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Fire Ch. 02

By: Enithermon



Here's chapter 2. 

Thank you all for your kind comments, I was pleasantly surprised! 

I felt under pressure to make this one at least comparable to the first...but I can't really tell how I did to be honest. So once again, recommendations are always appreciated...though the warm fuzzies were delightful too. :)

Enjoy!

-Enithermon

*

Jairus stood in the darkest corner of the room becoming progressively more menacing as he stared unblinking at the frightened sweating man before him. He was waiting for an answer. The man fluctuated between fear and anger, his face turning white and red accordingly. 

The ultimatum he had received was not something to be taken lightly. Jairus was understanding enough to be patient, though his supply of patience was limited, he had no intention of sitting around all night waiting for him to make up his mind. He had a job to do.

"So this is it then, is it?" The man demanded harshly. "That son of a bitch Callum just crooks his finger and I'm dead? Is this where we are? Over what? A council seat...a trade deal? The man is crazy if he thinks he can do this." He ran a hand through his tussled hair. 

It was late in the evening, and Jairus had woken him rather rudely with the point of his blade and led him to the privacy of the man's office. He was still wearing his night clothes and he paced the smooth marble floor with bare feet. 

"Well?" He asked stilling himself momentarily and glaring at his unwelcome visitor.

"I have told you all that I plan to tell you Councilman Ryder. I think I've been very obliging, so please, oblige me and make your choice."

Ryder's eyes practically bulged out of his head. "Obliging?" His voice was a near shout and Jairus raised a single finger slowly to his lips. The man sputtered, but lowered his voice. "How the hell have you been obliging? You barge into my home and kidnap me at knife point then..."

Jairus cut him off with a dark look. He spoke slowly and carefully letting each word fall with heavy resonance, "I came here with only one objective. Make Ryder disappear." Ryder paled suitably and cast a fearful glance at the curved blade that rested conspicuously against Jairus's thigh. "I've decided to let you decide how that will happen. But if I were you, I would leave. Leave tomorrow by dawn, tell no one but your wife where you will go, and, if you like, have her decide to move away to escape the pain of losing her late husband."

Ryder sighed heavily and sunk into his desk chair. "There is no way I can convince you? I'll pay double...or more what he's paid you to make this go away...please." 

"No."

"Then I'll pay you to kill him. We can say I hired you first, I'll even pay others in the guild to sa..."

Jairus shook his head. "I would be in conflict."

"How noble of you." Ryder growled.

"No. Merely professional." He paused and watched his mark try to think his way out of his predicament. It was unfortunate for him, but there was no way but the two presented to him. 

"Choose."

"Fine, fine. Yes, clearly I have no choice, I will leave. But you will do one thing, I beg you..." Jairus tensed slightly, though he was sure the man didn't notice. "I know I can't pay you to harm Callum...and I know who hired you even if you won't say...so how about this, I will pay you not to harm my family, and to steal Callum's collection of rare Valarin paintings.'

"And deliver them to you?" Jairus arched his brow curiously. It was an unexpected request.

"No, keep them, dump them in the canal, make a bonfire out of them, I could care less. If I can't literally rip his heart out, then I'll do it by proxy. That fat pig will cry like a little girl when he finds out." He grinned maliciously. Then blinked and looked up and stared at Jairus intently. Will you do this?"

Jairus sighed imperceptibly and mulled it over. It was a grey area, but he didn't much care for Callum, and he knew the paintings Ryder spoke of, and had heard they were heavily guarded. It might be an entertaining challenge. He nodded.

Ryder stood, his chest puffing proudly as if had just accomplished a great feat. He moved around the desk and pushed back a false panel on the wall revealing a small safe. He withdrew a small but hefty looking bag of gold and tossed it to Jairus, who caught it deftly and weighed it in his hand before letting it vanish under his cloak. Ryder then grinned darkly and pulled out a necklace of silver that wrapped itself like filigree around smooth jade and coral stones. Even from across the room he could see the workmanship was fine and that it was worth a great deal. 

"You can't sell this here, it's too rare, some one will know where it is from, but it is worth a great deal...and this is what I buy my family's life with. Swear you won't harm them, ever."

Jairus nodded and accepted the necklace. "As you wish."

Ryder nodded and swallowed. "That's it then. I will be gone by morning. I suppose I should go tell my wife." Jairus watched as his glee faded once more into fear and sadness. 

"You know it probably would have been easier to kill me..." He said as he reached for the door.

"I know."

Ryder nodded and turned away, closing the door behind him.

Jairus allowed himself a mild smile and exited the way he'd came, dropping silently beside the ancient stone portico of the back gate, unnoticed except for a grey cat who hissed at him in displeasure from his sentry atop a garden wall. 

Callum's little 'palace' was set on the outskirts in one of the few gardens in the city, a testament to his wealth in an over populated and water logged city such as this. The city itself had aged into a twisting maze of narrow roads and canals, and was difficult to navigate quickly. It was good that the night was still young enough, he would have time. And, he conceded, he'd always liked pre-dynasty Valarin work. The new stuff was a bit garish for his taste. It was a good thing Callum had an excellent eye.

***

The next evening arrived far too slowly. 

All day as he slept, or rather attempted to sleep, Jairus's dreams were plagued with frustrating images of women just barely out of reach. Or rather A woman, as there was always just one. One with doe eyes and dark Auburn hair. 

He couldn't stop thinking about how he'd come upon her, tied to the post before the fire. It had been as if she was left there for him, knowing he would be coming that very night. Strange that she, of all people, should have been the one they singled out. But, he supposed, it was her unusual coloring among such fair folk that had set her apart. It had been surprising to see her face across the fire, to hear her voice call out to him. 

She was no stranger to him after all, though she would not have recognized him. 

He had tasted her blood before. More than once. Many times more. He rarely took from anyone twice. Anyone but her. She had been his inexplicable exception. For some reason he found he had great difficulty staying away. 

And now she was suddenly within his grasp. Almost. How extraordinary that the world could still astonish him after all these years. He heaved a sigh and got up, he would get no sleep. He pulled the delicate necklace from his pocket and wondered how it might look against lightly tanned skin.

He clearly remembered the first time he'd slipped into her room. She'd been much younger, a woman, though just barely. She couldn't have been more than twenty, at most. He'd seen her dark hair first, odd in that village, and she'd turned with a sigh and stretched out on her back, her head falling towards him illuminated in a stray shaft of moonlight. She looked almost mystical, with her strong features and soft red mouth, and her arms stretched gracefully over her head. He'd stood there quite a while, lost in the sight, before he'd willed himself to move. 

He could remember her scent, no perfumes or flowers, just her, and the taste of her skin. After all this time both of those things had remained wonderfully unchanged. 

And then there was her blood. The thought made him take a shuddering breath. The things it did to him.

He was lost in his thoughts when a knock came. He was sitting already at the little table, the only furniture besides a narrow bed, and simply looked up and called for them to enter, tucking the necklace he still held carefully away. 

It was Marcus, his youthfully middle aged intercessor, whom he expected. However, he was followed by a very angry looking Soman Callum whom he did not expect. Jairus resisted the urge to smile.

Before either of the other two could say a word Callum burst out. "Where the hell are my paintings?"

"Good evening Marcus, good evening Councilman." Jairus returned blandly.

"Paintings...where..are..they?" He puffed.

Callum with his rotund figure, opulently and rather brightly dressed, looked absurd blustering red faced in the small stark room. 

"You can't steal my paintings, that's against the rules...tell him Marcus!" He gestured wildly at both of them.

Marcus gave Jairus a side long glance. "Technically Councilman, he only agreed not to do you bodily harm at the mark's behest....that is IF he took the paintings." He added carefully.

Good man, Jairus thought and returned Marcus's anxious looks with stoic ones.

"He took them. Two unconscious guards and nine more who saw nothing, who the hell else did it? I demand you return them immediately."

Jairus fixed Callum with a hard cold stare and stood, extending himself to his full height, which was a good half a head taller than anyone else in the room, and took a step forward, putting himself within arm's reach of the upset councilman. This had the desired effect and the man physically shrunk away from Jairus, his eyes darting subtly and his anger shriveling into petty consternation.

"I assure you councilman, I did not take your paintings." His steady gaze dared him to argue, and Callum only coughed and looked away in reply.

"Well, then, I need you to find out where they are and get them back."

"That's not the sort of work I do councilman, you will have to find someone else."

"But I paid you to..."

Jairus raised his hand. "You paid me to make someone disappear. This I have done. We have nothing more to say to one another, unless you've..."

Jairus too was interrupted by a commotion outside and a young page yelling "master, master!"

The boy was let in. He froze when he saw Jairus and seemed to lose his momentum.

"Speak boy" Marcus prodded. 

"Ah," he blinked and looked away to Callum, 

"Master", he breathed remembering again his purpose, "The paintings, they found them."

Callum beamed. "Where? Speak son, Where?" The boy looked nervously at the other two men who were watching in silence.

"Th-the river sir."

Jairus repressed another smile and watched as Callum reduced himself to jelly in mere seconds. It was as if the bones had left his body. He literally quivered. 

"River?" He gasped. "No. Oh god no." He whimpered and staggered out of the door sobbing tearfully as Ryder predicted he would. Jairus tried to enjoy it for him in his absence.

Marcus turned to him after the sounds of Callum's heartbreak were out of earshot. "You threw priceless art into the river?" He sounded horrified.

"No, I threw some ugly ninth century forgeries into the river...I just changed the frames first." He smiled grimly at Marcus, letting the points of his teeth show ever so slightly. His eyes glinted as Marcus averted his eyes and swallowed hard. 

"You're a little bit twisted you know that?"

He chuckled lowly. "So you've said before." He felt suddenly morose and sighed. "I suppose it comes with the job. Speaking of which..." he pulled his purse from behind him and drew out a number of coins. "Here's your cut." Marcus frowned at the coins while accepting them.

"I already got mine."

"This is for the Ryder job."

"The paintings?"

He nodded.

"I didn't get you that job."

"But you are going to keep quiet about it." 

Marcus smirked at him."You seem unusually chipper...should I be concerned?"

Jairus shrugged and sobered. "It happens."

"Yeah. Alright. Where you going?"

Jairus had started for the door. "I have an expensive art collection to ship, and I have no desire to remain in this sewer of a city any longer than necessary."

"Before you go, I've got a big job lined up, fuzzy details, but they want to meet in two weeks...can you do it? It's a big, lots of money, tracking, not much information, but it seems sensitive. It may need subtlety, so they want you to handle it." 

Jairus had worked with the guild longer than Marcus, and the combination of experience and natural predilection saw that most of the difficult jobs came his way. Of course calling it "the guild" was really only a euphemism. It was really just a series of mercenary cut-throats and the disreputable agents who arranged their services with what Marcus cheerfully referred to as their 'clients'. Marcus was such an agent, and a good one, and Jairus was a very special and unusually talented sort of cut-throat. They generally did very well for themselves.

"If I am so subtle how it is everyone seems to know about me?"

Marcus grinned. "It's not like that, they just said they needed whoever did the Gower job."

Jairus snorted derisively. "That was a botched job."

"That's why people know about it. It wasn't that bad though...they still officially ruled it suicide, and the client was happy." 

"I'll be back in two weeks." He waved dismissively and left, content to be on his way. He'd come to despise this city. Fifty years in one place will do that to a man. It would be time to move on again soon. He hardly knew why he'd ever returned to this sad corner of the world in the first place. He had had good reason to leave it. 'I suppose I thought time would improve it' he thought bitterly, but even a couple centuries were clearly not enough.

He made his arrangements to have several crates shipped, Tim, would pick them up in a town far enough away from home that it would not lead anyone into his territory. That he could not abide. If old age had done anything to it was make him possessive. Like an aging wolf defensively guarding his dominance. It was a little depressing if he thought about it too much, immortality loses its charm and romance faster than one imagines. So he turned his mind to other more pleasurable things. Torturously sweet things. These new thoughts sped him quickly and almost happily home.

***

Thea's woke up in a sweat, gasping for air. There was a knock on her door, and she flinched. "Yes" she called out weakly.

"Are you alright?" May popped her head through the door. "You cried out."

"It must have been a night mare, I'm sorry for waking you.."

"Oh I was already awake I wouldn't have heard you if I wasn't passing by."

"Oh, well, thank you for your concern, but I'm quite alright." She desperately wanted her to go quickly, fearing that somehow she'd read the truth in her eye as Jairus seemed to be able to do. It was another reason she'd found to keep her distance, despite the tentative friendship they'd seemed to have developed. To her relief she did leave with a friendly nod.

Thea flopped back onto the bed and sighed heavily. She had been having a rather vivid dream, but she wasn't sure it qualified as a night mare. It was the first time she'd had that dream since she came here, but she knew she'd had it before. She must have forgotten it after waking in the past, but this time it was clear in her memory, almost as clear and real as an actual memory, and not as faded and disjointed as her dreams normally were.

In her dream she'd woken up back in her little cottage. Everything was as she remembered it. The fireplace burned low under a small cooking pot, her broom and cloak hung in the corner by the door, herbs hung against the chimney to dry, and she sat curled up in her small, worn, but cozy chair dozing in front of the fire. At the door there came a knock and she rose, and walked slowly over, wondering at the lateness of the caller. As she approached her dread grew until she was barely able to lift a hand and open the door. It swung open slowly of its own accord the moment she touched it, and beyond the door was inky blackness. She didn't need to call out to know there was something out there. She stepped back into the warm ring of light emanating from the fire, and was overwhelmed by the sense that this had happened before. A face appeared, familiar, and yet not, pale in the darkness. 

The man, for he was a man, entered, his dark cloak swirling around him. 'Hello again' he whispered.

'Again?' she whispered back. Had they met before? 

'I don't know you.' 

He stepped forward and she stepped back. One step at a time until her legs bumped the back of the chair. She froze as he came to stand a hand's breadth away. She stared up at him and he gazed down at her. He was tall she thought absently. His eyes seemed to glow with unearthly light. Those eyes...maybe she did know him.

He raised his hand and lightly touched her face. 

'You do, but you won't remember.' 

'Why not?'

His red mouth curved slightly, parting and revealing long teeth. She gasped and tried to pull away, but his arms were already encircling her, pressing her against him.

'Because I'm only a dream.'

She opened her mouth to call for help, but no sound came out, and those long teeth came down, piercing the skin of her throat, his face buried in the crook of her neck. There was pain and it made her whimper softly. But the whimpers soon turned to moans as her senses were flooded with an erotic heat that made her whole body quiver. 

The man growled into her throat and crushed her against him, running his hands over her body. Down her back, her hips, squeezing the smooth round globes of her rear, making her groan against him and grind her hips into his. One hand slid lower grasping her thigh and hitching it up against him so that his own leg pressed between and hard up against her now throbbing sex. He released her thigh only to run his hands up her sides slowly, cupping and lifting her breasts, squeezing with a growl. 

His mouth wandered from her throat, and she felt herself lean away to give him access as he kissed and bit his way across her chest and down into the valley of her breasts which his fingers had nimbly exposed, nipping and pulling at the electrified flesh. He pushed the fabric away carefully, sliding the lacing apart until he'd exposed one pale round breast. 

She looked down and watched in aroused silence as his hand slowly traced the curves of her and the small pink nipple hardened to a point beneath his touch. He too watched and slowly lowered his head, taking the nub into his mouth and sucking gently. She groaned again and clung to him watching as he pulled away and extended his fangs once more, sinking them into the tender flesh, her body exploding with lightening sensations. 

