Warning: Some elements of BDSM are used in a slightly different way than usual (I think, anyway).  It's pretty mild, in my opinion, but if the idea squicks you, skip this.  The usual blood warning still applies.  This is not meant to realistically portray any S&M scene or lifestyle--it's firmly in vampire fantasyland.

Huge thanks to nancy and Nicole for making sure I didn't screw it up too much.  Hugs and smooches to two wonderful, generous ladies.  Anything that's still wonky is my fault.

Feedback of any kind is welcome and greatly appreciated at: jb7811@comcast.net

Summary: Trevor has a surprising need that is met by an unexpected source. Or something like that. I suck at writing summaries.

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Broken are the little strings
They can't hold you up
Waiting on your patron saint
I don't think he'll be enough
--"Make it Right", Econoline Crush
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Warm summer nights like this made Trevor long to be back in Italy, in the village of his birth on the Ligurian Sea.  The high-walled garden surrounded him with the sweet fragrance of flowers.  The sound of a woman's laughter from a nearby open window made him remember similar nights, when his father would be home from the sea and his Spanish mother would be happy for a change.  But he couldn't go back, not even to the physical place.  The ghosts were too much for him.  And where vampires were concerned, "ghost" was a literal term.  Luckily, he only saw those he had a personal connection with, and they were easy enough to avoid once he learned where they lurked.  How awful to be like the child in one of his favorite movies who saw all manner of dead people everywhere he went.  He'd known a couple of vampires who had that kind of sight, and they were sad bastards indeed.

Lovely thing about London.  No ghosts for him here.

Leaving the balcony doors open, Trevor walked back inside the loft and slid open the closet doors.  Time to decide what to wear tonight, and his North American wardrobe of t-shirts and jeans didn't fit his plans.  On him, they were always *appropriate*, because he made them so, but different roles called for different costumes.

Because so many others would wear leather, he chose black velvet pants and a burgundy silk shirt.  Silver-toed high-heeled boots completed his outfit.  Around his neck, he tied a black cord holding a silver medal showing St. George slaying a dragon, because it amused him to be feeling nostalgic for his mortal life.

Staring at his image in the mirror, he tousled his long hair with his fingers and thought he should cut it.  Maybe tomorrow he would, but tonight he left it swinging loose around his face.  He picked up a black eye pencil and drew a thick line above and below his lashes, bringing them to a point at the corners of his eyes, emphasizing their upward tilt.  Next, he colored his lips with deep red lipstick then blotted most of it off so that he looked as if he'd just fed even though he was quite hungry.

It was all about the hunger.  He hadn't fed for nearly a week in preparation for this night.  A young one would be crazed by now, but he only felt empty and needy.  The hunger sizzled lightly in his throat, a nice counterpoint to the anticipation burning in his belly.  His fangs pricked his lips when he smiled too widely.  He was ready.

##

This club, unlike most others, was a splashy public affair--well, the top floor was--a fetish-themed nightclub for those who played at unusual hobbies.   The lower levels, on the other hand, were only open to a very special type of customer.  There were private entrances for those who wished to come and go with anonymity, but Trevor went through the front doors.

He got a drink at the bar and drifted toward the dance floor, checking out the crowd.  It was still early, but a weekend, so the place was starting to fill up with all kinds of tender morsels.  Although he tried, he couldn't retract his fangs tonight--too hungry for that kind of control--so he kept his mouth closed except to occasionally sip his drink.  A cute dark-skinned boy took his hand and tugged him forward for a dance, but Trevor pulled back and shook his head regretfully.  He couldn't get that close yet.

Leaving his glass on an empty table, Trevor made his way to the curtain-shrouded alcove where a doorman let him into the dark stairwell.  He stopped at the first level, opened another heavy steel door and gave his name the man standing behind a check-in desk.  Trevor watched a powerfully built vampire walked by with a slave, obviously mortal by his white clothing, on a leash while his name was looked up in the membership book.

"What do you want to be tonight, Trevor?"  The Superintendent started to reel off the options in his typical sepulchral tones, "Master, slave, voyeur--"

"Pet," Trevor interrupted quickly, before he changed his mind. "Pet."

The Superintendent slid a card and a pen across the desk.  "Fill that out with your preferences and limits.  And don't forget your safe word."

Trevor filled in the blanks quickly, because there wasn't much he wouldn't be willing to do tonight.

