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the coldest blood (runs through my veins)

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They are not people anyone with half a brain would call good.

Good-looking, yes. Gorgeous, even. Out of this world? The case could be made, easy.

But good people?

No. That, they certainly are not.


Take for instance Maggie Sawyer, who wears leather like it’s her armour and whose dimpled smiles hide a whole lot of hurt. Her family’s a buncha conservatives who booted her out ’cause they caught her locking lips with a pretty girl, told her “ain’t no dyke’s gonna be livin’ in this house.” They gave her fifteen minutes to pack up her bags and leave, with express instructions to never come back. And so Maggie learned the hard way that real family’s found, not given. She prowled the streets and discovered its secrets, with only her gut as her back-up, and now she’s the best runner of them all: blink and you’d miss her, blink again and you’d be dead.

Alex is quick on the draw and even quicker in her wits. She’s the daughter of scientists, both of whom died because of military assholes. She swore revenge in front of the cold slabs of their graves, and she’d started fulfilling her vow by working for the government, only she’s really working for herself. She rose through the ranks swiftly and acquired information, connections, and every fucking weapon that would blow the heads off anyone who’d dare cross her.

There’s Veronica, sharp as can be in her high heels, tight dresses, and dragon tattoos. Her family’s been running an underground fight club, dealing with coke on the side. She’s got their brain for business and their eye for details, and V’s been planning to stage her coup, just lying in wait, because, of course, girls should be on top of everything.

Then there’s Megan, lithe and quick on her feet, and she would sooner slit your throat than take any shit. Her family’s full of assassins with no hearts, killers with poison in their mouths. She’d been like them, for a long while, but she drew the line when they ordered her to break a wee baby’s neck. She instead turned away, killed a few dozen of her own people, and she’s been on the run ever since.

In some ways, all of them have been.

Lena likes to paint her mouth red, says it’s to match the blood in her family’s hands. Her papa’s a billionaire, used to be the usual talk of town, and the way her stepmom tells it, her ma’s his go-to whore. Her half-brother’s a genius she’d loved when he’s not being a nutcase, but that was a long time ago, before he blew up a city block in some misguided quest for justice, of all things. The fiasco led to their father’s heart attack—because jesus, the scandal that wrought—and her stepmom got unhinged to the point where she made it her mission to continue her son’s madness. They’re both in jail now, on opposite coasts of the country, as far away from the other as possible.

So the family name got dragged in the mud, with Lena right in the crosshairs of public scrutiny because she’s the only one left. And she cleans it up slowly but surely, though, of course, beneath the glitz and glamour, she’s just as mad as the rest of them—brilliant, yes, that goes without saying, but mad. And she won’t rest until she has it all, until the world is bowing at her feet.

Kara’s as sweet as candy floss, with a smile as bright as the summer sun. She wears pastel dresses and soft cardigans, braids her hair with flowers like some sort of springtime goddess. You could almost imagine sunlight following her wherever she goes, and you’d wonder what the fuck someone like her is doing with the rest of them.

And see, that’s the thing. She’s so fucking bright it blinds you, and so you won’t be able to see that this sweet, soft girl is made of steel; that the glint you see in her grin is really just the sharp point of knives she’s gonna use to carve you up like a Halloween pumpkin, with your entrails discarded to the side.

She looks so delicate and gentle and unassuming, and so no one suspects her of anything, and that’s their fatal mistake. She enjoys the feel of blood, you see, and the only time her smile turns genuine is when she’s splattered with the stuff.

That, or when she’s with Lena.

After all, it’s Lena who found her, one night, shivering in the rain, curled up next to a Dumpster. Kara’s golden hair was a tangled mess, but her blue eyes were shining in the shadows, something feral burning within them, and Lena was unable to resist.

So Lena approached her, and the next thing she knew she’s lying on the hard wet ground with someone more animal than person on top of her, baring her teeth in a sneer that’s cold and dark and dangerous. There’s a hand wrapped tightly on Lena’s shoulder, and she can feel the tip of something sharp right on her jugular, nearly breaking the skin, and yet, for some reason, she didn’t feel afraid.

It was the lack of fear that gave Kara pause.

Lena merely met the blue gaze of the girl, red-painted lips turning up in a smirk. “Careful,” she said, “I might end up liking this.”

“Who are you?” Kara asked, frowning in confused wonder.

Lena slowly raised the arm not pinned by Kara’s knee. She grazed her knuckles across Kara’s cheek, brushed away a bit of dirt there. “You’re mine now,” was her even answer, and that was that.

Once you’re claimed into their circle, well, there’s no breaking the bond.

And the bond between the two of them? It’s even stronger than if it were forged by the universe itself.