It was then she'd woken up. She must have cried out when he bit her in her dream. She blushed hotly. Not just at the thought of having someone hear her, but because recounting her dream had made her once more aroused. 

She tentatively slid an experimental hand under the covers and discovered she was indeed quite wet. She flushed, but did not pull her hand away, and instead slid two fingers along the slick folds and pressed them against that same intense spot that Jairus had found that first night. 

Jairus. 

She closed her eyes and pictured his face, imagining he was back in the room with her, and that it was his fingers gliding over her. She even dipped a finger ever so slightly into her virgin slit as he had, and marvelled at how hot she felt. She dipped again this time a little deeper and shuddered in pleasure. She worked her finger slowly inside herself, sliding deeper and deeper until she met with resistance. 


Fire Ch. 02



She stopped then, eyes still closed and focused on the very new and incredibly exciting sensation of having something buried inside of her. Slowly her hips began to move, as if her body was searching for more, with our without her consent, and she gave in, sliding her finger in and out until she could feel herself build to something. Boldly she added another finger and stifled a low moan as her fingers pushed against her inner walls and she stretched around her fingers. 

She was softly panting now and lay prone on her back, her knees bent, using her fingers to pleasure herself to orgasm. When it finally came she gasped hard against the gut wrenching pulses that made her back seize and her hips jerk against her hand. She gasped for breath and rode her hand convulsively squeezing her thighs tightly until the sensation passed and she just lay there in a haze of stunned satisfaction. 

She pulled her hand away, wiping the wetness on her leg and closed her eyes until the heat had passed. 

It wasn't until she'd cooled down significantly and had begun to clean up and dress herself that the significance of her dream occurred to her. Before in her dream, that dream, the face of the man had been vague and fuzzy. Only the eyes were ever familiar, but when she thought back to this last dream she couldn't escape the fact that he had clearly resembled Jairus...and still had had those same eyes. 

She joined the others for breakfast and sat silently as they planned their day, and discussed when Jairus would return, as he had been gone already four days. She wasn't listening really; her mind was preoccupied with the burning eyes in her dream. She'd never remembered the dream long enough to give it much thought before. It was one of those dreams one only remembers when they dream it again. But it seemed curious to her now that she would dream of a vampire, and that her mind would know to add the burning eyes into her dream. 

Her thoughts continued to wander as she tidied the kitchen and swept out all the rooms. She paused at the door to Jairus's room. She hadn't entered more than a few times since her first night here, and it made her anxious, though she knew he wasn't there. She squared her shoulders and entered, briskly sweeping the room out and spending as little time thinking in that room as she could. Somehow she knew it would be dangerous. However once she left the room and let her guard down the uneasy thoughts came flooding back. 

She could have added him into the dream she mused, and only remember the creature in her dreams as a vampire. It was a possibility, and would make more sense. But then, she felt so sure that the dream was the same. Each dream perhaps was slightly different, in fact the details were difficult to hold on to, even last night's dream was beginning to fade from her memory, but the one thing that stayed the same were the eyes... and the teeth. No, it was definitely the same dream. 

She had no idea what to do with that information.

After her few chores she usually borrowed a book and sat outside in the sunlight. The shapes of great trees she'd seen were a great stand of ancient looking oak, spaced wide apart with a pleasant carpet of grass and meadow flowers growing beneath, it was a soothing place to walk or sit and be alone with ones thoughts. Today was no different. She'd dusted yesterday and scrubbed the floors the day before, so there wasn't much more for her to do.

She wasn't hungry and after an early supper eaten alone in the kitchen she borrowed a book she'd been reading, a book of history of the northern peoples, the Huroth, a race of dark haired giants and warriors supposedly, and she'd taken an interest partially because she suspected her father may have been of their ilk. 

All she knew of her mother was that she'd been a stubborn child and had left home as soon as she might to follow an army camp. She'd come home pregnant and widowed, and died in labour. There was little her grandparents could tell her of her father, other than that he had been a large man, and military of some sort, but her own stature and strength told her that. 

She walked to a little ridge she'd found and settled herself into the grass, resting her book closed on her lap. She'd chosen this ridge because it opened onto a gap in the trees that gave her a view of the expanse of forest beneath her. 

From here she watched the sun set and the twilight dim to a velvety star studded night. Far in the distance were the feint wisps of chimney smoke from the nearest village. There were something wistful about the curling grey tendrils. She'd not been there yet, but from what she'd been told it sounded much like her own village, and therefore held little reason for her to want to visit, except perhaps out of sheer boredom. Her mind wandered to the village and she wondered if Jairus had ever fed there. He must have she reasoned, though he said he must be careful, so he likely didn't do so very often. 

Another thought occurred to her, he'd been passing by her own village when he found her...was he perhaps intending to feed there? Has he fed there before?

A strange tingle ran up her spine. He'd said that his victims didn't remember him, or thought he was a nightmare...or dream. Had her dream...had he? Her breath caught at the thought. She had lived alone, and in a cottage near a heavily wooded area at the edge of the village. There would have been few witnesses, just her, alone at night. It seemed almost improbable to her now that he hadn't. 

But if he had did he do more than just feed, like he had in her dream? Her mind flickered back to the first time he bit her and her response then...what might have she behaved like if she thought she was dreaming? She shivered. What was it he'd said to her in her dream? She struggled to remember. When he first came through the door...his greeting...something about it seemed incredibly relevant to her at this moment.

"hello again' 

"Yes! That's it" she cried, hello again...the 'again', he'd been there before, he'd said she wouldn't remember...

"What is IT?"

She yelped at the voice, then realized it had been the voice that had greeted her. Her mouth fell open in surprise and realization as she gazed up at the tall shadow of a man beside her. 

It was as if a flood gate had been opened and various and sudden memories of being locked in his embrace, his hands and mouth on her body, washed over her. She closed her eyes to shut them out, but they were insistent.

"Oh god" she groaned.

There was a hand on her shoulder and she jumped in her skin.

He was kneeling next to her, frowning. "What's wrong?" 

She gasped a breath and shook her head, pulling away and standing. "N-nothing, ah sorry" she quickly pulled herself together, "I was just thinking and you scared me...that's all."

He was giving her a funny look and she turned her eyes away, knowing that he was looking for answers in her eyes again. "You're sure, you seem...upset."

"No really, I'm fine." She glanced into his face and saw an expression that told her he didn't believe her for a second.

"I'll leave you then, and see to the others." He still frowned as he turned away and melted quietly into the trees.

But she had to know, and before she could stop herself she went after him. "Jairus?" she called into the shadows.

A shadow moved and became a pale face, moving towards her. She had to control herself not to let out a cry at the sight, so like her dreams, a sight that pulled the terrified voice inside her out from its hiding place.

"Yes?"

"There's, ah, something I'd like to know...need to know" he was silent but attentive.

"You.." now how was she to say this? "You came to me before...didn't you?"

He was very still and looked at her a long time. 

She wondered if he'd understood her. "Jairus?"'

"Yes."

"I was just asking..." he cut her off gently with a wave.

"I understood you. 'Yes' was my answer."

She blinked at him. "oh." She hadn't totally expected such an easy admission.

"You remembered?" he asked softly, still standing very still in the shadows.

"Well...sort of, I thought it was a dream, and then I remembered certain things and everything seemed to point in that direction."

"How much do you remember?" 

She looked at him carefully, was he trying to discern how much she knew about what he'd done to her. Had he even...no, she remembered feeling that she was intact this morning. That thought caused her to blush profusely. He must have taken her expression as an answer because he looked at the ground.

"I see."

"H-how many times" she asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer. He sighed. 

"Well, I'd say, at least... eight. "

"Is that normal...for a single person?" the number seemed high to her, for all his talk about taking care and not bringing attention to himself.

"No."

"Then why" she asked stepping toward him, her hands clasped in her skirts.

"You were alone, and far from the village. Your home is not too far from here, an easy trip for one night."

"I see. Is that all?"

His face changed subtly, and he opened his mouth to speak and seemed to think better of it, and looked down again. She waited watching him. 

"No" he said finally.

"Then why me?" she winced inwardly at the plaintive quality of her voice, but she couldn't help herself. All her life she'd been tormented and picked on and singled out, and now she found that he'd been doing it too. For some reason that stung a little more than it should have.

He must have heard the crack in her voice as well because his face softened suddenly and he moved toward her, his eyes full of pity and remorse. His fingers lifted and grazed her cheek lightly. 

"I'm sorry Thea, I never meant to harm you, or upset you. And for taking the liberties I did." He dropped his hand. "I know it's not much of an excuse, but I ...couldn't help myself. It's rare that I return to the same person twice, but I let myself and twice became three times, became four." He made a vague gesture.

"But why? Why me?" she could feel her eyes begin to burn and she quashed the feeling with great difficulty.

He sighed. "The truth?"

"Please"

"I liked you."

"Liked me?" that wasn't what she expected to hear, though what she was expecting she couldn't say either.

"Yes. At first you were always asleep. I never did anything...well, I just fed, but I liked you. The way you looked, and especially the way you...tasted."

She flushed a little at that, and he straightened looking her in the eye. She could see him remembering, and she could see the little flames flicker to life in his dark eyes. Her own breathing deepened in response.

"Then one night I woke you, and I heard your voice, and saw your eyes. As I said before," he said turning his eyes away once more, "the effects are different with everyone, and I would be a liar if I said that that didn't also draw me back, despite my better judgement."

"The way I responded?" she asked thickly, embarrassed. 

"And my own response to you."

"That changes also?"

"It does. It also makes it harder to control that response when...well, when it begins to go too far"

"I see."

There was a long pause and neither spoke or looked at the other.

"What will you do now that you know this?"

"I hadn't thought that far." She admitted to her shoes.

There was another long pause as she tried to sort out in her head what was happening. He had been coming to her in the night, touching her, taking her blood, without permission, and then had taken her from her village; Taken her from certain death and loneliness. He'd used her. He liked her, perhaps even desired her. She wanted to growl with frustration. If she kept giving him her blood, could she control herself? She knew deep down she could not, and if he couldn't either...well then this wasn't going to work. It would be torture to even try.

"Shall I leave, and let you decide?"

She nodded, feeling more lost and forlorn than she'd ever before.



Fire Ch. 03



Hi all! Thanks for waiting, I tried to be extra careful with the editing, so it took a little longer. I hope you enjoy it either way, and if you'd like to hear more let me know, the next chapter is already in the works. 

yours,

-enithermon

***

Jairus nodded to Timothy as he entered, tossing him a purse of coins. Timothy caught it and nodded back. He was grateful that he did not try to stop him to talk. He wasn't sure he could right now. He was also grateful that May and Berin didn't see him pass the kitchen as he slipped by heading for his room. He closed his door behind him, locked it and then firmly slammed his skull into it. 

It made him feel a tiny bit better, but hardly enough to stop the low growl that had begun emanating from his chest. He wanted to break something, smash something against a wall. 

He looked around, but there was nothing that he felt he would take any satisfaction in ruining. He settled for pacing, tearing his jerkin off and flinging it in frustration at the far wall. 

What a fool he had been. A weak fool. Why could he have not just listened to reason, his own reason! And left well enough alone. God, eight times...it had been more than that, many more, but he hadn't the heart to admit just how long he'd been haunting her. He was to the point where he'd been there once a month for the last three months. It was insane. He'd known it then, and yet he did it anyway. If he'd just left her alone, just ignored the persistent gnawing hunger in him that drove him mad every time he thought about her, then she may yet have been his, delivered up to him by some bizarre stroke of luck. 

He ran a hand through his hair in a helpless gesture of despair. Why? Why had he done this to himself, to her, and broken every rule he lived by. He stopped, breathing hard and stared at nothing in particular. 

He knew why. Every time she looked at him, opened her mouth, smiled, he knew why. For god's sake he'd caught sight of her on her knees scrubbing floors, her skirt tied up between her legs, and had been so mesmerized by the slow rhythmic movement of her body, and so moved by the silly sentimental song she'd been singing that he didn't even know he was being watched until May had cleared her throat loudly beside him with a knowing glare. Swear to god he almost blushed. 

Him! He who had watched countless magnates tremble on their knees, and beg for mercy, who fed on blood, and made a career of spreading dread and terror like death on the wind. Blushing like a boy with an infatuation. It was madness.

He sat on the bed with his head in his hands. The whole reason he'd even found her that night was because he was going to her, again. Each time he swore would be the last, until she'd woken up that one night and he knew that it was a promise he could make no one, lest of all himself. From then on he swore each time he'd go to her as himself. Knock on her door, like a man, not a wraith in the night, and each time she'd open the door and he'd lose himself and think it's too soon, I'll do it next time. 

He was painfully aware now that every time he'd actually just lost his nerve. He knew that if she knew of him, as anything more than a figure in her nightmares, then he could never come back when she rejected him. He'd spent long nights wondering how it was that he'd come to be so fixated on her, and had never come up with a reasonable conclusion. Apparently reason had never had anything to do with it. 

He'd accepted, after a long debate with himself that sometimes these things just happened. She was lovely, but he was not so star struck to think that there were not more beautiful women in the world he could have. But one night of lust was one thing, this was something else. He wanted to be her friend, and to have her as his. He sighed heavily and groaned into his hands.

And now she was going to leave. The fact that she had remained at all had shocked him, and he knew that their relationship, as it was, was strained at best. It didn't help that every time he fed from her, her blood sang through his veins and screamed 'more'. He'd kept tight control over himself, especially after he'd pushed her too far that first night. 

He'd been so delirious with pleasure that she would actually offer herself willingly to him that he'd forgotten himself completely and lost himself in her incredible warmth, and the erotic sensuality that came over her in his arms. Just as he'd lost himself each time before in the storm of emotion and desire that were her eyes. 

He could feel his blood flow hotly at the thought of her, his cock and fangs responding almost in concert. He shuddered as he tried to rein himself in, battling the twin hungers that had become his constant companions these last weeks. The pain of having her, just a little bit, everyday was like a delicious torture. He wished so badly he could take more, pull more deeply from her and feel her blood wash satisfyingly down his throat, but he knew she couldn't hold herself back when he did that, and so he was trapped. Pinned between his need to take her completely, and make her his, and his need to keep her, not to frighten her away so soon after he'd gained her.

If only he didn't have to choose, if he could have both. The fantasy overtook him, and he allowed it to. It was what he clung to, what had kept him sane while he'd held her tightly to him listening to her low sexy moans. He lay back onto the bed closing his eyes. Wishing had never made anything so.

Thea moved in a haze, nodding briefly to timothy who watched her from the entrance of the study. She made her way slowly up the stairs, her body like lead. She dropped her book on the bed and sank onto the floor in front of the fire. Her mind reeled still from her realization. How she felt about it, wasn't yet clear. 

Part of her felt hurt, but mostly she was confused. She wasn't even sure what she was hurt most by; The fact that he'd been stealing into her home and seducing her, or that he'd never properly introduced himself. She choked out a laugh at that image. 'how do you do, I'm the vampire who's been drinking your blood.' Perhaps she might not be able to hold that against him after all. She wondered if he'd even thought about trying to talk to her. 

She shook her head. Why would he. She was food. But, then she thought again...he'd returned. He said he liked her...what did that mean? That he was attracted to her? Perhaps talking wasn't high on his list of things to do when it came to her she thought sardonically. Part of her was also strangely flattered, though the idea of being singled out, even for somewhat 'positive' reasons, didn't sit well with her. 

Stop, she admonished herself, I have to get this straight in my mind, because I'm just going around in circles. 

"Forget him Thea, what do you want?" she asked out loud. That was a good question. She didn't really have an answer. "Okay, what don't you want?"

