Ember 23, 2999 | 10:09 PM – Velvet Spire, Main Floor
Belladira moved like black wine poured from a crystal blade—smooth, dark, and laced with danger.
Her security detail flanked her in silence as she descended from the VIP overlook, heels clicking on the obsidian-glass stairs with slow, lethal rhythm. Eyes followed her. Mouths stopped moving. Even the music seemed to pull back.
She made her way to a tense table near the east side of the lounge, where a group of orc smugglers had started posturing too loud. She whispered something. One tried to argue.
He didn't finish the sentence.
Her nails sliced across his cheek mid-word, faster than most could blink. The second man stood to react—only to get folded by her bodyguard with a staff crack to the ribs. In under five seconds, the entire table cleared.
She turned… and paused.
Her red eyes narrowed.
Something tugged at her instincts.
She felt it.
A presence.
A heat.
Her head turned slowly—and landed on Shiro.
The moment locked.
Gold eyes met red.
Two predators.
Two storms.
Two flames that didn't flicker.
Shiro didn't blink. Didn't move. Just leaned forward in the booth, watching her like a wolf watching lightning walk.
In his head:
Mine.
Dez saw it all. Groaned into his drink. "Here we go…"
Belladira smirked.
And then looked away.
She acted as if she hadn't noticed him. Drifted casually toward another section of the floor, hips rolling with hypnotic sway. Her aura lingered in the air, teasing him—challenging him.
Shiro grinned wide.
"Oh, she bold."
But so was he.
She disappeared behind a secured hallway—private office level.
Shiro exhaled. "You didn't say she was like that."
"I did," Dez muttered. "You just don't listen. And for real… be careful. she makes people disappear."
Shiro's grin sharpened. "That right?"
⸻
10:21 PM – Velvet Spire, Lounge Restroom
Shiro returned a few minutes later, smirking and brushing off lipstick smears from his abs.
"Yo," he said casually, sliding back into the booth, "why they always try it in the bathroom, bro? One girl had a tongue ring shaped like a heart."
Dez didn't look up. "Belle wants to see you."
Shiro's brow arched. "Oh?"
"Her guy came over while you were gone. Said you got a bag on your head… and i do to she wanna know why we here."
Shiro nodded. "Sounds like a party."
Dez leaned back, arms crossed. "Don't get me killed."
"You got it."
Before he stood, Shiro snapped his fingers—and three dancers across the room perked up like they'd been summoned.
"Keep my boy company," he said.
Dez's eyes widened. "Bruh—no, I'm taken, I'm—!"
Too late. They were already cozying up, draping themselves across the booth like silk serpents.
Shiro winked. "You'll be fine."
⸻
10:30 PM – Velvet Spire, Private Level
The guards in front of Belladira's private door stood firm—tall vampires with ceremonial blades strapped across black-on-black armor.
Shiro stepped up.
Towered over them.
Didn't say a word.
They hesitated. Whispered into comms.
A moment passed.
Another.
Finally, a faint buzz. The door lock clicked.
Both guards stepped aside, sighing in what sounded like relief.
Shiro strode in, boots echoing softly on marble.
The room was dim—lavish, warm, and violent.
Blood incense curled from a corner brazier. Black velvet curtains draped the walls. A glass desk sat near a one-way window overlooking the entire club, with a throne-like chair turned away.
He sat down across from it.
Waited.
Then—
A side door opened.
Belladira entered, slowly wiping blood off her fingers with a white silk cloth.
She didn't flinch. Didn't rush. Just walked in like she owned the shadows.
Her dress was tighter now. Or maybe it was his imagination. Her red eyes glowed softly.
"Sorry about the wait," she said, accent thick and smooth like molasses over fire. "Had a little spill to clean up."
She tossed the bloodstained cloth into a nearby bin.
Then finally looked at him—properly.
"…So. You're the Beast they been whisperin' about."
Shiro leaned back in the chair, smiling like the devil just got flattered.
"And you're the flame I've been feelin' since I walked in."
The air pulsed between them.
And both of them knew—
This was gonna be fun.
Ember 23, 2999 | 10:34 PM – Velvet Spire, Belladira's Office
Shiro leaned forward, eyes locked to hers, golden and glowing—like fire behind gold glass. Belladira stared right back, lips curled in a smile far too sharp to be soft. Both of them grinning like killers at a masquerade.
"So…" Shiro drawled, voice low and amused, "you plannin' to get the bag on my head?"
Her smile widened, lashes fluttering slow. "Mm-mm. Baby, I got plenty money. Ain't no broke blood round here."
She stepped around the desk with that signature glide—like smoke with hips—and reached for the bar cabinet against the wall.
"Nah… I just find you interestin'. Been alive a long time, sugar. Seen a lotta things. Done a few worse. But somethin' 'bout you…" she poured two glasses of deep red spirit, "got me curious."
Shiro tilted his head, eyes lingering on the tattoos that coiled up her back like living vines. That accent was getting under his skin in the best way.
"Mmh. Interest, huh?" he mused. "Funny. You got me curious too."
She turned, offering him a glass with a teasing tilt of her brow. "Then we halfway to dangerous."
He took it, their fingers brushing. Electricity buzzed where skin met.
"So," she began, swirling her glass, "any reason you came knockin'? Or you just wanted a taste?"
Shiro leaned back, smirk widening. "Heard you been to the Wild Spine before."
At that, Belladira looked up—eyes momentarily flicking sharper.
"Oh, that place?" she said with a dismissive shrug, as if he'd asked her about a mildly unpleasant tavern. "Ain't nothin' but dirt, echoes, an' things that still whisper your name when you leave 'em behind."
She stepped closer again, hips moving like spells cast without words.
"What you wanna know, hm?" she asked, handing him the glass. "You lookin' for somethin'? Or runnin' from it?"
Shiro took the drink, swirled it once, but didn't sip.
"Both," he murmured.
She paused.
Sniffed.
A slow inhale—like a predator testing the air.
Then her red eyes shimmered with amusement.
"Well well… you smell like chaos and pussy," she said sweetly. "Let me guess—you Lena's lil' beast?"
Shiro grinned.
"She's mine."
Belladira's laugh was warm, rich, and wrapped in smoke. "You tamed that witch? Whew… now that's somethin'."
She walked around him again, letting her finger trail across the top of his chair, voice curling in his ear like a lazy flame. "Mm. You must be real interestin', sugar. She don't take pets easy."
"I ain't a pet," Shiro replied, not turning. "I'm a storm she tried to chain."
Belladira bit her lip, eyes dancing. "Even better."
She walked back in front of him, perching on the desk, one leg crossed slow over the other, her dress parting to flash bare thigh and blood-inked tattoos.
"You know… I been hearin' whispers," she said, feigning a thoughtful sip. "Somethin' wild goin' on. Black Choir shaken up. One o' their facilities got cracked like a crab leg… and the rumors say…" she leaned forward, voice purring low—
"…a certain beastman might be responsible."
Shiro gave a long, low whistle.
"Damn. Sounds like he wildin'."
"Mm-mm… wildin' ain't even close, baby."