The scene before him was... boring. Too vanilla. Though, his dark gaze admires the work in which the woman is suspended before him. The ropes on her skin, tight enough to leave marks and yet, not tight enough to cut off the circulation. A fine line to walk. Still, it did nothing for him; the suspended woman hardly feeling any discomfort, the ropes expertly tied to balance her weight. And when she's fully suspended, the other woman stepping away, approach three men, all masked. Most of the clientele preferred the masks, to keep their identities secret, to not run into a familiar face on the streets because they met at a sex club. It was outrageous to him. It was a lifestyle, who gives a shit if so and so saw you fucking another woman? Society's rules did not impact what went on in this underground club... mostly. The sound of angry conversation draws him back to the scene and it was all so practiced, what was expected to be said, again so... boring. Where was the originality? It did nothing for his libido.

Releasing a sigh through his nose, he brings the glass to his lips, taking a drink, his mind wandering elsewhere. The scene moves on, moans of pleasure filling the air, a barked angry sentence, all lost on him. Brenden was acutely aware that he would not be participating tonight, privately nor on a stage, he was just so... bored. Again, that word, that feeling clangs through him. He did not have a partner that satisfied his needs, had never found one that was interested in his... desires. The annoyance of that particular problem seemed to only grow each day, fanning into an icy cold rage that emanated from him. Perhaps he could have taken the edge off, if only but a little if he had accepted the woman's offer and yet, he already knew it would do nothing more than annoy him. His gaze wanders away from the scene before him, not particularly searching for anything but merely observing, he's lifting his glass to his lips again when he freezes completely, eyes locking with a familiar figure in front of him.

What the fuck was she doing here? All his fantasies of her bursting into flames, dying a horrible death, getting hit by a truck are thrown out the window. The hatred that had so consumed him three years ago was pulled rapidly to the forefront of his mind, memories assaulting him. And what was even more infuriating was that she had caught him off guard, unawares what was going on, his usual tempered control thrown out the veritable door. Again. The all consuming icy wrath that dances under his skin as the vampire walks in front of him, winking at him, the barely clothed woman in tow at her side, not glancing his way, her gaze focused on the corner of the room. Instinct told him to follow that gaze, head snapping to the right, eyes searching through the dimness, only to focus on an oddly familiar shape... only to realize that it was him. This fucking bitch was still playing games and she remembered him, that much was clear. Honestly, he would have simply stood up and walked away but the fact that she was using magic down here, casting an illusion of him? He wouldn't, could not stand for it. He had absolutely no idea what went on in that thing's mind and he didn't need to be kicked out of a club for something he didn't do. Not when he used this place as a hunting ground.

He's standing before he realizes what he's doing, finishing off the last of his liquid in the glass before slamming it down on a table. And though the rage runs rampant through him, he's cool and collected, yet, there is no mistaking his wrath through that cold gaze he's wielding like a weapon. His strides are long and powerful, trailing after the two women that shove themselves into a corner, hardly attempting to hide. She was toying with him, he could feel it, even though his shadow self was currently no where to be seen. Slipping a hand into his pocket, his fingers clenching at the amulet, he approaches the two, the vampire having shoved the woman into the wall, her fangs slowly descending on the human. Despite his utter distaste for vampires, he didn't give a shit if she was going to feed on the woman. He found the act positively disgusting and yet, he wasn't here to stop her, no he was here to make sure she didn't fucking use his face to get what she wanted. But having the other woman here, well, that could be a problem.

He comes to a halt just behind the undead woman, those fingers still wrapped around the amulet. She wouldn't deceive him, no, not tonight, that he was certain of. His gaze so intense on her back, he knew she could feel him behind her, just another one of her mind games surely, but he waits a moment longer before the human woman's eyes dart over Petra's shoulder, gaze widening as she takes in the warlock. "Brenden? I thought you were waiting in the back?" she asks, utterly confused. His attention is snagged by those words for the briefest of moments, wrathful gaze flicking to the human woman. Why did he give her his name? Apparently, the 'no names' rule was decidedly moot in this woman's eyes. "Leave. I need to discuss some things with our mutual... friend," his lyrics take on a sound of disdain, his dark gaze inspecting the vampire distastefully, as if she were no better than a piece of trash in the gutter. "Wait, I'm confused, I thought you said we were going to the back?" she's questioning him again, and that truly was pure confusion dancing across her face.

Stupid woman. "Does it look like I want anything to do with you?" his voice is quiet, controlled and yet the leash slips, just the slightest, "Fucking leave, now," he snarls under his breath, and clearly that rage must've gleamed in those brown eyes, the woman cowering for the briefest of moments before anger takes over. Like she deserved something out of this situation. Pathetic. Brenden's wrathful eyes turn back on the vampire pointedly, ignoring the woman entirely. She pauses for a heartbeat longer before she starts to disentangle herself from the undead woman, Brenden stepping aside to make room, only to step between Petra and the stage, blocking it from view. He plants his feet firmly on the ground, as if he were bracing himself from a source of impact, his eyes traveling down to Petra's face, staring her down, waiting for the goddamn human to fucking leave already.