The rest of the girls know better than to bring it up, how Lena managed to tame the beast in Kara, whom they learned was a product of a series of inhumane experiments on eugenics and psychology—administered by her own parents’ organisation, no less.

The best part of their narrative? She escaped because of the explosion Lena’s brother caused. The facility where she’d been held was one of the collateral damage in the wake of the blast. Kara herself would have died from the smoke and the fire, but—and get this—the experiments done on her gave her superior biology, allowing her to survive everything she went through to get the hell out of the burning building.

Not even Megan is fast enough for her knives sometimes, and Maggie’s much too practical to even try sparring with her. Her brain’s wired different too, and on particularly bad days, Lena’s the only one who can communicate with her in a way that won’t end with someone’s brains decorating the floor.

When she’s not with Lena, Kara likes spending time with Alex. She’s the third wheel to many of Alex and Maggie’s dates, though neither minds at all. Really, Alex kind of adopted her already as a younger sister, and Maggie certainly enjoys watching Kara deceive everyone around them with her innocent smiles, gets a laugh when the horror of what Kara truly is dawns in their eyes. (But by then, it’s too late for them.)

They stuff themselves with pizza and pot stickers (Kara’s favourite food, she says, always has been), and Alex drinks beer while Kara chugs on rum, though no matter how much she ingests, she never gets drunk. (Another gift from her parents, she said when they asked her about it, and with the way her eyes take on this icy gleam, they refrained from asking any more questions.)

Sometimes, Kara and the others have movie nights, though really, that’s just an excuse for her to cuddle with Lena on the couch while the others pretend to be grossed out.

Outsiders looking in would see just a group of girls having a whole lotta fun and enjoying time with each other.


What they won’t see is that the red on Kara’s neck isn’t just lipstick, and that she’s isn’t just laughing at the screams on the TV.




These are the facts, about girls like them:

  1. They’re not good people.
  2. They’ve been fucked over too much to ever be good people.
  3. They’re a group of strays, them of pretty hair and pretty smiles, and they’re all a little bit dead behind the eyes.




Lena leans back in her chair and watches her lover who is standing only a few feet away, as still as a statue. Kara’s shirt is rumpled and torn in several places, and there are splatters of blood here and there. Lena doesn’t know whose blood it is, but she does know it’s not Kara’s.

Kara just watches her back, those blue eyes assessing, almost as if she can see right past the robe Lena is wearing. She’s a tightly reined force of nature, barely breathing even as her gaze darkens and her lips quirk up in a smile as sharp as broken glass.

It gives Lena a thrill, the effect she has on Kara, an impossibly gorgeous creature who sates the void deep in her soul. Knowing how dangerous Kara is, how powerful, how strong, perhaps it’s wicked of her, to need Kara’s touch, to need her desire, to bask in the intoxicating fact that Kara needs her too.

And oh, what pair they make, truly, a storm of hunger and thirst for each other that just razes everything in their path, relentless in their carnal pursuits and ruthless in decadent sin.

Lena can almost taste it, the want. She likes Kara sweet, likes her with her adorable jumpers and her charming smiles, but there’s just something so different with a Kara flushed and bloodied from a fight that makes Lena’s skin thrum with unbridled desire.

Lena stands up, steps forward, until she is close enough to touch Kara. Kara does not move, but there’s a question in her eyes, waiting for permission. Lena nods, and then Kara’s hands are on her waist, grip sure and steady. She shudders just thinking about what those hands are capable of, both in giving immeasurable pleasure and in dealing immeasurable pain. She tilts her head back, gaze seeking Kara’s, and the hunger and thirst explode in the space between them, and they both surge forward to claim the other in burning possession.

Lena shoves her fingers through soft blond hair, tilting Kara’s head to get a better angle. Kara groans into her mouth, mutters a curse before tasting her in rough, deep licks that leave Lena wanting, wanting, wanting. One of Lena’s hands finds its way under Kara’s shirt, the muscles of Kara’s torso hard and rigid and warm beneath her touch.

“Take me to bed,” she orders, but the tone is one of quiet request.

Kara shifts her grip, and then she’s carrying Lena as if she weighed nothing. The display of raw power is like a shock to Lena’s system, and she can feel herself getting wetter just thinking about it, about how Kara can break her in half if ever she were so inclined.

(It’s a perverse want, to seek the one who can most destroy you. Or perhaps it’s simply human nature, to keep being drawn to the ones who have the most power over you, the ones who could herald your ultimate destruction.

But, whatever the case, Lena revels in it.

Let her end come in golden hair and blue eyes, iridescent in the dark of night.)