To be alone. She definitely didn't want that. She could be, she'd done it long enough, but she was so tired of it, and this small taste, this vague sense of being welcome, and occasionally even useful would make it that much harder to go back. She also didn't want to go back to the village. That wasn't even possible. But she didn't want any other village either, and she honestly couldn't imagine what a city might hold for her. She'd end up on the streets trying to feed herself with all the rest of the world's hopeless people. So then she'd like to stay right? 

'But only if he wants me to,' she qualified silently. She didn't want to be a burden. He only needed her blood because he now had too many to look after, it wasn't as if she were necessary...convenient at best. 

Alright, she decided, she'd ask him, honestly, if he wanted her to stay, and if he did, then she would. She nodded satisfied. One problem down, one hundred more to go. 

There was still the issue of feeding, she reminded herself. She wasn't going to hold out much longer, especially now that she had these new memories to cope with, and the knowledge that what might be already was. Every time he'd feed she'd see the images of her dreams, it was already difficult to fight the memory of that first night. She squeezed her eyes shut and suppressed a sudden tingling of arousal. 

"Point in case" she muttered miserably and scrunched her hair up on her head in frustration. But damn it all what was her problem? Was it so bad that she wanted him? Certainly he was a vampire, but he had been kind, gentle, and she'd be a lying fool to say he wasn't terribly handsome. Was she so intent on dying a virgin? Otherwise what was she waiting for, a proposal? 

She frowned at that thought...she wasn't actually hoping for that was she? There was a strange feeling in her stomach that gave her pause. She'd long ago given up on marriage. This wasn't about that, this was about something else, something more important.

It was about love. She physically recoiled at the thought.

"Idiot" she whispered harshly. She stood, suddenly too full of nervous energy, her limbs felt like they might fly off at any second. Had she somehow fallen in love with him?

"Why?" she asked desperately. "Just because he looked at you? Because he smiled? Because he touched you and said he wanted you?"

Yes. Yes, yes and yes, the desperate little voice inside her whispered softly and sadly in the face of her anger. She buried her tearful face in her hands and let out an anguished cry that tore from her heart. Damn her, and damn him, and damn this whole sorry pitiful existence. Without thinking she reached out and grabbed the nearest thing that wasn't nailed down and hurled it pathetically against the wall behind her bed. 

It was her little box. It flung open, scattering coins and trinkets across the bed and the floor. The tinkle of falling coins called her back and she looked miserably down at the mess she'd made. Something rolled to her and hit her foot spinning in place. 

She stooped and picked up the little pearl. She saw Jairus smiling as he placed it in her hand. Then she saw the look in his eyes when he'd asked her if she wanted him to leave not an hour ago. She looked down at the little pearl. He cared. He cared enough to rescue her, heal her, and bring her home to safety. What more did she want from him? What more could she want? If he'd fed from her in the past, well he was a vampire, it was what he did. And the rest? Well, she thought morosely, at least someone had wanted her.

She sighed and shook her head at her foolishness. 

The box wasn't broken, nor any of its contents damaged, though she knew she'd be finding coins for the next week in all sorts of odd places. She refilled her box and slid it under her bed out of habit, then thought better of it and placed it on her little table by the bed instead. She had no one to hide it from anymore.

He probably heard the commotion...they all probably did. She sighed and sat quietly on the bed looking at the unlit fire place. 

She suddenly wanted to talk to him, but resisted, knowing she was a mess, and probably looked like a fool. No. She stated firmly, she would go. That was what she wanted, that is what she'd do. She set her shoulders, determined not to let her embarrassment cow her, and left her room before she could change her mind. 

To her horror both Barin and May were standing right there looking at her with surprise. She nodded politely to each of them, well aware that her face was still stained and red from crying, and turned on her heel walking with conviction to the end of the hall and raised her hand to knock on his door. 

She never did. The moment she raised her hand the door swung quickly open and Jairus nearly ran her down. He stopped himself at the last second and looked down at her with an open expression of surprise. 

She stood hand still raised, and just stared. He looked like hell itself. His jerkin was off, and shirt rumpled, and his hair was in wild disarray like he'd just woken up. It would have been funny if it wasn't so disturbing.

Jairus stared back at the woman staring at him. Her eyes were glassy and still a little red from crying and her hair was slightly mussed. He'd heard her cry out and smash something against a wall, and had been inwardly pleased that at least one of them got to break something. But then it had become silent. Very silent. Usually with his heightened hearing he could listen and hear something, crying, moving about, her muttering to herself. But there was nothing. He'd become concerned and had gotten up to check, not bothering to clean himself up, figuring he'd smooth out his hair and shirt on the way, but he'd swung open the door and halted as she raised her fist to knock. 

He was vaguely aware that people were standing at the end of the hall, and he glanced and saw May and Berin staring in utter disbelief. He opened the door wider and stepped back letting her enter. He noticed her starting to glance over her shoulder, then thinking better of it.

"Yes, they're still there." She heard him whisper under his breath as she walked past him to stand in the middle of the room, her hands folded in front of her. 

She watched as he shut the door and walked over to one of the chairs by the fire and slouched into one, stretching his long legs out before him, and running his hands perfunctorily through his hair. She wasn't sure what to do with this version of him. She'd never seen him so...human looking, almost vulnerable. His normally stony face looked instead tired and anxious. He glanced at her and held a hand out to the other chair.

"Please sit"

He watched her move slowly forward and sit on the edge of the chair. She looked like she wanted to escape. He leaned back in his chair and prepared himself. 

She sat for a long time, looking down at the floor. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, waiting.

"Jairus?" here it comes he thought.

"Yes?"

He thought he saw a hint of a smile on her face.

"The night you found me, were you coming to see me?"

"Yes." His gut twisted a little, but he fought to keep his face stoic.

"Were you ever planning on actually talking to me?" She caught him off guard and he let out a short laugh. "Why is that funny?"

He shook his head. "It's not really. Sad more like it." He looked at her fully and she looked confused. "I'd been planning to for some time...but I lost my nerve."

She blinked and looked surprised, then turned her gaze to her hands. He noticed that she avoided his gaze often and wondered why. He wished she wouldn't it made it difficult to know what she was thinking.

"It was more than eight times, wasn't it?"

He didn't look at her but nodded. Please don't ask how many he begged silently.

"Do you want me to stay?" he did look back at her then. Her eyes held nothing but the question, though he thought he might have seen a flash of fear as well.

"Yes."

"Truly?"

He frowned at her, wasn't that obvious? "Why would I not?"

She shrugged. "I might be a burden...or perhaps my presence is merely indifferent." He thought he recognized a defensiveness in her posture, though she kept her voice from wavering. She was so lovely trying her best to be proper and unemotional despite the fact that she looked like she'd just thrown a temper tantrum. As if she read his mind she smoothed her skirt and tried to tame her hair by pushing it behind her ears. He almost smiled. 

"What?' she asked. 

"Nothing."

She sighed and took a deep breath. "Alright. If you really do want me to stay then I will stay." He looked at her and saw her fighting the conflict inside of her and trying very hard to remain calm.

He sighed. This wouldn't do at all. "You need to do what you want Thea. I want you to stay, very much, but if you can't, if you need to go...then you should. I won't ask you to stay here just for me." He felt a little ill, but he knew what was right, even if he didn't always do it for himself. It was one thing to make himself miserable; he needn't drag this poor creature into the fray as well. 

He looked into her eyes again to await her answer and was surprised by the flood of warmth he found. There was an incredible longing there that made his heart stop. She rose suddenly, looking determined, as if she'd come to an important decision, and stood next to his chair. He looked up at her curiously and was completely taken aback when she leaned in and kissed him, her lips pressing softly against his. Her scent filled him and he closed his eyes breathing deeply, only to find her already pulling away.  

"What was that for?" 

She blushed and shrugged. "I just wanted to." God he wanted her so badly he could taste it. He could taste her.

Thea was beginning to feel foolish again as he stared up at her incredulously, unmoving. Then to her surprise, he stood, almost preternaturally fast and she found herself in his arms, and before she could cry out, startled, his mouth had found hers and pressed full and hard against her. 

When her lips did part to cry out belatedly, the tip of his tongue found the opening and flicked lightly across her parted teeth and against the tip of her own tongue. The feel of his tongue against hers made her shiver, and she sought him out almost instantly in order to feel it again. She shyly slipped her tongue against his, following it back to the shelter of his mouth. He coaxed her, playfully and gently with his mouth until she found she'd threaded her fingers in his hair and was angling her mouth against his trying to taste more of him. Her surprise completely forgotten as it metamorphosed into a heated delight. 

Her tongue brushed the sharp points of his teeth sending an aroused shudder through her. He must have felt it too because a low growl emanated from deep inside his chest, and he took over the kiss, crushing her mouth with his and sucking at her tongue. The sensation was undeniably erotic and she pressed her body closely to his, her arms tightening around him. He too tightened his arms until she could barely breathe and they cleaved together as though trying to press one into the other. 

She was lifted off her feet and soon found herself pressed between the mattress and his unyielding body. He never let up his kiss. He did released her tongue however, and chased it back, invading her mouth with slow deliberate movements. He slid his tongue in and out of her mouth until she captured it with her own, sucking back as he had. He groaned low in his throat, and it was a sound that filled her with satisfaction. She became more bold, wanting more of him, and slid her hands down his neck and across his shoulders, feeling the firm shapes of the muscles there, dipping and rising under her fingers, and pressed her hands between their bodies to feel the hard ridge of his chest and breathed with delight as the muscles flexed under her hands. 

He raised himself and broke their kiss. His chest heaved as he looked down at her with blazing eyes. He was straddling her legs, which still dangled off the end of the bed, and his hands were above her shoulders supporting him, but still keeping her pinned below.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked, his jaw set tightly. She could clearly see that he was fighting to restrain himself, and that if she didn't stop now, there would be no more opportunity to do so for either of them, neither would be able to stop.

Jairus clenched his jaw, fighting every instinct and every screaming fiber of his being that declared 'mine' as he gazed down at the creature beneath him. He'd stopped because he felt her hands come between them and remembered her fear the last time he'd had her on a bed. He waited, almost shaking with need for her answer. 

She didn't answer but he watched with heart aching relief as her red well-kissed mouth turned up in a slow sensual smile. She gazed up at him through heavily lidded eyes. The feel of her slender hands on the muscles of his stomach made him let out an involuntary groan, and he looked down to find her fingers snaking up his body beneath his loosened shirt.




Fire Ch. 03



He pulled away completely and she looked up at him in surprise as he knelt upright, still straddling her legs. Her surprise turned to something else as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. 

The pleasure and admiration he saw in her eyes made his cock throb with gratification. He hadn't even bitten her yet and she seemed to want him still. As if confirming this thought she leaned up on one arm and reached out a timid hand, running her fingers over the cresting muscle of his chest and slowly down the ridges of his stomach. 

Her light fingers made him shiver and he groaned again, once more fighting the urge to throw her down and take her. Instead he bore his eyes down on hers, feeling her eyes catch in his gaze and reached out slowly, running his hands along her face and throat and down to the laces of her dress. 

It was his turn. He gave her a suggestively wolfish grin as he loosened the threads that hid her and eased the material from her shoulders. He could hear her breathing become short and rapid, but she made no effort to stop him or escape his touch and gaze as he raked both over the tight curves of her body. He pulled the bodice to her waist with a single tug and leaned back over her placing long kisses along her throat, enjoying the feel of her blood pounding through her veins as he found her pulse with his tongue. He felt her shift beneath him, pulling her arms free and wrapping them around his shoulders, pressing her naked skin against his. He closed his eyes and took pleasure in the warmth of her flesh, her smooth skin, and the tantalizing feel of her hardened nipples brushing his chest.

"Jairus?" her voice was tremulous and soaked with lust.

"Yes?" he whispered softly between the hot kisses pressed to her soft skin.

"Do you remember when you came to my house...the last time?"

How could he not. She'd practically climaxed in his arms as he'd suckled her blood from her breast. It had been the source of many a fitful dream.

"Yes" he groaned out against her neck.

"Would...would you do that again?"

Thea liked her lips nervously, embarrassed by her request, but too aroused, too needy with desire to hold her peace. He paused at her throat, no longer kissing her. He raised his head and she could see his already extended fangs glitter in the candle light, curved like his pearl lined dagger. Holding her eyes he slid down her body until his mouth was poised over her breast. His hands cupped them and squeezed lifting one hardened nipple to his waiting mouth. She watched transfixed as his tongue darted out to flick the pink bud and gasped sharply at sensation. His mouth covered her breast, his eyes never breaking with hers as he began to suck and squeeze, his teeth pressed into the flesh but not breaking it. 

She groaned softly as his tongue continued to work her breast even as his lips pulled at it. He pulled away from her and continued with the other, laving it with attention, gently fondling the now wet red nipple he had abandoned. She began to writhe underneath him, unable to hold still, and dug her fingers into his back, urging him on, desperate to feel the blazing fire in his eyes burn through her body. Finally when she'd felt he'd denied her long enough, she began to beg.

"Please" she whispered brokenly. "Please, bite me." She felt him shudder under her hands. Her hips began to slowly grind against him adding their own silent plea. He rose again, this time leaving her completely. She was about to protest when he grabbed her hips and roughly pulled the rest of the dress off, dropping it and kicking off his boots at the same time. He removed the rest of his clothing, all the while searing her naked body with his eyes. She blushed, suddenly self conscious again, and scooted back on the bed, as if trying to escape his heated glare. But before she could get too far his hand came down and pinned her ankle to the bed. 

She experimentally pulled her leg away from him, and he held her tight. She was panting in fear and excitement as he knelt on the bed and crawled toward her, looking very much more like a terrifying predator, a vampire, than the reserved, silent man she was used to. His Fangs still pressed against his blood red lips, and his eyes were shining with a dangerous light, even his normally stoic face was twisted into a dark intense smile. She felt caught, trapped, and he was going to devour her. 

She cried out and he fell on her suddenly and recaptured the abandoned breast he'd been so devotedly toying with, only this time, he sucked hard and nipped with his teeth, scrapping his fangs against her sensitive flesh. 

She whimpered in surprise and fear and twisted in his grip. But her whimpers soon turned to moans as one of his hands caressed the inside of her thigh and pressed lightly against the damp folds. She twisted again, only this time without any thought of escape. She spread her thighs slightly, encouraging him forward. He obeyed stroking her expertly, pinching and massaging her until she was desperately riding his hand. She felt his fingers slide lower again and held her breath as they parted the slick folds and traced the lips of her sex lazily. She groaned in frustration and tried to press her hips up to him, wanting to feel his fingers where hers had been, but he resisted. He released her breast again and lifted his mouth to her ear.

"Was there something else you wanted?" 

"You haven't bitten me yet" she breathed.

He chuckled, a low dangerous sound that made her tremble. "Don't worry pet. I will." His voice was thick with his dark promise and he nipped her lobe before asking again what else she wanted. She whimpered as his fingers continued to toy with her. 

"Yes, that." She breathed out with a gasp as one of his fingers dipped ever so slightly into her. God she wanted to feel him inside her so badly her body was screaming for it.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

She frowned with confusion and frustration. Didn't he know? 

"I..I don't know how. I don't know the words" she stuttered.

He breathed hard against her neck. "You really haven't done this before have you?"

"No" she answered meekly. 

"Well," he whispered hotly in her ear, "would you like me to continue fingering your cunt, or shall I abandon my post and use my mouth on your sweet little pussy instead. Or perhaps you'd just like to skip ahead to the part where I fuck you." 