"Take off your shirt."  The man took the garment, hung it in a closet behind him, and then turned back to Trevor with a questioning look.  "Right, you know you will have to wait to be picked?  And you cannot be used by or traded to another master, as a slave can be."

"Yes, I understand."  Trevor bent his head respectfully as the Superintendent summoned a slave clad only in skimpy white shorts and leather harness to take Trevor to the pound.  Trevor gave him the card that would be affixed to the door of his cage.

The slave licked Trevor's hand, the only contact he was allowed to make, then turned and led the way to an area not too far behind the Superintendent's post.  Trevor followed and tried not to look around too much.  The uncertainty of not knowing who was there was part of the game.  When the slave opened the door to the first cage, Trevor risked a quick glance at the others.  Only three of the six were occupied.  The prospective pets had their gazes fixed firmly on the floor where they would stay until they were chosen.

The only electric lights in the cavernous hall were the bright spotlights that shone down into the cages.  Trevor felt the heat on his bare shoulders as he knelt in the center of the glaring white circle.  Anticipation was a snake coiling in his gut now, restless and ready to strike, but he had to be patient.  Clear his mind of everything except the need, the need to belong.  So different from the need to please that the slaves felt.  They were assigned or claimed immediately, so they could get on with their servitude.  Pets had to *wait*.

The muscles in Trevor's legs had just begun to cramp when a hand lifted him to his feet and steadied him as he wavered.  He squeezed his eyes shut and kept his head bowed, the tension in the back of his neck almost painful.  Smooth hands ran across his shoulders and stroked his hair out of his face.  A nose buried itself in his neck and sniffed, and he could smell clove smoke and dried blood in return.  His dry mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed it down quickly.

The hands rubbed down his back, patted his ass, squeezed his thighs, and then disappeared.  He could feel the person standing behind him, and his mind screamed "pick me *please* pick me".  After what seemed an eternity, the person pushed Trevor back to his knees and walked away.

Trevor drew in a shaky breath and opened his eyes as he heard the pet next to him being led out of his cage.  He stared hard at the floor and tried to fight back the moisture that had sprung unbidden to his eyes.

The next time he was examined, the man unzipped Trevor's pants and fondled his cock roughly and squeezed his testicles until a sharp spike of pain shot through his gut.  The scotch he'd had earlier threatened to return, but the man withdrew before that happened.  He shoved Trevor down so forcefully that he had to catch himself on his hands so his face didn't smash into the floor.  For long moments, Trevor stayed on all fours, breathing deeply to calm both his queasy stomach and his rampant erection.

Trevor lost track of time as he was inspected and passed over several more times.  He listened to the other pets--including a couple new ones-- being claimed with a sinking feeling.  There must be something fundamentally wrong with him if no one wanted to claim him.  He wasn't supposed to speak, so it wasn't his smart mouth and independent attitude that was the problem.  He knew he wasn't beautiful like some of the others, but he'd always thought he looked pretty good.  Now, he didn't know.  He didn't know anything any more.

The harder he tried to clear his mind of doubts, the more they preyed on him.  How could he be fucking up this badly?  He'd done this before.  He wasn't some babe in the woods, here.  He'd played every role there was.  What was he doing wrong?  All he had to do was kneel, keep his eyes down, and his mouth shut.  And he did.  He did it.  And he waited until his nerves felt raw and abraded.

Just as he was about to break the rules and call the slave to let him out of the cage, he heard the door swing open once more.  He tried to keep from trembling as he waited for judgement.  His stomach clenched and his hands shook at his sides as long fingers sifted through his hair and drifted over his face. The touch already seemed proprietary, making Trevor wonder if this was someone he knew.  An eternal moment later, he was lifted to his feet and steadied.  He had to fight the urge to grab and cling to the hands that stroked down his arms.  Two sharp fingernails traced the outline of the snake tattoo on his arm, pinching lightly when they reached the tail in the crook of his elbow.

One hand cupped his shoulder as the man circled around behind him.  The muscles in his back tightened in what--fear?  Expectation?  Desire?  Whatever it was, his whole body trembled with it, and his spine tingled with excitement.  Cool lips brushed a kiss on his other shoulder and a voice whispered, "Shhh, my pet."

