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Riding the Red Ch. 01

By: vampwrrr



The vast, dark room housed two men. It was an old fashioned library, with an old fashioned fireplace, in an old-fashioned house. Everything in the room, from the leather-bound first editions, to the thick velvet draperies, to the huge cherry-wood desk, spoke of old money, tradition, and rules that should never be broken. The elder of the men, broad and imposing, with silver hair, stood in front of the fireplace, staring stone-facedly into the flames. The younger stood behind him, towering over his elder, though he didn't have nearly as much muscle. He moved, standing beside the older gentleman, to stare into the flames. 

"Anything it takes?" he queried.

"Anything it takes."

******************************************

Adrienne Blanchard ran for the ringing phone.

"'Allo?" she said, breathlessly.

"Well, hello!" laughed her mother. "I thought that you would never pick up the phone!" 

Adrienne slipped into the comfortable Franglish that her family had spoken since her childhood. "Desole Maman, but I just came back from class. Midterms are fast approaching and I've been living at the library for the past few days."

"C'est bien, Princesse. I knew that they were coming. As a matter of fact, you should have received a package from us."

"Oui!" giggled Adrienne. "It came in the mail today and I was waiting until I got back home to open it."

"No time like the present," her mom said.

"Un moment," Adrienne responded as she grabbed her keys and began slitting the tape on the box. Gasping, she looked happily at the treasures inside. "Maman!"

"I know, I know. I hope that you like it."

"Oh, Maman!" Her eyes roved over all of her best loved treats. Nutella, raspberry Pims, almond butter, Hob Nobs, Mint Milanos, cashew butter, and her mother's cinnamon hot-chocolate mix, oatmeal-black walnut-currant biscuits, and homemade granola. She dug through the box and confusion crossed her face. Under the first layer of delightful comestibles was a second layer of shortbread biscuits, tins of chamomile, earl grey, and peppermint tea, water crackers, and homemade cream scones. "Umm..."

"Ah, I see that you've reached the second layer. Isn't that a lot of food for une petit etudiante?"

"Ouais..." Adrienne said, suspiciously. "And you know that I've never cared for anything in the second layer..."

"Curieuse. Do you know anyone who might enjoy them?"

"The only person that likes all these things is—Mom!"

"Quoi?" her mother innocently asked.

"Grandmaman."

"What about her?"

"You want me to deliver these things to Grandmaman."

"Alors," her mother said, comfortably, "Don't you love your grandmere?"

"You know that I do! It's just that midterms are just around the corner and I have no extra time, and—"

"Elle est malade, Addie."

"Oh. Is she—"

"She'll be fine. It was pneumonia, but they caught it in time and you know that your Grandmaman is a tough old salt. She's back at home, resting, but she's still feeling under the weather. She would really enjoy a visit from her favourite grand-child."

"I'm her only grand-child."

"Thus making you all the more unique."

"All right, all right!" Adrienne conceded. 

"Hyperbolic flattery will get you everywhere. I was going to go to the movies with friends this evening, but I can drop by her house, instead."

"Tu es une bonne fille."

"That's why you love me."

"Mmm," her mother chuckled. "Quelle heure est-il, la?" Adrienne attended L'Universite d'Orleans, where she was double-majoring in ancient language and ancient civilizations. As the daughter of a French diplomat and an American international lawyer, she was an extremely poised girl, who decided early in life that she wanted to study in her father's patrie, or homeland. Her parents, on the other hand, were currently living in Seattle. 

"Five o'clock."

"Well, then be quick about it. It's probably getting dark, isn't it?"

"It's not too bad," Adrienne said, elliptically. 

"You know that I don't like you alone in the woods after dark." Adrienne's grandmere lived within walking distance of the school, but there was a wooded area, that Adrienne had to cut through to arrive without taking a ridiculous amount of time.

"Maman, I'll be fine," Adrienne gently chided. 

Her mother sighed. "It's October. C'est frais, la. Wear that red cape that she gave you. That will cheer her."

"I will," Adrienne promised.

"Adrienne—," her mother started.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Just..." A deep sigh. 

"Qu'est ce que c'est? Quelle est la probleme?" 

A short silence followed. Finally, her mother spoke. "You haven't heard anything from your grandfather, have you?"

"No, ma'am. I haven't seen him in years. Why do you ask? Has he called you?"

"Non, non. Pas de raison, Pretty. I haven't heard from Father since the last time that you saw him. Just remember not to talk to any etrangers, d'accord?"

"Mom, I'm 20. You've been telling me that since I was 6. When will you think that it has finally stuck?"

"Je ne sais pas, Princesse," her mother said, sadly. "Well, on with you. I'll talk to you soon."

"Je t'aime, Maman."

"I love you more, mon bebe."

**************************************************

Standing within the shadows of a grove, a tall, rangy man boldly watched a particular open window with predatory concentration. He was dressed well, in a tailored grey wool three-piece suit, charcoal shirt, and silver silk tie. A thick tumble of shining chestnut curls flopped charmingly and rather boyishly just above his whiskey eyes. His jaw was firm and there was a taut muscle ticking in his lean cheek, just under his blade-sharp cheekbones. Suddenly he lifted his face in the air, closed his eyes, and leisurely sniffed. With a very slow, very white grin, he sauntered away from the dorms and melted into the shadows of the woods. 

*************************************************

After a quick shower, Adrienne donned a full black lambs-wool skirt that went down to her ankles, white stockings, and her black, patent leather T-strap Mary Janes. A billowy, long-sleeved white shirt with a drawstring neck and tight cuffs, and black wool vest finished her ensemble. Her mother was right. It was getting chilly and besides, Grandmaman would be pleased to see her in the clothes that she had made and bought for her last birthday, although perhaps she might be slightly scandalized to know that she was wearing stockings instead of sensible sweater tights. Adrienne liked her stockings and garters, though. She found old-fashioned undergarments charming and she enjoyed wearing them far more than modern under things. On second thought, Grandmaman would probably approve. She was an artistic, feisty woman, with blackberry eyes and a quick, red smile. There were rumours that her family tree held the "Romani stain" and, given her Grandmaman's clever wit, unsettling insight, and penchant for colourful baubles and rich fabrics, Adrienne could believe it. 

She had put up her hair so that it wouldn't become wet in the shower and now she unpinned it, letting the curly, shining, coffee mass fall down her back, to her waist. Her silver eyes roved over her dresser until she located her red velvet ribbon, which she tied around her head, Alice-style, to hold back her thick curls. She put the treats for her grandmother in her wicker basket and closed the lid. Donning the crimson velvet cape made for her on her 16th birthday by her doting grandmother, she picked up the basket and swept out of the room.

**************************************************

She had been walking through the woods for awhile when the gloaming descended. Late-season fireflies floated around her head and the changing leaves along with a soft mist that was rising from the ground, made it seem as if she were walking into Fairyland. Looking behind her, she saw the last brilliant rays of the sun, illuminating the nacreous clouds with deeply saturated shades of gold, pink, and carmine. Ahead of her was a full moon on the rise, in a purplish-blue evening sky. She paused to enjoy a moment of solitude, contemplating the beauty of nature. 

In the silence, she heard a twig snap. She stilled, straining all her senses to ascertain what was out there. Hearing nothing, she began to walk, only to hear a rustle to her right. She looked around, but saw nothing. Peering into the deepening twilight, she listened, but the whisper of the wind blowing in the leaves was all that she heard. Just as she was about to continue on her way, she heard another rustle on her other side and spun to see what was there. Nothing. Lifting her face, she scented the breeze. A spicy scent drifted teasingly past her nose and then faded. Setting her jaw, she shook her head, thinking that it was probably a deer or small mammal. It was just like her to let her imagination get the best of her. She had walked these woods countless times and had been completely safe. 

Suddenly, she heard a wolf howl in the distance. She looked disbelievingly toward the sound. Another howl rent the night air, this one slightly closer. She put down her head and briskly trotted along the path. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of leaves crunching underfoot as something came closer. She bit her lip and looked behind her. In the darkness, she could see grey shapes far behind her, melting from shadow to shadow and gaining. With a gasp, she began to jog. The sounds of pursuit suddenly crashed into her ears as she hitched up her skirts and ran. How many were there? She had counted at least three, but there could be more. As she ran, she clutched the basket to her chest, as if the love that her mother had put into it could keep her safe. Soon, she began to develop a stitch in her side. She was still a good mile away from her Grandmaman's house and was tiring fast. She spared a glance behind her to find three large wolves loping silently behind her on the path. She couldn't help it; she screamed. Turning her head, she saw a huge wolf leap in front of her. Reflexively, she swung the basket and slapped the wolf across the face so hard that it fell sideways, blocking the path. 

She ran off the path, leaping over fallen trees and jumping small streams. She could hear the wolves gaining on her and she heard the snap of teeth as one of them grabbed for the hem of her cape. She looked back to see if that had all caught up to her when she ran into a wall. Terrified, she spun around only to discover that the wall was a very tall man, looking down at her with amusement in his eyes. "Help me!" she cried, "Wolves!"

"Wolves?" he queried softly.

"Yes!" she sobbed, trying to pull him and run.

"Where are these wolves?" He gently asked.

"We have to run! They're right behind me!"

"There's nothing behind you, child." 

Adrienne spun only to discover that he was right. The wolves that had been pursuing her had vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared. "But, there were wolves," she said, incredulously. "Three of them. I don't understand."

"Shhh. It's dark. It's cold and you were alone in the woods. That's enough to frighten anyone into thinking that they see something menacing."

"I wasn't hallucinating!" she exclaimed, insulted. "I know what I saw! I'm not child; I'm not telling some fairy tale!"

"Alright," he said, pacifyingly. "In any case, they're gone for the moment. Which leads me to the question...what's a little girl like you doing in a wild wood like this?" 

Adrienne blinked slowly up at him, realizing that she was still clutching herself to his body. He had his arms around her waist and she could feel the tensile strength running through them and, considering the fact that she was pressed so closely to it, through the rest of his sinewy body under his perfectly tailored grey suit. She let go of him and he immediately dropped his arms while she backed up to a comfortable distance. "I'm not a little girl," she challenged.

"Mmm, no, I guess you aren't," he said, his eyes raking in her appearance from her head to her feet. He grinned. "You're obviously a very big girl."

"I'm not a girl at all—I'm 20 years old." 

A light seemed to shine from the depths of his golden eyes. "Ah, 20? Not a child, then, but a woman grown." He leaned casually against the trunk of a tree and put his hands in his pockets. 

Adrienne narrowed her eyes and raked her eyes over him as thoroughly as he had her. He was tall, about 6'4" to her 5'7". Though his clothes were elegant and finely made, his hair looked as if it needed a good combing and haircut and his lean cheeks were stubbled with a chestnut 5 o'clock shadow. His thick, straight, dark brows perched above large, fine, golden eyes, the shade of the sun shining through a bottle of good Irish whiskey. These eyes were framed by thick, almost feminine coffee-coloured lashes. His wide, mobile mouth contrasted sharply with the deep lines etched around its sides. His face was a disturbing study in contrasts, the gentle coral mouth and golden eyes surrounded by hard, masculine planes and topped with his almost impertinently curled, floppy ringlets. 

His body, on the other hand, was nothing but male. Not only was he tall, but the suit did little to hide a sleekly muscled frame. Wide shoulders, flat chest and stomach, narrow hips and long, long legs led her to believe that, despite the fineness of his suit, this man was no stranger to physicality. His lazy stance against the tree was belied by an underlying hum of muscles prepared for anything, like a wolf crouched for a leap. 

"Enjoying the view, lady?" he caressingly asked. 

Blushing, she straightened and speared him with a haughty look. He continued to smile insouciantly, then straightening, he stalked over to her. Her first instinct was to back up, but she stiffened her spine and held her ground. 

Smiling at her, he said, "I'll tell you what. Why don't you let me walk you to your destination? It has been awhile since I had the opportunity to escort a pretty young lady anywhere and you would do me an honour to agree." 

Tilting her head, she looked up at him suspiciously. Though it would be a good idea to have him walk with her to her grandmother's house, there was something about him that unsettled her. He leaned over her, resting an arm on a branch above her head. Her nostrils flared as she caught that same spicy scent that she had smelled before the wolves chased her. "No. Thank you," she said, primly. "I don't have much farther to go and I'm sure that I'll be fine.

"Oh? What about the wolves?" 

"You were probably right. It was just my overactive imagination playing tricks on me." 

He grinned at her. His teeth were very white in the darkness. Very white, very large, and very sharp. She felt her heart rate accelerate. She flushed hotly and she saw his pupils dilate. Licking his lips, he said, "Still, there may be others out to catch a pretty young thing in the woods. " 

She watched his nostrils flare slightly as he leaned toward her and she was embarrassed to feel her nipples stiffening against the fabric of her shirt. "I...um, I..."

"Yes?"

"I don't even..." she cast about wildly for an excuse. "I don't even know your name, sir." 

Straightening, he tilted his head and fixed her with a wry smile. Holding out his hand, he waited until she had placed hers in his much larger one. "Rolfe. Lucas Rolfe." He took her hand and, instead of shaking it, bowed and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. She felt a sharp jolt in her belly and an insistent heat beginning to glow in places further south. Looking up into her eyes, he softly queried, "What's yours?"

"Adrienne," she said, breathlessly. 

He reached out and toyed with one of her curls. "Dark one," he said, quietly. 

"Famous wolf," she countered. 

"Well," he said, "now that we know one another's names, we are no longer strangers and you will let me accompany you." 

Adrienne usually had a quick tongue, but around this arrogant, distracting man, she found herself as tongue tied as the school girl she proclaimed herself not to be. Still, despite his good looks, everything in her was screaming that he was the devil in a Sunday suit. She shook her head. "No. It's not that far. I can make it alone." He frowned at her, straightened and then shrugged. 

"It is your decision." Smiling charmingly, he added, "If you need me, just...scream my name." 

She backed away from him, her eyes holding his. Holding her hand to her chest, she put one foot behind the other and his smiled widened. Suddenly, her foot caught in a small depression in the ground. She threw out her arms to catch herself, but struck her head against one of the fallen trees. The last thing that she saw was Lucas striding toward her and picking her up as if she weighed nothing. Then, the world went fluttery and finally, dark.

Riding the Red Ch. 02



Adrienne was gently pulled from the depths of unconsciousness by the warm wet sensation of something licking her forehead. Opening her eyes in alarm, she saw that it was Lucas who was not, in point of fact, licking her, but gently dabbing at her temple with a wet cloth that he periodically dipped into a bowl of warm water. She could smell witch hazel and the sharp, herbaceous odour of tea-tree oil. She shrank away from him and he stopped his ministrations and looked at her. 

Looking around, Adrienne took her bearings. She was gently sinking into a comfortable forest green corduroy couch in front of a crisply roaring fire in what looked like a well-appointed cabin. Under the pervasive odour of tea tree oil, she could scent the strong smell of pine, loam, and crushed leaves. Lucas had taken off his jacket, but was still dressed in his vest and shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows. He had undone the first two buttons of his shirt and had loosened his tie. His intoxicating, spicy scent wafted up from inside his shirt and swirled around her head. 

"Welcome back," he said. 

Looking back at him, she asked, "Where am I?"

"You're in my home. You took quite a tumble. Nothing seemed broken, but how do you feel?" 

Adrienne did a quick inventory of herself. Everything felt fine except for her head, which was throbbing. "My head hurts, but that's it."

"That's to be expected, given how hard it hit that log." 

Adrienne closed her eyes and tried to recall a memory of what he was saying, but the last thing that she remembered was him offering to walk her home. "What happened?" she queried.

"You were walking away, tripped over something, fell, and hit your head," Lucas said matter-of-factly.

"I don't really remember..."

"That's not surprising. You have a mild concussion, but nothing a few aspirin, some butterfly bandages and plenty of rest won't cure. You won't even have a scar."

"Are you a doctor?" Adrienne countered. Lucas just smiled mysteriously and began to apply the bandages. "Seriously," she said, "I want to know. I'm going to need a proper medical diagnosis from a real doctor." 

Lucas' grin widened. "I've had extensive EMT training as well as countless hours of field experience."

"Oh. So...are you a medic? What is it that you do?"

"A tid of this, a bit of that," he said, evasively. "All done. Have a look." He handed her a mirror. 

Adrienne looked at her face with trepidation, but aside from some superficial, if colourful bruising, and a small gash held together by the butterfly bandages, her face was otherwise unharmed. She dimpled shyly as she looked at him. "I don't mean to seem ungrateful. Thank you."

"No thanks needed. I was happy to have been of service."

"Well...I hate to run, but I really must get on to my grandmother's house." Lucas stared intensely at her.

"You can't."

"I...can't?" she faltered.

"No. A freak snowstorm hit while I was carrying you here. We're completely snowed in. Look outside." 

Disbelievingly, Adrienne stood up to open the curtains. The edges of her vision flickered and she swayed. 

Lucas steadied her with a firm grip on her arm, then rose and pulled her to him. "Come with me," he crooned in her ear, "I'll show you." Guiding her over to the windows, he pulled back the draperies to reveal a world dressed in white. 

"What the devil is this?" Adrienne looked sharply at Lucas, who gave an elegant shrug of his shoulders.

"The temperature has dropped precipitously since the sun went down. Surely you felt it. Why else were you so bundled?"

"I...just dressed, I didn't give it too much thought." She paused. "It never snows this much here. It barely snows at all, not to mention at such an unseasonable time for it."

"And yet, there you are," Lucas said with finality, languidly waving a hand toward the window. With what she was coming to realize was his perpetual wolfish grin he added rhetorically, "If you can't trust your eyes, then just what can you trust?"

"Certainly not you," Adrienne said softly, without thinking. Realizing her rudeness, she blushed scarlet and started to stammer an apology. 

Lucas just grinned all the wider. "Smart girl." 

Adrienne searched his face, but despite its sharp planes, she found no malice. Unthinkingly, she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. His pupils dilated until the iris was almost eclipsed by black, but other than that, there was no reaction. Dismayed by her own forwardness, Adrienne dropped her hand as if his face hand burned her.

"I need to call someone to let them know where I am." 

Lucas started shaking his head before she even finished her sentence. "I'm afraid that I have no phone. I'm a rustic sort. No phone, no TV, no Internet." 

Adrienne felt her eye twitch. She was a daughter of the tech age. "No Internet?" 

He laughed. "Teasing. I actually do have satellite service, but in storms like this, snow covers the dish and the end result is...no Internet." 

"Well, how long are we going to be here?"

"I haven't the foggiest," he said, comfortably. Adrienne's stomach took that moment to let out an ominous rumble. "Someone needs feeding. For better or for worse, you are my guest and as such, it is my distinct pleasure to see to all of your...physical needs." She self-consciously wrapped her arms around herself. "Follow me. I'm sure that I can scare up something." 

He led her to a dining room dominated by a long cherry wood table surrounded by high backed chairs. "Sit," he commanded. Adrienne bristled slightly at his tone, but she was tired and hungry, as well as a guest in his home, so, after paying lip-service to her pride by giving him a look, she sat. "Good girl." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of Tylenol PM. Reaching across the table for a carafe and glass, he poured her a glass of water while saying, "Take three of these. They should help with your head." He left the room, but soon returned with a giant silver platter full of fruit, nuts, cured sausage, honey, bread, cheese and two sharp little knives in one hand, and a bottle of grape juice in the other. "You must excuse me. I'm a bachelor. I have plenty of food, but none of it is particularly fancy." 

"My basket--" 

"--Is in the living room."

"I have some food in there. My mom had sent me a care package and in it she included some things for my grandmother, which is why I was on my way to her house. I also brought most of my things to share with her, so that should supplement your stores."

"We'll dip into it, if necessary, but—"

"I have cookies," she sing-songed. 

Lucas paused. "I'll get it." A moment later, he returned. Laying her basket on her lap, he looked at her. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I can put your cape on the coat-rack. "

"Oh...thank you." She stood to untie her cape when he moved behind her. 

Reaching around, he brushed away her hands. "Allow me." He untied her cape, his fingers gently brushing against her throat. As he slid it from her shoulders, the backs of his hands brushed against her arms. The contact was minimal, but Adrienne felt her face grow hot. When he returned he looked at her. "You're blushing."

"I'm...quite hot. I'll be fine." 

"Indeed. Shall we?" They tore into the food. Adrienne hadn't realized how hungry she was until she started eating. She moaned as she bit into a piece of bread and cheese. She didn't have time to be embarrassed, however, because Lucas was wolfing it down even faster than she. He wasn't a rude eater, but an expeditious one. Adrienne grinned. She had always enjoyed watching men with good table matters enjoy their food and it was nice not to have to act like a lady while her stomach burned with hunger. Soon, however, the silver platter was clean and they were halfway through her packet of Hob Nobs. Adrienne sighed and sat back. Lucas nodded. "I second that." Adrienne blinked her eyes in contentment. 

Several moments later, she realized that her eyes were still closed. Before she could open them, Lucas swung her into his arms and started out of the dining room. She struggled against him until he said, "Relax, little one. I'm just carrying you to the guest room. My room is down the hall." Realizing that her struggles were useless anyway, she relented. Deep within herself, she sighed. His body was as hard as marble. A thrill ran through her as she enjoyed a luxury that she hadn't experience since she was a child. Of course, it was quite different, being carried by your beloved Papa and being carried by a rugged, enticing man who was definitively not anything like your sweet, gentle, owlish Papa. 

Lucas turned into a room and placed her gently on the side of the bed. The Tylenol were just beginning to work and she blinked sleepily down at him as he undid her shoes. Looking up at her, he reached under her skirt, sliding his warm, callused hands along her calves and thighs until her reached her garters. Drawing one hand back down her leg, he put it beneath her knee and lifted it as he unhooked the back of the garter. Gently placing her leg back against the mattress, he undid the front and side, and then tenderly, yet methodically folded the stocking down her leg. 

Adrienne knew that she should be affronted at his effrontery, but she was tired and warm and full of good food. Besides, what with the way that he was looking at her and the warm scent of his hair teasing her nostrils, she was half tempted to let him do a lot more. He unhurriedly repeated the process with her other leg, looking into her eyes the entire time. Then, folding her stockings together, he placed them in her shoes. 

He rose before her, towering over her as he looked down into her face. Starting with the bottom button of her vest, he slowly undid it and peeled back the halves, then folded it into the drawer by the bed. As he turned back to her, Adrienne raised her arms. Reaching down, he began to pull up her shirt. Pausing, he ran his hands over her stomach. He swallowed and looked at her. "Corset?" he asked hoarsely. 

"I like them," she shrugged. 

Taking a shuddering breath, Lucas pulled up her shirt and folded it away with her vest. He took a step back and looked at her. Her golden-brown skin fairly glowed against the cream silk brocade. "My, my, my, Little Red. You almost make a man forget to be a gentleman." She dimpled shyly. 