She blushed at his language and choked. She'd never heard such things, except as lowly muttered curses. To hear him using them here, like this, made her both embarrassed and, incredibly, excited. There was something brutal and raw about it that made her spine jump and limbs tingle. Again this was not what she was used to, the gentleman had vanished and now there was something wild in him, something frightening, and she found she liked this version as much as the other.

"Do I have to choose just one?" she whispered back.

She felt him catch his breath. "Never" he growled.

"Then first...I...I want you to...finger me. F-finger my pussy." Just hearing her own voice say such things made her sex...her cunt, she thought with an even deeper blush, throb with pleasure. Her pulsing lips were soon after parted and she felt his finger penetrate her easily, prising her open as her reward. She groaned as she felt him moving inside of her, rhythmically caressing the walls of her passage, quickly making her writhe beneath him. His mouth soon returned to her breast, nipping at each until he settled at the same breast he'd fed from during his uninvited visit, and she felt the tips of his fangs come to rest over her heart. 

She was preparing herself for his bite when she felt a whole new sensation as a second finger entered her and stretched her open around him. As it did he sank his fangs into her and the combined sensations of his fingers and teeth piercing her were overwhelming. She bucked against him with a strangled cry as the heat and lightening tore through her making her tight passage clench down around his invading fingers. 

Her cry turned thick as her sex throbbed. He moved inside her again, sliding his fingers from her, only to penetrate her again, repeating the motion over and over with greater speed until he was thrusting into her hard and fast. She bucked beneath him caught in an unending wave of orgasmic release.

Jairus watched her contort beneath him as he slid his fangs from her breast. He had trouble pulling away, but he needed not to take too much from her, and the night was still young. His cock ached to be inside her, to feel the heat of her, to feel her tight walls clenching around him. 

But, he also wanted to prolong this, to do all the things he'd fantasized about doing to her as he'd held her in the darkness, taking her blood and feeling her essence pulsing with life through his veins. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to claim every inch of her body. 

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. They were near black with desire, and a fire he knew well reflected in her eyes. He slowed his fingers and drew them from her body. They were coated with her slick juices and he licked them, tasting her sweet cum. And it was sweet. Sweet and fresh, with a slight musky tang. He looked back at her face and saw her watching him with a mixture of surprise and excitement. He smiled darkly and slid both fingers into his mouth, pulling the rest of her essence off his fingers with his tongue. Her body writhed with obvious rekindled lust at the sight and he enjoyed the enticing picture she made. 

She looked as though she were about to raise herself, so he adjusted quickly seizing her legs and kneeling between them. He grabbed her ass, perhaps too roughly, but at this point he had trouble maintaining a semblance of gentleness, and she was forced back onto the bed. He gripped and massaged her firm round rear and hauled her up to him even as he plunged his mouth between her soft white thighs, and, without the usual courteous preliminaries he might normally have offered, he shoved his tongue inside of her, impatiently coating his tongue in more of that warm musky liquid. 

Her hips jerked and she let out a cry, but he held her tightly, forcing his tongue as deep into her heat as he could, imagining the rock hard flesh straining between his legs were in its place. He lapped at her, pierced her, and pulled her juices into his mouth, than began to rhythmically fuck her. Her hips continued to jerk against his tongue, but her slim fingers threaded through his hair reassured him it was not in resistance. 

He continued to consume her with his mouth, until he felt a hot rush of fluid against his lips and over his tongue. He lapped at her greedily, only barely aware that he was growling almost continuously against her pulsating cunt. 

If he was painfully aroused before, he was mad with lust now. The heat of her, the feeling of her cumming in his mouth sent waves of blinding hunger through him. Not for her blood, but for something else. He practically snarled as he gripped her hips and raised himself to his knees again, hauling her towards him possessively. He looked down at her spread thighs with an almost animal desire, watching as his straining erection was poised tantalizingly close to the parted and swollen lips of her entrance. She was delicious looking, pink and shining with her own cum and his saliva. 

He knew she'd never done this, and part of him knew he should stop, ask her again if this was what she wanted, give her the chance to say no...but that part of him was buried deep beneath the creature in him, the monster that lurked beneath the surface. Now he was that monster, demanding and brutal. And this warm ripe body beneath him, trembling in his hands called to him and demanded that he take what was his, what the vampire had long ago claimed when he'd first tasted the aphrodisiac that flowed through her veins. 

He positioned the head of his cock, already beginning to glisten with the lubrication that had begun to seep out and coat the hard tip. With one hand he held her ass up to him and used the other to rub her spread lips with his swollen head. He slid it along the silky folds with a groan, coating the head with her wetness. He had control at least to keep his mind straight enough to make sure he paid vigorous attention to her tiny swollen clit, courting his desire with his own. 

She gasped repeatedly as he rubbed himself against her and he watched her trembling open mouth from dark heavily lidded eyes. When her hips began to rock in time with his he finally pressed his cock against the slitted red entrance, spreading her with his fingers. He groaned and rolled his eyes as the head slowly forced its way inside her. He felt her stretch to accommodate him. 

She made whimpering gasping sounds, as her body took in more than she had ever before, and her body shook from the sensation. He continued to rock in her, enjoying the feeling and provoking torture of having little more than his head pressed inside of her tight opening. He also had enough sense in him to allow her to adjust at least a little before he finally forced himself inside her.

However, the moment her whimpers began to turn to moans his control crumbled and he pulled all but the very tip from her and thrust with one long deep stroke into her, feeling her stretch tightly around him and snarled in triumph. In his blind lust he was only barely aware of her crying out, and though he heard it could not stop himself from thrusting even deeper, filling her completely until all of him was surrounded by her silky throbbing flesh. The feeling was heaven, was bliss. The searing heat and the incredible tightness of her around him was mind shattering.

Thea moaned low in her throat as the initial burning sensation of being stretched around his manhood slowly eased into a slow pulse, a pulse that sent dark, hot waves of pleasure over her entire body. He picked up speed, his shallow thrusts becoming longer until she felt him pull almost entirely out. 

He paused a moment, then without warning pushed hard and fast inside of her, and she felt herself spread open. The pain was a red electric shock that made her cry out and pant. He didn't stop but pressed on until she felt he could go no further. Her stomach cramped at being so filled and her whole sex burned. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and gritted her teeth against the knotted cramp that had formed in her stomach. The effort made her shudder. She knew she couldn't stop him, so it was best, she thought, to ride it through. Perhaps it would fade she comforted herself, like the initial pain of his bite. She waited for his next thrust, but it didn't come. 

She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his face a mixture of pain and desire. The terrifying wild look that had come over him seemed to have dissipated, though only just a little. He'd been like an animal as he'd devoured her with his mouth, stabbing at her and making that low purring growl that had sent her over the edge and made her blind with white heat and delirious vibrations. The thought made the walls of her aching pussy throb around the staff filling her and the strange mixture of pain and pleasure forced a broken moan from her lips. He eased both of them onto the bed, still buried inside of her, and lowered himself onto his elbows. He hung his head down and very carefully touched his forehead to hers. His sudden tenderness surprised and moved her.

"Are you alright?" His voice came out in a deep harsh growl that made her throb again, sending more painful pleasure coursing through her limbs.

She nodded, unable to find her voice. He lay a hand on her head and smoothed her hair in an affectionate caress that made her mouth sigh against his. His lips parted to catch that sigh, and he dragged his mouth over hers in a long, slow, but very thorough kiss. As she kissed him back, she felt one large hand find the slope of her breast and caressed it teasingly, dragging a slow thumb over the nipple. He continued to mate his mouth with hers and to tease and flick her hardened nipple until she couldn't help but gasp and moan against his mouth in sheer pleasure. It felt like they stayed that way forever, though it could only have been a moment. It was an eternal moment. 

To her surprise she felt him move inside her, though he remained perfectly still. Her own hips had betrayed her and were rocking against his, cradling him. The pain, as she had hoped had receded, and though still there, was numbed by the flood of more enjoyable sensations that were beginning to course through her. He moved also, slowly at first, letting her natural movements set his pace. Though not for long, and he rapidly increased the length and speed of his thrusts and she in turn increased hers. When he pulled his mouth from her she could see the darkness in him rising once more to the surface and she felt a fearful excitement course through her and set her alight. He pressed his palms onto the bed and lifted himself from her, sliding his thick cock until once again only the tip remained, and she watched as his face contorted into that same dark smile he'd worn before he'd taken her the first time, and she trembled with uncontrollable excitement. It was a smile she knew would forever haunt her dreams. 

She watched as his fangs extended again and shuddered. 

"Watch". He ordered with a sensuous leer.

She obeyed and turned her eyes to the torturous, erotic sight of his manhood waiting ready at the entrance of her sex, holding her open with the bulging tip. He shifted his hips once, then thrust up into her, burying himself completely and ramming the back walls of her depths. She gasped with something that wasn't quite pain and groaned as he twisted his hips against her. She watched mesmerized, her eyes fixed to where their bodies were joined, as he withdrew again before thrusting deep and hard inside of her once more. He continued his long hard thrusts until once again she felt her body adjust to him and demand more. She wriggled against him urging him on, anxious to feel him go faster. 

He continued his measured assault without let. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing him into her, her fingers slowly turning to claws as she strained against him needing to feel more of him inside of her. Still he continued unheeding. She gazed up into his darkened eyes and saw a laughing sadism there. He was doing it on purpose; he knew he was driving her mad.

"Faster." 

She wasn't begging this time, it was a demand. She let out a growl of frustration and thrust her hips up to meet his. He snarled back and ripped out of her. Before she could react he flipped her on to her stomach and pulled her thighs wide apart, kneeling again between them. She struggled to right herself, but he grabbed her hips, his finger digging into the soft flesh with rough bruising hands. It should have hurt, but it only seemed to add to her need and desire, pulling a broken groan from her throat. He dragged her hips back until she was on her knees, her hands pushing her up. His fingers spread her wide and she gasped again as his cock was buried inside of her. This time however, there were no measured even strokes, no teasing, just hard, fast, jerking thrusts. 

He pounded into her, each time slamming against her walls and making her jerk forward until all she did was press her face into the covers and grip the sheets as he continued to punish her raised and proffered pussy. 

He let loose all his control and just took her, fucked her, and hard. Her body jerked with each thrust and he gripped her soft round backside, watching with dark satisfaction as his fingers imprinted themselves like brands into the flesh. 

She was soon groaning into the blankets and he could feel her tightness begin to throb steadily around him. He reached beneath her and found her hard nub, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. 




Fire Ch. 03



Her groans became cries, each one a little louder and wilder than the last. He was close, and he could feel she was too. He reached out and fisted his hand in her hair. He pulled her head up to his, forcing her back into a stunning white arc.

"Yes" she hissed reaching back for him and pulling his head to her. 

He saw red. He thrust even harder and buried his fangs deeply and roughly into her neck and sucked hard at her wounded skin.

She let out a high pitch cry and he felt her clamp down around him, sucking and pulling at his cock. He managed one more violent thrust before it proved too much and he came explosively inside her as her climaxing body milked him greedily. He shot rope after rope of cum inside her, filling her even as he took from her. He released her throat with a groan as he spilled his last and sat back onto his knees, and held her gasping and convulsing body against his. 

Slowly his arousal abated and breath returned, but he made no move until he felt her own convulsions stop and she let out a shuddering sigh. He lapped at her throat and bit his lower lip, pressing the blood against the brutal looking tear he'd left in her neck. 

His first wave of guilt washed over him at the sight. He'd been too rough with her, far too rough. He'd been out of control, nearly the entire time. He was glad he'd found the strength to at least ask her permission once before he'd practically eaten her alive. 

She made no attempt to pull away, either in fear or anger, so that gave him consolation. She felt very limp in his arms however, and he wondered if she was even conscious.

"Thea?" He whispered softly in her ear, his voice still horse with passion.

"Hmmm?" she murmured back, with a soft groan.

"Are you alright?"

She didn't answer.

He lay her down carefully on her side and stretched out alongside of her looking into her face, watching for emotion. She blinked at him and frowned, then reached out and weakly tugged him towards her. He did as she wished and she curled up against his chest laying her cheek against him and closing her eyes. He smiled tenderly at her in relief and tucked one arm under her head, and pulled her tighter to him with the other. 

Her soft purr of contentment melted the icy ring of fear that had gripped his chest and he too closed his eyes, happy to think of nothing but the feel of her soft body against his. It was enough that there was this now, all else would wait. What came tomorrow, was only tomorrow.



Fire Ch. 04



Hi all, thanks for waiting, it's been a long month. I have the next chapter well on the way, so it shouldn't take quite as long...theoretically. ^^

I know some of you were happy where it ended last chapter, and who can blame you, so feel free to leave it at that...however, if you want to see how all this ends, stay tuned. Same bat-time, same bat-channel.

yours

-enithermon

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

Thea woke into a dream. The windowless room was dark, too large to be her room, the tapers had burnt themselves to nothing and the fire had nearly died and smoldered only very gently, casting the faintest of glows into the room. The chairs were outlined by the fires dim light, but the rest of the room, including the bed was lost in shadow.

There was no way to know what time it was in this windowless place, but something told her it was day. The room was cold and dark, but the bed was comfortable, and the sheets still warm from her body. She tucked herself more deeply into them to escape the chill and found her body wasn't the only one warming the sheets. Her hand brushed something smooth and warm. She reached out and followed the length of it. It was an arm. She stiffened. Her fingers found fingers, and she breathed in wonder as they wrapped around hers and contracted. Her heart fluttered, and she fought the fog of sleep that hung over her and felt out the shape of her memories as they came flowing back to her.

"Oh" she whispered softly. She remembered. She remembered all of it.

She pulled away and sat up. She was naked. She covered herself with the blanket and looked down at the body next to her. It was too dark to see his face, but she didn't need to, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. She slid out of the bed and looked for her dress in the darkness. She tiptoed around the bed, not finding it on her side. She tried to be quite, but the cold on her bare skin and the aches of her body, and the call of her memories made her breath hard. To make matters worse she nearly tripped over her clothes once she found them. She bent down to collect them and felt a hand grasp her wrist. She could make out the arm in the darkness as her eyes adjusted, but the mouth that spoke fell into the shadow that her body cast over it.

"Where are you going?"

His voice was a warm whisper. She shivered.

"It's day...I have work..."

She could only whisper back, but she was grateful her voice had not betrayed her by trembling.

"I see." was all he said and his arm returned to the darkness. She saw him lay still, his eyes glinting briefly, then turn away. Thea felt her throat close and an inexplicable sensation run through her. She had to get out of there. She almost dashed to the door her sudden apprehension causing her to forget she was still nude. She pulled the dress over her head quickly and found the handle in the gloom. She cast one last look to the bed and saw nothing to give her fear or comfort.

"sleep well" she whispered softly into the darkness before slipping quickly out the door.

The hall was, to her relief, empty. She pressed her back against the door and heaved a shaking breath. Why was she so afraid? Or was this fear? What was this tightness in her chest? She shook her head to clear it, but to no avail. She felt bleary and light headed. From sleep, or blood loss, or something else, she couldn't tell. She pushed away from the door and walked stiffly to her room, closing it softly behind her. 

This room was even colder. She lit the fire and sat frozen in the little chair before it. Her hands began to tremble, and she fought to still them. Her breathing became rapid and the trembling flowed from her hands to the rest of her as she was barraged by a sudden onslaught of thoughts and emotions, none of which were coherent, but which were powerful enough to make her whimper in submission to them.

