Next Go Round {MIZ}

[Erik Kincaid]

I wanna do it till the sun comes up
Till we're both so good and sweaty that we can't stand up
I wanna do it till we're both about to drop
As long as we got it together
Then we're never gonna stop

There was nothing like a packed bar on a Saturday night to get the blood pumping. Nothing like the feel of a hot spotlight and the thump of a good base to make a man feel alive. Nothing like the bone jottling thud of an amp to make every note pound through your blood.

Nothing like knowing that somewhere in the crowd lurked the object of your desires and it never got dull. Damn, sometimes it was really good to be a man.

From his stop on top of the stage, Erik Kincaid belted out the lyrics of one of his favorite Nickelback tunes as he stared out over the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. From his position, he could make out individuals perfectly but none of them held his attention for long. Instead, his bright blue gaze moved over the throng without even the slightest pause.

There was simply nothing there that interested him.

After nearly a thousand years of being a lone wolf, the celt no longer felt that hopeless yearning. In hindsight, he could see so much clearer the half life he'd been living and he wondered how he'd ever exisited. Having given up on the hope of ever finding his soulmate, he'd merely been treading water through the years.

All that had changed though in the last year. A year filled with more emotion than he'd felt in the many centuries he'd existed. So much emotion that sometimes it scared the hell out of him for fear that he be cast back into the dark pits he'd lived in before.

But since he refused to live in fear and he'd never been a coward... He took each day as a blessing and made sure that his light never had reason to fade. Damn, if someone had told him a few years or centuries back that he'd be waxing poetic like some furry Shakespeare.. He'd have ripped their head right off their shoulders.

Erik just knew he could hear those fickle fates laughing their asses off at hims somewhere... But as long as they left well enough alone? They were welcome to their amusement.

For once, the Celt was at peace with the world and suspected that was the cause of many a perplexed look sent in his direction. Even Tyreese, his closest ally and long standing best friend, had seemed puzzled when Erik didn't automatically rise to any bait he put forth. For the ancient Celt... It was definitely a turn around from his darker broodiness.

Wrenching his thoughts away from those pansy ass musings, Erik grinned to himself as he finished up the song and then announced a break. Wiping his tawny locks back from his face, he set his guitar down and nodded to the rest of the "boys" in the band.

Exiting the stage the back way, he participated in some good natured ribbing from some of the guys and then headed out to talk to Wulf. He needed to tell him that a few of the amps were acting up and it might be time to buy a few new ones. The viking was going to just LOVE him for that.

Just the thought of making his old friend spend a bit of money had Erik smirking but since it was a packed place and he didn't feel like dealing with the groupies that seemed to hang about, he instead headed towards the back VIP section. He needed to check his cell phone and it was in his jacket back there.

[Misery Martinique]

...she's a bad bad girlfriend...

Misery had never felt so blessed as she did right now. Actually…she had never really been blessed, so the unfamiliar feeling of peace was something altogether new and stimulating as it was terrifying.
Since childhood it had always been about survival. A little girl not vying for the affection of her only remaining parent, but trying to stay hidden from him lest he follow through with the threat he had been tossing at her for as long as she could remember. Since she had killed her mother; his wife, in childbirth.

The scared, wild bayou youth had grown into a hard-hearted woman; shunning kindness as if it were the plague, tossing daggers with her smart mouth as expertly as a knife-thrower at the traveling circus, living as far removed from the would-be happy life she had missed growing up.
Her life was deliberate abandon. She never got too close. Never too conspicuous. Shadows, thievery, solitude…it was what she’d become accustomed to. It kept her safe, that solitude.

And then he’d blown into her life like a hurricane; fierce, powerful, as beautiful as a stormy N’awlin’s sky.
And tonight the feisty bayou woman meant to help Erik remember that very first night. As if the male could ever forget it.

Misery was wearing the same gauzy cream colored dress that she’d worn that day. Though she hated wearing any kind of shoe, especially high-heels, a pair of strappy wedge sandals graced her feet, giving her cleavage and her ass an extra lift. Her dark chocolate curls hung long and wild down her back and her expression was just a untamed as the locks; her lips painted cherry and upturned in an wayward smile.

The sound of his husky drawl from up on stage was like corporal fingernails against her spine. She shivered and then loosed a moan, hiding behind a pack of plastics that were also gushing over the man-candy singing up on stage.
If the voodoo witch hadn’t been purposely hiding from her mate she would have given those fake breasted women a piece of her mind before a piece of her backhand across the face; but she -was- trying to be clandestine, so instead she deftly pulled a little pouch from her cleavage and tilted the glittery white power out into each of their drinks.