"Turn around," he softly commanded. Adrienne paused, unsure. Then she slowly turned around. "Pull your hair to the side." Reaching behind her, she caught her heavy mass of hair with one arm and pulled it over her shoulder. Lucas didn't move for awhile. Just as Adrienne was about to turn back around, she felt his fingers begin to leisurely unlace the back of her corset. As each row came undone, she felt the hot backs of his fingers gently brush against her back. Finally the work was done. An expectant heaviness hung in the air. 

Adrienne slowly turned back around, holding the corset to her chest. Lucas looked at her, and then leaned toward her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head. She felt his hand brush back her hair, his breath gently fan over her face. He whispered, "That wound looks as if it's beginning to heal already. I trust that a night's rest will do you great good." By the time his words registered and she opened her eyes, he was gone.



Riding the Red Ch. 03



Eiric Blanchard burst through the double doors of the library. "Where is she?" she roared. Her husband strode along behind her, his face black as a thundercloud. Behind his desk, Duncan MacTavish looked over his papers at the intruders. 

The woman who had so rudely burst into his home was dressed in a black wool pantsuit and low-heeled leather boots. Her curly black hair, which he knew was usually kept in a bun, fairly crackled around her head and down her back. Her normally cinnamon skin was flushed an ugly scarlet and the pupils in her silver eyes had contracted to pinpoints. She seems annoyed, he thought. Mildly raising an eyebrow, he dismissively looked back down at his reports. 

Distractedly, he asked, "How may I help you today, Eiric? Striding over to him, she ripped the papers from his hand. 

"Where is my daughter?" Eiric leaned over his desk and into his face. 

Her deceptively mild-mannered-looking husband, Julien Blanchard, crossed his arms and stood in front of the double doors, glowering. He had thick brown hair graying at the temples and large chocolate brown eyes hidden behind tortoise-shell glasses. He sported a neatly clipped beard and moustache, and his pale skin looked as if it hadn't seen the sun in months. While not at work, he dressed in the manner of a distracted academic—lots of tweed, wool, and corduroy, usually in neutral and earth-toned colours. Today, he was wearing chocolate cords, a russet button-down with a chocolate silk tie, an argyle sweater-vest and a tawny-grey tweed jacket. Duncan looked at him dismissively, and then leaned back in his chair. "Safe."

"Safe?!" Eiric growled, throwing his papers to the ground. "I know your definition of safe!" 

"No permanent harm will come to her." Duncan said, calmly. Eiric scoffed.

"I'm interested in no harm coming to her at all! I realize that you don't know what this really means, but she's my daughter. I want her to make her own decisions—" Duncan cut over her.

"Then why haven't you told her everything?" Eiric set her jaw. 

"She's not ready. She's only 20 years old!"

"I was 16. I—" This time, it was Eiric who cut over the older man.

"Yes! We all know! Laird Duncan MacTavish was merely 16 when he ascended, viciously taking back his ancestral lands, a veritable wunderkind of blood and domination, and blah, blah, blah! I don't care! She's different. Her whole life, she has been raised normally. She thinks that she's normal—what do you think it's going to do to her to spring it on her like this?"

"She'll take it. She's a MacTavish. She was bred to—"

Eiric slammed her hand on the desk and said coldly, "She's my child. Not a bloody thoroughbred or bitch." Duncan quickly rose and came around his desk. Julien started toward them. 

Without deigning to look at him, Duncan sneered, "Stay in your place, hedge-witch."

Ignoring him, Julien looked at Eiric. She shook her head. Nodding slowly, he once more took up his station in front of the doors. 

Quietly, each word accented with his native French, Julien said, "Listen, old man; if my daughter is hurt, I will kill you. Promise." 

"Well, well, well," Duncan said, "The hedge-witch has grown teeth."

"He's always had 'teeth'. You were just too full of your own importance to notice them, and I promise if you move another step, there will be nothing left of you but ash." This last part was directed to a shadow flickering in the corner behind her. Duncan nodded and the shadow materialized as a stocky, muscular young man. 

"You haven't forgotten the ways." Duncan said, approvingly. To the young man, he said, "Leave." The man obediently walked over to the doors, but Julien didn't move. Trying to push past him, the man found that Julien was immovable. Looking up to say something rude, the man quickly thought better of it, sidled around Julien and squeezed through the door. When he was gone, Duncan started to speak again, but Eiric spoke over him, saying,

"Look. I don't care about your games and visions. The bottom line is I want my daughter, I want her now, and I am ready, willing and eminently able to burn you from the inside out if you don't tell me where she is." Duncan started toward her. She moved to meet him. As they were roughly the same height, they were directly face to face. The papers on his desk began to blacken and curl. 

"Eirica," he said gently, "I don't know where she is. Do you think that I didn't realize that you would come to me like this?"

She stared stonily at him, the irises of her silver eyes slowly turning to gold. "You're a liar."

"Sometimes," he admitted, mildly. "However, this time, I'm telling the truth. You know that I am." A wavering heat halo began to dance around her body.

"You don't know where she is?" she whispered. Then, thunderously, "You know exactly how we ascend and you don't know where she is?!" The temperature in the room began to rise. 

"I've sent one of my very best men to do the job. He's going to take the right-hand path—" Duncan's voice was cut off as Eiric pushed her hand against his chest. His body went flying across the room. Eiric's handprint smouldered through his clothing, exposing the hard planes of his chest. 

"That was not your decision!" Eiric strode toward him. Placing her hands on either side of his head, she gritted, "And what if he can't 'get the job done' through the right-hand path? Does he have your permission to take the left?" Sweat poured down Duncan's face, but he made no move to defend himself. 

"No." His skin began to redden. He looked into her eyes. "Believe what you will, but I didn't authorize that. I promise, I never would have authorized that." He placed a hand against one of hers. At first she didn't move. Then she let go of him and stood up so quickly that his head thumped back against the wall. She turned around and began striding toward the door. Julien moved to open it for her, but before she could stride though, Duncan called out. "I didn't know. I swear. I never would have let that happen to you—had I known, I—" he shook his head. "Everything that I've done, I've done for you, for your daughter. I love you, Eirica!" She turned her head slightly. Her voice quavered with unshed tears as she said,

"I love you too. But if anything happens to hurt or scare my child, I'll burn you dead, Daddy."



Riding the Red Ch. 04



Adrienne opened her eyes and panicked when she didn't recognize where she was. After a moment, however, all that had happened the previous evening flooded her memory. Throwing back the covers, she looked around the room. Padding gently to the door, she tried the knob. It was open. Okay, another tick in the "not a serial killer" box. 

Moving back into the room, she noticed an armoire. Inside were several pairs of jeans, some skirts, plain white cotton panties, dresses, stockings, socks, and various tops, all in natural fabrics. All of it was in her size and most of it was to her taste. Hm. Half a check in the "possible serial killer box". Shrugging, she pulled out a low v-necked, emerald wool sweater, a burgundy button-down with French cuffs, and a pair of low-rise, boot-cut jeans. She searched the rest of the drawers and the room's three dressers, but couldn't find any bras. She could wear her corset again, but she had done quite of bit of running in it and she wanted it washed before she put it back on her skin. Ah well. She would just go braless; Lucas probably wouldn't even notice. 

As she was about to leave the room, she noticed another door. Crossing her fingers in the hope that it led to a closet, she found instead, a private bathroom. A porcelain claw foot tub dominated the room, which also boasted a bidet and a corner dedicated to a shower. Looking longingly at the tub, she walked to the shower and turned on the water. Three shower heads came on, all centred in the middle of the stall. Hm. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. She rummaged in the closet for soap and a washcloth while waiting for the water to warm. Expecting something like Dial, or perhaps Caress if she were lucky, she instead found triple-milled soaps and whipped soaps, thick bath and shower gels, pure essential oils, LUSH bath bombs and bubble bars, sugar scrubs, body butters, and clear glass jars of bath salts. She even found various oils and expensive conditioners for her hair. Tearing up a bit at her bounty she entertained the thought that maybe this forced exile would be less "not so bad" and more 'mini-vacation'. 

After taking her shower (40 minutes without running out of hot water!) she found various dental implements and freshened up so as not to fry her host with her dragon breath. She checked her face in the mirror, and grimaced to find a veritable rainbow that ran from the middle of her forehead, and around her right temple, to rest on her cheekbone. She opened the bathroom cabinet to discover cotton pads, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, bandages, antibacterial ointment, and more witch hazel. She gingerly dabbed the livid bruising with witch hazel, cleaned the small wound, and applied some ointment. Fortunately, the wound had already closed enough to no longer require butterfly bandages. 

Leaving the bathroom, she picked up a comb from the dresser and began the long, arduous process of combing her thick, waist-length hair. Fifteen minutes (and two very tired arms) later, she braided it into pigtails and tied some red ribbons that she found around the ends to keep them from raveling. 

Emerging from her room in a warm cloud of honeysuckle she stood still, closed her eyes, and listened. She heard a rhythmic noise coming from another part of the house, so she followed it. As she grew closer, she realized that it was the sound of someone running on a treadmill. Entering the room, she saw Lucas' back as he ran—flat out ran--with an even, measured tread. He was wearing nothing but gym shorts and footwear and for that, she was immensely grateful. She looked admiringly at the physique that his clothes had only hinted lay beneath their confines. He had brawny forearms and they, as well as his calves, were covered in a good amount of soft chestnut hair. His hairless back was strong, with well defined muscles sleekly rippling under his skin. 

Slowing down, he jogged for awhile, then stopped the machine and dismounted. As he turned, he noticed her and grinned, removing ear-buds from his ears. His furred chest and abs were heaving like a bellows, doing interesting things to his musculature. "How long have you been standing there?" 

She blushed. "Not long. How far do you run?"

"Fourteen miles, every day." 

She tried not to, but she couldn't help but notice just how precariously his shorts clung to his hips. She could almost just make out the line where his happy trail ended and the real fun began. "That's pretty intense," she murmured. 

He leaned against the treadmill. "I'm a pretty intense sort." 

Looking up at him, she felt her lip and chin wobble, so she bit them. After valiantly fighting for a few moments, she burst out laughing at the same time that he did. 

"That was rather cheesy, wasn't it?" he said, ruefully shaking his head.

"It's alright. I'll allow it," she responded. 

"A beneficent beauty. What kind of creature have I allowed into my home?" 

Chuckling nervously, she said, "Oh, stop, or I'll have to lock up your tongue with the rest of the silver." 

Winking at her, Lucas started to saunter by, then turned to examine her face. Taking her gently by the chin, he looked at her face, gave a satisfied nod, and said, "That's healing well. You did a good job tending to it." 

"Well, I may not be a medic, but I do have some paltry skills," she riposted. 

Lucas laughed, and started walking backwards, saying, "I'm going to go take a shower. You can have whatever you can find for breakfast."

"Oh, you've already eaten?"

"No, but I figured that you're hungry, now."

"I'll wait for you," she said, shyly. 

Pausing, he gave her an intensely approving look. "Give me a half hour."

*******************************************

After Lucas completed his ablutions, he dressed in black jeans and an over-sized black, cable knit cashmere sweater over a black button-down. Meeting her in the kitchen, he asked. "Have you done any exploring?"

"A bit," she admitted. "Mostly around your amazing kitchen and pantry, though. You have enough food to feed an army!"

"I like to eat and I like to eat well."

"Well, I like to cook. Since I'm imposing on your hospitality and, since you don't cook, why don't I do it for you while we're here?"

"You want to cook for me?" he asked, slanting a look at her. 

Shrugging, she said, "We have to eat. I can cook. It's only logical."

"Seeing as how I was going to make us a couple of nice, big bowls of cereal for breakfast, your way is probably better."

"Speaking of which," she paused nervously, but then forged ahead, "You're a bachelor, yet you have a fully appointed kitchen full of herbs and spices, and your guest room is full of women's clothes. I'm a little confused." 

"Well, I have a fully appointed kitchen because that's how I bought it, appliances and all, and I have herbs and spices, and a room full of women's clothing because I have sisters who like to visit often."

"Oh," she whispered quietly, drawing imaginary circles on the green marble counter-top with her finger. 

He sighed deeply. "I'm not a serial killer, Adrienne. I'm not going to, I don't know, rape you, salt you, and put you in my freezer for hard times." She nodded. "Now, if that's settled, make me something delicious, or I just may be tempted to eat you all up." 

She grinned. "How do you feel about an omelette and some baked oatmeal?"

"Less chattery, more cookery." 

Adrienne laughed and began to prepare breakfast. First, she prepared the oatmeal with raisins, honey, bananas, and cinnamon. Then she put in into a loaf pan and popped it into the oven. When that had almost finished baking, she fried some bacon, set it aside, then, in the same pan, she put in some eggs along with fresh chives, mushrooms, and the cooked bacon. While that cooked, she warmed some cream with vanilla bean, and a shot of whiskey. She grated fontina on the omelette and folded it over. After plating the omelettes, she took out the baked oatmeal, scooped some into bowls and poured the warm vanilla cream over the top. 

After having set the table, Lucas watched her in awe, occasionally asking questions about why she was doing something. After she sat down, he inhaled deeply. "Woman, I may just have to kidnap you." 

"Save your criminal debut until you taste it. It may not be as good as it looks or smells." 

He took a bite and his face stilled. Looking at her, he said, "You're right," Her face fell. "It is so much better." 

Giving him a face and a shoulder punch, she said, "Thank you," It always gave her a thrill when someone enjoyed her cooking, and it didn't hurt that it was currently being enjoyed by the type of guy who gave her wet dreams. They ate in companionable silence and when they were done, Lucas washed the dishes. While he was doing that, she made a mirepoix and put it, as well as a trimmed leg of mutton studded with garlic cloves, a bouquet garni of rosemary, bay and sage, and an entire bottle of merlot, into his crock-pot to braise for their dinner.

"Come on, he said. I'll give you the tour." Leading her from room to room, he bypassed all of the places that he knew she had seen, to show her the rest of his one story. It didn't take long, as it wasn't that big. The rest of the tour just consisted of his bedroom and bathroom, another bathroom off the living room, a breakfast nook, and the room that captured her heart. A library. He watched indulgently as she flitted from shelf to shelf, pressing her clasped hands to her chest and fawning over his collections of first editions, modern nonfiction, and literature in French, English, Gaelic, Russian, and Roumanian.

"Do you speak all of these languages?" 

He nodded. "I'm something of a polyglot," he said, carelessly. 

She tilted her head. "I, also. I speak French, of course, English, Hebrew, Latin, and I'm learning Arabic." She grinned, and then said, "Say something in Gaelic. 

Reaching out to tug one of her braids, he said, "Tá tú go h-álainn." 

She giggled. "What does that mean?" 

He shrugged. "It means, 'You're beautiful'." 

Adrienne smiled, shyly. Quickly leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheek, and then flitted to the other side of the library. 

Unbeknownst to her, he had noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra when she first found him on the treadmill and now that she was no longer paying attention to him, he hungrily watched her breasts bounce as she practically skipped around his library with a look of pure bliss on her face. The motion of her breasts bouncing against the fabric of her shirt caused her nipples to harden until they were prominent enough to make him want to pant. She came over to him, holding out a few books. 

"May I read them? Please?"

"You can read anything here that you want," he said, magnanimously. 

"What are you going to do?" 

He blew a rueful breath. "Well, not work, what with the downed Internet. I guess that I'll read, as well. They took their books and moved to the living room. Sinking into the couch they read for a few hours. 

After some time, being hungry, they returned to the kitchen for a lunch of seared tuna, freshly baked beer bread, and a wilted spinach salad. While they ate, they discussed the books that they were reading, which led to a discussion regarding their favourite authors. After lunch, Lucas put a hand to his belly and groaned. "You've impregnated me with your food baby." 

Adrienne laughed, delightedly. "Mmm, yes, bear my seed!" After he finished the washing up, and she put beans to soak so that they would be ready, if needed, for an upcoming meal, they retired back to the living room to read. 

After a while, however, Lucas noticed that Adrienne's head was drifting toward the back of the couch. He gently maneuvered them both until he was half reclining against the arm of the sofa, and she was lying against his chest. He watched her sleep until his eyelids, too, began to fall. Soon, they were both napping peacefully. 

************************************************

They awoke a few hours later, with Adrienne lying on top of Lucas, her arms wrapped around his neck and her face buried in the crook of his shoulder. She felt slightly awkward, but not as bad as she usually would have, given the circumstances. Scrambling off of Lucas while trying to seem unhurried, Adrienne said, "Time to start dinner." He just gave her a slow, sleepy, seductive smile and followed her back into the kitchen, where she made baked sweet potatoes with Dubliner cheese, sour cream, and garlic chives and roasted cauliflower to go along with the braised mutton. After plating and sitting down, she asked, "May I use your exercise room? As you can see, my metabolism isn't that good and if we keep eating like this, I won't be able to fit into any clothes." 

Lucas stopped eating, leaned back, and leisurely perused her body. While it was true that she wasn't fashionably thin, he found her to be delectable. She had the body of a 40's pinup girl, from her high, plump, succulent breasts, to her waist around which he could probably wrap his hands, to her generously rounded hips and bottom. He swallowed hard as he imagined her soft thighs wrapped around his hips, or, even better, pressed against the fronts of his. "The issue of you not wearing any clothes doesn't seem that bad," he said. "However, perhaps I didn't make myself clear, earlier. My home, as well everything," here he smiled, "and everyone in it, are available for your use and pleasure." 

Adrienne, ducked her head to hide the flushing of her face.

"Duly noted," she said, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling outright. 

"What are you doing?" he queried. 

"I have a tendency to smile when I'm nervous, so I bite my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot during inappropriate situations," she said, shyly. 

A slow, lopsided grin melted across his face. "I like watching you smile." 

She looked away, smiling as she toyed with one of her braids. "Like that," he rumbled, "that's beautiful." He waited until she met his eyes, then smiled outright and tucked back into his food. After they had been eating for awhile, he said, "I'm going to have to shovel a path to the shed, so that I can split more wood for the fireplace. I usually stock it in the lean-to, but I didn't know that we were going to get this freak snowstorm." Since the previous evening, it had been snowing on and off and they had gone from being half buried in snow to only being able to see over the top third of the window.

"May I help?" she asked. 

"That's not necessary," he said. "I need the exercise." 

She stared at him. "You run fourteen miles a day."

"I know, but lately I seem to find myself with extraneous energy," he drawled. 

She cocked her head, impertinently. "What if I find myself with extraneous energy?" 

His eyes locked onto hers. "Then I have some excellent suggestions on how we might burn through it." She held his eyes for a moment, and then dropped hers to her food. He chuckled and said, "I'll start shoveling tomorrow morning, after my run."

"All right," she conceded. "I'll join you in the morning for exercise, if you don't mind, and then I'll make breakfast while you shovel." 

He nodded. "That sounds like a plan." They finished their food and Adrienne moved to clear the dishes. Lucas stopped her, saying, "No, Lady. You cook, I clean, alright?" 

She leaned against the table and said, "A girl could become accustomed to that." 

"A guy could become accustomed to three star meals every day," he countered. Watching him wash the dishes, she asked him if he wanted something sweet the next day. Looking her up and down he said, "Why, are you offering?"

"You're incorrigible!" she teased.

"I'm a lot of things," he agreed, evenly. "I could give a demonstration, if you like." 

Shaking her head in mock dismay, she enunciated, "What sweet thing would you like to eat tomorrow?"

"My question stands." 

She threw up her hands in simulated defeat. "I'm just going to make a cake." 

"I could go for cheesecake," he said. 

She nodded. "I can make that. Would you like it with strawberries?"

"I'm far more interested in one with a cherry." 

He said it so meaningfully that she paused before she answered. Then her face flamed. "That," she said, tartly, "is not on the menu." 

He sighed deeply. "Well," he said with noble long-suffering, "then I suppose that I could go for regular cake." 

She crossed her arms. "You had better be glad that I like you—"

"Ah, you do like me? I won't have to write a note that includes 'check yes or no'?" 

She tried to frown, but gave up, threw back her head and laughed. After the dishes were finished, they moved back to the living room. Lucas put on some soft Liszt, and they sat and chatted for the rest of the evening. After a while, Adrienne's eyes started to grow heavy, and Lucas looked at his watch. 

"It's gone midnight. Time for all good little girls to be in bed." She nodded. "Would you like me to tuck you in bed?" he queried. She cocked her head and blinked sleepily. Before she could answer, he said, "Too late," scooped her into his arms and carried her to the guest room. 

Standing her in front of the bed, he knelt in front of her, opened her jeans and peeled them down her legs. As she lifted each leg to step out of them, he turned his head and gave the side of her knee a brief kiss. The bristly sensation of his stubble against her delicate skin made her feel languorous and heavy. She sat back down and he pulled her sweater over her head. He licked his lips and reached for her top button, but she stopped him.

She shook her head. "I'm not...I mean, I didn't have—I couldn't find—"

"It's alright," he said. He turned around and listened to the rustle of her divesting herself of her shirt. When he turned back, she was lying down, with the sheet pulled over her chest, which did little to hide her protruding nipples. He pulled the rest of the blankets up to her chin, then leaned over and kissed her just on the corner of her mouth. His eyes glittered as he stepped back and surveyed her. Swallowing hard, he wished her a good night, then turned and walked decisively from the room. 

Adrienne snuggled further under the covers, enjoying the feel of the warm flannel against her bare skin. She curled up to go to sleep, but something just wasn't right. After awhile, she took a few of the pillows and placed them behind herself, almost as if someone else were there. Curling up against the pillows, she fell asleep to the rhythmic sound of shoes hitting the treadmill. 

********************************************

Eiric exited the plane, with Julien close behind. A mere day had passed since Aurelie Blanchard called her son and his wife to let them know that her granddaughter had never made it to her house. Sighting the driver with their names emblazoned on his placard, they whispered intensely as they neared the town car. After entering, Julien turned toward his wife and said, "Maman has been consulting the cards since the night that Adrienne disappeared. Something is blocking her, though, so she's hoping that tapping into your power will help her break through the barrier." Eiric just shook her head and looked miserable. Julien clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth. "We'll find her, Cherie." He pulled her to him, laid her head against his breast, and wrapped his arms around her. "I know it. We'll find notre bebe." 



Riding the Red Ch. 05



Adrienne gradually regained consciousness, warm and surrounded by softness. She stretched, her limbs sliding over the flannel bedclothes, luxuriating in their comfort. She lay in bed, thinking about the previous day, specifically how pleasant it was to watch Lucas' muscles running like water under his skin. She frowned as her thoughts turned to other matters, such as how long they were going to be snowed into the cabin. 

She had responsibilities that needed her attention, not to mention the fact that, having disappeared without a word, everyone would be thinking that some harm had befallen her. She would see if Lucas could clear the snow from the dish so that she could at least email her parents and grandmother. They could contact the school. That plan in mind, she rose to begin her day.