*He was chosen.*  Trevor released a tremulous breath and relaxed slightly as the man circled around again.  He swallowed hard and raised his head when fingertips tapped beneath his chin.  A collar being fastened around his neck signaled him to open his eyes.  He blinked several times in the bright light before he could discern details of the tall form in front of him.  Slowly he focused on spiky pale blond hair and frosty blue eyes, a face that seemed chiseled out of ice except for the blood-flushed lips parted in an expression just this side of a smirk.

*Sloan* of all people.

"Hello, my pet."

Trevor bowed his head and tried to calm the feelings rioting through him until he could grab hold of one.  The sound of a throat being delicately cleared told him that Sloan was waiting for the traditional response.  Trevor licked his lips and gave it.  "Your pet, master."

"Well done."  Sloan stroked Trevor's hair as if petting a dog, and Trevor soaked up the approval like a sponge.  "Continue to be a good boy and I'll give you a treat."

Whatever animosity there was between them in the outside world was not allowed to come into play tonight.  They each had a very strict role to play and could not allow personal feelings to interfere.  And it was only this knowledge that held Trevor still while Sloan confirmed his safe word and pulled the collar just a little tighter around his neck.  The lack of a leash would be one of the signs of Trevor's status as pet instead of slave.  The other most obvious sign was that he walked beside Sloan instead of behind him.

Trevor accompanied Sloan to another room full of comfortable furniture arranged in conversational groupings.  Sloan settled on a sofa and crossed his long legs gracefully at the knee.  He patted the cushion beside him and said, "Lie down, pet."

Trevor curled on the sofa with his head on Sloan's lap, Sloan's fingers immediately raking through his hair in a gesture that went a long way toward calming Trevor.  He still felt a little tense and uncertain about why it had taken him so long to be chosen, but now that he had been, the doubts were starting to dissipate.

Sloan ordered a glass of blood from one of the house slaves, then looked down at Trevor and spoke in a completely different tone of voice.  "My beautiful little pet.  Have you fed tonight?"

"No, master," Trevor whispered back, feeling the hunger flair up in him again bright and sharp.

"You are so handsome, pet.  The elegant lines of your face, the sharpness of your teeth--" He broke abruptly, but continued stroking Trevor as the slave returned with a wineglass half full of blood.  "Ah, thank you."

Trevor could smell the blood, warm and fresh, and he ached for a taste of it.  Sloan smiled down at him as he took a sip and pronounced it "Excellent."  Trevor's tongue edged out onto his lower lip as he watched Sloan take another sip and then turn away to talk to a man sitting in the chair beside him.   The other man's pet knelt on the floor at his feet and occasionally licked his master's hand where it rested on his knee.

Trevor thought how much more Sloan must care about him, how special he must be in order to lie on the soft velvety cushions on the sofa instead of having to kneel on the carpet.  Trevor felt himself sinking into the comfort of Sloan's muscular thigh under his head and Sloan's hand on the back of his neck.

While Trevor wasn't listening to the conversation, he could tell when it started to wind down.  Sloan set his empty glass aside and reached over to pat Trevor's ass.  Trevor raised his head questioningly.  Sloan asked, "Would you like to go and watch a flogging?  Master Alphonse will be doing a demonstration soon."

Trevor nodded, but when Sloan frowned he followed it up with a hasty, "Yes, Master."

Sloan smiled his approval, but added, "You have to earn the right to entertainment."

"Yes, Master."  Trevor licked his dry lips in anticipation.  Finally he could prove what a good pet he was.

Sloan petted the back of Trevor's neck as he unbuttoned his leather pants. Trevor could say no.  He couldn't be forced to do anything he really didn't want, so he had one split second to decide if he did.  If he'd ever wanted Sloan, he could have had him already.

Trevor reached into the opening and withdrew Sloan's half-hard cock.  He stroked it to fullness before gingerly lowering his mouth over the tip.  Although he preferred doing it with human teeth, he could do this in full fang as long as he was careful.  The smell of leather filled his head with something primitive and animal, and slightly dangerous under the circumstances.  Disconnecting seemed the best way to go.  The physical act was...well, one of his favorites.  The only thing better was to be on the other side and sucking an open vein at the same time.  Bliss...  But he couldn't allow himself to think too much about *who* was attached to this marble-hard cock in his mouth.