Had she not gone there thinking that this was what she wanted, that he was what she wanted? Everything had just happened, felt right, felt incredible...but now? Now, again, she wasn't sure how it felt. All she knew was that the moment she let herself think about it she had trouble breathing, it was too much. He was too overwhelming; she could so easily lose herself in him. He would drown her.

She'd started it though, hadn't she, and not him? But, then, he'd certainly finished it. Her hands began trembling again. She still couldn't believe she'd kissed him like that. 

It was as though she'd lost all control over herself, the impulse was too great, she had needed to touch him so badly. He had been so kind to say the things he said, and the caring, the pain in his voice when he'd said it had made her fall apart and destroyed her reserve. She'd been like a cup over-filled. 

But then the things he'd done to her afterward, said to her, those weren't gentle...the things she'd wanted to do to him, begged him to do...she flushed. What must he think of her? Then again, what had he already thought when he stole into her cottage all those nights before? 

She'd never felt so raw, so vulnerable. This unnerved her more than anything else. What would she say to him, what could she say? How could she look him in the eye? It was hard enough already to remain calm, to keep her control. She knew the minute she'd see him she'd fall apart. 

"How am I to face him now?" she murmured.

***

Jairus rose early. He hadn't slept again after she'd left and taken the warmth that had eased his chest with her. Her brief words and quick flight had brought back his previous heaviness, and he'd lain awake feeling the menacing icy fingers wind through him once more. As he dressed he contemplated his circumstances. She had come to him, told him she'd stay, despite what he'd been doing to her, kissed him, let him take her, and he'd promptly turned into a wild bloody animal and scared her off, just like he'd been dreading he would. 

Was he trying to test her limits? Did he actually 

want her to go?

"You're doing a damn fine job of it then." He growled at himself as he straightened his jerkin and grabbed his cloak. There was something tucked inside. He pulled out the necklace. He'd completely forgotten about it. Should he give it to her? No. If she stayed and he earned her trust, he'd give it to her then. He'd feel like he was trying to buy her if he did now. Or worse, she'd think he was. 

He threw his cloak over his arm and made his way to the library. He still couldn't help the small smile that fleeted across his face as he passed her room. Even tainted with fear and regret, last night had still left him feeling a little light headed. She had seemed so willing, so responsive...had he just imagined that? He sighed and settled himself into a chair and stared off at the far wall. He heard a skirt rustle behind him and his gut lurched a little before he sensed it was May. 

"'How're you today master?" He could never get her to get rid of that 'master' habit.

"Just Jairus, May." That didn't mean he wouldn't stop trying. 'Master' made his skin creep, it's what slaves called those who whipped them. 

"As you say Master" He heard the smile in her voice and rolled his eyes. She was still lurking behind him.

"Is there something you needed?"

"Not at all just, checking to see if our young lady came back yet. She left a while ago and we haven't seen hide nor hair of her since. I thought she'd want something to eat since she skipped her other meals. She doesn't eat nearly enough."

His gut did clench then, and he resisted the urge to jump from his chair. Gone? So soon? He closed his eyes and calmed himself. What did he expect? He swallowed.

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No didn't say anything. Nothing's wrong, is it?" 

He turned to look at her over his shoulder and she gave him one of her less than subtle looks. 

He'd accuse her of being nosy, but then they hadn't been all that quiet last night. He almost smiled again, but the urge was quickly quashed by the fact that she'd left and hadn't returned, and there was still another hour before it was reasonable for him to leave. Even at twilight he was pushing it, but she had half a day's head start, and who knows which direction she could have gone. There were at least three villages she could get to on foot not including her own. He turned away.

"When did she leave?" He asked, forgetting her question.

"Not more than three hours ago I think."

"Thank you May." 

"Certainly." He heard her shuffle about a bit more before returning to the kitchen. 

His fingers bit into the arms of the chair. three hours. He could certainly find her tonight then, she couldn't have gotten too far, and she wouldn't be that hard to track, he knew her scent. He would find her. He would apologize, and if he had to he would get on his knees and beg. He may have been able to let her walk away last night...maybe, but not anymore. 

Now he'd had her, all of her, and the having only fueled his desire. There was no way he could go back now, and he had absolutely no intentions of being reasonable about it. She would just have to accept his apology and come home or....well he hadn't gotten that far, but he had at least an hour to come up with something.

*** 

She'd been walking the woods for hours, but her head still didn't feel any clearer. Thea sighed for the fiftieth time and kicked at an acorn with the toe of her boot. It was hopeless. She'd managed to calm herself down since the morning, but she still couldn't shake her apprehension. 

Hadn't she already had this conversation with herself? That was why she went to him in the first place...of course she hadn't expected everything that happened last night, well everything after she'd kissed him that is. All that had been...well, there wasn't really a word that came close to describing it. Even the pain had been...well there wasn't a word for that either. What blurred memory she had was a warmth in her body, she'd been contented even, so why all this angst now? 

"You are the single most foolish creature I have ever known Thea." She muttered to herself kicking another acorn. 

It wasn't so much what had happened so much as what happened next, this much she had figured out. What happened when she became so attached that she couldn't tear herself from him, and what happened after that when he finally grew bored with her. He was a vampire after all. He'd told her he was old, and yet he retained his youth. She would not, and he would no doubt find someone else to amuse himself with. This was a thought she could not bear. If she let herself become too attached...which she would if she kept this up, and if he pushed her aside, then it would have been better if he had never cut her from that post in the first place. 

She kicked another acorn despondently. This one made a funny sound and she looked up enough to see why, then looked down again with a blush.

"Ah, um, good evening" she said to the boot that had stopped her acorn.

"Good evening."

His voice was barely more than a whisper. It flowed under her skin and made her warm from the inside out. 'See!' Cried the little voice, 'see what he does to you.' She cleared her throat. 

"I'm just heading in." She ventured to raise her eyes, though only to his chest. "Are...are you headed out for the evening?"

"I was."

She nodded. "Then I'll leave you too it." She took a breath and walked past him, forcing herself to not veer too far around, lest she appeared as nervous as she was. She made it past without breaking down and was relived until she felt a hand grip her arm.

She forced herself to turn, to look him in the eye. They were dark and inscrutable. She looked away again.

"You're staying?"

"I said I would" She almost added 'last night' but was afraid for her self-control if she conjured those images in his presence. His fingers were warm through her sleeve. He didn't let go, and she didn't pull away. He looked so normal again, so calm and reserved. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to keep her head around him she considered. He took a step toward her, standing over her, his body leaning into her. Then again, perhaps not. 

"There's no need to be afraid of me Thea"

"I'm not"

"Your shaking ."

"It's cold."

"Thea..." he warned. 

She blushed at her stupid lie, it was the warmest evening they'd had in a week.

"I'm not afraid."

'of you' she qualified silently.

"Then why do you tremble? Why won't you look me 

in the eye?" 

She reluctantly met his gaze again. Oh god he had amazing eyes, the deep brown centers practically glowed with intensity. She tried to keep her breath from quickening, but did a poor job of it.

"Thea...last night, if I hurt you, frightened you, I'm sorry." It was his turn to break his eyes away. "My...enthusiasm got the better of me."

"I...I'm fine. It's fine." she said feebly. He gazed down at her, his eyes searching hers once more. She wanted to tear her eyes from his, to hide, to curl up in a little ball. She couldn't bear the thought of him seeing her desperate desire, her pathetic need, written in her eyes. 

So she did the only reasonable thing and straightened her back, tipped her chin up and met his gaze as calmly and coldly as she could, doing her damnedest to shield her heart from his eyes.

He held her a moment longer than dropped his hands and stepped away, creating a gap between them that Thea tried not to feel too deeply. He took another step back and also straightened himself, his own eyes turning cool to match hers. 

The warmth of his touch, his gaze, fled and she was more than half tempted to run after it, to throw herself into his arms and lose herself in him like she had last night. 

She remained rooted to the spot and watched in silence as he nodded to her and slipped off once more into the night. She thought, for a moment, that she read an emotion in his features, a pain, or sadness perhaps. But she might just have wanted to see it, to convince herself he had not walked away from her quite so easily as he seemed to. 

Jairus watched her from the shadow of an ancient leaning oak as she slowly turned away and made her way back. He'd been stunned and more than pleased to find she had not left. So stunned he'd said nothing until she had already moved past him. 

His 'apology' had been less than satisfactory. He had thought of much better things to say as he'd waited for twilight to darken, but those thoughts fled when he'd felt her shaking with fear in his hands. How could she fear him that much? Had he hurt her so badly? And the way she'd looked at him, suddenly reserved and detached, had made his chest ache. She did not forgive him. But she was not leaving. He leaned against a tree and stared off into the space where she had once stood. It might be enough that she would stay he assured himself, it was hope. Even if it meant he would have to stay away from her then he would do it. Maybe she just needed time. Maybe he could still make her love him. 

Love him? He wondered where that thought had come from. He whispered it aloud. It sounded strange on his lips. 

The last time he'd used that word he'd said it to the woman who'd turned him, and that was over two centuries ago. He'd said it before then, but he'd never believed he meant it. He smiled wryly at the memory. 'But, I love you' he'd said as he'd begged her to stay. It was less than a year before she'd had her fill of him and had turned her thoughts to others. He'd found her with one of them. He'd chased him off, and she'd gotten angry with him for spoiling her fun and had left. When he told her he loved her, she'd only laughed. 'Jairus,' she'd murmured in her deep honeyed voice, 'love is such a dirty word.' Her laughter had rung in his ears for years afterward, but soon enough he found he was laughing along. 

This didn't seem quite so funny. Did he love this proud young thing? He no longer believed he had ever loved his sire, just lusted after her, held in thrall as very young men some times are by incredible beauty and voracious sensuality. She had been, and still was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but her effect on his body was the only thing she held in common with Thea. 

Sweet, earnest Thea, whose incredible sensuality was a blessing not a weapon. 

It was more than possible, he admitted after a long moment. 

***

Thea was used to seeing Jairus for no more than an hour or so each night, with the occasional rare exception when he didn't go out at all, but it had been five nights since their brief encounter in the woods and there hadn't been a single sign of him. 

She'd been glad of it at first, not willing to face him again until she'd gotten her emotions under better control, but by the third day the desire to be near him was quickly out weighing the discomfort her attraction to him wrought, and her emotions were no more under control than they had been two days before. Today she'd done nothing but put herself into a tizzy thinking about him, wondering if he had already tired of her and her foolish behavior. It wouldn't surprise her. She was certainly tired of it. It was beginning to show.

May, who had taken to being something of a mother hen, seemed to be doing her best not to pester Thea, though she did give her some rather pointed looks. It wasn't until Thea dropped the kettle for the third time, this time on her foot, that May had asked her what was wrong. Thea of course brushed it off as a bad day, but she'd felt them all watching her the rest of the day...or at least she imagined she did. She wondered how much they knew, and that uncertainty made her avoid all company, all save the one person who didn't seem to be around.

Now she stood at the end of the downstairs hall watching as the main door clicked shut, and watching Tim as he looked up at her, holding her eyes a moment and nodding towards the door before going in for dinner. She waited until he'd gone then half ran down the hall, slipping through the still unlocked door. She had thought she heard his voice and came down to try to catch sight of him, only to find him already gone. 

The weather had turned cold again, and she hugged her arms as she walked out into the crisp evening, the curled dry leaves crunching noisily beneath her feet. The moon was high and bright, but he was nowhere to be seen. Of course she knew from experience that he could still be close, he seemed to meld into shadows even under the brightest moons.

"Jairus, are you there?" She called softly, hesitantly. She waited. There was no answer. Even the night itself was silent, as if it too was listening for an answer.

She sighed and turned back. It was no use, clearly he did not want to speak to her. She wondered suddenly if he'd been feeding elsewhere since he hadn't come to her. The thought annoyed her. She pushed it out of her mind. She had no reason to be annoyed. It was none of her business, and besides, it wasn't his fault she could make up her mind.

Thea decided to skip dinner and shut herself into the library instead and curled up in one of the larger chairs with a random book she pulled off the shelf. She opened it and let her eyes trip over the neatly printed black letters as her mind wandered elsewhere.

***

He gauged it was at least two when he returned, having done little more than prowl his territory aimlessly. He was between jobs, and wasn't in the mood to go looking for blood, even though he could feel the cravings begin to itch at the corners of his mind. He didn't want to bother Thea, but he couldn't bring himself to go elsewhere either. 

Jairus opened the study door and knew she was there the moment he entered. His hunger rose at the scent of her. He suppressed it and looked around the back of a chair to find her asleep, her arms and legs pulled against her body so that she was curled in on herself. It didn't look very comfortable. He leaned in and gingerly slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her and pulling her against his chest. 




Fire Ch. 04



Her eyelids fluttered and she made a mewling sound, but remained asleep. He could feel his fangs extending automatically at the nearness of her, and he shifted her quickly to a nearby settee before he decided to take advantage of the situation. He removed his cloak and covered her, moving away. 

He watched her a little longer, though from a safe distance, trying desperately not to think of the warmth of her body, her hot blood, smooth skin...he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Jairus?"

The breath caught in his throat and he looked slowly up. She was sitting up, looking down at the cloak then back up to him. 

"Yes?"

She didn't answer. Her eyes seemed to shine, glinting with something that made his heart begin to pound in his chest. She stood slowly, draping the cloak conscientiously over the back of the couch. She approached him, but stopped when she was just out of reach. He wondered if that was intentional, or just instinctive.

"Have you fed?" she asked softly, looking up at him with her soft shining doe eyes.

"No." He watched an odd expression flit across her face.

"You should." They stood there, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity before he nodded in agreement and began to turn away to excuse himself. He didn't trust himself. His blood was pounding a little too hard in his ears, her scent was filling his lungs, making his mouth water.

She stopped him when she raised her arm. She held it out in front of her, fingers curling into her palm, wrist up turned. He gazed down at the pale blue vein under white skin and choked back a groan. 

His gaze traveled up her arm and into her face. She looked calm enough, if not a little flushed. His eyes lowered to her mouth. Her lips parted slightly, as if they felt his eyes on them. He lingered there, remembering the feel of them against his, imagining his tongue sliding between them. 

He swallowed and tore his gaze away, only to have it linger on her throat instead. In the periphery of his vision he saw her arm lower and she took another step toward him, then another. She pulled her hair to one side and tipped her head slightly. 

He closed the gap and reached for her before his thoughts registered his actions, his hand stopping just before he touched the smooth flesh, tracing the curve of her neck through the air just above the skin. His hand shook imperceptibly as he brought his mouth to her, hovering less than a breath away. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He could hear the quickness of her breath, the rapid pounding of her heart. His hunger was ready, waiting.

With a barely audible moan he gave in, capturing her neck with his fingers even as the skin broke around his fangs and the searing blood welled up from the opened wound. 

Thea couldn't contain the low groan that emanated from her as she felt her blood begin to flow. She was already electrified. She had been since he`d open his eyes and she`d seen the look he gave her. She hadn't really needed to ask if he`d fed, the look in his eyes had been the same one he`d had when he`d watched her naked on his bed. 

That thought had spurred her on. Even when he`d turn away, she couldn`t help but offer herself. She wanted desperately to feel him, feel his heat inside her, one way or another, whatever the cost. 

When his hunger won out and he moved to claim her, she almost whimpered in relief. 

This time instead of fighting it, she relished the heated arousal that pumped through her and sighed with pleasure, wrapping her arms around him, threading her fingers around his neck. This must be what silk feels like, she thought as she smoothed the short locks of his hair that caressed her cheek. 

