So this is what I had been working on for some time.

It's Dyson/ OC directed, b/c I'm seriously getting tired of Bo's shit - can't she just love him? I would... Anyway... I hope you like it, and as usual - Review, my dearest readers!

I own nothing but my OC, Allice Silvertail!

~ Nikkitosa

~In search of help~

The clatter of my heels echoes in the empty Dahl. As I step further in I notice that there's no one here tonight, not even the bartender. Frowning and taking a seat on one of the high chairs near the bar I grab a bottle of whiskey and a glass from behind the counter and pour myself a generous amount. After drinking it in a single gulp I feel the fiery liquid burn my throat, leaving a tingly sensation all over my cold body and making the pain that courses through me subside. Upon helping myself with a second glass my keen ears pick the approaching steps of a small group. 'Heels and leather. A female. The Succubus. Scent of death – a female… the Valkyrie. Male… old blood and power. The King. And another male… smells like a wet dog!' I wrinkle my nose and tilt my head towards the door. True to my senses, a group consisting of two women and two men enter. Gulping the content of my glass once again I spin on my chair to face them.

"Silvertail!" exclaims Trick and smiles.

I nod in greeting.

"You haven't changed a thud, Trick." my voice is a bit husky and I tug at the scarf around my neck that hides a collar.

The bartender's keen eyes don't miss this gesture and he frowns. Coming nearer he nods at the chain around my neck.

"How come?"

"Stupidity." is my simple answer before gulping another shot of whiskey.

"Okay. Enough chit-chat. Who's the white-haired chick and what's that hideous thing around her neck?" interfaces the blonde woman, whose piercing blue eyes shoot daggers my way.

"That's Allice. She's a Fae. And that's Tamsin, Bo and Dyson." replies Trick and leads us in his lair.

"Guessed as much. What's she doing here?" asks the brunette, who seems rather uneasy around me.

"We have known each other for a long time. And she's in need of help with her current… problem." simply answers the older man as he moves around the room with ease.

I simply sit down on the couch and steal a sideways glance at the other male. Tall, with curly golden hair and baby blue eyes. Yet his demeanour has that warning tingle in it, reminding me to not let my guard down; mostly now, when I'm being weakened by the chain. He catches me glancing and smirks in a way that makes me look away immediately. 'Damn wolf!'

"So you are the famous Succubus?" my raspy voice sounds painful even in my own ears, yet I ignore it.

"You know me?" she raises an auburn eyebrow my way, immediately taking a defensive posture.

"Yes. Your fame has spread farther than you can even imagine." I reply and study her head to toe.

She's covered in leather, all black, and her daggers are positioned perfectly. Her straight chocolate hair is pulled into a high ponytail and her eyes are lined with a black eye shadow, giving them depth and making her look even more dangerous.

"Let me see that chain." suddenly says Trick, his voice serious and with a single hint of worry.

I rise, making everyone in the room tense and take off my scarf that has been hiding the clip around my neck. From the sudden movement the chains dangle. Next to go is my jacket from underneath which hides the rest of the mechanism, wrapping itself around my upper body in a painful way. I hiss in pain when the silver digs deep into the flesh where my shirt had been torn apart.

"What the?" Bo's shocked expression would have otherwise made me laugh, but in my current condition, with each movement eliciting pain, I dare not even smile.

"What actually happened?" it's hard not to notice the sternness in the old man's voice, caused by worry.

A small smirk tugs at the corners of my lips and I try to move my shoulders, yet the pain that rips through my flesh makes me hiss and curl my hands into fists. Trick only raises an eyebrow my way and gestures for me to sit down. Moving rather stiffly and with as little as possible twisting of exposed and currently bleeding skin, I sit back down, barely containing a growl when one of the chains digs deeper into my wound. The group moves a few steps closer so that they can see what Trick will be doing and to examine my current condition. As I glance at each and every one of them I see only empathy, worry and utter shock.

"I don't understand." it's Bo again who speaks her mind.

Her grandfather pursues his lips, knowing that it will be hard for him to explain what's exactly going on without telling them what I am.

"Those are silver chains, created with the sheer purpose to capture and torture the likes of me. They are quite out-dated since there's been no influx of my kin in the last two or three centuries." I tell her in a raspy voice, successfully not letting them sense the pain I am feeling.

"And I was trying to help a Fae girl. A Hunter had caught her. By some sheer luck the bastard had these old rags in him." I turn my attention back to Trick, who is still examining the shackles. "It was a mistake from my side. Should have killed him, not tried to talk him out of it." I shrug and immediately regret it as this simple movement makes the links tug at one another and tighten their grip around me.