Easier to imagine the hands in his hair belonged to someone else entirely than to try to figure out why they were so painfully tender.  Sloan had no gentle feelings for him--one of the few things in life of which Trevor was absolutely certain--and he knew this was all a game.  The trick here...the trick was to take what *he* needed and not allow the mindfuck that was certainly at the heart of Sloan's motivation, his needs.  Trevor excelled at allowing things his body did to not effect his inner self and, on a few odd occasions, vice versa.

While he sank deeper and deeper inside himself, Trevor couldn't help but notice that Sloan's skin was particularly pleasing to his tongue.  He licked slowly, savoring the clean taste and satiny texture, as his thoughts rolled away into the past to...

...the first time he saw Sloan in Genoa, fair of face and flowing blonde locks, dressed in the finest velvet and lace of the day.  Trevor had felt a twinge of attraction that had died the second the man had opened his mouth.  Trevor had been young, still getting over his love and loss of Stefan, still a little unsure of what exactly he was doing in this life.  Sloan had been arrogant and condescending from the start, inadvertently bringing out the same characteristics in Trevor.  What else could they do but clash?  They'd fought repeatedly and, a few times, violently, but they'd both mellowed a bit in the last century or so.  They could have civilized conversation if they kept it suitably brief.  And they could each trust the other--in this controlled environment--enough to allow such an intimacy as this.

Trevor sucked hard and felt a distant thrill of satisfaction when Sloan allowed a small sound to escape his iron control.  He did it again and wondered why he cared if Sloan had a magnificent experience.  But he did.  Pride, most likely, was pushing him to be the very best that Sloan had ever had and--most importantly--would *never* have again.  He knew all about the admonishment of pride going before destruction, but figured that applied to mere mortals and not him.  His 'haughty spirit' wouldn't lead to a fall, because how much lower could he go?  Really.  He knew there weren't many options, even if he didn't think of it that way in his day to day life.

Then there was the possibility Sloan could be faking it--not the physical response, of course, but all the rest of it.  He could be biding his time, lulling Trevor into a false sense of security until this evening was over and they were released from the rules of the game.  Trevor would rip his throat out if pushed, and had come so close the times they'd come to blows that Sloan must know it.  So he somehow didn't doubt the sincerity of his temporary ownership.

And he wouldn't let those fleeting doubts dull his enjoyment of being petted.  He arched his back under Sloan's clutching hand and swallowed the pulsing essence down his throat.  He licked the spent cock clean, tucked it back inside Sloan's pants, and rubbed his face on Sloan's belly.  Trevor felt firm muscles contracting and quivering beneath the damp black silk against his cheek and made a satisfied purring sound in the back of his throat.

For the very first time since he'd buried his head in Sloan's lap, Trevor became aware that his own cock was hard.  How something like that could have escaped his notice for so many minutes, puzzled and amused him.  He took a moment to bask in his own powers of control before raising his head to offer Sloan a small smile.

Sloan flashed a satiated smile of his own and said, "Lovely.  Ready to go watch the demonstration?"

Trevor nodded and climbed to his feet, respectfully bowing his head.  His erection throbbed uncomfortably inside his tight pants, but he made no indication of it.  He would have to wait for Sloan to notice and decide what to do about it.  Waiting again...yes.

Sloan stood up and tapped Trevor under the chin.  For an interminable moment, Sloan stared at him with hooded eyes, and then he leaned in slowly, close enough that Trevor fancied he could feel a thin cushion of air molecules pressing against his lips.  A beat, two, and then Sloan replaced the air with his mouth.  He separated Trevor's lips with the tip of his tongue and intentionally cut it on a fang.  Only a few drops touched Trevor's tongue before the tiny wound healed, but it sharpened his hunger unbearably.  His stomach tightened as he returned the kiss and returned the blood by raking his tongue across Sloan's teeth.

"Mmm...hmm."  Sloan hummed against Trevor's mouth as his long thin fingers gripped Trevor's hips tightly.  Trevor had the oddest desire for those hands to move higher, to the bare skin of his sides, his back, his torso--stroking and rubbing, squeezing a nerve-rich nipple or scratching red furrows in the pale skin of his belly.  Desire...misplaced and inconvenient, put compelling nonetheless.

But none of that happened.  Sloan stepped back and licked his lips, giving Trevor another inscrutable stare before turning for the door.  Trevor took a deep breath and tried to calm the arousal crawling around in his bloodstream before catching up.