He nuzzled the crook of her neck, his mouth and tongue coaxing a steady stream of appreciative sounds from her as he drank. Her heart pounded in her ears and set the rhythm for the throbbing of her body. She could feel the room dissolve and her legs give out as the first red wave washed through her. She closed her eyes and let the wave buoy her up, or drown her as it pleased, letting it sweep her away.

He should never have waited so long to feed. It took every ounce of his control to pull slowly and gently from her. As elated as he was that she had melted so easily into his arms, her apparently willingness and the intensely arousing sounds she was making were rapidly destroying all his good intentions about trying to take his time with her. He groaned as he felt her fingers press him to her, caressing his jaw and neck absently, unaware of the effect her caress was having on him.

She leaned into him, and he released her throat just long enough to scoop her into his arms and get them both into the nearest chair with her settled snugly in his lap. 

He paused to collect himself, an attempt which was again spoilt by Thea as she leaned into him and leisurely opened her eyes into his. They radiated desire. He ground his jaw as he felt himself pressed hard and throbbing against her thigh. She leaned in closer until their breath mingled and he felt her soft breasts crushing up against him. 'One kiss won't hurt' he rationalized belatedly as his mouth moved softly against hers. 

Her honeyed mouth parted for him and he accepted the invitation eagerly, sliding his tongue slowly and suggestively between her rose petal lips only to find her own moving enthusiastically to meet his, mating with him with long sensual movements. 

He captured and sucked at it, making her moan, and making his own hips grind upwards into her warm bottom. She was emanating heat, her whole being a flame that he was irresistibly drawn to. He broke the kiss and returned to her throat, though a little more voraciously this time, sucking at her neck, leaving little red marks of desire before reopening the wound. 

Thea thrilled as she felt his hands begin to explore her body and intentionally shifted her hips to press herself against his rather prominent erection. He groaned against her throat and she sighed with pleasure at the sound. 

He couldn't be all that upset with her she thought with a dark smile and shifted again, sliding her hand between them and pressing her palm against the bulge there. Her fingers were pulling at the laces, seemingly of their own accord, just as one of his hands began sliding up her thigh. She managed to fumble open his breeches and slip in her hand awkwardly, her fingers finding and wrapping around the searingly hot and wonderfully smooth prize she found there. His hand found her heat at nearly the same time, sliding over and between the already slick folds of her sex. 

Someone gasped, and someone moaned, but she couldn't really tell where one was beginning and the other ending. Their bodies seemed to melt together and their hands collaborated instinctively seeking the others pleasure. 

Thea wondered fleetingly if she knew what she was doing, or how to do it, but he appeared to be content to let her continue. More than content it seemed. His mouth found hers again and his kiss was almost bruising in its ferocity. 

She tasted blood and realized it must be hers, still lingering on his tongue. The thought made her even more electric, if that were possible, and she writhed in his lap, working her hand rhythmically around his arousal and whimpering against his mouth as he slid two fingers deeply inside her. His thumb moved against that sensitive place he seemed to good at finding and her whimpers turned to breathy gasps. 

She was already so worked up that it took no more than a few firm thrusts on his part before she broke their desperate kiss and buried her head against his neck and panted as her body clenched and jumped against his hand. He kept moving inside her, prolonging the body twisting contractions that wracked her until she clung to him making wild incoherent sounds. 

It took her a moment to recover herself and she breathed shakily as his hand slid wetly from her. 

Her hand, she noticed, was still gently squeezing his still very hard cock, and the way it pulsed made her heat up all over again. She began stroking him more rapidly, her head still tucked against his shoulder, and soaked in the low growling purr that came from his chest and reverberated through her. 

She could feel him breathing harder, and she watched in fascination as he jerked in her hand. She was so enraptured with what she was doing that she started when his hands grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

"Thea.." He groaned breathlessly, "you're going to have to stop that."

Jairus held himself back as he tried to pry her hands gently from his aching cock. Gods but they felt good wrapped around him. She looked up at him from her shoulder, her eyes wide and black, her mouth swollen and ravenous and he almost lost it again. 

"Am I doing it wrong? It's not good?" her voice was a throaty whisper and he felt his cock twitch against her hand again. He was having trouble getting her to let go.

"A little too good. If you don't stop now I'm going to make a mess of you." He tried to smile, but it felt like a grimace.

"Can I do something else?" She asked, all intensity and eagerness. For the love of god woman, he thought, you're killing me. He repeated the mantra of 'go slow' 'be gentle' over and over in his head, but that still didn't keep his eyes from slipping briefly to her red lips with a longing glance. 

He wasn't sure if she noticed the glance, if he'd said something without noticing or if she just read his mind but she pulled away and tilted her head at him and arched a brow. "My mouth?" 

He opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out. A small smile twitched the corner of her mouth and she slid off his lap and onto the floor, taking him in hand, as it were, and looking up at him uncertainly. Finally he coughed and managed to find his voice.

"You don't have to do that." He grabbed her shoulders to pull her back up to him, but stopped short when her little pink tongue whipped out and lashed the swollen head. He froze and swore. He watched, still gripping her shoulders as she lapped at him again drawing low sounds from his throat. She continued, licking at him like a cat with a bowl of milk. 

He shuddered and closed his eyes releasing her shoulders and running his hands through her hair instead, letting himself enjoy her cool wet tongue as it both soothed and inflamed his painful arousal. He could only smile at the purring sound she made as he caressed her hair and face. Definitely like a cat, he thought, then gasped sharply and opened his eyes, watching in a haze of desire as her lips engulfed him completely. 

His fingers clenched in her hair and his hips moved unconsciously. 'Gentle' he warned himself and growled as he forced himself to be still and unclenched his fingers. 

He swore again and strained against the urge to thrust back as her mouth slid down his length and up again. He'd be lucky if he stood another ten seconds of this. It wasn't even as if she was doing anything in particular to push him over the edge, it was just her. Her mouth wrapped around him. Her dark shining eyes looking up at him. Her sweet little body writhing on the floor in front of him. Her.

His ten seconds was more than up. He gripped her hair again.

"Thea," he warned, "I don't think I can.." 

She pushed down as he spoke, sucking at him, and he never quite got the words out. He came with a jerk when he felt his head press against the back of her throat. He heard her make a sound like a squeak and released her hair so she could pull away. She didn't and he rolled his eyes in his head as she swallowed with his pulsing arousal still deep in her mouth, gripping him almost painfully. After a moment she released him, dragging him slowly from her mouth. He saw a streak of white on her tongue as she pulled away and breathed with a hiss at the sight. He thought he could feel himself begin to harden again it was such an erotic image.

He looked into her eyes, which were wide and dazed, and felt instantly guilty, his instantly renewed arousal forgotten. 

He pulled her up then and back into his lap, tucking her up against him. She rejoined him willingly and curled into him, laying her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut. He liked how she felt in his arms, and her warm smell, it was oddly comforting. He shook his head slightly at himself. 'You're getting soft old man' he thought wryly. 

Her breathing was much slower, and he thought she must have fallen asleep. He rose grudgingly, knowing he should probably get her to bed. It was late and she looked a bit pale. Maybe May was right, she probably wasn't eating enough. 

He left his cloak and carried her up to her room, adjusting her slightly and pushing it with her shoulder. He felt her hand reach up and touch his cheek. He looked down at her as he laid her on the bed, leaning down, so that her fingers could linger on his skin. He was loathe to pull away from it. But he must. Even after all that he was in danger of getting carried away and demanding even more of her if he didn't put some distance between them.

"You look very serious, are you still upset with me? She asked softly. He frowned.

"Why would I be upset with you?"

"For my poor behaviour." He let out a dry laugh.

"If anyone should apologize it's me Thea."

She shook her head at him and yawned. "You did nothing wrong."

"I frightened you." She shook her head again. 

"Then what are you so afraid of?" She didn't answer, only blushed and looked away. "See. I can hardly hold that against you though. I promise to be more careful." She looked at him again with furrowed brows.

"But.." He cut her off by kissing her lips gently.

"Go to sleep." He pulled the blankets over her and she sighed. Giving in and curling up. He allowed himself one last caress and smoothed a stray hair from her forehead. 

"Sleep well" She murmured from under the covers. He smiled back at her and closed the door softly behind him.

**

Thea woke up with a pounding headache and a growling stomach. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and blinked at the ceiling. She'd had another dream about Jairus. It had started out like some of the others, only this time it was in the library, and she'd actually used her mouth on him. The memory of the dream was vivid and exceedingly arousing. She frowned. Hadn't she been in the library? She didn't remember going to bed...she flushed. It hadn't been a dream at all. He'd brought her here. That explained why she was still in her day clothes. 

She arose, still groggy and fully dressed and washed up quickly, her thoughts fluctuating rapidly between happy excitement and her previous nervous anxiety. She changed into something less wrinkled and made her way to the kitchen, determined to overcome her hesitation and accept what life had thrown at her. Why shouldn't she have pleasure after all? So what if it was short lived, at least it was better than more loneliness.

Her mind made up, more or less, she set about her late breakfast like a starving woman, and went about her chores with a much lighter heart. She even had a rare conversation with Tim about rabbit snares, and he very politely listened to what she had to say on the matter over dinner. May just beamed that Thea had finally shown up to eat. That made Thea feel more than a little guilty. It was so easy to please the woman, and her morose self-pitying had gotten in the way of that.

After dinner Thea went to the library hoping to catch Jairus before he left for the evening, just to be certain that she hadn't imagined most of the previous night.

It didn't take long and she heard him talking to Tim out in the hall and went to investigate. He was standing by the door, dressed to leave. They both looked up and saw her. 

Timothy said something she couldn't hear and went outside, Jairus just stood there watching her. Slowly she approached, until she stood so close to him she had to look up to see his face. It was back to its standard stony expression.

"I'm leaving for a few days." 

She nodded, and they continued to stand there looking at one another until a throat cleared behind her. It was Barin leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs. 

He gave them a quick glance as he turned the corner, and she thought she saw him smirk. She sighed and moved to turn away herself, only to find his immovable grip on her wrist. She blinked down at the hand then up at his face. 

He was still unreadable as he pulled her back toward him. His body bent over hers and his mouth brushed her lips in a gentle but lingering kiss. 

He pulled away and neither spoke as he let himself out. Thea was quiet when she returned to the study, but she couldn't quite wipe of the silly grin plastered on her face.

***

"So, are those Neanderthals in the corner my men?" 

Jairus watched the group of five Huroth warriors huddled conspiratorially at a table in the corner of the dreary tavern. 

"Not a great lover of the Huroth?" asked Marcus curiously.

"Not especially. I can only imagine what they want with me."

"What does anyone want with you?"

"Point taken."

"At any rate, your audience awaits." Marcus gestured for Jairus to enter into the backroom of the tavern and strode out cheerily into the main hall to collect the clients. Jairus sat and waited, propping his boots up on the table. He wanted them to taste his derision the moment they walked into the room. It was infantile of him, but some bitter tastes never quite left ones mouth. He didn't like them. He had good reason. He was one of them. Or had been. 

They entered, and he was pleased to see the dark looks they gave him when they entered. It was a great insult to show the souls of your boots to another man. They had a lot of idiot traditions like that, and were quickly and easily to annoyed. It was one of the reasons they rarely came south into the empire, keeping to their barbaric wastes where they jealously guarded their traditions and codes of honour. Their tempers usually got them jailed for starting fights over imagined insults. 

He saw one of the hotter heads make like he was going to try and put Jairus in his place, but another, the one clearly in charge, stayed him with a guesture. Too bad, Jairus thought. Three of the men stood, the third took a chair that did not face Jairus's boots. Jairus wondered where giant number five was hiding.

"I want you to find and kill someone."

If there was one thing he could say in their defence, it was that they never said more than they needed to. 

"Do you have a name?" Jairus asked from under his hood.

"No. She'll be a woman. Twenty four. Her mother was fair, small, named Maria. Her father was one of us. She has kin in the villages south of here."

"That's not much to go on." Jairus felt his stomach tighten. Why did these so called warriors feel the need to have a young woman assassinated? 

The man sneered. 

"They said you could do it with less. I knew they were exaggerating." Jairus smirked under his hood.

"I only mean to suggest that you're holding vital information back. If you want me to find and dispatch the target, I would suggest you learn to be a bit more forth coming." The man bristled.

"This is not to be spoken outside these walls." 

He looked to Marcus, who nodded.

"I am Darius, of the house of Sevrin." He paused to wave back an objection from his men. " Her father was Belok..."

"House of Dareth, and she is the only surviving heir of Jarith, that you know of, and you want to finish the job you started in order to control the remains of the house you helped destroy. Am I correct?" Jairus knew he was correct. For all his distaste for his cousins, he was always strangely curious to find out how it was they were getting along without him as the centuries passed. 

Recently, twenty four years ago to be exact, there had been a coup held by Darius's house against the reigning Cheif, the head of a house that had reigned for hundreds of years. Now it appeared they were tying up loose ends. 




Fire Ch. 04



Darius was giving him a very odd look. "If you knew who I was then why did you want to hear it?"

"I didn't know. But now I do."

"You seem well versed on our histories."

"I make a habit of knowing things."

"I see." He glanced to his men who stood still glaring at Jairus, then turned his eyes back to him, trying to peer under the low hood. "Will this be a problem?"

"I don't see why it should."

He nodded. "Then this is the last piece of information." He slid a piece of paper over to him. "This is a pendant the mother, one of his mistresses, was given by the late Cheiftan. This information was discovered recently from an elder woman who was once a camp follower. You may question her, but I doubt you will find more than we have." 

Jairus unfolded the paper as Darius spoke. The tightening in his stomach turned into a knot, and he sat up slowly, removing his feet from the table. 

He knew this pendant. He'd seen it recently. In a little box, under a floorboard. 

It was simple, three small golden circles looped together like a flower. It was a simple design, any number of women could have it. Any number of twenty four year old women. Any number with kin in the southern forest towns. Any number who were unusually tall and darkly coloured.

Thea. 

He stood slowly and the three standing men shifted their right arms. He looked down at the seated figure.

"I will need time to look into it."



Fire Ch. 05



Hi folks, I apologize ahead of time for any rough edges or lame editing errors, I tried. I just needed to get this one out there and out of my head. This one's a little more like ch.3 than ch.4...so yeeeaah, enjoy. I'm fond of it myself.

Questions, comments, vicious lam-basting, all welcome as per usual.

yours,

-enithermon

*

Jairus didn't waited to return. He made it home unscathed, but barely. The first dim shades of morning's grey were already bleeding into the moonless sky, the foreboding menace of first light snaking its way towards him as he moved. It drained him to move as fast as he had, but he needed to know. It could not wait. He needed to know if his fears were true; if Thea was the heir to the Huroth dynasty. He needed to know if he had been sent to kill her.

Naturally he would not. He could not. There were others who might however once, or rather if, he turned them down. He was still trying out figure out how he intended to play this. He sighed as he locked the door behind him and made his way to his room. He paused in front of her door. He could keep her hidden. It wouldn't be too hard. This lair was not easy to find, though he'd grown more careless than normal these last few years. He laid a hand against the cold wood and listened closely. He heard her turn in her sleep and murmur.

He passed on, heavily. And if it was her, did he tell her? Did he tell her that once again she was to be let down by the world in one of the worst possible ways? After her near death at the hands of her own village, and the fear that his own desires had flowered in her heart, did he dare magnify all that with news of a new threat? It was not something he was particularly eager to do.