Sleepy-time potion was something she never left home without.

Stealing into the VIP section where the witch knew her man always left his favorite leather jacket, Misery pressed a finger to her lips in request for anonymity at the few regulars hanging out in there and had recognized her and threw the coat over her slim shoulders.
She slid back out and into a stool at the bar, tracking the wolf as he made his way off stage and directly toward the curtained backroom.

After order her favorite ( rum on the rocks with a twist of lime), the wayward witch just waited…

[Erik Kincaid]

I wanna do it till the sun comes up
Till we're both so good and sweaty that we can't stand up
I wanna do it till we're both about to drop
As long as we got it together
Then we're never gonna stop

Damn, the crowd was so packed in tonight that Erik thought it would be a miracle if someone didnt' get crushed. He had no doubt if the fire marshall were to show up, they'd be shut down in a heartbeat. That is, would be if Wulf didn't have a growl that frightened off even the bravest code enforcer.

Finally reaching the back section and feeling as if he'd made a narrow escape of wandering hands, Erik shook his head ruefully at the bouncer there and then stepped into the much quieter, much less crowded section. Sometime he wondered how such solitary beasts as themselves had ended up running a club like this. It wasn't as if any of them really enjoyed the packed crowd but it served its purpose he supposed. They'd all been at odd ends when they'd decided to open a bar and it had given some of their crew focus for their .. abundant... energies.

What had begun as a sanctuary for those of their sort had turned into a full time money maker. The wolf could hardly figure it since it wasn't exactly known as a "friendly" place to be but he could only suppose that the danger mortals felt when they came in was the draw. That or maybe they just had suicide wishes. You never could figure out what those idiots had in their heads and Erik had long ago quit trying.

As those thoughts trailed absently through his mind, the tall celt made his way back to the curtained section and then reached for his jacket. When it closed over empty space, he frowned and his full attention focused on the fact that his favorite possession was missing. A low, warning growl stole up through his throat before he could suppress it and his silver blue eyes immediately went frosty.

"Son of a f......BY THE GODS...."he snarled, turning to berate the bouncer on duty. "Where the HELL is my jacket?"

And that is when he smelled it.

The intoxicating scent of woman, passion and a hot Louisiana southern night all mixed up in one erotic mixture. He'd know that scent anywhere and memories of another night much like this one made a slow smile tease the corners of his lips. Evidently, his voodoo queen wanted to play. He was up for that.

Dismissing the bouncer who'd turned with concern, Erik let his eyes sweep the booths and chairs until he found the beautiful dark haired lass he was looking for. Sure enough, there she was and so was his jacket. Prowling forward, the huge shifter let his expression take on a predatory intent like the hunter he was. His steps were easy and methodical but loose and free like he could spring at any moment.

Reaching the place where she sat, he leaned forward and put his palms on either side of her.

"Has no one taught you that its impolite to take things not belonging to ya, lass?" he fairly growled out. "You'll be payin for that later, woman."

[Misery Martinique]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width:100px; height:300px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/jci7R.png);padding:25px; padding-top:50px;-webkit-border-radius:100px 100px 35px 35px;-moz-border-radius: 100px; ] Misery swirled her straw in her rum and then plucked it out, laying it on a little paper napkin on the counter. She fished out the lime floating amidst the amber liquid and gave it a squeeze, then popped the tart fruit into her mouth, sucking lightly. It was just like her; bitter tasting, but with an edge of spicy in the middle. The chocolate haired witch snorted quietly and set it aside with the straw, lifting the glass tumbler full of rum and taking a heavy swallow. She winced as it burned a trail down her throat until it hit her belly, and smiled contentedly at the warmth as it settled there. A few more of those and she was going to nice and toasty. The air around her suddenly changed and the contented sensation Misery felt intensified; turning to pure wickedness. The witch could fairly feel the vibrations in the atmosphere as her Wolf stalked through the crowd towards her; could taste it like chocolate sin on the back of her tongue. Chewing on her wayward smile the dark-haired bayou woman took another slug of her drink and prepared herself for the tremor that was about to hit her. Sure enough, when Erik slid against her back and crowded her with his body Misery felt a jolt of lightening sizzle across her spine and through her limbs. Unbidden, a purr rumbled out of her throat and her panties melted right then and there…well…would have if she’d been wearing them. But the witch was too determined to let him just win their little game, so she gasped dramatically; deep russet eyes wide in surprise as she swiveled around to face him. “Excuuuuse me?” The voodoo woman laid on the N’awlins accent real thick and let her gaze travel down his large form; a shudder rocking her once more before they returned to his swirling silver stare. "Do I know you, Cookie?"

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