slap her around just for fun. He wouldn't stand for anyone beating a child or animal, human or lycan and didn't give a fuck that the pack wanted him dead for it. Good fuckin luck coz he'd do it again if given the choice. No regrets on his part except having Lana at home, the bitch. He seriously needed to cut her loose. She wasn't officially mated to him now and it was essentially a divorce when they declared a blood feud on him. She just wanted his money, the greedy ice bitch.