Adrienne dressed quickly in charcoal yoga pants and a black racer-back sleeveless tee. Searching the room, she located several pairs of shoes under the bed, and pulled out a pair of black Converse. She found Lucas in the exercise room, already hard at his run. He nodded at her and she smiled, walked over to a free spot on the floor, dropped down, and began to stretch. Lucas watched hungrily, yet covertly, as she made her limber way through various splits and stretches. Climbing on the elliptical beside him, she began to work. Forty minutes later, she was out of breath and ready to quit, and he had yet to break stride. After a five minute cool down, she jumped off the machine to go shower. As she was leaving, she didn't see Lucas' tongue flash around his mouth, licking his lips. Adrienne still hadn't found a bra, and he hated to see her go. He sighed, ruefully thinking at least the view of her walking away was just as good. 

Back in her room, Adrienne pulled out a button-down cashmere patchwork sweater-dress in varying shades of green, and paired it with eggplant sweater tights. She carried her booty to the bathroom, where she took a leisurely shower, this time using a thick, rich shower cream that smelled sweetly of mimosa. After her shower, she braided her hair into one thick French braid that she laid over her shoulder, and pushed back the tendrils curling about her face with an aubergine velvet headband. By the time she emerged from her room, Lucas had finished his run, and was outside shoveling snow.

She searched through the kitchen, trying to decide what to prepare for breakfast. She decided to make a simple breakfast of white whole-wheat currant cream scones, scrambled eggs, and fruit salad. She began by mixing the ingredients for the scones. By the time she was cutting them, Lucas came in, stamping snow from his feet. 

"Well hello," she said. "How did you sleep?"

Lucas gave her an oblique look and said, "Not as poorly as I have been. Not as well as I could have." His eyes dipped down, caressing her breasts as they pressed against the fabric of her sweater. "Nor as well as I will." 

Adrienne smiled to herself, having grown somewhat inured to Lucas' bold manner of speaking. She leaned close to him, stretching until her mouth was a few scant inches from his. She paused until his expression changed and his body grew still in anticipation. Dragging her eyes to his she licked her lips, and then whispered, "Go take a shower you beastly creature!" 

Lucas threw his head back and laughed. Nudging past her with his hip, he loped to his room to bathe. Adrienne pulled strawberries, a pineapple, lychees, green, purple, and red grapes, and a mango from the refrigerator. When she searched for yoghurt, however, all she could find was a plain single serving container of Greek-style. "Note to self," she thought, "make more yoghurt..." She chopped the fruit and put it in a bowl, and then moved on to the eggs, scrambling them, and then pouring them into a cast iron skillet coated with hot olive oil. When they had set up, she grated a healthy dose of Dubliner cheddar over them, and put them on the back burner so that the residual heat would cook them and melt the cheese. By the time Lucas returned, smelling sweetly of soap, Adrienne was pulling the scones out of the oven.

She had just put the food on the table, so Lucas went to the cabinets to pull out dishes and flatware. Adrienne ran her eyes over his wide shoulders, straining against the nubby fabric of his charcoal turtleneck sweater, to his long legs encased in black lamb's wool trousers.

"What are you going to do with this peeled pineapple?" he queried.

"Hm?" she said, quick-witted as treacle. "Oh, that was supposed to go into the salad! I was distracted—-I'll just cut it up and toss it with the others." Adrienne began to slice the pineapple, when Lucas walked by her, smelling so good that she closed her eyes for a moment. 

Suddenly he turned, harshly biting, "You cut yourself."

Adrienne looked down to see a small slice on her middle fingertip on which blood was just starting to drip. "Oh," she said hesitantly, nonplussed by the fact that he had noticed before she had. "I'm sorry; I'll just get rid of this—"

"No need," he said, slowly walking toward her. "I trust you." Taking her hand, he brought the injured finger to his mouth and slipped it inside, gently sucking away the blood from the small wound. "See?" 

Adrienne swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on her own small hand nestled in his large, rough ones. When she looked up, he was watching her, his pupils once again strangely dilated. She gently swayed toward him, and Lucas let her finger slip from his mouth. His warm, minty breath fanned her face and she blushed at the turn that her thoughts were taking. She looked away and heard him sigh. Reaching around her, he took the plate of pineapple, and mixed it with the rest of the fruit. 

Sitting down, they quietly began to eat. "Are there any preserves?" Lucas asked, breaking the silence. 

"No," Adrienne responded. "I did, however, locate plenty of frozen fruit, fruit juice, and pectin, so I'll make some later. Also, you're pretty much out of yoghurt, so I'll make some more of that, too."

Lucas stared at her for a second, and then grinned wolfishly. "Who are you? You can make all of this stuff from scratch? You're like some atavistic creature from 'Little House on the Prairie'." 

She laughed, all of the previous tension draining from the room. "I like to be able to make things myself. That way I know what's going into it, and I never run out, as long as I have the raw ingredients." 

"Will you show me how?" Lucas asked.

"You want to learn how to make preserves?" Adrienne asked incredulously.

"Why not," he responded comfortably. "I'm always up for learning a new skill." Then, slyly, "...and I couldn't ask for a prettier teacher." 

She grinned, cocky. "How's this afternoon?"

"Sure. It's not like we have any pressing engagements."

"Oh, that actually reminds me...I was wondering if it's at all possible that you could, well, try to clear the snow from the dish. Just for a little while? I need to let my parents and Grandmother know that I'm alright, and tell them to call the school for me."

Lucas looked pensive for a moment. Slowly, he said, "Alright. I'll do it after breakfast which, by the way, is delicious. Thank you for feeding my bottomless pit." He put his hand over his abs. 

"Well, it feels nice to see pleasure on someone's face because of what you've made." 

"If you want to see pleasure on my face, I can show you a much more interesting way to--" He ducked, laughing as a napkin narrowly missed his head. 

After they had eaten, and the dishes had been washed, Lucas put on his coat to go try to clear the snow from the dish. He opened the door and peered outside at the quickly falling snow. "Go into my room; my laptop is on my bed. As soon as the web is up, make your emails—-with this snow, I don't know how long I'll be able to stay up there, keeping it clear.

Adrienne nodded, feeling awkward for making him do something so potentially dangerous. She put her hand on his arm. "Thank you," she said. 

He looked at her briefly, then back outside. Smiling as he started, he said, "You'll just have to owe me a favour." 

She watched as he made his way to the shed, stomping down snow onto the path that he had just shoveled that morning. As he made his way back toward the house with the shovel, she trotted to his room and opened the door. A warm puff of spicy air surrounded her, smelling strongly of him. Adrienne closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the luxury of being able to unabashedly take pleasure in his scent. When she opened her eyes, she looked around the room. 

Neat as a pin, it was done in dark emeralds, chocolates, neutrals, and russets, and all of the wood was dark cedar. It was similar to her room, which was done in autumnal tones and cherry wood, but his was definitively masculine. No diaphanous curtains hung around his bed, no candles littered his dresser or nightstands. She saw an open door leading to his bathroom, which was almost Spartan, housing only soap, and shaving implements. Another door led to a closet, she was sure, but she wasn't bold enough to take a peek, even though curiosity burned through her. 

She quickly walked over to his bed and climbed on—-it was much higher than hers—-curling herself around his laptop. The screen came on as she moved it, the desktop a vivid green picture of a lush forest. His desktop was curiously bare, but she shrugged, assuming that his propensity for neatness must run to his computer, as well. As she was looking for the internet icon, a neat little pop told her that the wireless was back up. She went to her email and quickly typed a message to her parents and grandmother, saying that she couldn't talk long, but she was safe, and briefly explaining the fact that she hadn't previously contacted them because of the accompanying hardships that followed being snowed-in in a remote cabin in the woods. 

She heard a loud curse come from the roof, and a loud dragging noise that ran to the end of the room. She quickly clicked "Send", just as a small "poof" and a very loud expletive came from under the window. She ran over to it, and opened it to find Lucas buried in the snow, under a very large dish, and a complicated array of wires. "Are you alright?!" she called.

"Ow," he calmly rejoined. 

"Hold on—I'm coming out there!" she said.

"No, no," he said. "I'm alright. The snow broke my fall. I'm afraid that the dish didn't make it, though. Did you get to send your email?"

"Yes, just." 

Lucas grunted. Then, in a surprising display of athleticism, he flipped from his back to his feet. 

Adrienne gasped in surprise and delight. She grinned. "I guess you certainly are alright."

He nodded brusquely, wrapping the cords around the dish. "I'm just going to go put this in the shed. I'll be in in a moment."

Adrienne nodded uncertainly, watching him trying to make his way toward his shoveled path, in the now waist-deep snow. She looked pensively at the snow. It seemed as if there were periods when it would melt at a rapid rate, but before things became manageable, it would begin to snow again, leaving them buried in the white fluff. Adrienne had never seen such odd-acting weather. Sighing, she shrugged and closed the window. She laughed ruefully to herself as she made her way to the kitchen. It's not as if anyone could control the weather. 

She put some milk on the stove to warm, so that she could make hot chocolate. She was just stirring in the powdered sugar and cocoa when Lucas tumbled into the kitchen in a blast of frigid air and powdery snow, breathing heavily. Adrienne stared at him for a moment before starting forward to help him remove his heavy grey wool coat and scarf. 

Lucas ripped the hat from his head and fluffed his hair. His cheeks were ruddy, and his eyes were shining. He grinned broadly, lifted his nose and sniffed the air. "Cocoa?" he asked hopefully. Adrienne nodded and handed him his wrappers. "You spiked it!" he playfully accused. 

"Bailey's Irish Cream," she grinned. 

By the time he returned from hanging up his coat and scarf, she was grating cinnamon into the hot chocolate. He chafed his hands, watching Adrienne while she poured the cocoa into mugs, topped them with a healthy dollop of marshmallow fluff, and handed one to him. Lucas gratefully wrapped his hands around the warm mug, inhaling the fragrant steam. He tipped the mug to gingerly take a sip, and then moaned as it hit his tongue. When he lifted his face from the mug, his upper lip was charmingly dotted with fluff. "I may just have to kidnap you, when the snow is gone," he said, smiling angelically.

"I'm very frightened," she deadpanned. "Also, you have a bit of...ah..." she gestured toward his lip. His curiously mobile tongue flickered out and made neat work of the fluff. Silence reigned for a while, as Adrienne had definitively un-friend-like thoughts. By the time she came to, Lucas had finished his hot chocolate and had covertly started in on hers. "Well," she said, briskly clearing her throat and wiping her hands on her thighs. 

"Let's get on with the jam-making."

They went hunting for jars, and found some empty glass honey jars that would do nicely. Lucas filled a stock pot with water, and put it on the stove to sterilize them, while Adrienne perused the freezer. 

"What type of jam or jelly would you like?" she asked. 

He shrugged. "I'll take whatever you want to give me."

She flashed him a sideways glance and said tartly, "Your choices are pomegranate, raspberry, apple, or cherry."

"Why not all? That way we can have variety," he answered.

Adrienne nodded thoughtfully. "You do have a point." She began pulling labeled freezer bags from the deep freezer and handing them to him to put on the table. Then she looked under the counters and pulled out a few bottles of apple cider and pomegranate juice, and grabbed the packets of pectin from one of the cabinets. 

"Okay. The jelly will be the easiest, so let's start that first," she said. "Grab a sauce-pot and put it on the stove." While he was doing that, she popped the bags into the microwave to defrost. Adrienne filled the pot with cider, let it reduce to a third, then divided that into two bowls, and added the pectin to one of them. When that dissolved, she poured some of it, along with more juice, back into the pot, and let it come to a rolling boil for about a minute. "Take out one of those jars from the stockpot and put it on the counter, will you?"

Lucas cautiously fished one of the jars out of the boiling stockpot and put it on a coaster. Adrienne carefully poured the boiling juice into the jar until it was almost full, then gestured for Lucas to put on the lid. "Now what?" he asked. 

"Pop it back into the stockpot to process for about 10 minutes," he did so, "And that's your first jar of jelly. Easy, no?" she teased.

He smiled slowly. "I feel so Martha Stewart right now."

Adrienne rubbed his back. "As well you should, you manly jelly-maker, you. Now back to the grind. You should have read the fine print, my lovely jam-slave. We have one jar down, and three to go." After repeating the process for the pomegranate jelly, they were ready to make jam. "Would you grab two bowls for the fruit?" Adrienne inquired. After Lucas set them down on the table, she poured the defrosted bags of fruit into the bowls, and grabbed the masher from the drawer. "Now mash them."

"Me?" he protested.

"Hey, you wanted to learn. You have to obey Teacher," she grinned.

"Obey, hm? This could be fun," he said, mashing the fruit.

As he did that, she poured more cider on the stove to reduce, and procured another bowl. 

"Okay, now I'm mixing the pectin with some of this reduction." When that was done, she took another pot and poured in the raspberries and some of the pectin mixture and let it come to a full boil, then poured in more of the cider reduction. After letting it boil for a full minute, she turned it off. 

"Why aren't we filling another jar?" Lucas queried.

"We could, but then all of the fruit would float to the top," she responded.

He nodded sagely. "Ah yes. That could destroy worlds," Adrienne giggled and gently punched him in the shoulder. After 5 minutes, they filled another jar with the raspberry mixture, repeated the sterilization process, and made the last jar of cherry jam. Lucas collapsed into a chair with a long-suffering sigh. 

Adrienne dimpled. "Oh, come on! It wasn't that bad!" 

He shook his head. "I don't know if I can make it another step without sustenance," he said, raising his eyes hopefully. 

She rolled her eyes and said, "You clean, I cook."

"I suddenly have a second wind," he laughed. After Lucas finished the dishes and wiped down the counters, he sat down at the table and grinned endearingly. "I am ready for you to prepare items for my gustation." 

She burst out into peals of laughter. "You are slightly ridiculous, do you know that?"

He put his hands on her hips and guided her to stand between his legs. Smiling up into her face he said, "Yes, but you like me for it."

Slightly breathless she could do little more than nod acquiescence. Smiling tremulously, she backed away and turned toward the deep freezer. Lucas' eyes tracked her every move as she bent over to pull out a plank of salmon. By the time she turned around, she was once again in possession of her faculties. "How's salmon?"

"Sounds good," he said, softly. 

Adrienne nodded, her chin firm, and reached into the refrigerator for broccolini, feta, a lemon, and an orange. "We're having it with pasta."

Lucas leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. "My stomach likes it when you're bossy." 

She flashed him a campy look, patting her hair, and saying in a vampy Mae West impression, "And what of the rest of you?"

"Oh, I'm sure all of my various and sundry body parts would like it, if only given a chance," he winked.

Sighing deeply as she raided the pantry for shallots, garlic, cumin, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and whole-wheat linguine, she rejoined, "I have the sneaking suspicion that some of your body parts would like it six ways from Sunday."

Smiling indulgently, he moved his hands to lace them over his taut belly. "You're not wrong."

Adrienne smiled secretly as she put on the water to boil, preheated the oven to 500 degrees, and sliced the lemon, onions, and garlic. Though it was true that she was a bit overwhelmed by his blatant flirtation, there was a blossoming part of her that that reveled in it. She felt by turns shy and powerful, and it was a new, heady feeling. Unlike the sweet, endearing boys that she was used to, Lucas had an underlying layer of iron that made her simultaneously wary of, and attracted to him. She felt pretty confident that he would never force her, but she knew that if he actually turned on the full measure of his charm and persuasion, she would be lost. 

She decided to poach the salmon en papillote, laying down the parchment paper, and then placing the salmon on a bed of lemon and onions.

"Don't you need to thaw it?" Lucas asked.

"No, salmon can be cooked from frozen," she responded distractedly, as she sprinkled salt, cumin, and sliced garlic over the top of it. After she put it into the oven, she poured the pasta in to boil, and set the broccoli to steam on top in the strainer. Over her shoulder, she saw Lucas moving his hands, and she asked, "Are you rubbing together your hands like a cheesy 50's sci-fi villain?"

He paused, his face carefully blank, then gave a wolfish grin and said, "Maybe. I'm just excited. It all smells so good."

"Well, gird your loins and set the table, because it's almost done," she said, zesting the orange into a bowl of vinegar, and salt. She whisked in the olive oil, then drained the pasta and tossed it, the feta, and the broccolini into the bowl. "Could you toss this, while I grab the salmon?" she requested, already turning, confident in his acquiescence. 




Riding the Red Ch. 05



"I see that you're a natural at giving orders," he chuckled.

Giving him an arch look, she riposted, "And you're a natural at following them, so grind some pepper over it all, would you? You're going to have to work for your supper."

"It seems as if I'm going to have to work for everything," he said meaningfully.

"Anything worth having is worth the work put into it," she parried.

Lucas conceded with an inclination of his head. "I'm counting on it."

This time, Adrienne didn't back down. She blushed furiously, but she held his gaze until he looked away. Her heart tripped in her chest as she sat beside him at the circular table. 

She reached for the tongs, but he stopped her. "No," he said, "I'll serve you." 

Sitting down, Adrienne studiously watched his strong hands as he put food on her plate. There was something so intimate about being served food by him, but she couldn't put her finger on what made it so. She grinned broadly as she watched him pile his plate high. 

"How are you this hungry? We just had breakfast a few hours ago," she said, poking his belly. 

"I'll have you know that I have a very high metabolism. This," he said, indicating his body, "is a finely honed machine. It requires a lot of fuel to look this good!"

Smiling, she gave him an exaggerated once over. "I'll keep that in mind."

Eyes dancing, he sat and began to eat, only to stop and groan. "I know that I keep saying this, but seriously, this is delicious."

Adrienne smiled, and twirled her fork in her pasta. "I've yet to meet any woman who could become tired of well-deserved comments," she said cheekily.

By the time Adrienne was finished with her meal, Lucas had neatly downed two more helpings. She leaned back, and he picked up the bowl asking, "Would you like some more?"

She shook her head. "No. I have just enough room for that orange I zested," she said, reaching for it.

Putting his hand over hers, he said, "Let me peel it for you." 

She watched as he slowly began to peel the orange. His fingers were deft and sensitive, gliding over the orange, removing the skin in one continuous piece, without spilling any juice. Adrienne felt her face heat as she remembered something that her grandmother had told her regarding men—-

"Watch how he handles an orange. That will tell you a bit about how he'll 'handle' you." They had both watched in silence as some nearby hapless man ripped into an orange like a frustrated ape, juice, peel, and chunks of orange flying past his head. "That's the opposite of what you want," her Grandmere had said tartly.

Adrienne was brought back to the present as Lucas handed her the orange, the golden globe peeled and halved in his hand, its segments plump with juice. "Thank you," she said hoarsely, taking it from him. 

His grin was as wicked as if he had been reading her mind. "Anytime."

She slipped a plump segment of the fruit between her lips, reveling in the splash of juice that burst over her taste buds. Lucas watched her closely as she closed her eyes to experience the full impact of the tangy, sweet fruit. A low sigh escaped her lips as she savoured its sweet taste. She bit into another segment and a trickle of cool juice dribbled down her chin. Lucas was there in a flash, offering, "Let me take care of that for you." He slid his thumb slowly up her chin, brushing it lightly over her sensitive lower lip. Adrienne involuntarily opened her mouth slightly in shock. Looking tempted, Lucas pressed his thumb slightly at the entrance of her mouth, then pulled back and slid it into his own. "Mmm," he rumbled, "Sweet." 

Adrienne stared at him, all appetite for the orange gone in the wake of a much stronger hunger. Smiling knowingly at her, Lucas offhandedly queried, "Are you going to finish that?" 

"No," she whispered, and then watched as he made short, sensuous work of the rest of the orange. She swallowed heavily, thinking that it wasn't fair for him to even make eating fruit look arousing. He grinned happily at her. 

"So...what do you want to do with me, now?" Lucas queried.

Adrienne shook her head, to clear herself of the fog. "I should...I should brine that chicken that I saw in the fridge, for dinner," she said absently.

"Kinky," Lucas said comfortably. "May I watch?"

At a loss for an appropriately biting comeback, Adrienne merely nodded.

He pulled the chicken from the refrigerator, and began to rinse it as she pulled fresh herbs and sundries from the pantry. She mixed thick, creamy raw honey with plenty of salt, some water, and a few bay leaves. "Garlic?" Lucas queried? Adrienne nodded, and he sliced a few cloves for her while she stuffed fresh sage leaves and lemon slices under the skin. 

"Add it to the brine, please," she said, watching his deft movements as he obeyed her. She lowered the chicken into the pot, and gestured for him to carry it to the pantry. They washed their hands together in silence. 

"Is something wrong?" he finally asked.

"No, no...not at all," she rejoined. "I'm just...thinking." She smiled sweetly up at him. "How do you feel about roasted root vegetables with the roast chicken?"

"I feel good about it. Very positive. I feel like my vote is making a difference here. A straight course has been implemented—-more flavour, fewer calories, lower taxes, higher pensions for the elderly, improved education, and kissing babies..." Lucas grinned foxily at her. Adrienne shook her head, amused.

"You are the silliest man. That you are." Leaning up on her tiptoes, she kissed his bristly cheek.

"If silliness garners me sweet cheek kisses, I wonder what puns would do," he mused.

"Puns, sir...puns will garner you swift shoulder punches," Adrienne grinned.

"Mmm..." Lucas drawled. "Some guys like that."

Throwing up her hands in mock defeat, Adrienne walked out to the living room, and began dressing in one of his scarves and coats. Lucas followed her, looking nonplussed. "Where are you going?" he asked plaintively. 

"We are going outside to enjoy the snow. I can't stand being cooped up inside for so long—I'm coming down with cabin fever," she stated.

"I can help--"

"Stop," she said, deadpan. He grinned wolfishly.

"I'm just saying..." he muttered under his breath, dressing in layers for the cold day.

"I'll need to borrow a pair of your boots," she said imperiously. 

He glanced pointedly at her small feet. "I have to say...I don't think that they'll fit."

"That's why I'll also require a few pairs of your woolly socks to make up the difference." 

"So bossy," he chuckled.

"That's why you like me," she called to him as he disappeared down the hall. 

He returned several moments later with the socks and boots. Kneeling at her feet, he gently took her left foot, rested it on his taut thigh, and began to slide the socks up her foot to her ankle. She balanced by resting her hands on his tight, broad shoulders, watching as he gently slid the boot onto her foot, and then repeated his ministrations on the other foot. Standing, he tucked the scarf snugly around her neck, buttoned up the over-sized coat, and eased her into two more, for good measure. Taking a step back, he surveyed her from head to foot. "You look like Nanook of the North," he grinned. She stuck out her tongue and waddled along behind him as he led her through the kitchen.

Lucas opened the back door, and they tramped outside. Adrienne gasped as a sudden frigid blast of air took away her breath. The snow was up to her hips, but she plunged into it, determined to work off some of the maddening sexual tension that had been plaguing her since...well, since she met Lucas, really. She floundered gracelessly ahead, forging a new path, determined to work off as much energy as possible. She was huffing and puffing, but she couldn't hear Lucas at all. She turned to see where he was, only to discover that he was directly behind her, almost on top of her. Scowling at him, she turned to stalk off...only to immediately trip in a furrow in the ground under the snow and fall flat on her face.

"Ow," she stated.

"I'll bet," he agreed, reaching his arms around her, and lifting her effortlessly back onto her feet. Her face flushed with embarrassment as he patted her over to ensure that she was alright. 