Back out in the main room, a big X-shaped frame was set up at the end opposite the pet cages.  Towering white candles lit this end of the hall, casting a golden glow over the slick naked flesh of the slave being strapped into a standing position against the leather-padded cross.  This slave's wide leather collar was black, proclaiming him a vampire.

Sloan pulled Trevor in front of him, cradling Trevor's back against his chest so that he could speak directly into his ear.  Trevor could see other masters doing the same with their pets and a couple with their slaves.  Sloan's voice was barely above a whisper as he explained that Master Alphonse and this slave had been together for over a year, but this was their first public demonstration together.

Trevor watched the Master stroke and fondle his slave, sensitizing his skin with his gloved hands before he ever picked up one of the tools on a nearby table.  Although Trevor had seen many similar things in his life, the tableau was terribly erotic-- the flex and squeeze of the slave's hands as the flogger descended, the flush of blood just under his skin from the repeated blows, the sheen of sweat glinting off both Master and slave in the blazing candlelight.

Trevor swallowed hard as Sloan's hands slid down to the waistband of his pants, thumbs slipping inside, fingers framing his groin, the tips occasionally brushing lightly over his now-tortured erection.  Hot breath in his ear, "Beautiful, no?" and all he could do was nod.  He watched tensely as Master Alphonse laid aside the flogger, kissed his slave on the cheek and then picked up a whip, dramatically cracking it in the air a couple of times before he laid into his slave again.  The slave gave a low moan and clenched his buttocks, but otherwise didn't outwardly react to the change in implements.  Trevor suddenly wished he could see the man's face--or even better, be inside his head at this moment.  Would it be a wave of bliss or would the pain still be center stage?  Trevor had never been much into this type of ritualized masochism, but he could almost understand how someone else would be.  There was something extremely clarifying about pain and pleasure entwined so tightly together.  Nothing else mattered and the worries one thought were important suddenly became clearly inconsequential.

Finally, the main difference between this club and a mortal one came into play.  The Master retired the whip with another kiss on the slave's cheek, and picked up a long thin knife.  The narrow blade glinted silver menace as the Master brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before lowering it to the slave's back.  He drew the tip of the blade across the broad golden expanse in long languorous stripes.  Trevor's moan almost drowned out the slave's.  He could smell the sweet ruby drops.  They called to his burning appetite and made his mouth water.  Sloan's grip tightened and he crooned wordless comfort as if he knew exactly what Trevor was feeling.  "Shhh, my pet."

Trevor released a trembling breath and tried to relax.  Patience...wait and it'll come.  Wait, wait, and just when he was afraid he would die from starvation and sexual frustration, the Master stepped back and nodded.  Licking the knife clean, he laid it aside and waved his hand imperiously at the crowd before walking around the frame to kiss and stroke his slave's face.

Instead of applauding, the masters released their pets and slaves, who surged forward and began licking the bloody cuts and trails on the slave's back and butt.  Trevor looked back at Sloan for permission before moving forward.  When Sloan nodded and gave him a little push, Trevor shouldered his way into the throng and dropped to his knees.  He worked his way between the bare legs of a couple of slaves and found a patch of thigh to lick.  The blood was tinged with sweat, but still tasted delicious.  The tiny amount of nourishment further heightened his hunger instead of satisfying it.  He'd need more soon or he was going to begin to seriously suffer.  His throat burned and his stomach ached from emptiness, since the alcohol from his earlier drink had been completely absorbed by now.

Forgetting for a moment where he was, Trevor shoved away the body closest to him and desperately licked at a new patch of skin.  The slave he moved started to protest, but quickly shut up when Trevor turned and growled.  Just as he was about to launch himself at the man's throat, one hand twisted in his hair and another grabbed the back of his waistband, pulling him out of the confrontation and onto his feet.  The hand released his hair, but moved down to his shoulder, petting him as Sloan leaned down into his space.  "Are you calm now, pet?"

Trevor nodded slowly, not really sure but still wanting to please.  He would become calm if it killed him.  He took a silent breath and closed his eyes briefly to center himself.  When he opened them again it was to find Sloan watching him sympathetically.  "How long has it been?"

"Six days."  Shaking his head, Trevor quickly clarified, "However, I can go *much* longer than that.  I just got caught up in the moment."

