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

Cillian gave yet another bit of thought to the situation he was in and -still- hadn't found a solution out of it. If he didn't keep giving in to Lana's blackmail, she would give up his location to her old pack. She was a true lone wolf and didn't give a rat's ass if she never saw them again. Which meant that if he kept the bitch in his large, luxurious home into a wealthy lifestyle she demanded, Cillian wouldn't have to stay on the run. His old pack admittedly, wasn't the brightest of werewolves--but they were definitely the toughest of them. Even little bitty Lana at 4'11 was the fiercest female he'd ever met in his life. Hell, the eight inch gouge along his side was still trying to heal and might have killed a lesser werewolf and definitely would have slaughtered a male human in mere seconds. They were true Glaswegians and wouldn't dream that Cillian had left their beloved Scotland. But the tiny blond spitfire that plagued him had made it very clear if he kicked her out they would find out exactly where he was. Twelve large, mean angry werewolves out for vengeance were too much to take on, even for a big bastard like him. Lana had him by the balls and for the life of him, there was no way around it, other than killing her. Not that he hadn't already tried that, but she was a wily little bitch and what she lacked in size, she made up for in sheer savagery. Maybe he could-- Her scent approached from behind him, her stilettos slowly tapping the hard floors walking ever closer. He could feel her body heat and those shining eyes on him. Cillian was a different kind of werewolf that didn't instantly react to every stimulus around him. His old pack did and they were all batshit crazy because of it. Not him though. He had patience enough to wait when things suited him to do so. Waiting, his green eyes looked almost eerie now that the pupils dilated to mere pinpoints in the lycan's anticipation. Guinness, whisky and Lotus' musk all mingled together into a unique perfume, giving him a one of a kind impression of the woman who approached. Without further ado, she plunked down that fine ass on him and offered him a Guinness and a smoldering look. For a brief moment of silence, he accepted the beer, took a long swig of it and locked his gaze on her. She was even more amazing up close and personal. His already off the charts, sky high, werewolf body heat, cranked up even further at Lotus' closeness. The woman didn't blather at him, nor was she a simpering idiot like the waitress had been. You didn't have to take your mask off if you didn't want to. I could already tell from your walk that you're beautiful. You stalk like a hunting lioness up there. He said in a low, rumbling voice. His right hand curved around her thigh, his thumb stroking up and down and he watched her expression like the wolf he was. Hundreds peeked out of his left pocket in a vast crumpled heap and he didn't care who saw the money. His was the confidence of an untouchable huge werewolf male in his prime, living among feeble fragile humans that could never be a threat to him. Lotus' scent was making him crazy horny and they would have to find a back room for sure. Almost eleven inches of starving wolf strained the zipper on his jeans and his expression showed exactly what he was thinking about her. Her soft caramel flesh was hot and silky to his touch and he wanted far more than a little hello. His eyes followed the tattoos that graced her skin, wanting to know them, taste them. A large plump breast pushed temptingly against the side of his chest and shoulder and heat ran through him like lightning. Cillian looked at her with a hungry feral scrutiny that would make a lesser woman squirm with fear. What do you like to be called? he asked, moving his mouth closer to her ear so she could hear him better. Setting down his drink on the table to free up both large hands, he slowly traced the outer contour of her waist and hip. Cillian might've been a bit drunk, but there were some things that were always in high demand and Lotus was one of them. He noted her hand had a writing callous and there was a dead serious expression in the depth of those lustrous eyes. She didn't appear to be your average uneducated low life stripper at all. Her hands were refined, her gestures graceful with their sheer economy of movement. Even plunking herself down on his lap, she had the posture of a scholar, not a slut and it intrigued him very much. Her sleek almond eyes and impossible high cheekbones weren't from your average Canadian. Asian? No. Middle eastern? Egyptian? Not sure. She seemed like it but maybe a little something else. She was a mystery he intended to unravel-with both hands.