"And then, that happened," she said tightly. He grinned up at her from his crouched position where he was patting her calves. 

"You do seem to have a tendency to fall at my feet," he drawled. Ripping her leg from his grasp, she planted her small foot neatly onto his shoulder, and kicked him flat on his back. 

Standing over him, with one foot planted along each side of his ribs, she said, "There. Now we're closer to even." She started to stalk off, which was really impossible in hip deep snow, when she felt his hand snake around her ankle and yank her backward. Sprawling gracelessly on top of him, she sputtered while he threw back his head and laughed. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist as she vainly endeavoured to climb off of him, succeeding only in writhing ineffectually against his solid body. Her frustration mounted as she saw the amusement in his face at her vain struggles and, in a fit of pique, she growled, grabbed a handful of snow, and shoved it into his mouth. In his surprise, he let go of her, and she climbed onto his hips, grabbing big hands of snow and shoving them down his shirt, in his hair, wherever she could reach. She felt a steel-taut, wiry arm wrap around her hips as he suddenly sat up and flipped her over onto her back, pinning her to the ground. He grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them over her head, against the cold, hard ground. His face was red, and his eyes glowed gold.

"Now, now, now," he rasped, low, "That wasn't very nice, little girl."

Adrienne vainly bucked and struggled under him, but he was just too heavy. She lay back, panting, then reared up and growled, "Well, maybe I'm not a very nice little girl!"

He became impossibly still, as if he were holding himself in check with barest control. His pupils dilated, and his mouth opened slightly, as his warm breath fanned her face. Adrienne glared up at him defiantly. His gaze fell to her mouth, and then flickered back to her eyes. She held her breath, suddenly realizing the position that she was in. His eyes caressed her face. Watching her, he slowly lowered his mouth to hers. Adrienne closed her eyes, every nerve screaming with anticipation. His breath ghosted over her mouth and, for a moment, there was no sound but of his raspy panting. She knew that if she lifted her mouth the merest fraction, it would meet his. Adrienne wondered briefly why he was so out of breath, when Lucas growled low, "I'll keep that in mind," then groaned, rolling onto his back beside her. 

She opened her eyes and realized that she was trembling. "Lucas," she started, "I'm--"

"No need," he interrupted briskly. "We're both a bit on edge." 

She nodded, looking up at the heavy grey clouds in the sky, swollen with even more snow. She reached out a hand toward him, only to discover that he was already reaching for hers. They held hands for a long time, lost in their own thoughts, while watching the clouds roil by. After a time, she realized that the snow was seeping into her clothes, wetting her to the skin, and making her shiver. At the same time, Lucas flipped onto his feet, and pulled her to hers. "Come on," he said, "let's get you inside, and warmed up before you die of hypothermia."

Adrienne grinned tremulously, allowing him to take hold of her hips, as he guided her through the path in the snow, back into the cottage. 

They tramped back inside, with Lucas pulling ahead, leading her to her bathroom. He leaned over the tub, plugged the drain, and turned on the steaming hot water. Walking over to the cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of lemon-scented bubble bath and raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded, and he poured some into her bath, the bright citrus scent quickly enveloping them in a cloud of steam. She stood dumbly watching him as he went to the closet and pulled out the various accoutrements that she would need to take her bath. 

He stood in front of her, and began to unbutton the layers of over-sized coats. Adrienne stood motionless as he stripped the heavy, wet garments from her and threw them into the laundry basket. He then unwound the scarf from around her neck, and tossed it into the basket with the coats. He sat on the edge of the tub, and drew first one, then the other foot into his lap, as he deftly untied and removed the heavy boots, and the multiple layers of woolen socks. He reached up under the sweater dress, and slowly drew her tights from her legs, launching them into the quickly filling laundry basket. Her feet were pale and cold, and after he pulled the tights off of her second foot, he unexpectedly leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her icy little foot. 

Standing up, he looked down at her, slowly bringing up his hands to undo the over-sized buttons of her sweater dress. She looked up at him, feeling the cool air brush her exposed skin. When he was done, he stepped back, and looked over her. 

A healthy strip of skin glowed from between the edges of the sweater, leading down to the tiny white cotton panties covering her most intimate place. His eyes continued traveling down her long, shapely legs, and he softly sighed. He slowly reached a hand into the opening of her sweater, resting it on her hip. His hand was so large, that while the thumb rested on the hollow beside her hipbone, his fingers wrapped around her hip, curling around the beginning swell of her bottom. He slowly stroked her hip with his thumb. Adrienne was aware of her nipples tightening and rasping against the fabric of the sweater, at the heat of his hand on her cool flesh. She swallowed hard, and stared straight ahead at his chest. After a moment passed, Lucas chuffed a breath through his nose, and then planted a kiss on the top of her head. Lingering for the merest second to inhale the sweet scent of her hair, he then took a step back. 

With a self-deprecatory little bow, he gestured to the tub. "Your bath awaits, Lady," he murmured. Straightening, he reached over to turn off the water and, giving her one last raking glance from head to toe, stepped around her and left the room, closing the door behind him. Adrienne just stood there for a moment, processing. She slowly reached up and slid the sweater from her shoulders, feeling it brush over her back as it slid down her arms to pool on the floor. She slowly slid her panties down her legs and then gathered them, and the sweater, to toss into the basket. 

Sliding into the steaming water, Adrienne bit back a whimper as the water heated her chilled limbs. Leaning back in the tub, she langourously closed her eyes, and let her thoughts wander to Lucas. Why had she attacked him? She sighed, realizing that she always lashed out when she was angry, or frustrated. He had been so understanding about her quick temper that she felt guilty for having lost it in the first place. She was going to have to do something nice for him to make up for her fiery loss of control. She snickered to herself. Or had it been an icy loss of control? With those thoughts lazing about her head, she drifted off to sleep.

A time later, Adrienne awoke. The bath had gone lukewarm, and the sun was long gone. She quickly washed, and stepped out of the tub into one of the fluffy, body-length towels. She dried herself, and put on a yellow pair of cotton panties, a pair of over-sized red plaid flannel pajama bottoms, and a black tank top. Hunting for Lucas, she found him in the library, reading a first edition of "Call of the Wild". Standing shyly before him, tendrils of hair curling loosely around her face, she said, "I'm going to start dinner, now."

He nodded, seemingly engrossed in his book. She didn't see him look up to watch her as she left, a thoughtful expression in his eyes.

She went to the kitchen and started his cake first. Baking had always soothed her, making her forget her worries for a time. Eggs, fat, flour, milk, sugar, salt, vanilla, and leavening. Simple ingredients but put together in a million different ways to make a million different things. Mess up the ratios, and you end up with flat cakes, concrete crusts, and bricks masquerading as biscuits. She decided to make a coconut-flavoured cake with coconut oil and coconut milk in place of butter and cow's milk, and to top it off with a coconut milk chocolate frosting. After the cake was safely in the oven, she blended coconut oil, coconut milk, coconut extract, and powdered sugar in a bowl. The toasty scent of coconut wafted around her as she stirred. In a double-boiler, she melted bittersweet chocolate, then added her coconut mixture into the dark, rich, thick, shining liquid. Moving it to the counter, she set it in the stand mixer, to whip until light and creamy.

While that was happening, she went into the cool pantry, and pulled some purple fingerling potatoes, celery, parsnips, red onions, small turnips, and a rutabaga. She re-entered the kitchen just in time to catch Lucas wandering in from the dining room. Hands in his pockets, he silently watched her. "Need any help?" he asked finally. 

"Well," she said, "you may wash the vegetables, if you like. Maybe...peel some garlic, and chop these onions?"

He nodded, moving forward to take the vegetables from her, and carry them to the sink. "Do you want the veggies peeled, as well?"

"No," she said, while checking on the cake. "I always leave on the peels."

"Fair enough," he said, handing the washed vegetables to her for chopping. They worked together in silence. Taking the finished vegetables, Adrienne tossed them in a bowl with olive oil, rosemary, fennel seeds, freshly cracked black pepper, and kosher salt.

She pulled the chicken from the brine, and proceeded to stuff it with the vegetables. Setting it in the pan, she arranged the rest of the vegetables around it, in a colourful array of rich purples, bright oranges, cool greens, and creamy whites. After massaging the chicken with coconut oil, salt, and pepper, she placed it in the oven, while taking out the cake to cool. 

Adrienne cut off the mixer, and dipped a finger into the fluffy frosting. Turning to Lucas, she asked, "Would you like to do the honours?"

Smiling beatifically, Lucas strode forward and bent down to wrap his lips around her finger. Lapping at it as he slowly drew it from his mouth, he looked up at her. "Mmm...tastes good," he said softly. "And the frosting is nice, too."

Smiling, Adrienne dipped her finger back into the frosting, and then slowly, precisely licked it off of the tip of her finger. Lucas stared at her, swallowing hard as her pink tongue lapped and curled around the finger that he had just had in his mouth. Looking up at him, she cocked her head to the side and purred, "Sweet."

Taking a shuddering sigh, Lucas closed his eyes asked, "Now what?"

Leaning forward, Adrienne rested one hand on his shoulder, pulling his ear down to the level of her mouth. "What now?" she whispered. He nodded, eyes closed. She leaned closer, feeling him sway toward her, "Biscuits," she purred. 

He was still for a moment. Then in a voice filled with puzzlement, he asked, "Biscuits?"

Leaning back against the counter, Adrienne nodded. "Yes. Biscuits. For dinner. Isn't that what you were asking?"

Lucas opened his eyes and looked directly at her. "Biscuits," he repeated, deadpan. Shaking his head, he straightened. "Okay, biscuits. How do we make that happen?"

She ticked off a list on her fingers. "We'll need flour, cold butter, baking powder and soda, salt, milk, and buttermilk powder. We mix the dry ingredients, and then grate in the butter, and blend. Then we add the milk, mix it until it's dough, turn it out on a floured surface, and knead briefly. Cut into rounds, bake, and enjoy." 




Riding the Red Ch. 05



Lucas turned to search the kitchen and pantry, gathering the ingredients for her. After he had it all assembled, she went to work. As she was rolling out the dough, he poked it a few times. "What are you, six?" she asked. 

"Hey, I'm a guy, I like poking soft things," he retorted, grinning.

She finished putting the biscuits onto the cookie sheet. "Well, poke these into the fridge, will you? We'll leave them in there until the chicken is almost done." She silently watched him as he did what she asked. "Lucas," she said suddenly, "What do you do when you're not rescuing damsels in distress."

He paused, then said smoothly, "As I said, I have many talents. I work for people who need to get things done," He turned to face her. "A maverick-for-hire, as it were."

"How interesting," she said politely. "Tell me," here she paused delicately, "just what are some of the things that you've been hired to do?" 

"A tid of this, and a bit of that," he replied evasively. At her raised eyebrow, he gave a long-suffering sigh. "I...find people. I protect people. I've even been known to fix people, here and there." 

Adrienne looked him over, saying, "You...hunt people."

Lucas bit out his answer. "Yes."

Adrienne's voice was soft now as she asked, "And...do you hurt people?"

Looking directly at her, Lucas matched her tone, saying, "Only the deserving."

She surveyed him quietly. "I believe it." 

He rubbed his hands on his thighs and asked, "How...did we come to this subject?"

"Well, we've been stuck together in this cabin for two days, now. I wanted to know just who is my gracious host." She looked away. Changing her tone, she said, "I noticed that you had some Billie Holiday records. Why don't you put them on, and we can chat about nicer things like the weather, cinema, and the fiscal cliff?"

Lucas hastily agreed, and they sat on the sofa, lightly chatting until it was time to bake the biscuits. He did the honours, while she sat on the edge of the table, enjoying watching him bend over to put the biscuits in the oven. She whistled saucily, "Nice buns," she said. 

He heaved a mock-long-suffering sigh. "I'm more than just a piece of meat, you know."

"Oh, I know, Wolfie," she said. "You're a whole slab of beef!"

He straightened suddenly, turning around to look incredulously at her. She held it in as long as she could but almost immediately broke, bursting into peals of laughter at the same time that he doubled over, guffawing, and clutching the counter for support.

"That was...awful!" he sputtered.

"I know!" She giggled. "I couldn't help myself, though. You just walked into that one!"

"I suppose I did," he sighed. "Don't hate me because I'm luscious."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, let's stop before one of us devolves into vulgarities regarding hot beef injections."

He looked disappointed. "Hey, you took my joke!"

"And thank goodness for that!"

They bantered back and forth, until the warm, brown smell of the buttermilk biscuits mingling with the rich, herbaceous aroma of the roasting chicken made them realize that dinner was done.

He served her again, his capable hands deftly carving tender, crisping slices of roast chicken, scooping up a medley of colourful vegetables that had caramelized in the melting chicken juices, and sliding a steaming, golden biscuit onto her plate. "Oh, and lest we forget!" He sauntered over to the refrigerator, and pulled out a jar of the fresh raspberry jam. Plopping down in his chair, he quickly served himself, and they began to eat. At the first bite of chicken, Lucas growled low in his chest. "I'm telling you, woman. You keep feeding me like this, and you'll have me following you around like a callow pup for the rest of your life."

"I can think of worse things," Adrienne said lightly, her eyes twinkling. They ate in companionable silence, the only audible sounds the clinking of silver against plate, and the occasional groan from Lucas as he discovered a particularly tasty tidbit. "You're very vocal," she observed.

He grinned roguishly. Leaning forward confidentially, he said, "You should hear me howl."

Her eyes widened at the implication. "Well," she said, standing up quickly, "better go frost that cake!"

Lucas watched her turn to the counter, amused at her shocked expression. While her back was turned, he ripped off a chicken leg and sank his teeth into the crispy skin with relish. 

Adrienne sliced the now-cooled cake into three layers, and assiduously covered them with plenty of the decadent brown frosting. Taking it to the table, she apologetically said, "It's not much to look at, I'm sure, but it should taste alright."

Eyes shining with a gourmand's delight, Lucas waited while she cut him a hefty slice and put it on his plate. Looking woefully up at her, he asked, "Milk?"

Shaking her head, she turned to the fridge to take out a frosty jug of skimmed milk. Pouring it into a tall glass for him, she sat back in his chair and watched as he attacked his cake like a little boy at Christmas. She smiled indulgently at him, somehow liking him more like this—-innocent and cheerful, as opposed to his usual dangerously seductive mien. He looked up at her, his eyes shining with greedy happiness, a dollop of chocolate beside his kissably coral mouth. Adrienne leaned forward and wiped off the chocolate with her thumb, and slipped it into her mouth. For once, Lucas was intent on something other than seduction as he asked her, "Aren't you going to have some cake?"

"Yes," she said. "But first, I wanted to watch you eat. You can be quite adorable, do you know that?"

He laughed. "I've been called many things, but adorable hasn't been amoung them since I was 12. Meanwhile, I really enjoy this flavour combination. More people should do this—you should make more people do this!"

Adrienne grinned at him, "I'll be sure to hop right on that." She cut a piece for herself. Wrapping her lips around a generous bite of cake, she closed her eyes to concentrate fully on the rich flavour. Grinning, she conceded. "I guess it is pretty good." 

He reached out to brush an errant tendril of hair behind her ear. "Yes," he agreed amiably, looking affectionately at her. 

She reached for his glass to take a sip of milk. 

Lucas chuckled. "Drinking from my glass? Cheeky baggage."

"I trust you," she said saucily, echoing his earlier affirmation.

"Good to know," he returned, quirking an eyebrow. Leaning back, he helped himself to another slice of cake. 

After the dinner dishes had been done, Lucas inclined his head to her. "I hate to be a poor host, but I have some work that I need to do. I fear that I must bid you an early goodnight."

"Oh," Adrienne responded, quick-witted as ever. She had assumed that he would spend the rest of the evening with her, and she had hoped that he would continue the tradition of tucking her into bed. "Well, if you must, you must. I can amuse myself with something from the library."

"I'm relieved to hear it," he said. His face looked as though he wanted to say more, but he shook his head.

They made their way to their separate destinations—-he to his bedroom, and she to the library, with the hopes of finding something with which to occupy her time. She found a nice novel, and took it to bed with her. 

____________________________________

Lucas was in his room, fiddling with his computer. A cheerful "pop" told him that the wireless was restored. He quickly established a connection with large, dark, silent house in America. Duncan MacTavish's silver head filled the screen. "How is it coming?" he asked gruffly. 

"Aside from a bit of cabin fever, no problems to report," Lucas responded. 

"Very good." Here, Duncan paused. "Her parents have flown to France. They're looking for her, of course. You may want to hurry. I'm not sure how much time you have."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. Sighing, he said, "I'm doing my best. You have a very... stubborn granddaughter."

"Gets it from me," Duncan asserted with rumbling pride.

"Yes, well..." Lucas cleared his throat. "You may want to have your weather-weavers step up their efforts with the snow to ensure that she stays here. Today, she insisted on going outside. I've no doubt that, unless the effort seemed completely futile, if she took the notion, she would try to dig her way back to the city."

Duncan grunted. "She's a MacTavish, all right. Do you need anything?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Is she...is she alright?" Duncan asked. Rather tentatively, for him.

"She's fine," Lucas said shortly.

"Get it done, then." Duncan signed off abruptly. Lucas sighed and leaned back on his bed, his eyes pensive. 

Much later that night, he made his way to her room. Her door was ajar, and he could see no light emanating from her room. Lucas slowly pushed open the door and padded over to the bed. Moonlight shone through a break in the clouds, illuminating Adrienne's peaceful features. She was on her back, hair unbound, the coverlet pulled up to her shoulders. 

He grasped the covers at her feet, and slowly pulled. Inch by inch, her small, curving body was gradually revealed to his hungry gaze. Her loose hair draped artfully over her breasts, hiding them from his view. As she breathed, the silky mass slid slightly, threatening to expose her to his eyes. She was dressed only in a chaste pair of lemon yellow cotton panties, the cloth barely covering her hidden place, and her legs were slightly bent, ankles crossed demurely. Lucas swallowed hard. He spent a long moment, just staring at her. Then, gritting his teeth, he delicately pulled the coverlet back over her body. He watched her sleep for a few more moments, then bent down to place a soft kiss on her brow. Backing away silently, he left the room, and closed the door.

Adrienne's eyes opened, and she spent a long time staring into the dark.



Riding the Red Ch. 06



Julien unlocked the door to his mother's house, and let in his wife. He followed her inside, and then they looked at each other. From the smell wafting through the house, they could tell that Aurelie Blanchard was in the kitchen. As they made their way to the kitchen, they heard her call, "Ah, bon—vous etes ici!"

Entering the kitchen, they looked around at the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and the various pots and pans covering the walls. Looking at each other, Eiric nodded for Julien to speak first. "Ah, Maman, something smells...awful."

Aurelie looked up impatiently from where she was stirring a bubbling mixture over the stove. Her silver hair was gathered into a thick braid that ran down her back, and her normally warm brown eyes were all business. "It's the finding cantrip," she said shortly. She lifted a few strands of Adrienne's hair from a brush, and dropped them into the pot. "I'll need some blood." 

Eiric picked up a dagger from the counter and pricked her finger, letting it drip into the pot. She took Julien's hand, kissed it, and then pricked his finger, squeezing until a few droplets fell to mingle with hers. She barely noticed as he slipped her fingertip into his mouth, quickly cleaning her small wound. 

"Did you procure anything from her dorm room?" Aurelie inquired.

Eiric pulled a piece of chewed gum from her bag. "This is all that I could find—she had just done laundry before she left." 

Julien sighed, "We should have kept an updated finding kit. Our blood, old hair, saliva from a piece of gum, do you think that it will be enough?"

Aurelie turned around, laying a weathered hand on both of their cheeks. Julien closed his eyes, and Eiric looked as if she were about to cry. "Ecoutez a moi, mes bebes. Notre Adrienne is fine. She is clever, she is resourceful, and we will find her, no question, eh?" They nodded hesitantly. "When was the last time that you slept?"

They looked at each other. "We slept some on the plane," Julien answered. 

Aurelie nodded, as if confirming something. She sent a pulse through the palm against Eiric's cheek, and Julien had to catch his wife as she fell, unconscious. "Take her upstairs," Aurelie said, as she turned back to the stove. Both of you go to sleep, I'll finish here."

Julien swung his now-sleeping wife into his arms. "Merci, Maman. She hasn't really slept since she found out that Adrienne was missing. I'll take her back upstairs and then come back to help you."

Aurelie waved absently at him as she sprinkled a fine white powder into the noxious mess on the stove.

Julien carried his wife upstairs, and laid her gently on the bed. He removed her shoes, drew back the covers, picked her up again, and placed her against the warm, green flannel sheets. He drew the covers over her and turned around just in time to see his mother place her hand on his chest. Catching her son in her arms, she half carried, half dragged him to the other side of the bed, and plopped him in. Nodding to herself, she went back downstairs to finish her work.

************************

Eiric was the first to awaken the next morning. She gently shook Julien, who looked around confusedly, and then buried his face into the pillow, groaning.

"Your mother," she said.

"My mother, he agreed. 

After showering and changing, they trotted downstairs, and filed silently into the kitchen. The pot on the stove was quiescent, and there was a large map laid on the sturdy pine kitchen table. Aurelie turned from the stove with two over-sized mugs brimming with hot chocolate. She put down the heavy mugs in front of them. They watched her as she picked up a white bag from the counter, and pulled out two fresh, fragrant croissants, laying them on saucers beside the mugs. She plopped down a jar of her homemade strawberry preserves and said imperiously, "Mangez-vous."

"Je n'ai faim--" Eiric started.

"You're of no use to her drained. Eat." Aurelie repeated imperiously. Eiric and Julien sighed like recalcitrant children, and then began to make quick work of their petit-dejeuner. When they had finished, Aurelie swept aside their dishes, and pulled a crystal from around a string on her neck. She dipped it into the pot on the stove, coating the crystal with the noxious potion. Shaking it a few times to remove any extraneous drops, she brought it over to the table. "Put your hands over mine," she ordered Eiric. Hands together, they swung the crystal slowly over the map, trying to scry for Adrienne's location. The crystal began to swing faster on its own. Excited, they moved it, trying to determine where it wanted to go. With a sudden, violent tug, it pulled itself out of their hands and smashed into the wall. "Well," Aurelie said tartly, "This is new."

Eiric and Julien looked at her in shock. "D'accord," she said, nodding decisively. "Next, we'll try to fire scry. Eiric, do you know how?" 

Eiric shook her head. "None of our magic is procedural...it's all inherent," she said. 

Aurelie tilted her head. "I'll show you how. Given the fact that you're her mother, and it's therefore also likely that her magic will manifest as fire-based, there's a higher chance that you'll find a connection to her."

"Okay," said Eiric. "What do I do?"

"Follow me," Aurelie said, leading them to the living room. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, she motioned Eiric down beside her. "Make a fire," she directed.

Eiric held up her hand in front of the logs, and heat waves began to shimmer in the air. A crackling noise began to build, and after several moments, the logs burst into cheerful flame. 