"You should stop moving. The chains have spikes that are reopening the wounds and thrusting silver dust in you." Trick's eyes narrow as he looks at the supposed key-hole.

"Ah, yes. It's been a few days now. And it drives me nuts." I hiss through gritted teeth. "I really hope you have the key for this shithole."

The Blood King's eyebrows furrow as he searches through his memory for what can aid me. In a second his eyes lighten up and he hurries to the other end of the room, all the meanwhile mumbling something under his nose.

"So… you came all the way here for a key?" asks Tamsin as she keeps on eyeing me with a mixture of distrust and worry.

"No. I came here to chat a little bit with Trick, kill a few humans and then return to my lair. You know how the life of the lone predator goes. " as I casually leaning on the sofa, the sarcasm in my voice thickens.

The blonde only rolls her eyes at me and looks at Bo, who is still eyeing at the mechanism rather uncomprehendingly. Tilting my head her way, I capture her gaze, which startles her.

"Ask." I rasp out.

"I want to know why. Why would someone … create such a thing? It can't obviously kill you fast enough. What's it meant to actually do?"

Averting my eyes, I look at the fire, a melancholic feeling setting deep within me.

"It's not created to stop us but rather to bring us slow and painful death. My kind once had a rather bad fame going around, so Hunters were being paid profusely to kill each and every single one of us."

"So this is like a slow working poison?" she comes closer, sitting at the edge of the sofa.

Her proximity immediately gets my senses of high alert and the beast in me starts growling at the sheer scent of Bo's warm blood circulating through her body. Suddenly I'm painfully aware of all the beating hearts, the thudding sound echoing in the sudden silence, and the scent of blood fills my nostrils.

"Don't get me wrong, but I'll advise you to keep your distance." the dreadful tone of my voice makes Dyson tense up and prepare to jump at me even at the slightest hint that I may hurt the brunette.

"Bo! Not so close!" Trick rushes to his granddaughter and pulls her away from me.

Trying to ignore the pang in my chest, I once again avert my eyes and turn my back to them, fearing that my primal needs may and will get the best of me. 'I haven't fed in some time… And with so much blood being lost…' I muse and grip the arm rest, my nails digging into it.

"Hey." it's Trick's soothing voice that brings me out of my trance.

"Keep them away Trick." I whisper lowly.

"Well… that may prove to be a problem.." he starts and my head snaps his way, making the chain ring.

"What does that mean?" my voice is even raspier as a horrifying thought starts forming in my head.

"The key you need. I don't have it." he begins with that calm voice, but the low growl that vibrates in my chest gets him to hurry up, "But I know a man who has one. And he owes me a favour. It will just take me a few days to get it for you."

Many emotions skip past the bartender's face, the primal being distress and sorrow. It's been many moons since Trick and I first met and I saved his life; a watershed after which we kept in touch. Many times throughout the ages our paths crossed and we never denied help to the other. Our friendship is solemnly built on trust; Trick knows I will never intentionally hurt him or those who are close to him. Yet this time I'm pushed beyond my comfort zone and he can sense it. And that same trust allows him to not jump at the ferocity that swirls around me like a dark cape, unlike the others, who immediately get ready to attack if needed.

Instead of harsh backfire, the old man grabs my hands in his and looks me deep in the eyes. The reassuring squeeze, the warm smile and the security his presence offers make me relax a little bit and once again push away that animosity, so common for my kin.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap like that." I murmur and bow my head.

His low hum makes the tension in me loosen up and I sigh.

"I can't even begin to imagine how you feel, Allice. But once again I must ask you to be patient and have faith. The key will be within my grasp in few days' time."

I nod and stand up, reaching for my jacket.

"Then I shall return in a few days' time."

"Where will you stay?" he asks after handing me my scarf.

"I don't know. Somewhere out of danger and away from praying eyes. In my current state… probably away from humans as well."

"I'm sure I can find you a lair if you wish. Many owe my favours-"

"You have already done enough for me." I smile his way and squeeze his shoulder reassuringly.

Yet the unrest in his eyes lets me know he won't back down that easily. That's when the most unexpected thing happens.

"She can stay at my place." Dyson's deep voice suddenly breaks the tense silence and Trick's eyes lighten up like light bulbs on Christmas Eve.

"Are you sure?" it's obvious that the question is asked out of good manners rather than actual wonder.

"Yes. My apartment is big enough. And is away from praying eyes. And humans." I look at the shifter and study his serious face for a second.

"And you?" Trick looks up at me; the plea in his eyes is so evident that it makes me chuckle and nod.

"Since he doesn't mind, I don't as well." my whisper is absorbed by the sudden ring of a phone.

"It's Lauren. We have something on our case." Bo looks at Tamsin and then throws a glance at me then at Trick.

