<div class="floatleft">(http://media.comicvine.com/uploads/1/15776/355067-94514-purgatori.jpg)</div>With the taste of the angel still lingering upon her lips, with that smallest tease of his ethereal blood singing through her body, Sakkara continued towards her own private quarters, with Bryce tow. His thoughts and assumptions about the reasoning of her choice of him were quite correct. And it was that reasoning now that caused the Generals mind to race.<br/><br/>She had seen his Beast thrashing within. It intrigued her as to what it was within the man that held the Beast at bay. She did want that Beast out. It was the Were that would be needed to help her in her plans. In Sakkara's mind Bryce was weak, a liability. But there niggled in the back of her thoughts,<em>how</em>was he controlling the Beast? Why not let it loose to attempt to take her out and gain freedom? Questions.. to many Questions. Sakkara was a demoness of action, and it was time to begin those steps that would bring her to her end goal.<br/><br/>Domination... of more then just the man she held within her whip.<br/><br/>As she continued down the hall, she would hear the gasps and cries coming from so many different places within the Layer. Some sounds of pain, some of strained pleasure, some a mingling of the two. Almondesque eyes would narrow as her black lips curled into a sneer. She would glory when the time came to remove from her sight and senses such wasteful debauchery. The Queen's newest idea was nothing more then another attempt to make her Royal self feel 'alive' again as it were. Sakkara  new how to do that, and it had less to do with the carnal delights, and more to do with bathing in blood.<br/><br/>Not that Sakkara couldn't, or didn't share in her own wantonness. She could indeed be a very sensual creature. It simply took so much more then that to please the crimson vampiress.<br/><br/>And so it was, with her mind racing, she would not be paying attention to her captive for a few moments. She was the one in control, was she not? He was at her heels, following as the Dog he was, and it didn't even occur to her that he would dare...<em><strong>dare</strong></em>to do what he did. His head slipped to practically settle his chin upon her smooth shoulder, his words holding casual humor. In the blink of an eye she had whipped around, the same wing his head had so recently been close to opening, lifting, the tip slamming into his left shoulder, piercing all the way through. With a low growl, her head tilting as her fangs bared, that same wing would lift his body easily, slamming him against the stone wall, holding him several inches off the ground against the stone. A single step would take her body so close to his, mere centimeters separating them from touching. Leather and flesh would grasp his throat, her hand sliding up to grip his chin, forcing his head still as she stared into his eyes. He would hear the sound of steel clanking on the floor as she dropped the shackles. Her now free hand would lift, fingers easily snapping the end of the whip surrounding his throat, the leather strip falling to the floor. A scowl would mar her brow, for she was indeed confused. But this emotion did not remain, there and gone again with a sniff of derision. Finally she would speak, her timbre low, stoic.<strong> “ By Isis, but you mortals were made beautiful in body.... and strong in spirit..no? I enjoy your defiance Dog....”</strong>Her face would lean in, forcing his head harshly to the side to expose his throat. Her breath would be hot upon the pulsing of his jugular, and as she continued to murmur, he would feel the tips of her fangs scraping across his taut flesh.<strong> “...it warms me to the deepest depths...”</strong>A hand moved to his chest, feeling the contours of muscles. Sharp nails scraping his skin as she continued lower, trailing to finally meet at the junction of his thighs. There her digits would trace over the bulge there, what remained of the cloth, her touch sensuous, cupping and rubbing as she finished her words.<strong> “ … of my loins..”</strong><br/><br/>One moment so close to him, the next she was yanking the tip of her wing from his shoulder and on the move down the halls, still holding him by his throat. He was easy to manipulate, pushing, shoving, and dragging him until they finally arrived at her destination. Without preamble she would enter her chambers with her prize in tow, an imp scrambling from the shadows to shove the massive wooden door closed in her wake, scampering to drop the shackles Sakkara had tossed in an area of the chamber swathed in darkness. In the center of the room was a large sunken pit, filled with pillows and the furs of a myriad of beasts, luxuriant and silky. It would be there that she would literally throw Bryce, causing him to land within the pile, falling within succulent softness. Such a change from where he had been.