Euphoria Red by Scynneh
Title: Euphoria Red

Author: Scynneh


Rating: R

Category: Rath/Tess

Summary: none

Disclaimer: Not mine.


Rath drug her backwards and his voice came down onto her ears like feathers coated in molasses.

"You don't need to see this girl," he said, and there was something that might have been taken as concern, had Lonnie's voice not then cut through their interlude.

His steps were rapid, and when she stumbled, he grabbed her and swung her into his arms. Then he began to run, and she wondered if the murder had been seen. Lonnie was at his elbow, delivering insults and angrily wondering why he hadn't killed Tess already.

He didn't reply to her words, and when long fingers, encrusted with rings and nail polish snatched at Tess' curls, he only pulled the small girl away form the enraged female. Then, she was set on the ground, and they stalked around her, she the helpless prey. She took some comfort in the observation that her flailing elbow had caught him in the mouth at least, and it looked tender.

There was a kind of release in giving over to another's wants, and when Tess found herself lying flat on her back, the black boots moving towards her were not just a terror made real, but protection too. His hand sliding over her mouth moments before Max's demise had been a shock , and not because the sudden tension practically danced from him into her, but because the feel of his palm over her parted lips was not unpleasant to the degree of disgust that she might have thought.

The upward tilt of her head showed that he was staring skyward as well, with an expression that she could only classify as 'patient' on his face. Max, her husband-that-would-not-be was in danger, and she could not do a thing. Her fear was too great and there was something settling over her mind, like a net of some sort, and she would have bet the last sawbuck in her wallet that Lonnie had something to do with her disorientation.

This was not all right, not at all, but there is nothing that could be done to change the way that things decided to turn out, and she rather wonders if there is not some kind of plan that was was meant to be gone through and that her presence is what threw all out of whack. She never belonged, and that is not pity for her own loneliness, but a fact that none of the others have really confirmed or denied.

She wanted to rage at them-they had killed her love, were killing her family as they walked away from the body that must even now be lying on the pavement, and they would most likely continue the trend once she had been disposed of. Unless they had some plan to get away from this planet, and if that was their goal, she knew fear again, they needed to know where the Granolith was kept, and she was a regular liability. Having so much knowledge and a sporadic means of defense was not the way to go about things.

Rath didn't seem crazy to Tess, Lonnie was obsessed with getting back the birth planet, she could tell that from even a short time around the other girl. She was uninterested in art or culture, not that any of the Fearsome Four were about to get flying colors in Ms. Manner's book, but Lonnie was focused on one objective, being Vilandra again, and having all of that power, maybe respect was tied up in that, or just the need for Kivar and his body

The thoughts of slaughter are ripe in her head, and she grimaces as he worries his lower lip, Lonnie going after his zipper with the unmistakable scent of predator around her- and he is prey to her, when he so chooses, Tess amends, testing the limits of her senses and seeing the way that hooded eyes glint green with spots of gold at each touch. She is trying to seduce him over to the idea of his death and abandonment. Death would be kinder, and she knows that, doesn't feel anything when he smiles, through blood, staining his teeth, too white for someone who never met a toothbrush or Colgate Kids...but very disturbingly sexy all the same.

And they are so deliciously fucked up together that she wants it. them all of a sudden, enormous swelling of scabs, and then they burst, almost joyful, and then he looks over at her, and she knows that there is too much showing all at once- she is open to them, and that is bad, wrong, and then Lonnie is over her, mouth curving in a not-nice smile, and then. lips, of a girl, on her own mouth, strangeness, but good too, and then she arches up and there are hands too.

Apparently they come as a set, and she is grateful for that for all of two seconds. Then, when thumb and fingers twist a nipple ruthlessly, she is selfish again, wants him all to herself, away from the psycho, and is she one of those now? Doesn't care, because he can tell what she wants. Good at sensing people's needs and weaknesses, that was one thing that she could have predicted, the way that Michael avoided the others, he had to be vulnerable to emotion, and then he had walled it off, until Maria tore down the fortifications, and did something bad to him. The Guerin boy is handicapped now, and this version is anything but restrained.