"Go. We'll speak later." he ushers the girls out and returns to his books.

"I'm sorry for the inconveniences." I whisper and look at Dyson.

He shrugs at me and looks at the old man.

"Aha! Found it! The little devil!" suddenly exclaims Trick, making me sneak a glance at the other man who seems just as confused.

"Here. For you. It will help you contain your… hunger." he hands me a rather old looking golden ring.

Twirling it between my fingers for some time I glance at him with a raised eyebrow.

"This little thing is supposed to suppress my hunger? Really?" the disbelief seems to be taking root not only within me but in Dyson as well.

"What kind of hunger are we talking about here? I doubt it's a cheeseburger craving."

Since the blond is taller than both of us and looks at us from above, I get to share a look with Trick. The old man just tilts his head to the side, which means it's up to me to decide what to tell and what to let pass over in silence.

"No. I wish it was cheeseburgers tho'. But, oh well…" I trail off as I put the little jewel on my ring finger.

"You are not going to tell me what I'm up against?" he raises an eyebrow my way and crosses his hands over his broad chest.

Suddenly I feel my throat going dry and my body tensing up in a strange, unnatural manner. For a first time in a long while I feel like a pray in the predator's feet. 'A domineering male. Just my luck.' I mentally scoff, but in real life just mimic his movements.

"Are you sure you can handle my needs, wolf?"

"Try me." he challenges with that smirk that sends warmth through my body, all the meanwhile leaving an uncomfortable feeling deep into my gut.

"Fine. I feed on blood." I throw it out there like it's something natural, which for me is.

Yet the man in front of me seems rather shocked then somehow amused and finally nods his head, as if accepting the facts.

"This explains the silver chains." he states after I arch an eyebrow his way yet once again.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"There aren't many Fae out there that have no tolerance for silver."

"Well, okay, Mr know-it-all, let's see if you can figure out to what kind of Fae I am before Trick finds the key." I challenge and smirk.

"What makes you think I'm interested in investigating your origin?" he shoots back.

My only reply is two raised fingers. When he gives me that amused look and raised eyebrow I clarify.

"First, you, as all men, feel attracted to what's unknown to you. You simply have this impulse to know it all. Second, you are a shifter. And as such, after letting me share your territory of residence, will do anything in your power to find out everything there is to know about me. Which, by the way, is really scarce, so don't get your hopes up." my smirk grows victoriously by the look of mischief that crosses Dyson's face.

"You seem to already have me figured."

"Nah. Just what my senses can tell." I shrug then groan at the pain then sigh in defeat and nod at Trick as a goodbye before heading out of the lair.

The place that I'm supposed to stay in, just as promised, is away from praying eyes and most importantly – humans that may trigger my bloodlust at any moment. The apartment, which strongly reminds me of a hall, is rather spacious with only the most needed things. Upon entering, I'm facing the king-sized bed, on both sides of which there are nightstands. On the left wall, apart from the high windows, there's an old-looking big desk with many drawers. Looking to my right I spot a door that probably leads to the bathroom and an island that separates the 'bedroom' from the 'kitchen'.

And apart from the huge wardrobe and the TV, that's all the furniture in Dyson's apartment.

"You weren't kidding when you said your place was big enough." I say in a low voice, as the chain around my neck keeps on trying to choke me every once in a while.

"Hm. It's not much, but it will do." the defensive note indicates that my comment struck a nerve unintentionally.

"It's perfect!" the exclamation comes out as a low squeak as the mechanism suddenly grips me even tighter, making me wince.

"Are you okay?" taking a step my way, Dyson extends a hand to help me out, but I back away.

"I'll be fine. And for the good of both of us, please don't come near. " straightening my back, I look him straight in the eyes, an unspoken plea hovering in the air around us.

With a single nod the shifter backs away and nods towards the kitchen.

"A snack?"

A smirk tugs at the corners of my mouth at his obvious attempt to extract more information about my eating habits. Of course this is a nice way to change the topic and defuse the tension as well.

"It depends. Is it still twitching and juicy?" I cock an eyebrow his way, successfully crossing my hands over my chest.

"The only juicy thing is one rather decomposing cheese." once again he smirks at me, making my smile grow bigger.

"Ah, can smell that one." I nod and head for the bathroom. "Since there's nothing meeting my requirements, I'll have a sandwich, since you are so kindly offering."

With that I close the door behind my back, not letting Dyson see me grin.