"Now look into the flames," Aurelie instructed. "Clear your mind of all thoughts, save for those of Adrienne. Picture her in your mind. Think of the last time you saw her. What was she wearing? How long was her hair? How was it done? Was she wearing any makeup? Think of the sound of her voice, the cadence of her breath, the sound of her heart beat. Remember her scent, and the way she felt when you last held her. Experience everything about her as if she were actually here—you'll have to not merely picture her, but recreate a complete mental experience of her, down to the smallest detail. Once you have that simulacrum fixed in your mind, then you can begin to try to see her in the flames." 

Several minutes passed. After a while, Eiric almost imperceptibly began to rock. A few more minutes passed. Julien made as if to say something, but his mother shook her head, motioning him into another room. "We can't break her concentration," she told him. "She has never done this before—it's not going to come easily to her."

"What can I do to help?" Julien asked.

"Adrienne went missing between her dorm, and here. You can go to her dorm to see if you can retrace her steps. Do you remember how?" she queried.

"Bien sur, maman," he murmured as he left for the campus.

When he arrived, he slowly made his way around the wooded perimeter that delineated the forest from the campus. He noticed a small footprint in the damp earth, and bent down to examine it. Holding a hand over it, he felt a slight tingle of familial recognition warm his palm. This was left by his daughter. Straightening, he looked ahead, and could almost imperceptibly sense her path. It was less an obvious guide, and more of a nudging unction in a certain direction, but he had been trained to follow that feeling when it manifested. Julien started into the woods, slowly orienting on the path that his daughter had taken. 

*************************

Julien opened the door to his mother's home just in time to see his wife go flying across the room. 

He could feel heat pouring off of her in waves as he hurried to her side, and when he moved to touch her face, he had to draw back to keep from being burned. "Eiric," he crooned soothingly. She looked at him, dazed, eyes incandescent with heat. He looked up to see his mother crouched on the other side of his wife, her face a study in surprise and worry. Recognizing her husband's voice, Eiric began to lower her defenses. Just in time, for her clothes had begun to singe and blacken in spots. 

Cautiously, Julien reached out a hand to touch his wife's hair. Still hot, but bearable. He stroked it, feeling her temperature coming down under his gentle ministrations. He risked putting an arm around her. Barely tolerable, but it was obvious that she was pulling herself under control. Her eyes were slowly lightening from molten copper to their usual shining grey, her skin no longer the sullen ruddiness of heated metal.

"C'etait froid," she started, shivering at the memory "So cold. It was like a wall of ice just...slammed into me." She turned to him, grabbing his shirt front, her expression sharpening. "I saw our Adrienne! She was...cooking something, and then..." She groaned, held her head. "And then I was bitch-slapped with a bloody avalanche."

Julien gripped her tightly. "Elle a ete comment?"

Eiric shook her head wearily. "She looked happy. Healthy. She was in a wooden kitchen. The door opened, and then..." She shrugged.

Julien nodded. "And then 'Boom'!"

His wife nodded with him, "And then, 'Boom!'" 

They didn't notice that Aurelie was gone until she suddenly reappeared next to Eiric with a glass of Beaujolais Nouveau. Eiric jumped. "Seriously, how do you do that?!" she said, incredulously. Aurelie shrugged. 

Shaky with relief, both over the fact that his daughter was still alright, and that his wife was unharmed, Julien indulged in a slightly hysterical laugh. "That's her way, cherie." He took the glass of wine from his mother, and pressed it to his wife's lips, still stroking her hair. Eiric closed her eyes, and obediently drank. "There," he murmured, when she had finished the glass. He rubbed her back slowly, kissed her temple. "You did very well, mon amour; I'm very proud of you," he whispered in her ear. "Now, we know that Adrienne is unharmed." 

He settled comfortably next to her. "You're going to be very proud of me, too. I went to her school, and was able to track part of her path through the forest. I was worried, because it appears as if she had been chased by wolves. Her trail ends near where a set of human male tracks begin. There are no signs of a struggle, but it does look like someone fell—probably Adrienne—because the male tracks lead away alone. It's obvious that he's carrying something substantial. Unfortunately, these tracks are impossible to follow."

"Pourquoi?" Eiric inquired anxiously. "Do they just disappear?" 

"Non," he grunted. "It's just that...the forest in that area looks pretty messy. Like someone went over it for miles in every direction, trampling, breaking, rending, tearing. Any trail made has since been obliterated."

"Cold," Aurelie murmured thoughtfully. "You know, we have been having a lot of unseasonably cold weather for the past few days. Do you think that there's a connection?"

"Probably," Eiric answered absentmindedly. "Papa would know to counter me with people using cold." She grew excited, "And what better way to keep someone somewhere, without force, than snow?

"So, all we do," Julien began slowly, "is find the locus of the cold." His wife and mother looked up at him, as they all experienced the same feelings of flaring hope tempered with caution. 

"In theory," Eiric said slowly, wrapping her hand around his. "It's highly probable that there are more deterrents—after all, my father is nothing if not thorough—but...it's a place to start. The question is...how do we find said locus?"

Julien bit his lip, thoughtful. "There is a spell that turns a regular map into a magical relief map. It would make sense that, wherever Adrienne is would currently display the highest level of magical concentration."

"What do you need?" Aurelie asked.

"Unfortunately, this will require some specialty items," Julien responded. He retrieved a bit of paper and pen from a drawer, and made two lists. "Here, Maman, you take half and we'll take half, and go to the local markets, and magic shops. Whatever you don't already have, we're going to have to try to find, but if we can't," he sighed. "If we can't, I may need to contact some friends to see what they can locate." They split up to go shopping for the things on his list. 

*************************

Eiric followed Julien into his old haunts in the various markets and dusty, hole-in-the-wall shops, her eyes taking in everything as she watched him search, weigh, haggle, bargain, and gather his way through the afternoon. She had always respected her husband's magic, but to date, had never had overly many chances to see him work. She felt a deep sense of relief that Julien had received such a thorough, and varied education at the hands of his mother, aunts, and uncles.

She bit her lip, as she watched her husband bargain with the shopkeeper for a fresher item. Her father was so stubborn, refusing to believe that any procedural magic was worthwhile. It had stunted her education, she realized, because now she had to rely and her husband and mother to take the lead in finding her child. Though she loved, trusted, and respected them immensely, it still galled her to know that, for all of her purported great MacTavish-line power, she was no more helpful in this than a particularly precocious child. 

She burned with the desire to be out, to be actively doing something to search for her daughter, but she quelled her passions, knowing that they could not help her, now. The tie that she normally had to her daughter was being quelled by the people working for her father, and no amount of brute force would overcome that. This took strategy, and delicacy; this took her husband. Unless...

"What are your thoughts?" her husband gently interrupted, taking her chin, and using his thumb to coax her bottom lip from her rending teeth.

Eiric sighed. No, she could never hide anything from her perspicacious husband. She gestured to some herbs as he guided her out of the shop. "I was just thinking how grateful I am to have you. To have married into your family. I wouldn't know where to begin on something like this. I feel so useless." 

Julien rubbed her back, listening to her, as they walked to the next market. "You are many things, ma petite femme, but useless has never been one of them. Without you, we wouldn't know that Adrienne is alright. We wouldn't have known about the cold weather connection. And without you, even if we found her, there is a possibility that we wouldn't have enough power to take her back." He put his hand in the small of her back, gently directing her across the street. "We'll need your power and strength soon enough. You are our weapon," He lowered his voice, "Tu es mon coeur. " He wrapped a hand around her hip and kissed her temple as he guided her though the winding stalls of the next market. "Don't ever forget that."

They reconnoitered at Aurelie's house that afternoon, where she had lunch ready. Eiric groaned inside, but sat dutifully at the table. Her mother filled her bowl with chunky, herbaceous, steaming turkey soup, pulled a fresh still-warm crusty loaf from the shelf, deftly broke it into chunks, and liberally spread them with sweet-cream butter that melted over the fluffy insides as she firmly set it on the saucer beside Eiric's bowl. A fragrant glass of Sauvignon Blanc completed the meal. 

After serving Julien, they ate in silence, with no interruptions except for a sharp look from Julien to his wife, when he thought that she wasn't going to finish her meal. He understood that she lost her appetite when she was upset, but he wasn't about to let her starve herself until their daughter was back. 

Julien finished first, and took his dishes to the sink. While washing them, he asked his mother if she had had any luck. 

"I was able to procure everything that you need," she said comfortably. He smiled to himself. His steely little mother was ever-capable. 

"Well, you've gone further than we, unfortunately," he told her. She looked at Eiric, who nodded. "Unfortunately, there were three key ingredients that had been all bought a few days ago." 

"What are you going to do?" Aurelie inquired.

"Julien has friends back in The States that are going to procure the items for us," Eiric answered. "He has already made all of the necessary calls."

"So, now..." Aurelie started.

"So now, you two brainstorm other ways of trying to find her," Eiric answered. "I'm going to see some people that I know, see if anyone has heard anything. Something this big takes planning, supplies, and not a small number people for execution. Someone has to know something."

Julien turned to his wife, understanding gnawing his insides. "You mean to track down these people."

She stared at him levelly, "Yes."

"Without me," continued.

"Yes," she coolly responded.

He paused, then shook his head. "Unacceptable."

She held out her hands, palms up, and made her voice gentle. "Julien, consider it logically. It makes more sense for us to attack this problem from as many sides as possible. You two have your talents, I have mine--"

He interrupted her, "I don't know where my child is. I will not let my wife go."

Eiric lifted her chin. "You don't trust me. You think that I'm going to get myself hurt. Julien, I've been doing this since I was 16 years old--" he cut her off again.

"You didn't have me at 16," he said, low.

"Julien," she started carefully, unsure of how to make the point that her powers were stronger than his without hurting his feelings. She paused, unwilling to damage her husband's pride to make her point.

As usual, however, he read her easily. He clenched his jaw. "I know that you're more powerful than I am in a magical fight," he gritted. "I know that, because of the way that you were raised, you are an eminently dangerous person. But you are my wife," here his voice broke, and she looked up at him in surprise. Voice low, almost growling, he continued, "You are my wife, and I will maim, kill, and die before I allow anyone to harm one inch of you. You go, I go." 

Eiric looked to his mother in supplication.

Aurelie just shook her head sadly. "I will call my brothers and sister," she said, resigned. "With all four of us, there should be more than enough accumulated knowledge to accomplish what I could with Julien." She sighed, stroking her son's arm wistfully. Then she hardened her jaw, though her eyes were shining. "Go! Do what you need to do. Your wife is right, we should be trying as many avenues as possible." 

Eiric hung her head, unwilling to admit that she would be immensely grateful for her husband's company. She didn't want to put him in danger, but without him, she always felt a little unsettled. A little raw. He was her safe place. 

Julien wrapped his hand around the back of his wife's neck, pulling her into his chest, and resting his chin on top of her head. They just stood there for a few moments, gathering strength from one another. 

They broke apart in surprise as the doorbell chimed. They looked to Aurelie, who looked as surprised as they. She hurried to the front door, just as it opened in a flurry of boisterous, garrulous voices. Julien hurried just behind his mother, to the front, shocked to see the familiar faces of his aunt and uncles. 

"Why are you here?" Aurelie asked in shock. 

Her sister walked over to her, and gave her an all-encompassing tight hug as she said, "You know that I always know when one of us is in trouble, little sister. I called Alain and Felix, and here we are." 

Her brothers moved to hug her, and then all stood around her protectively. "So, what's wrong, Aurie?" Felix asked in his deep, rasping voice. 

Eiric had silently come to stand just behind Julien as she watched the scene. She stood on tiptoe, and whispered into his ear, "So. Your mother doesn't know everything."




Riding the Red Ch. 06



"Non," he whispered back. "That would be my Aunt Charlene."

"Oh, that's right—she's a seer, oui?" Eiric asked.

"And I can hear, as well," Charlene said loudly. "Allez-vous ici—I haven't seen you two in years." She began to kiss, hug, and fuss over them, then sharply turned, giving Aurelie her full attention as her little sister explained the situation to her siblings. 

Alain moved to stand next to Eiric and Julien, clapping a heavy hand on their shoulders. "We'll help you find your little one," he promised.

Julien patted his uncle's back in restrained gratitude, then turned to his wife. "We should go."

She nodded, then made the rounds, hugging and kissing the aunt and uncles one last time. She paused before Aurelie, and they just held hands for a minute, looking at each other wordlessly. Some things transcended language. Aurelie pulled Eiric and her son in for one last brisk, emotional kiss. 

Aurelie watched her handsome son and his wife, whom she loved, get into the car and drive away. She tsked to herself, thinking that she should have made them something to eat on the road. Eiric was looking entirely too thin. Turning to her siblings, she now allowed herself to fall into the role of coddled one. Though she never would have admitted it to Julien and Eiric, she too, was scared. But they didn't need what-ifs, they needed decisiveness, and certainty. With her siblings, however, she didn't have to pretend to be all-knowing. That was Charlene's job.

Moving back into her house, she listened to her brothers avidly discussing methods of ascertainment. She found Charlene in her kitchen, examining the cold potion from this morning. 

"You tried to scry?" Charlene queried. 

She nodded. "The crystal flew across the room and hit the wall, there." Aurelie pointed. 

Charlene examined the dent in the wall, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "That means that there's a lot of power shielding her, wherever she is. Especially when coupled with what happened to Eiric when she tried." She took a deep breath, and then smiled reassuringly at her little sister. "Make me some hot chocolate. I'm going to see what I can do." Charlene searched for a suitable spot, and then decided to ensconce herself in the breakfast nook. 

By the time that Aurelie came in with her chocolate, Charlene was already mentally far away, using her gift to search for Adrienne.

Aurelie brushed an errant curl from her sister's placid face, and then turned to go discuss alternate plans of attack with her brothers.

**********************

"Turn into here," Eiric told her husband.

"The store?" he asked in surprise. 

"Yes," she rejoined. "If you're going to do this with me, then you need to be prepared." She turned to him, placing a hand on his thigh. "I may have to do things, Julien. You are my back-up, comprends? You are to stand there, stay silent, and look menacing. You can't flinch, you can't show any distaste for my methods...if it comes to that." 

He took her hand, and kissed the back of it. "For Adrienne," he said simply.

Eiric looked at him, blew out a breath, and exited the car. As she led him into the weapons store, he noticed that her body language had undergone a subtle shift. Her energy seemed tighter, she stood taller, and she didn't so much walk, as slice through the air. She moved like a shark. And while part of him was amazed that this silent, steely little person was his warm, passionate, affectionate wife, and part of him admired her deadly intensity, part of him was also a little sad that this was a part of her. He wished that she had never had to learn these skills. 

Sighing in regret, he took up a position by the door, locking it to ensure that no one else would come into the already empty store. He watched Eiric approach the store owner, whose back was turned to them. Julien's head involuntarily snapped back as he heard his wife purr something that he never thought he would hear her say to another man.

"Hello, lover."



Riding the Red Ch. 07



Adrienne opened her eyes, realizing that she had been moving restlessly for a while, now. She sighed and sat up in bed. She ran her hands through her hair, and over her face. She knew that she wanted Lucas, but she wasn't sure of the wisdom of that decision. All she knew right now was that she was so frustrated that she could scream. It felt like her blood was racing in her veins, and cold trickles were dancing just under her skin. She had never felt like this before, this antsy and unsettled, and furthermore, she wasn't sure if she were offended by his actions last night, or upset that he didn't take things further. Adrienne pulled at her hair, exhaling sharply, and buried her face in her hands. 

Then, brightening, she realized that she could always take matters into hand, so to speak. That should take off some of the edge. She lay back down, closed her eyes, and thought about Lucas. She thought about his mouth, about his eyes. She thought about how his muscles moved under his warm skin. Thought about the veins in his strong hands, and how they wended their way up his strong forearms. Thought about how it would feel to finally be kissed by him. About how he would hold her.

Would he be insistent, or gentle? Would he cover her with that delicious scent? Would he hold her or hold her down? She shivered, restlessly rubbing together her legs. She used her fingertips to slowly trace the planes of her face, imagining that her hands were his. She traced down to her collarbones, lightly grazing her fingers over her warm skin. She felt a sense of power remembering his face the previous night. He had wanted her. She sighed, sliding her hands down her ribs, over her hipbones, to caress her thighs. Her eyes were closed as she imagined the warmth of his breath on her face, the softness of that beautiful mouth on her skin, the thrill of his hands sliding over her body.

She wanted him on top of her, crushing her into the bed, surrounding her, covering her with his scent. Her fingers moved restlessly over her body, teasing, arousing, exciting. One hand slid slowly into her panties, and she bit back a whimpering sigh as her questing fingers found their goal...

****************

Lucas ran steadily on the treadmill. His ribs worked like bellows as he pushed his way through his 10th mile. Eyes forward, breath even, mind focused, until something caused him to clumsily break stride. Overcompensating, moved to the other side, and almost flew off of the treadmill. Gripping the bars, he used his upper body to lever himself up and off of the infernal machine, too distracted to even turn it off properly. 

His head whipped around as a sweet, unmistakable scent wafted past his face. He closed his eyes, his mouth open slightly as he scented the air. Groaning, he rubbed his hands down his whiskery cheeks. Was she trying to kill him? He began to pace. Suddenly, on the very edge of hearing, there was a soft, needy whimper. Lucas whined. He started toward the door, then took control of himself and forced himself back onto the treadmill. A few strides told him that that wasn't a good idea, either, as he had begun to pant, which only caused more of the elusive scent to surround his senses. Growling, he leapt off of the treadmill and turned it off. His pupils were fully dilated now, with only a sliver of gold around the black. Almost against his will, he slowly stalked from the room. 

Her scent swirled around his head, and settled on his tongue. He could hear her rustling softly, and he imagined her tangled in the sheets, legs moving restlessly. He found himself in front of her room with no idea how he got there. He could hear her more clearly now, so quiet and soft. He could tell from the strengthening of her scent that she was close. He started into the room, but his arms snapped up, hands gripping onto the lintels of her doorway. Lucas was trembling from the effort of holding himself back, and as he heard her fall over the edge, he fell soundlessly to his knees, his head hanging. His breath was ragged as he knelt at her door, hands wrapped fast around her door lintels. He could hear himself rasping as he panted, every breath a torture. He lifted his head when heard her stirring as she came back down to earth...

****************

Adrienne lay in a tangle of warm, soft sheets, moving restlessly as she came back to herself. She opened heavy-lidded eyes and smiled. All of the tension in the house for the past couple of days had made for an explosive experience. She sighed a satisfied sigh to herself, when she heard a slow scraping noise outside her door. She went to the bureau, found something to cover herself, and then edged cautiously to the door, and put her ear against it. Nothing. She opened the door and looked around, but all was quiet. She turned back into her room, closing the door and heading for the bathroom.

She didn't notice the 10 deep gouges biting in the wood of her door lintel, about three feet off of the ground.

**************

Lucas sighed in relief as he smelled the pervasive aroma of jasmine bath bubbles being to cover Adrienne's fading scent. He slowly unfurled himself from where he had been sitting in the armchair in his room, and opened a window. He smiled grimly to himself. It was time to put an end to these childish games. 

****************

Adrienne sang softly to herself as she brushed her long hair over her shoulders. Finishing, she put down the brush and looked critically at herself in the mirror. Today, she had chosen black boot-cut jeans and a black velvet vest over an untucked white button-down shirt, with French cuffs. A red silk ascot nestled at her throat, and snaked between her breasts, providing some modesty as it disappeared into the low vee of the partially-unbuttoned shirt. 

Nodding in approval, she lifted her hands to her hair to bind it up, but then slowly lowered them, changing her mind. She decided to leave it down. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she strode over to the door, and wrapped her hand around the knob. She paused, nervous. Then, rolling her eyes, she sighed and opened the door. She had nothing to fear. It's not like Lucas would be able to tell what she had done this morning.

Padding through the hallway, she noted that it was unusually quiet. As she passed Lucas' bedroom, she shivered, and then noticed that his door was moving slightly. Opening it cautiously, she saw that his window was open. She looked around, but didn't see him. She decided to leave when a sudden gust of wind blew swirling snow into the room, coating his bed, and dresser. Biting her lip, nervous, she crossed to the window and shut it, and then looked around. Still no Lucas. Shivering warily, she left his room, and made her way to the empty kitchen. 

He's probably out shoveling snow, she thought to herself as she started breakfast. She decided to use the leftover beer bread to make French toast. While she made the batter in which she would dip the slices of bread, she decided to pair the toast with scrambled eggs and lox. She was just finishing up when she heard something scrabbling at the front door. Turning off the stove, she went to the door, but by the time she made it there, whatever it was gone. A loud bang from the kitchen told her that Lucas must be back, and she sighed in relief. 

When she reached the kitchen however, the back door was open, but Lucas was nowhere in sight. Confused, and cautious, she looked down and noticed that the floor was wet. In fact, there was a wet trail leading back into the cottage. She walked over to the door, closed and locked it, and then turned around, pressing her back to the sturdy wood. She told herself that she was being silly, but...she had seen enough horror films to know where this was going. She quietly made her way over to the knife storage block and wrapped her hand around a sturdy boning knife. Resting the blade against her forearm, she silently followed the trail of water deeper into the cabin. 

The trail led to Lucas' closed bedroom door. Adrienne cocked her head. Hadn't she left it open? She heard a snuffling sound, and then a chuff. Confused, she leaned closer, closing her eyes so that she could concentrate on listening. It sounded as if there was something very large rustling in his room. She wrapped her hand quietly around his doorknob and began to turn it, when it let out a protesting creak. Absolute silence reigned for a heart stopping second. She started to open the door when a large, soft weight was thrown up against it, slamming it shut. 

Adrienne leapt back in shock as she heard wet, popping, tearing noises. Screwing up her courage, she called, "Lucas?" No answer. She raised her voice and the knife, calling loudly, "Lucas!" Nothing. Just as she was about to kick open the door and forget the consequences, she heard a low rumbling growl. It was so low, in fact, that it took her a few seconds to realize that it was Lucas talking. 

"I'm not dressed," he growled. Adrienne stood on shaking legs and then collapsed against his door, sliding down to the floor, and laying her head against the smooth wood. Silently sighing in relief she asked, "Why didn't you respond when I first called you?"

"My throat is a little sore," he rasped, his voice sounding a bit more normal. 

She nodded. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought that you were...well, I don't know what I thought, but I was worried."

"You closed my window," he said, a note of irritation in his voice.

She stood up uncertainly. "Snow was blowing into your room. I figured that you wouldn't want your hardwood floors and furniture ruined, not to mention your laptop."

He was silent for a moment. Then, "Thank you". 

She waited for a while, but that was seemingly the end of the conversation. "Well," she said, fidgeting, "Breakfast is ready. I'll make you some tea, for your throat."

"Fine," he said tersely. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll be right out."

Fifteen minutes later he sauntered into the kitchen, looking alert and somewhat dangerous. He was wearing form-hugging Wranglers, and a black plaid flannel shirt over a black tee, the shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his muscular forearms. He looked like a particularly menacing, albeit rather rangy lumberjack. 