Sloan put his left hand on the back of Trevor's neck and offered his right wrist.  "No need.  Let me take care of you, my pet."

Trevor started to say no, but then he looked at the imperceptibly pulsing blue-green veins beneath the fine pale skin and all he could say was "Thank you, master."

The crowd of bodies and murmur of voices faded into the distant background as Trevor took Sloan's wrist in his hand.  He cradled it gently and pressed his lips to the inside in a kiss of gratitude.  Sloan's fingers brushed his cheek as he slashed his teeth across the veins and swallowed the blood that poured from the wound.  He intentionally shut out any images of Sloan's life he would have received, as was only polite in the situation.

Just as Trevor started to feel replete, Sloan pulled his wrist out of Trevor's mouth and held it up for Trevor to lick the wound so it would heal.  When the gaping slash was nothing more than a fading red line, he cradled Trevor's face in his hands and licked the blood from the corners of Trevor's lips.  Trevor stood still and quiet for the ministration, but his belly warmed from the blood and a bolt of lust from the tender care that Sloan was taking with him.  The complete opposite of what he'd have expected and it was turning him on something fierce.

But this was *Sloan* of all people.  Trevor didn't have to like or even *know* his sex partners, but it was damned hard for him to fuck someone that he actively disliked.  And just because Sloan hadn't displayed tonight any of the traits that made Trevor dislike him, didn't mean they weren't there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the game to be over so they could reassert themselves.

Sloan stepped back, but kept his hands on Trevor's face--which some considered the most intimate touch--and looked down at Trevor's body.  The arousal had to be obvious and Trevor waited for the familiar self-satisfied smirk to appear, but Sloan just got an intense look in his eyes.  "You know that I can do just about anything to you, don't you?"

Trevor answered with a raised eyebrow.  Yes, of course, he knew it.  On some level, that's why he had come here.

Sloan moved Trevor's head up and down in a forced nod and said, "Don't you?"

"Yes, master," Trevor answered, feeling odd and out of sorts now that the bloodlust was somewhat satisfied.

"Better."  Sloan smiled slightly, but his eyes remained locked on Trevor's.  "But do you truly *want* me to?  And don't lie because I'll know it."

Trevor looked deep down inside himself and decided that such submission was not really necessary to make him feel complete.  Somewhere along the line, he'd already gotten what he'd needed.  He'd belonged for a while, and it was enough...for a while.

"No," Trevor said simply.  He could see that Sloan immediately noticed the lack of honorific and understood what it meant.  The game was just about over.

"One more question then."  Sloan waited until Trevor nodded before asking, "Would I ever have a chance with you outside of a game like this?"

Ordinarily, Trevor would laugh and make a cutting remark because he'd know that Sloan was not serious and was setting him up somehow.  But the gravity in his expression, the slight ray of hope in his eyes convinced Trevor to actually give it serious thought.  He still didn't like Sloan--maybe that would change if he saw more of this side of him instead of the snarky arrogant side.  But his body...his body didn't seem to know that or care.  He was so aroused right now, he ached with it, and Sloan could take care of it.  Sloan could take care of *him*.

Trevor swallowed and stared into Sloan's eyes.  After a moment, he finally answered the question in a near whisper.  "You might have a chance."

Sloan moved his hands down to Trevor's neck and removed the collar.  He stepped back so that they weren't touching and two feet of space separated them.  Trevor wondered if he was even aware for how tightly he was clutching the collar against the side of his leg.  "What about now?"

Some little imp made Trevor take his time answering even though he knew what he was going to say.  "Well, there's all our history to consider...  And I still don't like you, but...yeah.  You can take me home."

"I never said I like you now either," Sloan replied quickly, but he smiled when he said it.

"Good.  We don't want to upset the delicate balance of the universe, now do we?"  Trevor grinned and started walking across the room to retrieve his shirt.  He cast an amused glance at Sloan as he caught up with him.  There wasn't much of the night left, but the upcoming day should be very interesting indeed.
 

The End.
 
 

Notes:  Besides being patron saint of England and Genoa, St George is also patron of sailors and soldiers and protector of rocky and dangerous coasts.  His acts are considered apocryphal.  Also it's my personal theory that Proverbs 16:18 is the most misquoted verse from the Bible. ("Pride goeth before *destruction* and a haughty spirit [nature] before a fall.")
 
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