Again, the white-haired woman offers up that chance to become her sparring partner. The very idea that anything of the sort could he fun with her hardly seemed like a possibility to the man when he'd been here in this very warehouse a few days ago, when he'd been sober. Yet, with that influence of the whiskey, it didn't seem like it would be the end of the world if he decided to perhaps try and pick up the family tradition he'd wanted to leave buried with his father. He never would have considered it on a serious note, having been more than happy to live life in the miserable little rut that he'd managed to dig himself into, and like the stubborn ass that he almost always was, he didn't see any reason decent enough to change all that now. What was the worst thing that could happen? He'd already had his own ass handed to him once, and that morning when he'd originally intended on sneaking out of her apartment to make his way back to Hawthorne without her noticing that he didn't say good-bye or leave a note only to have slept in and stumble on her training with those scorched and partially melted dummies had been nothing but luck that she'd winced under the pain of her fresh wound and like the creature his middle name took so well after, he'd seized that opportunity and come out on top â€" just where he liked to be, especially now when those dark forest eyes take in the witch's womanly curves with a growing hunger, only in an entirely different meaning of the phrase. He allows for the idea to roll around in his thoughts for a moment, fingers tapping idly against the neck of that glass bottle before he gives a shrug."Why not? I supposed it might be worth giving a shot", he remarks nonchalantly. When it came right down to it, what did the dark hunter really have to lose? Other than maybe some of that empty pride, there really wasn't much at stake.

Maybe he should have been surprised that she felt comfortable enough to use him as a footrest. Maybe he should have been agitated, or not even allowed for himself to be placed into such a situation to begin with. Maybe, if he'd tried a little harder for just a little longer he could have convinced himself to turn around and walk away, told himself that she would be just fine on her own and that whatever did happen afterwards wasn't any problem of his or anything that he should concern himself with. That wasn't how things happened though, and instead the man found himself content in the witch's presence, thankful especially when the whiskey helped dissolve those damn feelings. Just like that, the unwarranted and equally infuriating concern and protectiveness that had surfaced in Lazarus not long ago when that Ivan bastard had the white-haired woman in his grasp and been the reason for the fear he'd nearly been taken aback at seeing in those brilliant blue hues, it was nowhere to be found. Then again, neither was that rage or hate that more of than not burned in those dark forest eyes, existed in every thought or movement or breath. There was only that welcomed warmth in his blood as that haze settles over him more and more with every drink that he took from that bottle until he'd almost managed to drink himself into one of his best moods, to that point where he could almost admit to himself that the woman with legs now crossed over in his lap wasn't as bad as he'd thought hardly a week ago.

Lazarus is hardly able to help himself from allowing that dark gaze to trail along those curves that had just a few nights ago been pressed against his own frame when she'd pulled him into the center of that dancing crowd at the club. She'd looked sexy in that tight black suit, there was hardly any fighting against that truth he wasn't about to openly admit to ever, but as with those male tendencies he also finds it hard not to allow a faint curiosity on what hid beneath those spandex boxer breif shorts and white tank top. Not that he actually tried hard not to allow that mind of his to drift into that familiar place, but when he feels her gaze on him, he takes his time returning those dark forest eyes of his to that pretty face adorning a wry smile that only encourages a wolfish grin to his chiseled features as if to say "yeah, you caught me". She didn't seem to mind how his gaze lingered over her though, the dark hunter almost thinking that she took some small degree of enjoyment out of it. She shrugs at his next words shortly before making a comment of her own on the matter that causes a single brow to lift as the wolfish grin shifts into something a touch more wicked."Oh, I'm sure I could think of a thing or two", he growls lowly back to her. There was nothing like a sexy woman in red or black lace to get the man aroused, having by now through all his... intimate encounters found what it was that he found the most enjoyment in. He dares to imagine her in such things for a moment, the liquor easily allowing for him to have long since forgotten that he despised her days ago, hours ago even, but when she gives a wave of her hand and remarks on how he'd enjoy sparring with her dressed in nothing but lace lingerie, laughter falling from those plush lips in an almost melodic way, his own dark chuckle rolls through him."Now that would be fun for sure", he replies suggestively, knowing all too well that if he were ever to find himself in such a position, there'd be little quieting the beast within that would surely lust to ravage her then and there on those padded floors. Such thoughts would never be found in the sober mind of Lazarus but for now, the whiskey gave him the pleasure of imagining those endless possibilities. Hell, it'd probably be more like foreplay for the witch anyway. And for Lazarus.

Amusement flickers across the woman's blue gaze then as he challenges her previously ushered words, giving a shrug as she makes the comment on how the dark hunter could appreciate a woman's assets and he gives a shrug of his own in turn. While the man wasn't as skilled of a dark hunter as he likely should be given his age and all that untapped potential, one of the few things that Lazarus took some sort of shallow pride in was what he could do behind those closed doors as he would indulge in that female companionship he was almost always more than content to partake in. It was nothing beyond simple male nature to have that affinity for soft skin and tempting curves, though he supposed that not all men could appreciate such things. He knew Donovan didn't, not that he really cared about the man's choices."I can do more than appreciate them", he growls devilishly as he watches the white-haired woman take a drink from her own bottle then while keeping those brilliant blues fixated upon him, dark gaze glittering as he begins to feel the beast growing hungry as it so often did when he was figurative standing on that precarious edge of buzzed and too far gone to be held responsible for whatever might happen. Surprise flickers across her gaze as she arches her brows at his words before giving him a roguish smile, making a remark on his blatant honesty and subtle admittance that he had very much enjoyed that kiss, the haze allowing for that memory of those plush lips against his own to slip into the forethoughts of the man's mind without much struggle. He gives a shrug of his broad shoulders, saying nothing in reply though he can't help the all too faint prick of curiosity at her next string of smoothly spoken words, but he is far beyond that point of wanting to seek such answers to such sobering thoughts. He was far from ready to return to that miserable rut when he was feeling unusually content.