At that thought, Adrienne turned to hide a smile. She brought the food to the table and set it down in front of him as he sat, and then turned to cut on the water for the tea. Reaching above the refrigerator, she grabbed a bottle of dark maple syrup, and put it, and a pitcher of ice cold milk down on the table between them. He watched her silently as she filled his plate and glass, and then her own. Sitting down, she looked at him and said, "What?"

He gave her a long, measuring look and said laconically, "Nothing". 

She toyed with her food. He sat there, his untouched. 

"So...where were you?" she queried.

He blinked. "I was in the shed, chopping more wood for the fireplace."

"Oh," she said. "I didn't hear you."

"The door was closed. The snow probably muffled some of the sound, as well."

"Oh." She took a nervous sip of milk. "Are you going to eat?"

He gave her a slow, burning stare that made her cheeks flame. "I plan on it," he said softly.

Adrienne didn't know why, but her heart was dancing like a frantic moth in her chest. She felt like he was a stalking panther and she was a particularly interesting looking doe. Just when she thought that she couldn't stand it anymore, he moved, taking a bite of his French toast. After a moment, "This is good."

"Thank you," she softly responded.

He ate quickly, refilling his plate before she had even made it halfway through hers. She could feel his pointed attention, and it made her feel excited and apprehensive, and a little off-kilter. Just when she opened her mouth to break the silence, the tea kettle began to whistle. Smiling gratefully, she stood up to make him that cup of tea. She poured the steaming water over the dried peppermint leaves, and then swirled a thick, creamy spoonful of raw honey into the golden brew. When she turned to ask him if he had finished his breakfast, he was right behind her. She leaned back in alarm as he put his hands on either side of the counter, boxing her in between him and the cold, green granite. She swallowed hard as she looked up at him, staring thoughtfully down at her.

"I missed you in the exercise room this morning," he said, his voice low and husky.

Adrienne's body broke out in a cold sweat as she remembered just what had caused her to have to skip a morning workout. "I...over-overslept," she stuttered, her throat involuntarily swallowing in the middle of the lie. 

"Mmm..." he rumbled. "Is that so?" He cocked his head to the side, his eyes roaming over her face. Then they dropped down her body, only to slowly saunter their way back up to her mouth. Finally, he flicked his eyes back up to hers and said, "You do look awfully well-rested."

Adrienne felt her heart tripping in her chest as she looked down at the floor. Then her head turned. Wait. What was she doing feeling guilty? He was the one who had started this. He was the one who had come into her room last night. Who had uncovered her. Who had seen her practically naked. She still remembered the burning in his eyes as they roved her moonlit body. Her head snapped up and she took a step toward him. He took a step back in surprise. "Yes, well," she said crisply, "I had trouble sleeping. I had the oddest dream. I dreamt that someone came into my room last night, and uncovered me while I was sleeping. Isn't that an unusual dream, Lucas? So, as you can imagine, I slept fitfully for the rest of the night."

His face stilled. She watched as he slowly swallowed, and then inclined his head. "Just so," he said, as if he were conceding to her point.

Her body ran hot, and then cold as victory swept over her. She handed him the mug of steaming tea. "Drink your tea, Lucas," she said imperiously. She began to sweep out of the room, but then turned back, and gestured toward the table. "Why don't you clean up in here?" she said loftily. As she left the room, she could have sworn that she heard a soft growl...

She made it back to her room, closed the door, and leaned against it, her heart beating like a hummingbird's wings. She wasn't entirely sure what just happened in the kitchen, but she was sure that, whatever it was, she had won. This time. She shivered. Why was Lucas acting so oddly? She absentmindedly touched her mouth with her fingertips as she remembered the way that he had stared at her, his arms penning her in against the counter top.

She walked over to her bed and sat. She would wait until he had cooled down a bit before she ventured back into the kitchen. After 20 minutes, or so, she cautiously opened her door and padded her way to the kitchen. Lucas was, again, nowhere to be found. Adrienne shrugged. At least he had cleaned the kitchen. She stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do to occupy her time when she heard him scraping the shovel along the ground outside. She hurried to the door and peered through the glass to see him shoveling snow. She tilted her head, confused. If he was just shoveling now, how had he made it to the shed earlier? She knew that the weather was odd, but this much snow just since breakfast just wasn't possible. And didn't he usually shovel before he showered? Curious. She chewed over these thoughts for a while, and then, no closer to figuring an answer, she put them in the back of her mind, to be examined later. 

She knew that, since he was out there working, he would be hungry soon. Opening the refrigerator and staring inside, she decided to make yoghurt for the next day's breakfast, and lamb stew for dinner. In fact, she should also put down a starter, so that she could make proper bread tomorrow. She took out one of the cups of yogurt, and some milk. Reaching into the cabinet, she gathered powdered milk, white whole wheat flour, salt, and yeast. Carrying her bounty back to the table, she began to create. 

First, she put on a large pot of water to boil. Then, she divided the yoghurt into three plastic jars, along with a fourth of a cup of powdered milk, and filled the jars the rest of the way with regular milk. She stirred the mixtures, capped the jars, and then placed them in a small cooler. While she was waiting for the water to boil, she put flour, yeast, a pinch of salt, and enough water in a large bowl to make sticky, soft dough. Then she covered it with a dishtowel, put it in the oven, and turned on the light. By then, the water was boiling, so she carefully poured it in the cooler, around the jars of milk, until they were almost submerged. She replaced the cooler lid, and put it out of the way. This time tomorrow, they would have fresh bread, and yoghurt. 

Next he chopped onions, celery and carrots, and put them into a pan of hot olive oil to sauté. Then she took the lamb leftover from their first dinner, and chopped it, along with turnips, and a rutabaga. She shook her head while she was peeling the rutabaga, wishing that Lucas wasn't in such an odd temper. She rather liked having a sous-chef around the kitchen. She put the chopped vegetables in the slow-cooker, along with the pre-soaked white beans, a bay leaf, oregano, salt, lavender, pepper, dried fennel seeds, savory, and rosemary. Moving back to the stove, she de-glazed the pan with a little red wine, and scraped the mixture and rich brown fond into the stew.

That took care of dinner, but what about lunch? She knew that Lucas would be hungry soon enough and, to be truthful, was actually feeling a bit hungry herself, as she had only picked at her breakfast. More importantly, she wanted to keep him well fed and complacent. His attention had been entirely too pointed this morning. He had been like a predator, watching her every move, waiting for his moment to...she laughed ruefully. To eat her all up. "But I am not prey," she said softly.

"What?"

She forced herself to stay very still. Calmly, she turned to look up at Lucas, who was a mere hand span away, looking bright-eyed and ruddy from the cold. "I didn't hear you come inside," she said softly. 

He smiled a hungry wolf's smile. He casually brought a hand to her ear, tugging it gently. "Then you should have bigger ears, the better to hear me with, my dear." She shivered at his touch, and his smile widened. "So, Adrienne...what were you saying?"

She swallowed hard, and then straightened. "I said, 'I am not prey.'"

His smile didn't waver, though he did quirk a brow. "Indeed," he said, his tone perfectly neutral. He moved his hand to slowly push her hair behind her ear, and then he took a step away from her, his hand dropping gracefully to his side. He regarded her for a moment, his head tilted. 

"Are you hungry?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady under the pressure of the full measure of his gaze.

"Yes." He stood silent, and she waited for him to continue. His voice was so soft that she had to strain to hear it. "But I can wait...a bit longer."

"What would you care to eat?"

His nostrils flared. "Something small."

"So, you are not very hungry, then?"

"I am...very hungry."

Adrienne sensed that they were having two entirely dissimilar, if simultaneous conversations. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "How about a caramelized onion and butternut squash galette?"

His mouth curled into a grin, as if he were secretly pleased about something. She saw his eyes twinkle, and, for a moment, it was like her old Lucas was back. Then, a shadow passed over his face, and he took a step back. "That sounds good," he said, his voice relatively pleasant. She turned to grab the flour, salt, and bowls, measure out the coconut oil, and put them all in the freezer. When she turned, he was still standing there. 

At a loss, she said, "Well...since you can wait...I'll make it after I work out a bit. As you said, I missed my workout this morning, so...I guess...I had better...go...do that..." Her voice trailed. 




Riding the Red Ch. 07



He moved to the side to allow her to pass. "Of course," he murmured softly, his eyes glowing hot. She walked past him, her body lightly brushing his as she moved. A jolt of electricity ran through her, as their bodies touched, and she had to fight herself to keep from turning around, pulling his head down to hers and sinking her teeth into his soft coral mouth. "What," she thought, "Was that?!" Keeping her head high, and her tread measured, she walked to her room, privately thankful that he didn't know how liquid heat was glowing between her legs.

Of course, he did. And he smiled.

Once in her room, she quickly changed into her workout gear, grabbed her book, and headed for the exercise room. To her relief, Lucas was nowhere in sight. She didn't know why he was in such a mood, but she did know that she was in no mood for his taut, rangy muscles, or distracting scent, or dewy body...

Adrienne shook herself, grinning. The oglee has become the oogler, she chuckled to herself. Taking her station on the elliptical, she began her workout. After an hour, she looked up to find that Lucas filled the doorway, leaning against the post. She contemplated ignoring him, but disregarded that idea as being too rude. Opting for a friendly tone, she breathlessly chirruped, "Hey, Lucas!"

He smiled, though it seemed a little unsure, "Hey, back," he greeted.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. Just coming to check on you."

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, her tone perfectly polite.

His eyes never left her face, but she sensed that he approved of what he saw. "I can see that," he smiled. "Would you mind some company? Quiet house, lonely me."

Yes, she would very much mind some company, at least his company. But instead of being so ill mannered as to admit that, she merely inclined her head and smiled. 

He sauntered up to the elliptical, hands in his pockets. Adrienne looked at him quizzically for a moment as he just stood there, seemingly ill at ease. "I must apologize," he began awkwardly, "For my inexcusable behavior this morning. I was...not myself."

She cocked her head, one side of her mouth turning up in a grin. "If your behavior was inexcusable, then however am I to excuse you? You've nullified your own apology."

He threw his head back and barked a short laugh, and then looked at her, eyes twinkling. "Was that delightful bit of impertinence meant to say that you forgive me?"

She sighed and stopped running. Leaning over the console of the machine, she said, "It's close, here. We're both...as you said yesterday, on edge. There is, I think, nothing to forgive."

"You're too kind," he said faintly.

"You don't know me very well," she rejoined pertly.

Lucas just smiled, but instead of his usual suggestive grin, he just looked wistful. 

She couldn't bear to see that expression on his face, so she said, "Hungry?"

He looked away and shook his head.

"Yes you are," she coaxed.

A slight grin touched his mouth. "Yes, I am," he admitted. His stomach took that moment to make its displeasure with that state of affairs known. Loudly.

Adrienne laughed. "Can it wait for me to have a shower?"

"Sure," he said, but was drowned out by his stomach belying his false affirmation.

She leapt off of the machine and grinned up at him. "You don't want me making your lunch while I'm gross, do you?"

Lucas laughed. "I'm a guy. To me, you smell good enough to to be lunch."

Adrienne tossed a look over her shoulder as she walked by him, though she was careful not to touch him this time. "Well, then. Let me hurry and make something for you to eat before your cannibalistic urges overcome you."

He followed her into the kitchen, and sat down excitedly as she began preparations for lunch.

"Here, peel this," she said, tossing him a butternut squash and a vegetable peeler. After watching him long enough to satisfy herself that he knew what he was doing, she turned to make the dough. She reached into the top cabinet to pull down a baking pan, and since her back was turned, she didn't notice Lucas' eyes resting possessively on the strip of skin between her shirt and her pants.

He turned his head, and he could just see the curve of her breast stretching tenderly and temptingly under the thin material of her tank top. He thought about how soft it would feel under his palm, and stirred uncomfortably. Then she bent over to remove a bowl from the oven and put it on the counter before she preheated the oven. By the time he shook himself out of the daydream caused by that particular position, she had already procured all of the ingredients, and was busy measuring the ingredients for the galette dough.

Icy flour, salt, and coconut oil into one frozen bowl, lemon juice, ice water, and nonfat sour cream into the other. She cut the oil into the flour, quickly worked the wet ingredients into the dry, and then put the bowl back in the freezer.

"All peeled," he announced. 

She smiled and took the slippery squash from his hands. Laying it on a cutting board, she deftly cut it in half, and then scooped out the seeds. "Here," she said, handing him a seed-filled bowl. "Wash off the orange strings, spray some cooking oil on them, lay them on a baking sheet, sprinkle them with salt, pop them in the oven, and we'll have a nice snack to tide us until lunch. 

He nodded, trying to keep her directions straight, while being simultaneously distracted by the clean, fresh scent of her sweat. Whole-heartedly glad that he was no callow youth, to show his interest in the embarrassingly obvious physical way, he turned to do her bidding. 

By the time he had finished that, she had chopped the squash, and put it in his bowl, with more salt and olive oil. After spreading the pieces on another baking sheet, and putting them in the oven, she leaned against the counter and bit her lip, thinking.

Lucas tried not to focus on her sharp little white teeth worrying her full, pink lower lip, or imagine how those teeth would feel sinking into him. He clenched his jaw, swallowed hard, and then lightly asked, "What now?"

"Mmm, can you slice an onion for me?"

"I can do that," he assured her. He started on that while she melted some coconut oil in a small cast-iron skillet. 

When he was done, she put the onion into the pan, and caramelized them with a pinch of cayenne. Lucas just sat and watched her, enjoying both the scents of food, and the scent of her filling his kitchen. For her part, Adrienne seemed to be lost in her own world. He wondered what she was thinking. His eyes strayed to her nipples pouting against the material of her shirt. He hoped that she was thinking about him. 

When the onions were done, she pulled the food from the oven, setting the seeds in front of him to munch, and mixing the squash with the onion. "Could you grate some fontina into the bowl for me?" she asked. 

"I was built for comfort, not for work," he grumbled good naturedly as he searched for the grater. 

She smiled beatifically at him. "You have my everlasting gratitude for your continuing self-sacrifice," she dimpled. 

He laughed, once more charmed by her pert tongue. While he grated, she chiffonaded the sage, and put that into the bowl. 

Lucas' hand surreptitiously slipped into the bowl, aiming for a savoury morsel, but Adrienne was too quick for him. 

She slapped his hand, and shook her finger at him. "Not yet, you little thief. Go finish the seeds if you must."

He slunk back to the table, pretending to be hurt, but couldn't keep up the premise while stuffing his face full of the warm, roasted seeds. He watched as she removed the dough from the freezer, rolled it, and filled it with the squash mixture, and then folded the edges over the cheery orange filling. 

After popping it into the oven, she turned to him and said, "Would you like a wilted kale salad to go along with this?"

"I think that you should know by now that you cook, I eat. Scientists have yet to discover a food that I don't like," he answered. 

She smiled at him, and then turned to pull a bag of frozen, blanched kale, and another of chopped green onion, from the freezer. She popped the kale into the microwave to defrost. 

Without prompting, Lucas washed the dishes, and gave her the clean bowl. 

Adrienne smiled in approval. "Every girl should have one of you around the house," she teased.

"The Lucas 3000! He cleans, he peels, he slices, he dices! Order yours today!" he responded playfully.

"Well, if you do all that, could you mince a few cloves of garlic for me?" she queried.

"I said slice and dice. Mincing is not part of the package. For you, however," here he made a silly little bow, "I'll make an exception."

"Excellent," she deadpanned. "I'd hate to have to return you to the manufacturer."

Lucas neatly parried that riposte by sticking out his tongue.

While he was working on the garlic, she drained the kale and put it in the still-oily pan, that had held the onions, to gently warm. At the bottom of the bowl, she whisked together olive oil, lemon juice, and sour cream. When Lucas had finished with the garlic, she whisked that into the bowl, and asked him to pull a tin of anchovies from the cabinet, and mince a few fillets for the dressing. By the time he had done that, and everything was whisked together, the kale was warmed through. She drained it, and added it to the bowl, along with dried cranberries, and toasted pine nuts. Topping it with the green onion, she set it aside to wait for the galette. 

Part of her knew that they should talk about the rising tension but, for now, she was content to have back their easy camaraderie. She turned to him to find him looking disconsolate. "What's the matter?" she asked.

He looked at her mournfully. "Nothing for dessert?"

"Well, you can have the cake if you want."

He looked discomfited. After watching him fidget for a bit, she said, "You didn't." 

His eyes looked shifty. "Didn't what?"

"You couldn't have."

"Couldn't what?" His eyes were luminous with feigned innocence.

"Who—how--did you eat the rest of the cake?!"

"I WAS HUNGRY IN THE NIGHT!" he mock-yelled. Adrienne just stared at him. "You grinchly little bugger!"

"Besides," he rejoined, "I didn't eat all of the cake. There's still a slice left."

"Show me."

Lucas walked over to the carved wooden cake stand. He lifted the lid. 

Adrienne stared at the pitifully thin sliver of cake, wobbling gently under its own weight. She looked up at him, then back at the ghost of cake past. 

He tried to grin charmingly. He failed.

"What are you, 10?" she asked in mock severity.

"I was hungry," he playfully whined.

"So, then why didn't you eat the leftovers from one of the other meals instead of nearly an entire cake?"

"Be...cause..." he hung his head in shame. "Because I'm 10," he sighed.

"Awww," Adrienne couldn't bear to see him sad, even if she knew that they were playing. "It's alright, Skywalker. I'll make some cookies."

"Skywalker?" he asked, nonplussed.

"Luke Skywalker? Famous Jedi Knight? Star Wars?" He looked at her blankly. "You've seriously never heard of Star Wars?" 

"I don't...watch much TV," he said, discomfited.

"It's a movie."

"Don't really see many of those, either."

"Well...if it makes you feel better, I haven't seen the movies since I was a little girl. I barely remember anything from them. Honestly, I found them to be rather boring." He continued to look at her with that polite expression reserved for people who keep talking when the listener has nothing to contribute. "Right," she said. "Pop-culture references—I'll try to refrain."

"So...what kind of cookies?" he asked hopefully.

"Have you been thinking about cookies this entire time?" she inquired, pretending to be offended.

A short pause. "Yes."

"Cookie monster," she admonished.

"I like cookies," he said brightly.

"No, I—eh...never mind. How about oatmeal nut raisin?"

"My favourite," he smiled.

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "Most people prefer chocolate chip."

He shrugged. "I like what I like."

She smiled shyly. "They're my favourite, too."

"Well then, you have to make them," he said, steering her back toward the cabinets. 

"Slave-driver," she deadpanned.

"Whh-tsh!"

She spread some oats and pecans on a baking sheet, and put them in the oven. While they were toasting, into a bowl, she creamed together the sugar, molasses, and coconut oil, added eggs, then the flour, baking soda, salt and spices. Finally, she took the toasted nuts and oats from the oven, added them to the bowl along with raisins, and combined it all into dough. "Could you help me roll them?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I thought that I was a slave driver," he said, as he went to the sink to wash his hands. 

"Yes, well. Don't get uppity with me, y'hear?" she grinned. 

He washed his hands and then dove into the dough with her. When all of the dough had been rolled into balls, she nodded at him to put the tray in the freezer. "You want me to put the cookies in the freezer?" he asked incredulously. 

"Yep," she said. It keeps them from spreading too much if they're cold when they go into the oven. Besides, I want to wash the sticky from my hands."

"I could--" he started.

"Let me guess, lick me clean?" She gave him a wry grin as she walked backwards toward the sink. "You'll have to be cleverer than that. I'm starting to think ahead of you." 

He laughed as he put the tray in the freezer, and then joined her at the sink. 

She leaned back against it as she watched him wash his hands. "What were you like as a boy?"

Lucas looked up, surprised. He leaned beside her. "I was...the runt of the litter, actually. I have three sisters, so you can imagine what that was like growing up. They always felt that they had to protect me. I was never sickly, but I was small, and there was always some young bully trying to assert dominance by endeavouring to beat the snot out of me."

Now it was Adrienne's turn to look surprised. While it was true that Lucas was not an overly muscular man, or exceedingly tall, he was distinctly solid, and she had first-hand knowledge of the fact that capable, rangy muscles made up his current frame.  

He saw her looking askance at him, and inclined his head. "Puberty," he said laconically. "It came as a surprise to everyone. Meanwhile, I had spent the majority of my life until then with my head in a book. I used to fantasize about running away and having adventures in far off places. I think that that's why I picked up so many languages. So, even though I grew into this body, my bookish personality had already been formed." He smiled ruefully. "Most of the men in my family don't think much beyond, 'Want. Take. Have.' I am, therefore, something of an anomaly. They love me. But they don't...I don't know. They don't see me." He was silent for several moments, but then shook himself out of his thoughtful trance. "What about you, hm?" He bumped her with his hip. "What was Adrienne Blanchard like as a child?"

She moved to take the cookies from the freezer and put them in the oven as she thought about her answer. "My parents love me very much," she started. "They love each other, as well, which is rare today, I suppose. We're very close with Papa's side of the family, but...I really don't know anything much about Mom's. I just know that she and Grandfather don't get on for some reason. I was...indulged as a child. I always loved books and having parents from two different countries, and a mother who is an international lawyer guaranteed that I had seen a lot of the world by a very young age. I was...always curious about everything. I was forever sneaking off to go exploring forests, or abandoned houses, or looking in drawers for...who knows what. I'm an only child, so I was very good at finding ways to entertain myself." 

She smiled at him. "I'm still quite good at distracting myself from ennui. Why do you think that I cook so much? We could get on with cold cereal and turkey sandwiches, but with no TV, no phone, no Internet, and too much snow to explore outside...aside from reading, what else is there to do? I like to keep busy. When I was little, I used to put leaves and berries into the birdbath to pretend to make soup for all of the fairy-tale creatures of the forest." She looked up at him and shrugged. "I was odd."

He smiled down at her. It was the warmest, most genuine smile that she had seen from him since they met. "I wish...that I could have known you when I was a boy and you were a girl. I think that my oddness would have liked your oddness."

She smiled and looked away, curiously touched. Fortunately, she was saved by the timer on the stove, alerting them to the fact that both the galette and the cookies were done. 

"I'll handle this," he volunteered. "You just sit down and let me take care of you."

"Lucas, by letting me stay here, you're already doing so much--"

"Indulge me."

She smiled hesitantly, suddenly shy. "All right." She moved to the table and sat. "Consider yourself indulged, then."

He cut the galette into wedges, and plated it, along with the still-warm salad. He set the plate in front of her, and then paused to push her hair behind her ear as she leaned forward to enjoy the enticing aroma. 

She looked up at him and they watched each other for a moment, his finger still lightly brushing her ear in an inexplicably intimate gesture. After a moment, he dropped his hand and stepped back, breaking the connection. He turned to make his plate, and then sat with her. 

They ate, chatting companionably about childhood pranks, mishaps, wishes, and fantasies. When the meal was over, and he had taken the plates to the sink, Adrienne smiled. "Cookie time!" she sang. Smiling, Lucas picked up several still-warm cookies from the tray and carried them to her, splitting the fragrant treats between the both of them. 