**

The door to Jairus's room was locked. Thea frowned and tried it again. No, definitely locked. Could he be home already? He'd only been gone one night, it seemed odd that he should return so soon. She stood there a moment, broom in hand and then started sweeping out the hall with a shrug. He'd never said exactly how long he'd be gone. Perhaps his business, whatever that entailed, was concluded early, or he'd changed his mind.

She'd wondered sometimes about what he did. Not long ago Tim returned with a cart load of very fine looking paintings. She was no expert on the stuff, but they seemed to be of such a quality that even the most ignorant farm girl could easily recognize their expense. She'd even been allowed to pick one. 

She'd taken a small one, not feeling right taking one of the big impressive ones. It was of a woman laying in a forest. She looked like she was sleeping, stretched out on a bed of flowers and silks, half dressed, like a nymph. But her pallor and the position of her body was suggestive of something more sinister. She found it odd that she was attracted to it. She thought of the vampire behind the door. Who could account for taste?

She shook her head as she swept the bits of dust and dirt down the stairs. She had tried to picture Jairus as an art dealer, but that seemed very unlikely to her. Like her, he wasn't exactly the world's most talkative person. She couldn't imagine him trying to sell anyone anything. What would he do, stare them down until their will broke and the offered him money just to relieve their discomfort. 

She smirked. Now that she could picture.

It wasn't long before her chores were done and she joined the rest for dinner. Tim nodded at her in his silent half hearted way and Barin grinned at her in his. 

"Did you know Jairus is back?" she asked as May ladled a large helping of rich looking stew into a bowl for her.

The two men looked up from their food. 

"No," said Barin "I didn't. Odd that he was so quick." He turned to Tim. "Did he say anything to you 'bout how long he'd be gone?"

"Said a few days. I figured he meant three or four." Barin nodded.

"That's what I thought too." They both looked at her and she felt May pat her shoulder affectionately and give it a squeeze. She squirmed in her seat and stared back.

"What?" She asked, suspicious of the twinkle in the two men's eyes. She was troubled especially by the glint in Tim's. His eyes weren't in the habit of twinkling. May served herself and sat, making a great show of not looking interested in anything but pouring soup. Tim went back to his bowl and Barin gave her a bigger grin and leaned over his food with a chuckle. 

"What's the joke?" she asked again when no one answered. Barin only shrugged and kept eating. She looked around at them and waited for an answer, only to give up when she realized that no amount of questioning stares were going to break them of their complicit silence. 

Clearly they thought they knew something she didn't. It was highly unnerving. She ate quickly after that, uncomfortable with their amused silence, and left for a bit of a walk while the last of the sun's light still held.

The chill in the air was invigorating, and she was wide awake and alert by the time she returned. It had been a touch too cold however and she decided to fetch a thicker shawl to warm herself with.

Jairus knew Thea had come back from her walk and listened as she made her way up the little winding stairs. He stood next to her bed, the necklace dangling from his hand. He could still leave and go unnoticed. He had to decide now if he would tell her. 

He didn't move. He heard her hand on the door. He had to tell her. As much as it grieved him to be the bearer of more bad news it was her right to know. 

So he let her catch him standing over the little box by her bed side, staring down at her necklace. 

"Jairus?" 

He looked up, and watched with a mixture of elation and regret as her face turned from surprise to pleasure. She actually seemed happy to see him. She even shut the door behind her, closing them in together, her nervousness barely a whisper. Why did this always have to go so wrong just when it almost seemed to be working. Her smile faded as he stared back at her without answering. 

"What...what are you doing?" Her eyes looked to the necklace he held in his hand. He gently replaced it.

"Thea," he asked after a long pause, "may I ask you a question?"

"Yes... what's wrong?"

"Was this necklace your mothers" he asked gesturing to the box.

"Yes."

"Was her name Maria?" She frowned at him, and answered very slowly.

"Yes, she was. Why are you asking me this?"

"Was your father Huroth?"

"I think so, but I don't know."

"Are you twenty four?" There was another longer pause as she searching his face with her eyes.

"Yes. Please, Jairus, is something wrong?" He sighed.

"I believe I know who you're father is."

"Oh." Her expression changed again. " Really? How could you know this? Is he alive?"

"I believe so, that is I believe I know who he is, but he is no longer alive. I'm fairly certain that he was Belok, the last chieftain from the Dareth line." Her eyes went wide.

"You can't be serious?"

He sighed and nodded. She gaped at him a minute before she narrowed her eyes at him questioningly. 

"You don't seem very happy about the fact. How...how exactly did you find this out? Could you have been deceived?"

"I was asked to find you. Last night, in fact." She blinked.

"Why would anyone want to find me now? If I am who you think I am...well, hasn't that line already been deposed? Haven't they appointed a council of some kind in his place?" Apparently she'd also done some reading of her own. He nodded.

"I don't think any of the houses are content with the arrangement. They've begun jockeying for power."

She still looked confused. "That doesn't explain what I have to do with it."

"I imagine they think there are still those who might rally behind your house in the chaos which will ensue once the struggle begins in earnest." 

She shook her head.

"It's not 'my house'. No one has ever claimed me...except my grandparents, and they're dead. It's a little late now as far as I'm concerned. I don't want to help them."

"That is not their issue I'm afraid." He swallowed reflexively. She cocked her head at him. 

"Then what do they want from me?" 

"They think you're a risk. They want you..."god could he even say this? He forced the words, "...out of the way."

She recoiled. "What does that mean?" He could see the fear beginning to well up in her, he could hear the strain of it in her voice.

"They've hired someone... to kill you." 

"What?" She gasped, backing a few slow steps away. "I don't understand. Why? How...how do you know this?" He winced. Here came the best part. He stepped forward, just a little, slowly, not wanting to startle her. He tried to make his voice low and calming. He doubted it would help.

"They...they asked me."

"You?" He could only nod. His throat closed as he watched her backup towards the door. All colour had left her face.

"You think I will kill you?" it was less a question than statement. He could see the answer in her eyes, in the fear that emanated from her, from the way her hands grasped at her stomach. He'd seen so many people look at him like that. It broke his heart to see that look in Her eyes. He moved slowly towards her, cautiously. 

She stiffened. He admired the fact that she didn't flee, didn't pull away, or even shrink from him when he touched her cheek, caressing it, or when he lifted her chin to look into her eyes. He was searching for the words to tell her, to express to her just how terrible such a thought was to him, when she spoke first.

"How did they know I was here, how could they know where to find me?"

He frowned. "They didn't. How could they?"

"Th-then why you, why ask you to do it?"

He sighed and dropped his hand. She'd know now anyway what it was he did, one way or another. 

"Because, that is what I do." He paused and watched her whirlwind eyes a moment before continuing, letting her process the information. 

"That you were already here, was simply...happenstance." He paused again, breaking her gaze. "The world is a strange creature." He added softly.

"Then, you're a...a..."

"assassin?" He offered softly.

Her mouth trembled. She only stared at him.

"Yes. I am." His chest tightened. He couldn't bear to have her look at him like that anymore. He turned away.

Thea watched him walk away. He stood behind the nearest chair, grasping the back tightly, his head bowed. She didn't think he wanted to kill her. Perhaps he was sorry to do it.

It.

Kill her. Why did everyone want to kill her? 

What had she done? 

Nothing. She'd done nothing. 

It just...was. 

The flood of fear, horror, and revulsion that had come over her at his words melted away as abruptly and as sickeningly as it had come. She was suddenly...calm. It was a strange empty sort of calm, like all sensation had been suddenly drained from her, save a numb tingling that crawled over her skin. The feeling made her lightheaded. 

She straightened and let her hands fall loosely to her sides. The sickness in her gut settled into an icy ball. The world had clearly made up its mind. It wanted her dead, one way or another. She would have been already if he hadn't found her. This was only...borrowed time.

She felt one last shudder pass through her, of sorrow, not of terror, and then she went cold. She moved slowly, until she was behind him, and touched two fingers ever so lightly to his shoulder. She was barely touching him, but she could see and feel him tense at the contact. He did not face her.

"Please," she asked softly, "just promise me it won't hurt." Her voice was a whisper, but it was steady enough, there was only the slightest of tremors.

She thought she had begun to tremble, then realized it was not her hand but his body that shook. It was feint, barely perceptible, but it made her pull away.

It was then he turned on her, gripping her firmly by the arms, forcing her to face him. She made a little sound of alarm and shook as she looked up into his eyes. They blazed frighteningly, and his face was twisted with dark emotion. He pulled her closer forcing her to look up to see his face. She closed her eyes and whimpered, trying to reign in her terror which surged anew and so much stronger than before, no longer mixed with disbelief. She didn't want to die, not really, not yet.

"Look at me." His voice was raw and harsh. She looked up at him, flinching, and his fingers tightened. His words came out slowly and strained. "You must not fear me. I will never hurt you. Do you understand?"

She didn't. She could only gape.

"Do you understand?' He growled again when she didn't answer. She nodded dumbly, still not quite sure what was happening. His fingers dug deeply into her arms. 

"You are hurting me." She whispered tremulously. He blinked, then released her and stepped back and away with a shaking breath. He turned and sat at the foot of the bed, forehead in hand. He watched the floor and she watched him. She moved tentatively forward, like she was circling an unpredictable bull. 

"You're...you're not going to kill me?" Did she dare believe it? She wanted to. She fought the hope that surged in her. She couldn't stop him if he tried. She couldn't run from him. 

Yet he seemed upset. She couldn't believe that he was cruel enough to toy with her. She'd never known him to be cruel at all. But he was an assassin, a killer. Despite his kindness to her, it wasn't a difficult thing to imagine.

He sighed heavily and looked up at her, his eyes still alight and tormented. How could she fear him when he looked so pitiable. He looked at her with that same intense expression then shook his head, composing himself, giving her a less impassioned, but still pained, look. She believed it. 

"No Thea. You have nothing to fear from me. Please believe me." She stood in front of him and he looked up, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I do." She said softly, after a moment. He didn't look like he totally believed her, but he nodded. He looked...sad. Was it because he thought she was afraid of him. She squirmed. "I'm not...you know. I mean just now I was, but before I wasn't, afraid that is, and I do believe you." 

"You don't have to convince me Thea...I'm not angry...just" he ground his jaw a little, "was I so terrible to you? So frightening? As I said, if I hurt you..." She cut him off, a little frustrated that he didn't seem to want to believe her, that she couldn't make him understand.

"Stop. No you weren't. I know I behaved strangely, but I'm not afraid..."

"Thea," he sounded exasperated again, "there's no shame in it, I..." Something snapped a little in her head. It could have been the recent shock of his news, or the last week's worth of intense soul twisting anxiety, but all her frustration poured out suddenly and she practically shouted at him.

"Oh, for god's sake. Stop it. I wasn't afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you!" She turned around and plunked down next to him on the bed. She crossed her arms emphatically and gave him what she hoped was a very annoyed and clearly fearless glare.

"I can practically taste your fear Thea." He looked tense, almost angry as he turned to her.

"I'm not afraid of you, I..." she faltered. Why was it so hard to say out loud? It didn't matter, it had to be said. She screwed up her courage and took another breath. "I'm afraid of what you can do to me." She started out strong, holding on to her irritation, but her voice died quickly so that the last word was little more than a whisper. His face softened, but still seemed dark.

"Is that not the same thing? Honestly, Thea?"

"No...no, not What you do....the um...the Affect...of what you do." She blushed and uncrossed her arms. He looked at her quizzically, still frowning slightly. Was she going to have to spell it out for him? "I just can't...well..." Oh, to hell with it, in for a foot, in for a fathom. She was doomed anyway, she might as well squeeze some pleasure out of this sad short life of hers. 

Besides, she couldn't possibly embarrass herself anymore than she already had. 

She sucked in her breath, steeling herself for another round.

"I want you." 

It wasn't what she had planned on saying; it just sort of spilled out. The words surprised her as much as they did him. She didn't look into his face, she couldn't possibly, but she watched his body go so rigid she thought his spine might snap from the tension. His silence filled the room.

"That, um," she continued, her voice beginning to falter again, "I mean, I can't really, well, control myself around you." She shifted uncomfortably. "It's rather disconcerting." She explained after another brief, silent moment. Steady-on, she warned herself when she felt her fear creeping back into her stomach. You thought he might kill you a moment ago, what's a little rejection. That thought didn't much comfort her.

"Well," he said softly after a long pause, "I can't really hold that against you...I seem to be having the same problem." Her brows knit. Was...was that a joke? She peeked at his face and started at his astonished expression and the weird little half smirk he was giving her. 

She just sort of blinked at him for a while. He sobered and he cocked his head at her, and lifted a hand. He held it open to her, as if asking her to take it. She bit the corner of her lip and reached out, laying her fingers on his palm, watching as his long fingers closed around hers. She let him pull her closer. 

Quietly, slowly, he folded her to him, his arms engulfing her, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head. The feeling of his arms around her caused a rush of warmth and sensation and she felt the dam of her restraint break like it had in the library when he'd giving her back her grandmothers quilt.

She was crying. Silently. Her shoulders shaking. He just held her there, not sure what to say to comfort her. He wanted to comfort her, but he was still stunned by her surprising admission. He was just too damn happy to be very empathetic to her sorrow. It was more than a little guilt inducing, but he couldn't help himself. So he just held her, and hoped it would be enough. After a long time she sighed.

"How is it every one seems to want me dead?" she muttered into his now damp shirt.

He let out a soft chuckle into her hair. "You don't seem too popular do you." He joked, still half buried in her hair.

She let out a longer broken sigh and pulled away with a groaning growl, rubbing her eyes with her palms. He released her and lay back on the bed, his hands laced over his middle. She sat with her head in her hands for a while and he was content to stare at the ceiling and...well, be content. 

"You're safe here Thea." He offered softly after a little while. 

"I know." She said, her back still to him. "It still infuriates me though. I feel trapped here." His stomach tightened.

"What do you mean by trapped?" He tried to sound casual, but he couldn't keep the tension out of his voice. She sat up and looked at him over her shoulder. 

"I feel like if I leave they'll find me. So I have no choice. I had chosen to stay...now I have to."

"You don't have to, there are places you could go...I'd make sure they couldn't follow you." He looked back at the ceiling. She watched his jaw twitch, though his face was a cool smooth surface. 

She repressed the smile that pulled at her mouth. She tried to picture him as she remembered him that first night. How strange and uncanny he'd seemed, the hard narrow lines of his hawk-like face, the dark shadowed eyes, the red lips, still red, she thought. 

He'd been a dark stranger, a mysterious savior, necessary, but terrifying. 

Now here he was, lying on her bed for all the world like he belonged there, looking...mildly put out. His shirt was stained with her tears, his hair tousled slightly. She remembered the last time he'd looked like that, tousled and human. His eyes were still dark, but she was learning to read them. His face was no less angular or harsh, but she was learning, slowly, to read that too. With her fingers. With her mouth.




Fire Ch. 05



She was leaning over him before she knew what she was doing, her hands on either side of his shoulders. Her eyes suddenly transfixed by the line of his jaw. It was hard against her lips. She moved lower and found his skin was as cool as her tongue was warm. 

She brushed her mouth over his throat. He just lay there unmoving, his hands still folded, but he made a very soft low sound as she pressed her lips harder against his neck. She smiled against his throat and ran her tongue over the corded tendon that ran down the side and felt it tense. 

He groaned softly again. She kissed her way back up, finding the place where his pulse should be, and wrapped her lips around it, suddenly determined to make him moan louder, to make him want her. She wanted his control to fail him like hers always seemed to.

He made a stifled noise but didn't budge, so she was forced to get a little more aggressive and did what she knew would make her writhe. She bit down. Not hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough for him to feel it, to let him know what she wanted. He didn't make a sound.