Uncle John's mental illness was that he liked to go after neighbor's wives. And he was enormously successful, but he had four or five bullet holes in him and some slash marks.

Opiates were over the counter in the 1830's. And in large amounts they were thought to keep the patients calm. It usually made them comatose in the doses given, but then, chaining was less of a hassle then.

She'd like to say such things as are running through her brain, cool and memorable, but all that her lips can form is 'please' and 'yes', which she supposes is quotable and satisfactory, Rath appears to be unopposed to the continuous quality of her begging, his mouth bumps along her jawbone and her curls are lifted off her neck , and he finds a spot behind her ear that she didn't know existed. Maybe he fucked Ava, and that's where he learned all of her spots- then she quashed that thought. those images were not conducive to a nice evening. And above all, she wanted something tattooed on her brain from this time where it seemed that nothing was truly there- a gauzy bubble enveloped her, and she was sure that if she let her eyes shut and concentrated, all of this would vanish, and she would be left on the ground and Max would run up to her, worry wrinkling his face, and she would be held, precious.

"She wants us to go away, Rath," Lonnie said confidently, and her lover shrugged. "Sure 'Nnie, you're down wit' her mind and all that. right?" There was amusement in that voice. "Didn' see you dreamwalking the chickadee when you were killin' her husband." Lonnie snarled, and Tess heard her land another slap on his should, as she answered promptly.

"Idiot as if you could tell that I got her mind opened up."

"She's not screaming babe," he retorted, "Don't need to know what you aren't doing to her brain."

Funny, they were arguing about her mental state: Lonnie thought that Tess was in shock, and that it would be simple to pull what they wanted out of her. Rath was plainly against the direct approach, and Lonnie passed that off to his need to get laid- when the humming in Tess' head went quiet for a moment, she thought that there was something else preventing him form wanting to split her apart. Then the fuzziness returned, and she couldn't hear anything else. but then a hand on her leg tightened, and nails were sinking into her stomach; she gasped as her mouth was covered roughly by an inconsiderate palm.

Her instincts screamed for her to strike out, and she tried, she really did. Yet, there was Lonnie, in her mind, smirking and holding her down. like evil quicksand, tearing at her and taking all of her strength. She whimpered as the grittiness of Lonnie's' mind slid into her throat and kicked out in the reality, where those eyes were watching her, and she knew that the bitch was happy with her suffering. Any minute now, she was going to explode.

Lonnie swore, and there was the sound of a body being flung and then coming in contact with cement. Tess opened her eyes and saw the other girl staring incredulously at Rath, He grinned at her and Tess felt real terror. They had underestimated him again, and she'd known that Michael had power, what might Rath be capable of, not hiding his abilities, being able to train as much as he wanted?

Lonnie clearly didn't care, was furious that the beta was questioning her judgment, and worse, assaulting her, She gestured at the ceiling, and Tess remembered her ability to manipulate objects, and heard the support beams overheard pleading for release. Then, things began to vibrate. They had locked eyes, and their expressions were a sing that something intense was going on in their minds. Violence was certain now, and the building might come down on top of them all.

Rath avoided most of the debris hurled at him without difficulty, knocking boxes aside and tossing beer bottles back at her in min- bombs that exploded once near her face. But when the metal braces for the overpass began to quiver, Tess knew that Lonnie had progressed past 'angry' and leapt fists first into 'homicidal'. Which was even more dangerous, because it seemed as though killing Lonnie was not one of Rath's priorities.

She thinks of snapping things, wires and twine, and maybe her mid is like that, seeing the way that Lonnie is sawing at a bond, a tie that should be respected, or exploited, but not abandoned or destroyed over something like this.

They may leave her alone after this, for when she looks in their direction, there is something more to her smile that shouldn't exist, but she doesn't care. She has always been on the outside, now for real.