Lena purrs in appreciation, and she delights in the growl it elicits from Kara, deep and rumbling in her throat. Her hands are everywhere, tugging at Kara’s hair, scratching her neck, fingers digging into her shoulders. Her lips rove all over Kara’s face, to every inch of skin she can reach.

Kara’s stride never falters, her self-control absolute. Her breathing is as steady as ever, and it drives Lena insane, makes her want to provoke Kara all the more, spur her on, until they tear each other apart.

She sets Lena down on the bed gracelessly, and Lena watches with bated breath as Kara strips her already-ruined shirt away, the buttons clattering loudly on the floor. Kara toes off her shoes, then pushes her pants down her legs, quickly followed by her underwear. Then she is naked to Lena’s ravenous gaze, her muscles bunching then relaxing, and Lena aches just looking at her, so perfect, every inch carved and molded to provide absolute pleasure.

“Glorious,” Lena murmurs, “so fucking glorious.”

Kara smiles, that smile that makes anyone who sees it think of angels singing, and it’s brutally delicious, the contrast between that innocence and the savagery of which Lena knows she’s well capable. “All for you,” she says, and it sounds like a promise. She reaches out to brush the pad of her thumb across Lena’s lower lip. “And you will take it.”

“I will.” Lena hums, opens her mouth to bite Kara’s thumb. “I want to ruin you for other women, Kara.”

“You already did that, the moment I first saw you.” Her eyes are so dark now, they almost seem black. She bends her head, runs the tip of her nose along Lena’s jaw as her hands undo the tie of Lena’s robe, slides the clothing down Lena’s arms, letting it pool around her waist. Then she’s cupping Lena’s breasts, Lena’s eyes closing on a low moan at the heat of her touch.

“Don’t wait,” Lena says, even as Kara licks at her pulse point, and Kara needs no further instructions.

Kara bands an arm around Lena’s back, shifts her position on the bed then settles atop her. Then her mouth is on Lena’s breast, sucking so hard that Lena’s hips buck in response. The deep rapid pulls make Lena’s core clench with shameless want, and she tightens her fist in Kara’s hair.

Kara releases her nipple with a gentle pop, then she moves to play with Lena’s other breast, her tongue stroking heatedly on the sensitive tip.

When she finally draws back, her grin is smug and her gaze is impish, and Lena is helpless to yank her forcefully into another kiss, licking fast then sucking on Kara’s tongue, relishing the groan she draws out.

Kara slides her hand down Lena’s body, cupping her. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“You think?” Lena near snaps, even as her back arches, seeking more of Kara’s touch.

“No need to be grumpy, baby,” Kara says, and Lena surges forward, sinking her teeth into the junction of Kara’s shoulder and neck. Kara hisses, quivers at the roughness, and she moans when Lena runs her tongue over the indentation she leaves. “Fuck.”

“I’m trying.”

Kara huffs a short laugh, but then she takes Lena’s mouth again in a fervent kiss, before she delves two fingers into Lena.

Lena whimpers at the softness of Kara’s touch, so different from the animalistic craving she feels simmering just below the surface. Kara’s thumb strokes her clit almost reverently, her fingers almost leisurely in their exploration. This seduction could almost be called a precise art were it not for the way her breathing turns heavy, and Lena knows Kara’s tightly wound control is already fraying at the edges. Her kisses become a deep fucking of Lena’s mouth, licking and tasting and enjoying her every inch.

Kara builds Lena’s need so expertly, so skillfully, that Lena nary realises she’s on the verge of coming when Kara suddenly changes the rhythm, driving her fingers harder and faster and then curving them within, and when Kara adds a third finger, spreading her so exquisitely, Lena cries out and scratches harshly on Kara’s back, her fingernails biting the skin. Kara nips at Lena’s pulse point in retaliation, before sucking hard, sure to leave a mark.

Lena gasps, and she begins clenching and unclenching around Kara’s fingers. She hears Kara whisper her encouragement through the roaring of blood in her ears, and raw moans spill from her lips, losing focus as her body jerks hard and shudders in debauched bliss.

“That’s it, love,” Kara murmurs, prolonging Lena’s high with well-timed touches and gentle kisses.  

When Lena finally recovers enough, Kara asks her with a wide smile, “You know I’d kill for you, right?”

Lena laughs, amused, even as her toes curl at the affection in Kara’s voice. “You kill people anyway,” she points out.

“True,” Kara allows, “but I’d enjoy doing it more, if it were for you.”

“How romantic.”

“Anything for you.” She says it earnestly, sincerity clear in her eyes.


“Anything,” Kara confirms, and Lena shoots her a suggestive grin.

“Good,” she says, before rolling them over, “because we’re just getting started.”


It’s going to be a long fucking night.