Adrienne did a little dance of happiness as she sank her teeth into the warm, chewy, fragrant cookie. 

Lucas smiled indulgently at her, bit into his cookie...and promptly wriggled in his seat in a comical approximation of her dance. "Mrph!" he asserted, unashamedly stuffing the rest of the cookie into his mouth. 

"You are ever the poet, sir," she teased. "And now that you've had your feed, I think that it's time for that shower." 

He happily munched on another cookie as she stood. He looked so pleased with his treats that she couldn't help reaching out a hand to affectionately stroke his thick hair. He nuzzled his head into the palm of her hand, and she gently scratched his scalp. She smiled at the guileless gesture, and then patted his shoulder. Moving to the counter to grab two more cookies, she gave him a wink as she breezed by on her way to her room.

She was just biting into one when the world exploded.



Riding the Red Ch. 08



Acting instinctively, Adrienne ducked behind the couch as a grey blur flew into the room. Cold air blew around her head, as snow swirled through the broken window. Looking around in confusion, she realized that something had come through the window. She stood up just in time to be knocked down by a wall. Only, it wasn't a wall. It was Lucas. "Stay down," he snarled in her ear. 

Still dazed, she managed a nod. There was a low rumbling in the room, like the sound of an oncoming train. Adrienne's panicked mind tried to categorize the sound. Ice trickled down her spine as she finally recognized it. Growling. 

Lucas used his foot to shove one of the dining room chairs across the room. A huge, grey thing leapt on it, snarling and snapping. Lucas used the moment of distraction to leap off of Adrienne, and grab the shovel that he had brought in from the kitchen. 

A shaggy, grey head turned in their direction, and Adrienne realized with a start of alarm that the luminescent gold eyes were focused on her. Lucas growled loudly, and jumped to the other side of the couch. He banged the shovel noisily against the floor, redirecting the animal's attention away from Adrienne. "Wolf!" she thought. 

It was huge, almost half again as big as any wolf that Adrienne had ever seen behind the safety of zoo bars. All of it was bunched into lean, rangy muscle under the thick, shining fur. If she hadn't have been scared out of her mind, she would have admired it. Its front was crouched low to the ground, paws splayed, with its hindquarters in the air, fluffy tail fluidly moved back and forth as it studied Lucas. Without turning to her, Lucas asked, "Can you make it to the front door?"

"Yes," she answered uncertain of what he planned to do. With the crazy snow, she knew that she wasn't going to go far if she ran. 

"I need you to open it, and then get out of the way."

"Not leaving you," she said, her voice a bit firmer.

He didn't move, but she could have sworn that she sensed that he was pleased. "I'm not asking you to leave, I'm asking you to stay out of the way. I'm not stupid enough to try to take on this thing by myself."

Despite the situation she grinned, and then paled as the wolf swung its head toward her. 

Lucas banged the shovel against the floor, bringing the wolf's attention back to him. "Okay. I'm going to distract it. You slowly—slowly--move for the door. If you run, if you turn your back, you'll look like prey, got it?"

"Understood," she asserted. It was surreal. They were currently trapped in a room entirely too small for so much wolf, and yet she was rapidly losing her fear. Lucas was practically radiating a sense of calm assurance, and she felt, with growing confidence, that they maybe they could manage to gain the upper hand on this thing. She slowly moved backwards, keeping her eyes on the wolf. She had just made it past the couch when she bumped into an end table, knocking over the lamp. The wolf's head swung back toward her and it tensed its muscles for a leap.

Lucas tried thumping the shovel again, but it paid him no heed. 

Adrienne felt her throat involuntarily close as she stared into those golden eyes. She felt she was paralyzed, and she couldn't seem to get her thoughts coherent enough to remind her body to move.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Both Adrienne and the wolf turned toward Lucas. He was stamping his feet and shaking the shovel about. Adrienne's eyebrows rose at his display of movement. Was this some sort of atavistic battle cry?

"Oooonce I was a boogie singeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer..."

...

The hell?

"Playing in a rock and roll baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand! I never had no probleeeeeeeeeeeeeems! Burnin' down the one night staaaaaaaaaaands..."

That was no warrior's yawp, Adrienne realized with dawning incredulity. Lucas was...singing.

"And everything around meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee got to startin' feelin' so loooooooooooooow that I decided quicklyyyyyyyyyyyyy to disco down and check out the shoooooooooooooow!"

Or, at least doing an approximation thereof.

"...Yeah they was dancin' and singin' and moooovin' to the grooooovin' and just when it hit me, somebody turned around and shouted PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC WHIIIIIIIIIIITE BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!" 

At this point, Lucas was red-facedly bellowing at the top of his lungs, and combining that with that was a sort of weird, shovel waving, boot stomping dance. 

If one could call what he was doing "dancing". Doubtful. 

Adrienne almost forgot to keep moving for the door. The wolf had stopped growling and was looking at Lucas with an expression akin to disbelief. 

"PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC RIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT! PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC WHITE BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!" By this time, Adrienne had made it to the door. She slowly slid her back up the wood, and groped until she found the locks. 

"LAY DOWN AND BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGIE AND PLAYTHATFUNKYMUSICTILLYOUDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE!"

Adrienne threw open the door and lunged into the hallway. She wasn't quick enough, however and, seemingly without any in-between movement, the wolf was sailing over the couch, straight for her. She didn't even have time to cover her head. The wolf landed on the other side of the couch and pivoted, a mere few feet from leaping on her--

--when Lucas' body slammed into its flank, knocking it to the other side of the room. Adrienne hadn't even seen him move. 

Lucas and the wolf tangled in a flashing, snarling black and grey mass of fur and cloth. They rolled around on the floor, knocking over bookcases, end tables, and chairs. 

Adrienne scurried away in horror. She could see the white flashes of the wolf's teeth and hear the snapping of its jaws. All of a sudden, she heard Lucas' bellow, and she saw a bright flash of scarlet splatter on the warm wood floor. Not thinking, she scrambled for the shovel and grabbed it, swinging back toward the melee. A cold calm overtook her and she relaxed, tracking the wolf's body as she moved forward. She raised the shovel over her head and brought it down as hard as she could. 

At the last moment, she saw Lucas' head turn toward her. Faster than she could see, both Lucas and the wolf were out from under her. She jerked up her head, and there he was, right arm streaming blood, with one broad hand buried deeply in the wolf's ruff and the other wrapped firmly around its hind legs, at the ankles. Heaving backward, he flung the wolf out the front door, slammed it shut, and re-bolted it. They stared at each other for a moment.

"The window!" Adrienne exclaimed, and they ran to it. The wolf could be heard floundering in the snow around the front of the house.

"On the back porch, there's some plywood—go!" Lucas barked.

Adrienne ran, quickly located the wood behind the neat stack of firewood, and brought it to him. He pressed it to the hole where the window had been. It covered the erstwhile window, with a few inches around on each side. 

"Under the kitchen sink, there's a toolbox--"

Adrienne was already going for it before he could finish his sentence. She brought it back, and knelt to open it. Lucas held out his hand, but she ignored him, fished out the hammer and some nails, and got to work nailing the board to the wall while he held it. After a few moments, she was done. 

The room was silent except for the soft dripping noise of the blood sliding down his arm into the ever widening pool on the floor. She was about to mention it when Lucas said, "We're going to need to fill the gaps around the wood with something, so that the cold doesn't come inside." They looked around, both racking their minds for something. "I...bought a newspaper the last time that I was in town," he said finally. 

"That will do, until and unless we can think of something better. I don't suppose you have any spray foam insulation, do you?" she asked. He stared blankly at her gently waving on his feet. "So...no, then. Alright, where's your newspaper?"

"It was on the table beside the couch. Now..." he gestured vaguely to the disorder. 

Adrienne turned and looked at the room. It was in complete disarray. It didn't look like anything was broken beyond repair, but it would take a while to clean the mess. She walked around the couch, eyes searching, and spied a grey corner sticking out from under the couch. She walked over and eased it from its hiding place. Fortunately, it was the newspaper. She began tearing it into strips and twisting them into snakes. Then, she and Lucas packed the snakes as tightly as they could around any gaps between the plywood and the wall. 

When they had finished, they just stood there, staring at the wood for a moment. Adrienne could feel a knee-weakening sense of relief come over her. She turned to Lucas and saw that his skin was looking grey. He stumbled a little, and her eyes shot to the bright crimson flag on his arm. She moved toward him, and caught him around the waist just as his knees gave up the fight. 

"C'est d'ccord—tu es bien," she crooned, unconsciously slipping into the soft, comforting French of her childhood. "Viens-tu avec moi, mon petit. Tu es en securite." She half dragged him into his room, and onto his bed. 

He groaned, while she pulled off his boots, and then gave an odd, high-pitched whine when she put her hand on his forehead to comfort him. 

"Help me," she implored, as she tried to take off his flannel shirt. He lifted his torso from the bed just long enough for her to whisk the shirt away from his body, and then collapsed back against the mattress. She wrapped the shirt around his bleeding forearm. "Hold this here as tightly as you can, comprends?" she asked. He nodded, and applied pressure to the wound. "Je reviendrai dans un instant," she promised. 

She flew to her bathroom, and pulled everything that she could find that remotely looked like a first aid item from her cabinet. Then she ran into the kitchen, filled and a bowl with bottled water, and washed her hands.

When she returned to Lucas room, he was on his side, in the fetal position. She climbed behind him, and rolled him over to her, setting his arm in her lap. The hot, metallic scent of blood assaulted her nose as she unwrapped his shirt and put it in her lap. She looked up at his face for reassurance, but his eyes were closed, and pain etched the lines beside his mouth even deeper. She bit her lip nervously, but then shook herself. There was no use being delicate about it. He was obviously in no state to help himself, so she had to do it for him. 

She opened a packet of tightly woven cloths, and dipped them into the water. Slowly and gently, she began to clean the blood from his arm. It looked like four deep scratches as opposed to a bite. She sighed gratefully. At least they wouldn't have to worry about any broken bones. The claw marks bit through the skin, and stopped just short of tearing into the muscle. That was good, too. Lucas would have a scar, but there wouldn't be any muscle damage. Unless the arm went septic.

Adrienne shook her head. She wasn't going to think about that. Once she had cleaned away all of the extraneous blood, she was gratified to see that he wasn't bleeding any more. Unfortunately, cleaning away all of that blood confirmed what she had been afraid that she was going to have to do. She was going to have to stitch the wounds closed. Adrienne set her jaw.

"Lucas," she said softly, stroking the hair from his forehead. "I'm going to have to stitch shut your arm." His eyelids fluttered open and he looked at her. His eyes were golden beacons in the bruised skin around them. They shone with pain, but they were clear. He nodded. 

She sterilized the suture needle with iodine, threaded it, took the needle driver and got to work making the U-shaped sutures needed to close the red gashes gaping like hungry mouths. When she was finished, she felt tension that she hadn't even known was there leave both of their bodies. She wiped away the excess seeping blood with a fresh cloth, and then applied antibiotic ointment to the entire area and covered it with gauze. She taped it to his skin with medical tape, and then tenderly laid his arm on the bed.

She took everything to his bathroom, and threw the bloody shirt in his hamper. Then she went into the kitchen, and cleaned the bloody bowl. She looked into the cabinets, until she found some Ibuprofen. 

Bringing it and a glass of orange juice to Lucas, she stroked his cheek until he opened his eyes. His skin was clammy and his pupils had dilated until the black almost eclipsed the gold. "Here, take these," she said, holding her hand to his mouth. He opened his mouth, and she eased in the pills, and then lifted his head so that he could drink the water. "A little more," she coaxed, and he finished the glass. "Bon...bon," she crooned softly. 

When he had put his head back against the pillows, she asked, "Lucas, mightn't the wolf come in through one of the other windows?" 

He weakly shook his head. "I won the fight," he rasped. "I am...Alpha..." He closed his eyes, too pained to say more. 

Adrienne considered this, and then nodded. It jibed with what little she knew of wolf-pack hierarchical rules. She went back to her room, pulled the quilts from the bed, and returned to Lucas' room, she pulled the covers over him. She briefly considered going into the living room to battle the disarray, but wearily discarded that notion. 

Instead, she climbed into Lucas' bed, curled her body around his, put her arm protectively around his waist, and buried her nose in the curls at the back of his neck. Inhaling his loamy-piny-spicy scent, she closed her eyes, finally allowing feelings to wash over her again. When they threatened to overwhelm her, she fought them back, and slowly began to rock Lucas. Softly, softly, she sang him a sweet lullaby, until they both fell still. 

****************

When she awoke, it was hours later. The room was mostly dark, and silent, except for Lucas' soft, even breathing. Adrienne pressed her lips to the back of Lucas' neck, and was gratified to feel that he was warm. Not feverish, but no longer cold and clammy. She slipped out of bed and headed toward the living room. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the mess. It wasn't really so bad, it had just been overwhelming after all that had happened. She looked at the pool of blood slowly coagulating on the floor. She'd start there. 

An hour. and a lot of scrubbing later, the living room was, if not as good as new, then not as bad as it had seemed at first. Much of the furniture had scratch marks, but those could be easily taken care of with some sandpaper and stain. Fortunately, all of Lucas' furniture was made of good, heavy wood, so there were no chips, or cracks. All of the books were back on the shelves, though future readers might conjecture as to the identity of the small brown splotches on some of the pages. 

Sadly, one of the lamps didn't make it. Secretly, Adrienne was pleased. It had been an ugly lamp, anyway. 

She went to the kitchen, figuring that now was the time to finish the stew. When she lifted the lid, the rich, brown-smelling steam wafted to her face, and she could see the thick gravy bubbling around the sides of the crock pot. She added a packet of frozen peas, and turned the pot down to "warm", leaving the residual heat to thaw them. 

Finished with that, she washed her hands, filled two bowls with water, one for washing, and one for rinsing, and brought it, along with some hand soap, to Lucas' room. He was still sleeping, which worried her, but when she put her hand to his skin, it felt normal. She checked his heartbeat. Normal. She undid the dressing, and saw with satisfaction that, though the wounds were lymphing, there was no undue redness or swelling. He appeared to be healing very nicely. She set to work gently cleaning the skin around the wounds, and then applied more ointment, and changed the dressing. 

When she was done, she took the rinse water, and gently washed his face. He opened his eyes.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he responded hoarsely.

"Welcome back. You're alright," she comforted, stroking his bristly cheek.

He grinned weakly. He swallowed hard, and she ran to pour another glass of juice for him. After he had downed it, he lay back against the pillows and weakly teased, "Are you a doctor? I need a proper medical diagnosis from a real doctor." She blushed scarlet. He looked at his dressing and sniffed. Moved his arm experimentally. "It seems as if you did the right things. Doesn't feel infected. Smells clean. Does it require stitches?"

She looked away. "I...already did that." 

He raised his eyebrows. "Well," he said finally. "What a brave little Toaster."

She turned back to him in mock surprise. "Why Lucas! Was that a pop-culture reference that sprang from your very own lips?"

He grinned drily. "I did have a mother, you know."

Adrienne leaned forward to rub his chest. Smiling, she asked, "More importantly, "Play that Funky Music White Boy?!"

He snorted. "It was all that I could think of, at the moment. Hey, it worked, didn't it, you ungrateful urchin?"

She laughed at him, and then patted his chest. "Are you hungry?"

He groaned. "No, for once."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that you're going to have to eat something. With that sort of blood loss, we're going to have to ensure that you have plenty of nourishment to fuel the healing process."

"Slave-driver," he murmured under his breath, as she slipped from the room.

She turned around, and walked backwards. "Whh-tsh."

Once she reached the kitchen, she paused. The stew was done, but what would she do for bread? Adrienne looked around for a moment, nonplussed. Brightening, she put some coconut oil into a skillet to heat. Then she opened the cabinets and grabbed some cornmeal, flour, and raisins, and mixed them with milk, baking soda, salt, baking powder, and an egg. 

Pouring little golden rounds into the rippling oil, she watched carefully, to ensure that they wouldn't burn. When little bubbles appeared in the cakes, she flipped them and watched them rise. She filled a bowl with stew, put it on a plate, and slid a few of the sizzling cakes beside the bowl. Then she mixed a little honey and coconut butter, and plopped that on top to melt into the crispy cakes. She poured a glass of milk, grabbed a spoon, and headed back to Lucas' room. 

She put the food down on the nightstand, and surveyed his bed. Not nearly enough pillows. She trundled back to her room, pulled all of her fluffy pillows from the bed, and went back to his room, plopping them down beside him. She moved over to him, and dropped an affectionate kiss on his forehead. "Dinner," she said softly. "Sit up, and I'll put some pillows behind your back." He groaned, but was obedient, and after she had arranged all of the pillows under him, she let him relax. "Can you feed yourself?" she asked.

"Not hungry," he mumbled. 

"I don't recall asking you that," she said teasingly. "You don't want this?" she asked, waving the bowl under his nose. 

It twitched. He opened one eye. "Well," he grumbled, "if you're going to be so insistent about it."

She slid beside him and held the bowl and plate while he slowly ate. "Hm," she said, when he was sopping up the last of the gravy with the last bite of corncake. "I thought that you weren't hungry."

He looked up at her with meltingly amber eyes. "Well...I didn't want to be rude."

She smiled and rubbed his flat stomach. "Good boy," she said simply. 

"Where's yours?" he queried.

"I'll eat while I'm putting away everything. Now that you've seen fit to go lose a few pints of blood, I guess that I'll have to be the one to do the dishes for a while."

He gave a ghost of a grin. "Anything to get out of chores," he said softly. His eyes were starting to drift closed, but then popped back open. "And it wasn't pints of blood." "Whatever," she said, waving her hand. "You didn't have to clean it, you just lost it. What do you know?"




Riding the Red Ch. 08



He chuffed, eyes still closed. She gently removed the pillows from his back until he was lying down once more. Leaving the room quietly, she made her way back to the kitchen to clean it, and feed herself. 

When she returned, however, he was nowhere to be seen. "Lucas?" she called. She heard a splash in the bathroom. Crossing to the closed door she gently knocked. "Lucas, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said quietly. "Just taking a bath."

"Oh. Okay. I'll wait for you until you've finished. If you need me, I'll be here." She left briefly, to grab her book from the elliptical, and then returned to his room to read. After about an hour, she heard him calling her. She went to the door and said, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Adrienne," he said, "but I don't think that I can make it out of the tub without help. Every time I try to rise, I feel dizzy."

"Oh...well...um...that's alright," she called. She slowly opened the door, eyes on the floor. She could see from the corner of her eye that he was sitting on the edge of the tub looking generally forlorn. She grabbed a huge, fluffy towel from the metal tower and held it open in front of her while sidling toward him. When she reached him, she wrapped it around his body, under his arms, and tucked it. Then, crouching under his good arm, she wrapped her arm around his body, and helped him to his feet. Standing, she fit right into the crook of his arm. 

She led him to the bed, and helped him sit. "Boxers?" she asked.

"Last drawer here," he said, gesturing to the nightstand beside them. 

She pulled out a pair. "Can you stand?" He nodded and she crouched in front of him, holding the boxers so that he could step into them. When he had, she shimmied them up his legs until they were high enough for him to take over. Once he had them on, she undid the towel and he sat back down while she scrubbed him dry, and tossed his towel into the hamper. "Pajamas?" she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "I don't wear any."

"Of course not," she said faintly. "How's your dressing?"

"Managed to keep it dry," he assured her. 

"Good," she murmured. "Well, let's introduce you to these sheets," she said, helping him up while she turned down the covers. When she had tucked him in safely, she stroked his damp hair back from his face and said, "I'm going to go neaten up, and shower, and then I'll be back, alright?" He just nodded and closed his eyes, as if bathing had drained him all over again. She went to his bathroom, and cleaned his tub, then took his hamper. 

She went into her bathroom and pulled her dirty clothes and then laundered them. After she had put the last load into the dryer, she took a long, hot, leisurely shower, washing away all of the fear, and stress of the day. She found some pajamas for herself, dressed, and then returned, yet again, to Lucas. 

He was snoring. "How angelic," she thought facetiously. She climbed in beside him, turned on the lamp on her nightstand, and read for a while. Soon, however, all of the events of the day caught up to her, and she turned off the lamp, and curled up behind him, arm around him, body pressed close. 

****************

Hours later, Adrienne awoke to a soft warmth brushing her cheek. She opened her eyes to find Lucas gently stroking her face, his irises almost glowing, his pupils lit with an inner fire. She realized that she should be panicking, after all, she was in a strange, half-naked man's bed, but...all she felt was peace. She raised her hand to his face, and cupped his cheek. "What big eyes you have!" she said softly.

"The better to see you with, my dear," he whispered. He watched her face as he brought his closer—watching for the slightest hesitation or distress. 

Her eyes dropped to his mouth. His tempting lips were slightly open, sharp white teeth gleaming in a seductive smile. She blinked, "What big teeth you have!" she said. 

He brought his mouth to hers, lightly brushing. She closed her eyes, and she felt his soft breath feathering her mouth. She smiled. It smelled like honeyed corncakes. 

"The better to eat you with, my dear," he breathed into her mouth. 

"Oh!" That was the last coherent thought she had, before he finally kissed her.



Riding the Red Ch. 09



The store owner's head whipped around as Eiric approached. Julien watched his wife hypnotically saunter to the front of the store, moving like a hungry snake. Terror flashed across the man's features, disappearing as quickly as a rat scuttling down a hole. 

The man was...well, to put it honestly, the man was huge. Not exceptionally tall, but he had the squat, overblown musculature of a career body-builder. Biceps strained the sleeves of his yellow polo, and thigh muscles bulged against his jeans. His dark hair was shaved to a shadow, and veins stood in harsh relief against his skin. Yet this man, who looked like he could crack walnuts with his thumbs, was looking at Julien's slender, relatively small wife like he was a trapped mouse. Julien raised a brow. When scary people are scared...

"Lady MacTavish," he said faintly, his Cockney voice surprisingly high and thin.

"It's Blanchard, now," she said simply, clasping her hands in front of her like a schoolgirl. She inhaled slowly, and then sighed, as if very weary. "How are you, scuttler?" she asked brightly, cocking her head.

"Sc-Scott-Scottler, Lady Mac...Blanchard," he stuttered, with the air of someone used to making the correction.

Julien glanced up and could see a wide mirror hanging behind the checkout counter, which allowed him to see his wife's face. She was staring blankly at the man. Then, with alarming speed, her expression changed to animalistic rage, and she leapt at Scottler, knocking him back against the counter, her hand wrapped around his jaw, two fingers in his mouth, pulling it open. 

"I call you scuttler, because that is what you are, you sniveling, scrambling, treacherous little rat!" she bit. 

Scottler trembled, but didn't move. Apparently, he was too busy testing how far his eyelids could retract from his watery blue eyes.