After splashing some water on my face and washing my hands, I look at my reflexion in the mirror, or at least as much as I can, since the damn thing is positioned higher than normal, so to meet the height of the wolf. This morning I organised my snow-white hair into a tight braid so that it won't get in the way but now it's nothing more than a tangled mess, with many strands sticking out. For a second I contemplate of letting it be the bird nest it is, but then my vanity kicks in and with a sigh I raise my hands and undo it. Luckily there's no pain after this brave action, but by the time I finally manage to pull the white mass up in a high ponytail, I'm at the verge of screaming. Finally ready I step back, admiring the way my black eyes contrast nicely against the white waterfall of hair that now steeps down my right shoulder, before looking at my shirt. 'It will be a pain in the ass to get a shower… Later.' with that I grab my discarded jacket from the wrack and throw it on, so to hide my dishevelled state.

Upon returning to the main area I notice Dyson already sitting on one of the high chairs surrounding the island and resting his chin on his hand, obviously intimidating me to hurry up.

"Finally. For a second I thought you may have drowned in the sink." his smirk makes me puff and roll my eyes.

"Yeah. Sorry 'bout that. Chains, hell's pain and all that jazz. Took me some time."

It's yet another challenge for me to climb up the chair as my strength is reaching critically low levels, yet I mask my fatigue and tiredness well enough by giving the sandwich in front of me my full attention.

"It looks and smells nice. Let's hope it's just as delicious." I rasp out and then cough.

"Cut down on the speaking. Let your throat rest." the change of tone from cheerful and facetious to serious makes me frown and tilt my head to the side.

It's a real test of power to look at a man such as Dyson without certain thoughts crossing your mind. It's no lie that I have seen and bedded men far more handsome than him, yet he has a certain charisma; something about his loyalty and concealed concern that makes him look even more appealing. The baby blue eyes and the golden curls are just an added bonus.

"Was that a hint for me to shut up? Because it wasn't very subtle." my voice remains a low whisper, raspy and sounding taunting all the meanwhile giving me that growling warning.

The blonde stays silent for a whole second, his eyes studying me intensely, before he laughs and shakes his head.

"Oh, so now I'm funny alongside a chatterbox?" I mock and poorly pretend to be offended.

"Eat." is the only reply I get from the male.

Pouting like a little child I grab the sandwich and take a bite. 'Not bad.'

I'm once again in the bathroom, this time with the clear intention to get showered somehow. Usually I wouldn't have went through the bother and the pain were I on my own, but like me, Dyson has a pretty sensitive nose and I find myself uncomfortable around him smelling like dirt, blood and other not so pleasant stuff. The perfect chance for a slow shower arose when he left to go investigate on a case he has been recently working on. Knowing that it will be painful and not really wanting to have an audience to my howls, it's a blessing that now I have the whole apartment to myself.

"I can scream to my heart's delight…" I muse and smile bitterly.

In order to minimise the damage I'll do to my body by taking a shower, I come up with the brilliant idea to rip apart my shirt and wrap the parts around the chains so that the sections that aren't touching my skin will continue to do so. Unfortunately that turns out to be easier said than done. After more than half an hour of hissing and cursing and pulling, not to mention the little puddle of blood that has formed over the otherwise squeaky clean tiles, I'm finally somewhat ready for the second stage of my plan – the showering itself. Once again, that seems to be easier thought than done. Yet, already having discarded my clothes and gotten the water running, I know there's no way in hell that I'll sleep in the same room as the male, smelling like a slaughterhouse. So taking a deep, unneeded breath, I step under the water curtain and bite my tongue, as the water hits my sour and irritated skin, washing away the grime and dried blood.

And as I let the water run over my body, ignoring the stinging that comes from the still open wounds and the tug at the chains, I wonder if using a soap will be a good idea. Sneaking a glance at the said thing, I know I'll be regretting this decision after a few minutes, yet nonetheless grab the little slippery thing and decide to do the easy part first – wash the lower half of my body.

True to my presumption it's a pain in my ass to clean the irritated skin without pulling at the chains, yet somehow, and that's one pretty suspicious somehow, I manage to clean myself as far as possible.

Unfortunately I have no power left to wash my hair so I get out of the shower and carefully dry my skin, trying not to pick at the wounds. Despite my best attempts soon there are huge red blotches all over the otherwise white towel and I frown with disgust at the sight of this harsh contrast.

With the chains still wrapped in the leftovers of my shirt, I throw over my head one huge black T-shirt that I have been carrying around with me and which reaches the middle of my tights.

My fatigue has reached dangerous levels by the time I drag myself to the bed. I can only throw the newly laundered towel on a chair near the heating and toss the remains of my things towards my sack. Curling under the cold covers as much as possible, I close my eyes and try to ignore the searing pain and pulsation that have spread across my whole body. Soon the noise from outside fades away and I'm pulled into a restless slumber.