“Call me sexist, but I do quite like a damsel in distress.” Especially when he was the reason for said distress. It was always refreshing to see how much fear you could put into someone’s eyes, although Callum preferred his victims to be human and the blonde before him clearly didn’t fall into that category. “Either way, I wouldn’t want to hurt a face as pretty as yours.” As if to confirm the sincerity of his words, he briefly raised his hands, palms toward her, showing he wasn’t armed - as if a vampire needed a manmade weapon.
“So you’re a witch. From your demeanor alone I almost would have guessed succubus.” Of course she was just as upset about that little incident as the other witches were, turning a small, insignificant death into a big deal. It wouldn’t have been so irritating had he actually been able to take credit for the coward’s death. But this was one of the rare times that someone was upset because some other vampire had pissed them off, which was just fucking weird.
“You meet many succubi?” Lydia smiled fully, warm and inviting but calculated, like a secret hid in the corner of her lips, a wicked secret. Lydia could count the number of succubi and incubui she had met. All of them tallied to Maddox, not having been aware of them before. It just wasn’t a part of her curriculum. She lowered her lashes and regarded him through bedroom eyes, her voice lowered to a purr, “And what about witches?”
Lydia rolled her eyes at his liking for damsels in distress. Of course, she didn’t know his true liking for damsels in distress, she merely thought him another sexist male, sweeping in to save the frail, crying woman. It was a card she played rather well, luring unsuspecting vampires with a weak, fluttery woman. She sighed and shook her head, her hands on her hips. When he held up his hands, Lydia almost rolled her eyes again. Instead, she just lifted a brow and said, “Thank you. That’s very flattering. But as evidenced, the only weapons you need, are here.” At that, she reached up and pointed at his mouth, hinting at his fangs. "Damsels in distress, ugh. When will you men realise that women could kill you with this very stick I am holding.” At that, Lydia brought down the stick in a sharp arc, aimed directly at his heart, in a swing only a hunter could achieve.