Just as quickly as she had leapt, she sinuously moved back, adjusting Scottler's clothes and brushing off imaginary dust. "Very well," she said politely. "Scottler, it is." She walked away a few steps, then in a small circle, looking around admiring the store. "What a nice place you have."

Scottler straightened, glancing warily at Julien, who just glowered. Looking oddly reassured, he ventured, "You know, I always said that I was going to open me own shop. Get out of the life; go into business proper. I'm straight, now--"

"How nice for you," Eiric said noncommittally, "But I really don't care about your sexual orientation..."

Scottler's mouth worked, and his face turned a deep, mottled shade of red, but he stayed silent.

Eiric watched him with interest for a while, then clapped her cupped hands suddenly, the sound as loud as a firecracker. Scottler jumped. "Well, I'd love to keep catching up, really I would, but I'm afraid that I must come to the point of my friendly little visit. Tell me, what's the latest gossip? Who's wearing what, who's cheating on whom, have you heard of any talk about someone hiring an inordinate number of weather-weavers, or shielders?" She looked at him, eyes bright and expectant. 

Scottler shook his head sadly. "As I said, Lady Blanchard, I'm out of that life. I got a good thing'ere--"

"You know how I know that you're lying," Eiric said, her tone friendly, light. 

Scottler shook his head, "I ain't lying, Lady--"

Eiric held up a hand and he abruptly stopped talking. She walked casually to him, and laid her head on his chest, wrapping one arm around him and putting her hand over his heart. He stood as still as a particularly juicy vole trying to hide in plain sight from a hawk. She tapped a finger lightly against his chest to emphasize her words. "I know that you are lying...because I can smell it on you."

Scottler shuddered, and Julien was disgusted to see that the man had an erection. 

"Now, you can answer my questions, and I can leave, and you can keep your nice little weapons store, in this nice little town, or..." her voice trailed. 

A sly, stupid look passed over Scottler's face. "Now, now, Lady Blanchard," he said, self-importantly, "You know if you run 'ot in 'ere, it will mean the end o' all o' us. I 'ave enough munitions in 'ere to take out an entire block." He ended this little speech with a triumphant look on his face. 

"It will mean the end of you," Eiric purred, then leaned her face up and roughly clutched the neck of his shirt. "Baby, I can run so hot that everything in here will melt before it even touches me. So...yes...everything will explode, but I'll be walking out of here just as pretty as I am, now. You, on the other hand..." she shook her head sadly. 

Scottler had paled during her little speech. "But, wha' about 'im, eh?" he asked, looking desperately at Julien. 

"He can take care of himself," she said softly. "Scottler... Scottler..." she sing-songed. "Talk to me..."

"I don't know nothin'," he said stubbornly. 

Eiric nodded, as if this admission deeply pained her. Then she took her finger, and slowly ran it down Scottler's chest. The fabric of his shirt blackened and peeled away, smoking as it exposed the overblown planes of his chest. 

For a moment, all Julien could hear was the hiss of burning fabric, and Scottler's harsh, staccato breaths. The entire store was thick with the acrid stink of his fear. 

Eiric, pushed aside one side of Scottler's shirt to expose a stylized golden charm of a lightning bolt. She tapped it with her palm, loud slapping noises reverberating throughout the room, punctuating her words. "I thought that you got out of the life, scuttler? I thought that you went straight? That you were clean?" Her voice was strident. "So, why are you still wearing his mark?" Scottler's skin was turning an alarming shade of red where her hand repeatedly struck. 

"I just like the necklace, Miss," he said, his voice tight. 

Eiric looked up into his eyes, and then nodded. "It is a nice necklace. May I see it?" Without waiting for an answer, she ripped it from around his neck. Then, stringing the chain between her teeth, she brought both hands to the front of his pants, which bore a suspiciously spreading dark stain, and deftly started to undo his belt buckle.

"Well, Missus! Wif your man here, and everythin'? Well, I won't let it be said that Scottler didn't rise to the occasion," he proclaimed, grinning down at her, his too-perfect teeth very white in his ridiculously tanned face. She undid his jeans, glanced down, and then raised an eyebrow. "Nah, no underwear," he said proudly. "Never saw the need for it."

She delicately dropped the chain into one palm, using her other hand to hold open his trousers. Her hand started to glow, and the gold quickly melted into a bright pool in her palm. Realization dawned slowly over Scottler's previously lascivious features, and he started to squirm as heat radiated off of her. 

"Unfortunately, though fortunately for you, I don't have time to play, so I'll get right to it. You're going to tell me what you know, or..." she tipped her hand slightly, and the liquid gold trickled toward the edge of her hand. She laughed sweetly. "Now they'll really mean it when they say, 'It must be gold-plated.'" 

"Now, wait, Miss—Lady MacTavish—Blanchard! Blanchard! Lady Blanchard!" he said desperately.

"Mmm?" she purred, eyes on the molten gold.

"There's no need for that, see? Scottler's always been your friend, yea? Look, all I know is that Meallan contracted out a lot of his people for an important job. No one's really talking about it, but everyone knows."

"Which people, scuttler?" Eiric said, waving her hand gently. 

"What makes you think I know--" Her hand started to tip. His voice cracked, "Yes, yes! It was weather-weavers! I know that. But I don't know nothing about no shielders, or nothing, please!" He started to cry. It wasn't pretty. 

She watched him for a few moments, and then closed her hand. "Okay!" she said brightly, patting him on the head. She dropped her hand, and the gold dripped through her fingers onto the floor. "Where can I find Meallan?"

Scottler hiccuped, and then sighed. "Last I heard, he was doing business out of some warehouse on La Dhuy."

Eiric stroked his bristly head "See, scuttler? That's all I wanted to know. Was that so hard?" His shoulders shook as he fought unvoiced sobs. She stepped back and he slowly slid down the front of his checkout counter to the ground. She started for the door, which Julien hastily unlocked and opened. Before she exited, she looked around the shop, turned to Scottler, and sang gaily, "It has been lovely seeing you again, scuttler! This really is a nice little place. I'm sure that nothing will happen to it."

Julien spared one last glance at the trembling man, and wished that he hadn't. Thick, white droplets had spattered all over the front of Scottler's pants and shirt. Turning away in disgust, Julien followed his wife to the car, and they drove away from the weapons shop.

**************** 

"Well," said Julien as they cruised down the streets on their way to La Dhuy. "That was gross." 

His wife nodded absently, looking out the window. After a while, she turned to him. "You did well in there. Just...try not to glower so much next time."

"You told me to look menacing."

"Yes, but...have you ever noticed that the most dangerous people are the ones who do the least advertising? And vice-versa?" 

He drove, but said nothing.

"Alright, take Scottler for an example. He looks like a particularly violent wrestling aficionado. Yet...well...you saw what happened." Julien remained silent. She sighed, and then changed tactics. "When I was a little girl, there was a tiny old sweet crone who used to come to the house to see my father. She was so thin, and her skin was so pale that you could read her veins like ink on parchment. She would pat my cheek, and offer me sweets, but whenever my father caught her paying attention to me, he would quickly send me away. I couldn't understand why. I liked her. Her hands were soft, and she smelled like peppermint. 

"It wasn't until later that I found out that she was one of his most...accomplished assassins. She may have been tiny, but she had an encyclopedic knowledge of poisons." She paused, and then added, "And torture techniques. After I ascended, she was the one who taught me most of what I know." Eiric put a hand on his thigh. "Julien...guards, assassins, serially dangerous people don't look so forbidding on duty because, to them...killing is just...what they do. It's nothing special. Mundane." 

"Do you want me to look...bored?"

"No. Just..." She searched for a moment. "Imagine there's an intern to whom you've offered several deadlines for the same project, but who has managed to miss every single one of them. Instead of remorse, knowing full well that you're married, she tries to seduce you." 

He looked coldly at the road as he drove, his pupils narrowing to pinpoints

She looked at him approvingly. "C'est ca! That's your look. Keep it. Much more convincing than the overdone glowering." 

"If you say so." They stopped at a stop light.

"Look at me," she said. 

He turned his head to find her staring hotly at him. The scowl left him uncomfortable, as he knew from experience what that expression usually meant when it was directed at him,. 

"Now watch," Eiric said. And then his wife disappeared. There was nothing behind her eyes—no warmth, no feeling, just a dark empty void where a person should be. 

He could feel the weight of her gaze on him, and it made his skin crawl, made him want to get out of the car without turning his back on her. He felt like it was in a too-small space with a too-large predator. Just as suddenly, she was back. He swallowed hard, feeling chilled, and turned back to the road.

"I concede the point."

"Excellent." They continued in silence. 

After a while, he glanced at her., and then cleared his throat. "You realize that this is a trap."

"Oui."

"What are we going to do?"

She looked at him and smiled grimly. "Who says that it's their trap? Turn in here."

He looked at where she was telling him to stop with mild surprise, but parked where she directed, and turned off the car. "What are you going to do? These people sound dangerous. You can't just walk in there like you did with Scuttler. Scottler. Oh, merde." He shook his head, still feeling sullied.

She turned at him, and smiled, then took his hand and threaded her fingers through his. "I'm not going to walk in, dear. You are."

**************** 

The soft rubber of Julien's black hiking boots made only a whisper of noise as he cautiously walked into the abandoned-looking warehouse, hands loosely at his sides. He walked into the large room, keeping his back to the wall and waited. After a few minutes, when nothing happened, he called, "Allo? Est-ce que quelqu'un la?" When no one answered, he walked to the middle of the room, looking around for movement.

A whisper of sound was the only warning heard as three tall, slender men dropped silently from the high ceiling to surround him. He looked around, as they stood at the ready, and brought his hands up for a slow clap. "Tres bon, tous. Very well done. I've not seen better at the circus!" They didn't move, just watched him, unblinking. "Alors, I see the dogs, but...where's the master?"

Slow, staccato boot steps were heard overhead, and echoed through the building. Julien watched, seemingly bored, as a stately, snow-haired gentleman in a white suit and shirt, with black cravat walked down the stairs with the aid of a black, silver-headed cane. He was middle-aged, but obviously quite fit, and his hoarfrost goatee was waxed to points of tonsorial ecstasy. He stopped in front of Julien, and looked him over, with palpable disapproval. "Where is yer lovely wife?" he inquired politely, in a soft Irish lilt. 

Julien shrugged. "She's off to buy something that I need for my thaumaturgy. I figured that I'd go ahead and meet with you to discuss what you know about the location of my daughter. You're Meallan, I presume."

Meallan tilted his head congenially. "So, ye came all this way to talk to me...what? Man to man?"

Julien laughed softly. "Exactement. If you could oblige me with what I want, I'll be on my merry way."

Meallan shook his head sadly. "I fear that I must detain ye. I owe MacTavish a favour, and I must see that it remains discharged. Y'understand. He's not the sort of man to whom one wants to be owin' a favor."

"That's unfortunate," Julien said, sadly shaking his head. "I'm afraid that I can't oblige you. Let's make a deal. You give me the information, and I walk out of here."

Silver eyebrows rose. "My dear boy, the definition of a deal is an arrangement for mutual advantage. What you've just proposed is a demand."

Julien cocked his head. "Really, I should think that my end of the bargain is all the more explicit for having remained unsaid. But if you require me to be vulgar about it, then here goes. You give me what I want. I walk out of here." He pointed to each man surrounding him in turn. "You live. You live. You live."

"Really, Mr. Blanchard? That's your threat? You think that saying that threatening to kill us is a particularly strong negotiating point?" Meallan shook his head, looking woeful. "You really should have brought your wife. Dealing with a hedge witch like you will hardly be difficult."

"Oh, I didn't say that I'd kill you all. I know my limits. I could probably only kill two of you." He locked eyes with each man surrounding him. "The question is...which two...of you? Does anyone feel like gambling?" He nodded his head toward Meallan. "He lives. His kind always lives, but two...of you...will not. Which ones shall it be? I don't know. You don't know. Are you willing to die so that he can stay alive? Him? What do you think you mean to him besides meat willing to take a bullet?" He grinned--a death's head rictus. "Proverbially speaking of course. Magic is always so much nastier than bullets."

No one moved, but one man finally blinked, while another set his jaw. The third just swallowed. 

Looking bored, Meallan said, "A lovely little speech Mr. Blanchard—I entirely enjoyed it--but it doesn't change the fact that you aren't going anywhere until the job with your daughter is complete."

Julien looked at him. "I'm sorry, aren't you supposed to be frying chicken or something?" Meallan looked blank. "Kentucky Fried Chicken? Colonel Sanders? Seriously, no one has told you that you looked like..." He looked up at the ceiling and blew a frustrated breath. "Ma foi, I miss my daughter!"

Meallan struck his cane against the ground and nodded at the men. "Take him away. Be rough. If he undergoes an unfortunate accident in the river..." No one moved. Meallan set his jaw and quirked an imperious brow. "Am I going to have to ask again?" 

The men moved as one then, closing on Julien. He raised his voice. "I'm giving you one last chance, Meallan. I'm a generous man, not a patient one."

Meallan turned his back and walked away, waving his hand dismissively. The men surrounded Julien, one taking him roughly by the arm, while another kicked him behind the knees, then walked around and backhanded him. The third put his face very close to Julien's and said, "Nice try back there, mate," his Cockney voice so deep, it was almost a rumble. "That man in that cabin wif your daughter..." His golden eyes gleamed maliciously. "Lucky dog. What I wouldn't give to be in 'is place. A nice, young, plump, tight little virgin all of me very own." He leaned forward to whisper in Julien's ear. "I would eat her all up! And she would whine for more like a bitch in 'eat..."

Julien looked up at the talker. "Heat?" he said, low. Julien cocked his head, looking at the man like he was examining an insect. "You like bitches in heat?" Then he laughed as the two men holding him hauled him to his feet. Suddenly, he dropped all of his weight forward, and rolled his shoulders, throwing them off balance. They dove forward, flipping neatly, and rounded on him, but by then, he had leapt back up, his hands shooting forward to grip the talker's head. "Let's dance," he purred, and the man's face began to redden. An acrid, burning smell filled the air as hair sizzled, and Julien's tall, solid form began to morph into Eiric's lean, tight curves.

"It's Lady MacTavish!" one of the other men yelled. Both began ripping off their clothes. 

Eiric's silver eyes were fixed on the talker's gold ones. He was screaming as she cooked him from the inside out. When his shrieks had reached an ear-splitting whistle, she roughly twisted her arms, breaking his neck. She looked up at the two left, contorting in mid-change. "One," she said.

Fast as thought they were on her. She leapt into the air, and landed on the back of one, heating her hand, and plunging it into the back of his ribs, which crackled into so much ash as she squeezed his heart. He faltered and fell, and she rolled and leaped back to her feet. "Two." 

A rush of air was her only warning when a loud shot rang. The wolf who had been about to spring on her from behind was thrown to the ground, a neat hole bleeding in his chest. 

Meallan had watched all of this from the stairway, leaning against it as if he didn't have a care in the world. "I thought that you said that you could only kill two."

"So I did," she replied. 

Loud steps reverberated throughout the warehouse as the real Julien descended. "Three," he said, gun leveled on Meallan. 

"How very clever," Meallan said. "Why didn't they smell ya?"

"You think that a glamour only covers sight, sound, and touch? Are you willfully ignorant, or just really that stupid?" she asked acidly.

"Now, now," the white-haired man admonished gently. "There's no need for rudeness, Lady." He inclined his head. Not turning around, he said, "Put away that gun, young man. It won't do y'any good. Silver doesna work on me."




Riding the Red Ch. 09



Julien snorted. "A bullet to the head is a bullet to the head, Colonel."

"Just so. However, a bullet to the head would also stop me from tellin' ya what ya want to know."

"Suddenly feeling chatty?" Eiric said. 

"Well, you know...the proprieties must be observed. MacTavish could hardly fault me giving you information after ya had killed three of me men and threatened me own life, could he?"

She shook her head. "What is wrong with you people?! Human beings are not pawns--they are not...expendable!"

Meallan shrugged. "And yet they just keep makin' more. D'ye want this information? I have an appointment with me barber."

"Talk," she ground.

"MacTavish came t'me about three months ago, tellin' me that it was about high time I paid me debt to him. He wanted to use some of me best workers for some scheme of his."

"Did he tell you what it was?"

"No, but I figured it out soon enough. Ya know that your father doesna volunteer information."

She nodded at that. That was truth. "Which people?"

"All of my weather-weavers, and half of my shielders."

"Why did he use your people and not his own?"

"He needed it double-blind. He knew that if he used his own, ye'd have no trouble tracking them, if not on your own, then through him." His voice softened. "Ya know that your da canna deny ya anythin', especially after..." A delicate pause. 

Eiric stared at him like a cat about to pounce. "After what, Meallan?" she said, her voice deceptively gentle.

"Well," he said neatly, "There's no need for me to be goin', dredgin' up the past. I've things to do. Let's get on with our little interview."

She continued to stare at him, her irises slowly going hot. "Eiric," Julien warned. She smiled, though it looked more like a baring of teeth than anything remotely friendly. Meallan just watched her, as if fascinated with the face of his impending doom. "Adrienne!" Julien barked. Eiric blinked and looked taken aback. Her eyes quickly lost their heat and cool silver returned. She sighed and sinuously stretched, as if bored. "Where are they?"

Meallan spread his hands. "That, I canna tell ya. Contrary to yer little outburst back there, I'm not a stupid man. I knew ye'd be comin'. I didna ask where they'd be goin'. All I can tell ya, Little Bird, is that they're out of time."

She blinked, nonplussed. "Out of time?"

Julien looked furious, and pulled back the gun to strike Meallan across the face. "You pompous little--"

Without even looking, Eiric caught the barrel before it struck the older man. "No, Julien. Out of time means...that they're...out of our time. It's like Sidhe time. One day here doesn't necessarily mean one day there."

He exhaled noisily, as if punched. "Do you mean that...we then have no idea how long our daughter has really been there?"

She was silent for a moment. Then, "Yes." A very palpable silence surrounded her husband. She knew that he was desperately trying to keep his temper in check. She turned her face to him slightly, "Later," she said softly. Turning back to Meallan, she said, "What else can you tell us?"

"I've told'ye all," he said genially. "Well, almost. You've followed the magic, now follow the mundane." 

"What's that supposed--" Eiric stilled her husbands irate words with a gentle hand on his arm. She inclined her head graciously to Meallan, and he did the same. "Let's go," she said to Julien. 

His jaw worked angrily, but he turned and strode from the warehouse.

Eiric started after him, but then snapped her fingers. "Oh! I almost forgot!" Snake-fast, she whipped around to Meallan, putting all of her weight behind her as she backhanded him to the cold cement floor. He looked up at her, mouth bleeding, as if he expected her to say something. She just smiled and walked to her husband, clasping the hand that he held to her. Together, they left the warehouse, as Meallan climbed to his feet. 

"By Mor-Ríoghain," he said softly. "I wish that she were my daughter."

****************

Eiric slid into the car beside Julien. "Drive," she said, her voice devoid of all inflection. 

"Where are we going?" Julien asked. 

"To your mother's house." She rested thoughtfully against her seat. "'...follow the mundane,' he said. What's the first normal thing that someone thinks about when they're going to be isolated for an extended period of time? Toilet paper? Soap?"

Julien affectionately rolled his eyes. "Les americains," he mumbled under his breath. "C'est la nourriture, petite."

Her eyes lit. "Food! You're right, wherever, or whenever they are, they need food! If they are out of time, then maybe a lot of it. Depending on how far out of time, there may be points when they have to align with our time for food drops. We just need to figure out...which marche has recently taken on a large delivery account."

"Et puis?"

"Then, we figure where they're delivering the food. The only thing to do after that is either to figure out how to make it past the shields, and try to align ourselves with a drop off, or..."

"Ou?"

"Find out when they are, and try to make it there."

"That sounds more difficult."

"That's because it is. We know that they're somewhere in Orleans. We know that they're somewhere isolated. But they could be...anywhen."

He put a warm hand on her thigh. "Think about how much closer we are then we were this morning. Ce matin, c'etait juste nous et ma mere. Alors, our group has expanded by three. This morning, we knew nothing. Maintenant, we know that she's alright, pour la moment, and we know that wherever...or whenever she is, c'est froid. We also know that we're going to have to look out for Meallan's shielders." He turned to her, raising her hand to his mouth. Kissed it. "I know that you're frustrated, ma femme. So am I." His jaw hardened. "But losing heart is not an option." 

"I'm not losing heart, Julien. I'm just...thinking."

He turned to her, but she turned away.

"Non," he said.

"I may have to, Julien."

"That is not going to happen."

She turned to him. "You're becoming awfully comfortable with issuing edicts."

His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. "Nice try, but it's not about that, and I know that you know it. She's evil, Eiric."

Eiric waved her hand dismissively. "No." She looked tired. "As much as we might want to despise them, Meallan, my father, all of the others big names, few of them are genuinely evil so much as..." She shook her head sadly. "Completely amoral. That's what makes them so dangerous. You can count on evil. It's like water trickling downhill; it's always going to do the worst thing, but amorality?" She sighed. 

"Meallan just tried to kill you!" he grated.

"No he didn't. That was a test. No, not a test. A game."

Julien snorted. "Three guard werewolves against one you. Sounds like an awfully rigged game, to me."

Eiric just looked at him, face neutral. "It was. They never had a chance."

He glanced at his wife. Saw her eyes devoid of...anything. Looked back at the road. Julien hated that there was that part of her that he couldn't touch—couldn't comfort, and heal . He cleared his throat, and changed tactics. "What's his power, anyway?" He barked a short, mirthless laugh. "Delicious Southern-fried cuisine? Eleven secret herbs and spices? Arteriosclerosis?"

She closed her eyes, a smile ghosting around her mouth. "Simply put, he can manipulate the flow of electric charge."

He was silent for a moment. Then, "Eiric, I'm a diplomat, not a scientist."

She smiled. "His people emigrated to what is now Ireland, from Greece, thousands of years ago. There, they were called Keravnos, or Kerauno. Lightning. Thunderbolt. In Greece, people decided that they were gods. That's from whence the whole Zeus mythos derives."

Julien paled. "He can make lightning?"

"Yes."

"You punched him."

"I did."

"And he could have struck you with lightning."

"Technically, it wouldn't have been lightning, considering the fact that the point of origin would have been a person, instead of a cloud, but yes."

He glanced sidelong at her. "At any point, he could have struck us all with light—with...a massive electrostatic discharge."

"Yes."

Julien whistled, low. "Mon coeur, you have a set of brass ovaries."

"Well, they don't really do the whole lightning thing much, anymore. It's too flashy. He probably would have just stopped my heart, or interrupted my brain activity, if he wanted me dead."

"Brass," Julien muttered under his breath.

She shrugged. "You can't show weakness with people like him, Julien. They'll eat you alive. Some literally."

He was silent for a while. Then, "Why did he call you, 'Little Bird'?"

She paled. "That was my nickname before...before I... Be...fore," she faltered.

He nodded, sliding his hand around her shoulder and coaxing her head to rest upon his lap. He kept one hand on the steering wheel, and stroked her hair with the other as he drove. "I understand."