The blood dripping form Rath's nose at once seemed fuller; the droplets plush, embroidered with his hurt and betrayal. Tess wanted to soak up his emotions, pull off his skin and climb inside to stay warm and protected. For a queen, she was not a leader, she thought, and mentally berated her self for caring. As if any of that should matter; the wives of kings didn't have to thin, they were looked after. But yours is dead, that voice reminded her, and she smiled. So it didn't really matter what the role was that she had been engineered for; it had just gone out of style. Time to scrub herself clean, and find a new place to fit in.

Lonnie was trying to gouge Rath's eyes out when Tess felt that anger come over her in a wash of compresses, hot cold, it was that fire again. She didn't have a mate, and this bitch was responsible, Rath too, but the mastermind of the murder had been the sister.

He was scuffed up and bloody from the fight and Lonnie had managed to burn his arm when they'd met to grapple too close. But the smell of scorched meat that made the air hard to inhale was not from him; the corpse lying under a pile of beams and concrete was the origin, and it would never move again. She hadn't known that the force of her anger had broken a vessel in her nose until he caught the red liquid dripping off her chin and brought it to his mouth. That smear of things inside her was too much and she grabbed his collar and yanked him close for a kiss. There was hesitation from him; she had just helped to kill his lover with her mind and he had let Lonnie kill the double of his king.

Good reason to be cautious, and that was when she knew that it had been wise to help him. He wasn't stupid, as Lonnie had assumed, just accustomed to letting her lead, because that was the easiest way to avoid an argument that wouldn't solve anything. A crafty fighter who was ruthless, that she could admire effortlessly, and that sort of single-mindedness, looking out only for what was most important would be valuable in the future she was planning.

He waited until she pushed into his mouth with her tongue before responding, and then it was better than she had hoped. Untamed he was; both in appearance and attitude, Beta for the simple pleasure of living, and now no longer subservient to either the wife he should not have had, or the brother too arrogant to see threats 'till they were bearing down on the family, and inescapable.

The ground was rough and gravel chewed through her jacket, but she didn't care. Rath was over her; his mouth as frantic as her; hands making her clothes banish. Then they were touching, the dirt of killing on his cheeks, and she licked it off, grinning as he let her, almost amazed at her boldness. He didn't object to her teeth or when her nails scored his back. And her marks only brought a slow smile to his face.

"What d' you want little one?" he asked.

"For now, you, me, and this flat ground is romance enough for this girl," she answered, and reached down to cradle his erection through the rough denim of his pants. His hips rocked towards her and she could tell that they were in agreement.

"No candles or shit like that, huh?" he said, his teeth flashing back at her, and sniffing the air he added, "I can offer the lady L'odor de Lonnie, well-done, if she pleases."

"She certainly does," Tess murmured and wrapped her legs around his hips, tempting with her heart; she knew that he could feel the most inferno even though several layers of clothing, and as his senses were developed much beyond that of humans, she was sure that the smell had to be nearly unbearable for him. To have that around him without being able to bet at her inner core, how mean to tease the nice boy.

Not that she was planning on disappointing him; she wanted him inside her, before any other, she wanted his hands, his tongue, teeth, and all of him to make her a part of him so that if she was alone in the night soon, he could be within her to take the pain away.

She is angry enough to shove at his shoulders with her heels, and his smile is more feral this time as he takes her mouth.

He is a ready example of what happens when sanity takes a long look at the building, packs and hangs a 'condemned' sign out front. And she adores it one him. Because he is not stupidcrazy, just wild, sampling things around him while making a mess. And she feels adoration towards him for it.


The nights without him are the worst. She takes showers in the dark now, and pretends that his hands are there with her. It doesn't work as well as it used to, granted, but she takes what she cans and makes sure that there is nobody around to see her cry in grating undertones beneath the cold spray, for hours after her hair has been washed. Three times. Precise that. With conditioning afterwards, just like those magazines instruct to get a head of 'waving luminescent curls'. She's sure that curls don't happen unless you are very good or very bad, whichever, but since she is very neither, she has limp hair again, and the brush falls to the floor.

The End