Tipping the rest of the liquor bottle into the air as the last of the whiskey trickles down his throat, it is when he sets that empty bottle on the table only to reach out for the rum, twisting off the cap and taking a deep drink of that even smoother and burning liquor that dark forest eyes see the witch leaning forward towards him. It is enough to give him pause for a moment, watching a slender hand reach for that fang dangling on the sterling silver chain around his neck, laughter rolling easily from the woman after she compliments Lazarus on his butt. He dares to think then for a fleeting moment that he'd seize a chance to give her something else, something much more satisfying to like about him, and in that moment he can feel that fire beginning to burn hotter as he fixes her with that predatory look, dark forest eyes traveling over her face and ever lower until once again they linger on those feminine parts he can feel an urge to reach for though it seems his subconious is only just hanging by a single fraying thread and he refrains... for now. It was really only a matter of time before it snapped. It almost always did. He lifts those dark eyes to her again with that wolfish grin playing effortlessly across his lips as they remain only a breath away, so very close to those lips he found himself hungry for.

With surprising quickness despite her clearly intoxicated state of mind - not that he was doing much better, if any at this point as the rum mixes with whiskey in his bloodstream - the witch lifts that chain over those messy caramel colored locks and dances away from the dark hunter, those eyes of his hardly disappointed with the view as she moves out of reach, the beast now beginning to awaken with that unspoken trigger as she taunts him. He stands easily from his own chair then and stalks towards the white-haired woman he found himself lusting after, her silken words taking his full attention, his name falling from her lips for the first time and the dark hunter takes familiar pleasure in hearing it then."Oh yeah?", he queries in those tenor tones as he reaches for her, the feel of that terribly thin fabric against his strong hand that snakes across her lower back and pulls her against him only intensifying that lust as he has her in his grasp while she moves his necklace to the other hand before bringing it behind her like he couldn't reach it if he really wanted to, an amused grin dancing across those plush lips once again so very close that he could almost taste them now. She laughs and his wolfish grin widens, every sense honed in on the witch that only pushes him further towards that point of no return he still miraculously teeters on as she studies his face, the man hardly missing how her gaze lingers on his lips as his follow suit, falling only briefly from those blue eyes to those lips and back again as she speaks one more before bringing her free hand to toy with those curls. Before Lazarus even has a chance to say anything even remotely clever in response, she speaks again and suddenly those lips are touching the skin along his jawline.

Each stroke was like fire and lightning, burning and electrifying all at the same moment. As she presses herself into him, his body tenses and his hold on her tightens when suddenly, just like that, she snaps that weak thread. No, snapping would be a gross understatement. She destroys it, like it had never been there to begin with, plunging Lazarus over that edge at last when those wicked lips find that spot that unleashes the beast as it roars through the dark hunter, a deep groan slipping involuntarily through him as those dark green eyes come alive with that raging and ravenous lust. That game is almost entirely forgotten then and there, and when he goes to trap her in his arms, she wiggles free - though he'd hardly been trying to pin her there, yet - and takes several steps away but he is quick to follow as that predatory gaze locks fiercely with the witch's, hardly allowing for much space to come between him and what he wanted, that wicked and wolfish grin holding that same hunger that darkened those forest eyes. She presses her back against the wall before dangling that necklace in front of him again, her silken words more than encouraging at this point, the beast taking over as he wastes no time placing each hand on the wall to either side of the woman as he lingers there, not quite pressing into her for the smallest fraction of time. He quickly snatches that necklace from her, but instead of returning it to the place around his neck he drops it onto the floor at their feet as if to say "I win, but that's not the prize I'm after" because it certainly was a frighteningly small victory for him now. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it. The hand that had grabbed the necklace only to dispense it on the floor snakes around her waist again as he pins her in place just slightly into the wall, this time having very little intention of letting her slip away from him as he presses his lips into hers while the other hand moves to wrap itself around the back of her neck from beneath those long stark white locks to pull her farther into him, into those starved kisses that he threatened to devour her with as he kept her exactly where it was that he wanted her. They quickly become deeper, hungrier as his tongue seeks entrance between them, a low and almost animalistic growl rolling through his throat between each quickening breaths. It is then that those fingers belonging to the hand around her waist slide slowly under that spandex material, savoring the feel of her skin as they tense to grip that deliciously soft roundness of the flesh hidden beneath the clothing, as if to further anchor her against his toned frame. It was not a fierce or hard grasp intended to hurt her, then man entirely capable of being relatively mindful of just how much was too much, but it was more than enough to tell her exactly where this was going to lead, leaving no room for any sort of misunderstanding as to what his intentions were.