She pulled away, frustrated, and looked into his face, fully prepared to let him know that he was not the only one feeling put out at the moment.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her and she couldn't breathe to speak. He sat up, and she pulled away, sliding off the bed to put space between them. She wasn't sure what to make of the look he was giving her. It was dark, concentrated, and all of its heart retching intensity was focused squarely on her. His smile was gone and his eyes blazed. 

She took a shaky step away eying him uncertainly. There was more than just a predatory glint there, more than desire. He also stood, but his movements were slow and sensual, as if his body were unfolding before her rather than just standing, just walking. 

She licked her lips and realized she was still moving backward, though only because she already felt the cold stone of the wall at her back. She struggled for coherent thought, and only came up with a question. What in the world had possessed her to want to tease a vampire...an assassin for that matter, into losing control? It was a fleeting thought, rapidly pushed out of her mind by the unhurried, deliberate movement of the creature advancing toward her.

She gasped as her mind flashed briefly and suddenly back to the cool wall, to thoughts of stone and fire. The icy stone behind her and the blistering fire before, that's how he'd found her. She was once again trapped between them. She had two options, freeze or burn. 

She could see his face again, darkly through the flames, could see the flames flickering red and black in his eyes. It was the same face before her now. She shut her eyes against the searing heat.

He was black fire, and she was burning.

He paused when she closed her eyes. Her soft whimper made him hesitate. He could taste her fear in the back of his throat. He wanted to believe it wasn't for him...but he paused, halting his slow assault, one hand over her head against the wall. He leaned in, his mouth gently brushing her ear.

"I thought you weren't afraid of me?"

She turned her face to the sound of his voice, and met his eyes with hers. He felt his fangs elongate and made an incoherent animal sound at the sight of the swirling black depths he saw there. He was trapped in her gaze. It was like being sung to one's death, into an endless, but by no means empty, void. He was pulled into dark waters.

He said something to her, he wasn't quite sure what. Something meant to be reassuring, something about protecting her, or not hurting her. But all he could hear was the terrible need in his voice, and the soft panting sounds she was making. They were not entirely produced by fear. Her hand was clutching the material of his shirt, tugging him closer. Their eyes broke only when their bodies met. His mouth came down over hers and their hot sighs merged one into the other. 

She moved fitfully against him, her hands pulling at his clothes, tugging his shirt away from his body only to slide beneath it and over the hard ridges of muscle that flexed and tensed under her exploring fingers. 

Jairus pulled off his shirt, and buried his face against her neck as she wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders. He grasped her thigh, lifting and pressing himself into her. He pinned her to the wall with his body, inhaling her aroused sent as she ground back against him with a silent but insistent need.

He nipped lightly at her shoulder and was rewarded with a small hand at the back of his head trying to press his mouth harder against her. He resisted and mimicked her earlier performance, sucking and licking his way up her neck with aching leisure. Her fingers tightened to the point of pain and he felt his cock pulse in response, making him shift instinctively against her. He could feel the intoxicating heat of her body through her clothes, pulsing and radiating. He wanted more.

His hands found hers already at the laces of her dress, found her silken skin already materializing under his hands. They grasped and pulled both desperate to feel skin against skin. He leaned away just enough to watch her as she pushed her dress down over her rounded hips, letting it pool negligently at her feet. He absorbed ever inch of her with his eyes. Committing her to memory. 

The moment she felt her dress slip off she reached for him next. She wanted to feel all of him, all of his cool hard body against her, inside her. Her fingers were pulled away from the laces of his breeches just as she was desperately close to her goal. She opened her mouth to protest and let out a squeaked cry as she felt herself pushed roughly back by the hips. 

Her cry turned into a prolonged moan as she felt the sharp points of his teeth grazing over the curve of her breast and tantalizingly over one excruciatingly hard nipple. She tried to press against him, but his hands kept her pinned to the wall. She turned her gaze downward and watched with unrestrained desire as his mouth and tongue traced the lines of her body, newly defining the shape of her need, flicking and nipping her until she was desperately trying to drag him back against her. 

He could feel her fingers tightening in his hair again but he had no intention of letting up just yet. He enjoyed the sensation of her squirming fitfully in his hands. He took his time, touching and tasting her, running his hands over the curve over her smooth, perfectly rounded breasts and hips, her soft arms and long firm legs, gripping her tightly whenever she tried to twist out of his hold. 

He teased her with his tongue, with his teeth, and tortured himself with his own too slow path of hungry kisses over the long narrow curve of her stomach, until he found himself kneeling before her. He stopped to glance up at her and buckled a little under the weight of her heated gaze, momentarily forgetting what it was he was about.

She stared back at him with her darkened eyes and trembling mouth. After a very long, very intense moment she pressed her hips forward into his hands and sucked in her breath.

"Well if you're just going to sit there..." she whispered roughly. He smirked and grabbed the back on one thigh and slid it over one shoulder, simultaneously pressing her back into the wall and lifting her open to his gaze. Her eyes widened satisfyingly.

Thea grasped at his shoulder for balance as she felt herself half lifted from the floor. His hands slid up her body, holding her beneath the ribs keeping her upright and immobile. 

The look he gave her had kept her momentarily breathless, but it made her pant rapidly as it turned lower. The first cool wet stroke made her shudder, the second groan. She lost count somewhere around six and could only shut her eyes and mewl softly as she clung to him, writhing as his tongue laved and pierced her slippery heat. At some point he latched his mouth against her and sucked hard at the small swollen knot that crested her slick folds, instantly turning her gentle yielding movements into desperate and demanding ones as he rapidly pushed her over the edge.

Her mouth gaped in a soundless cry and her hips bucked with involuntary spasms as what felt like shards of hot ice were plunged through her, shooting through her limbs and chest. She was sure her heart would break apart, and each pounding beat made her chest ache until she thought she could stand it no longer. She whimpered, unable to stop or even slow the devastating sensations, and pushed at him with her hands even as her hips pressed harder against his mouth melting into him in hot fluid waves. 

Finally he released her, and she panted with relief, sagging a little into his grip. Her relief, however, was short lived. She froze as she felt the menacing points of his teeth pressing against the tender flesh of her center. 

His tongue still moved against her, but every ounce of her was focused with painful immediacy on those sharp tips. Her legs weakened and shook and she tried desperately to keep her balance. He took pity on her, moving away, letting her leg fall. She released a breath she didn't know she was holding and with a disappointment that surprised her. 

He climbed back up her frame, using the press of his body to hold her up, his mouth brushing lazily against hers. She tasted something strange and tangy on his lips and slid her tongue against them and between them as he opened for her. She realized with a heady shudder that the taste on his lips, on his tongue, was her own. She groaned as he pushed his tongue inside of her, filling her mouth with the taste of her own sex. 

His mouth pushed harder against hers, and she responded in kind wrapping her arms tightly around him and crushing her lips to his until they were devouring each other with frightening voracity.

Jarius torn his mouth from Thea's delicious tongue and gasped for breath. Since when did he need to breathe? He wondered. He was half stunned, half amused, and completely, and painfully, aroused. 

That thought was forever lost when he turned his eyes back to that curved red mouth and he was well on his way back for another soul devouring kiss when her voice, thick and sultry, cut through his delirious haze. 

"Is it my turn?" she asked with a crooked, intoxicated smile. Her hand was on his chest, moving purposely downward. He shut his eyes as he felt his still imprisoned cock jump against her hand as she ran it firmly over the front of his breeches. 

He reached down and helped her pull open the laces, groaning as her hand slid under the material before he was done. Her hand was slightly cooler than he was. "You're so hot." She breathed shakily and slid her hand around him tugging gently but eagerly. 

Finally freed, he placed his hands on the wall behind her. She leaned back and he watched her face as she watched her own fingers slide over the length of him, caressing him both with her hands and her eyes. Her grip tightened, making his hips shift reflexively. He watched her mouth curve into a dangerous little smile and closed his eyes, tensing against her surprisingly adept hands as they massaged the length of him and fought to hold himself still. 

He couldn't keep from moving against her hands, and he was convinced it was a bloody miracle that he hadn't thrown her down on the bed yet...or on the floor...or up against the wall...now there was a thought. Every muscle in his body went as rigid as stone at that last image and she let out what sounded like a sympathetically throaty whimper. He cursed. 

She blinked up at him. He glared back down at her in response, a familiar sensation welling up in him, making his blood seethe, clouding his thoughts and vision.

"I think you're turn is over." 

Thea frowned dazedly at him. He had seemed to be enjoying it. Before she could clear her glazed vision, or make a coherent thought she found herself lifted and crushed firmly and roughly against the wall. The hard jolt shocked her out of her stupor and she looked into his eyes for answers. 

What she saw was one word, and it consumed her. 

Mine. 

It wasn't a question, or even a demand, but she answered it anyway. 

"Yes." She panted, wrapping her arms around him. 

"Yes." She whispered as he pulled her legs around his waist, gripping the backs of her thighs lifting her until the head of his cock slid beneath her and pressed into her soaked core. 

She closed her eyes and savored the searing heat of him against her, and the half-painful stretch as he forced her open around him. She was panting again and dug her fingers into his back. 

He paused briefly with a low growl that sent another rush of heat through her, making her sex clench around him. She gasped and he thrust, releasing his grip on her so that as she slipped down against him even he drove inside of her with a force that made her eyes water. He didn't stop there, but continued to drive into her, crushing her between the rough wall and the hard plane of his rigid body. Each fierce thrust sent a shockwave through her, reverberating in a volatile blend of pain and gut retching desire. 

Jairus growled again as he felt her nails bite into his back, drawing red welts across his shoulders. He slammed into her, his mind empty of all thoughts but taking her, claiming her. He was mad with possessive need. Her nails, her teeth digging into his shoulder, her hips grinding insistently, demandingly, even as he fucked her with as much bruising force as he dared, all of it only served to make him that much wilder, that much more feral in his own demands on her body. 

As if complicit with his need she let her head fall back exposing the length of her throat to his now half starved glare. He ripped into her without hesitation and felt a surge of dark exultation at the ecstatic scream that he tore from her even as her scorching blood flooded through him, filling him with white heat. 

He couldn't tell how long he'd stood there, pinning her against the wall, draining her, but he felt her death grip weaken and her body melt into him as her cries turned back into sobbing whimpers. 

He forced his mouth from her throat, quickly stemming the flow of blood, and pulled them away from the wall, gripping her tightly against him. He was still hard and embedded inside her and he gritted his teeth against the feel of her hips shifting in an erotic figure eight against his. 

She found his mouth with hers and distracted him from his pain with a long wet kiss.

She pulled her head away and looked into his eyes, her body still wrapped around him, clinging tightly.

"I keep tasting myself on you, my blood, and my sex." She whispered dreamily against his lips. She smiled languidly, and he gritted his teeth again. 

He had intended to move them to the bed, but her erotic words, and a quick glance told him the rug was closer. Much closer.

Thea wasn't sure when it had happened but she was suddenly on her back and his body was moving over hers, one iron arm wrapped around her holding her firmly with unnecessary possessiveness. She'd never released her own grip on him and only clung tighter as he moved inside her again, his stomach flexing against hers as he slid out of her completely. 

She sighed in complacent satisfaction as he pressed her into the floor with his long, slow, returning stroke. She savored the feel of him, his heat as he moved lazily inside her. She squeezed and tensed herself around him, trying to feel every groove and ridge as he filled her. He growled softly into her shoulder and she tensed again, wanting to hear it again. 

Slowly, silently, they moved against each other with long, tight, deliberate movements, each stroke building on the last, higher and longer, until both of them were left gasping and slick with sweat. He lifted his head gradually from her shoulder. They locked eyes and moved inside each other, swallowed whole by the other's dark heat. 

Every muscle was tense, every nerve burning, every breath a desperate gasp. 

She cried out softly, brokenly, and arced up, taut and shuddering with strained tension as the slick inner walls of her heat fluttered and tightened around him drawing out a second broken sound, though this time from another throat. 

Instead of the blinding light of the last time, Thea was overcome by a black wave that swept over her, filling her and pushing the tension from her body with pulses of raw sensation. 

Gradually the pulse dimmed and she gasped for breathe. 

Her head swam dangerously and she shut her eyes, letting her head fall to the side, breathing deeply and unevenly. Slowly, very slowly, she listened to her heart slow its pound and her breathe return to normal. Even when it did she didn't move. She just lay there relishing the comforting presence that still hovered over her. Pressing against her. 

She could feel his body radiating heat even as the sweat on her own turned cold sending a shiver through her. 

She sighed imperceptibly when she felt the weight lift from her body, rifting from her, emptying her once again.

Thea opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Her vision was still spinning gently. She lay stretched out and splayed indecorously across the rug, but couldn't quite bring herself to move. There was a comfortable heaviness in her limbs that made her arch and stretch, cat-like. She felt...good. 

Her head fell heavily to the side again and she looked at the man laid out next to her and smiled. He was flush with blood and almost as soaked with sweat as she, though she didn't doubt that some of it was probably hers. 

She raked her eyes over him with a covetous sort of satisfaction; over his bent knee and muscular thigh, his manhood still slick from her body, his lean stomach and perfect shoulders and chest. He was desire personified, she decided...or at least her desire, preferably only Her desire, she thought jealously. 

She turned away again and sighed. What a frightening thing to have all one's pleasure tied up in a single person. And it was, she acknowledged. She'd come too far now to go back, just as she feared she might. If he tired of her now, after everything else, it would probably break her. 

Death by pleasure...there were certainly worse ways to go. There were people right now coming up with ways. 

"I want to talk to them."

"Sorry?" She smiled at the thickness in his voice and looked over at him again. He was looking back, frowning.

"I want to talk to them. Maybe I can convince them I don't give a damn about their wars and won't get involved. At the very least I want to see the faces of the people who have the gall to order my execution." 

He didn't answer. He just stared at her blankly. 

"What? I think they'd listen to reason. They wouldn't have to pay you then right?" He still stared. "Jairus?"

"Thea." She saw him swallow. "Please tell me that's not what you were thinking about the entire time." 

It was her turn to blink and stare. What in the world was he...oh! Oh. He must have thought...she grinned. 

And then she laughed. She hadn't meant to, it just came out. He frowned at her and she laughed again, but this time she couldn't stop. The more she thought about it the funnier it was. She sat up to try to calm herself, then looked back at his prone form and irritated expression and just laughed harder.

"I'm serious Thea." He said sitting up and giving her a leery glare, clearly unsure of what to make of her hysterics. She took a deep breath and turned on her knees to face him and explain herself, but the moment she opened her mouth she was overcome by another fit of laughter, this one putting her on her hands and knees with grasping her aching side.

When she finally came up for air there were tears in her eyes and he was looking at her like she was half crazed. 




Fire Ch. 05



"I don't think I have ever laughed that hard in my life." She gasped, still catching her breathe.

He gave her a wry look. She held up her hands in surrender.

"Seriously though" she smiled, crossing her heart with one hand, "I can honestly swear to you, I just thought of it. Really" she added when it looked like he didn't believe her, "I can't recall having any rational thoughts until just know."

His expression was still wry, though less concerned. "And that was your first thought." She bit back another fit and shook her head.

"I assure you, no."

"Care to enlighten me then?" He smirked at her. 

"Absolutely not." She fought her blush as she imagined telling him exactly what she'd been thinking when she'd regained her lucidity. He leaned in toward her, his eyes flicking to her mouth, and smiled faintly. 

"Why not?"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you." She said softly back, suddenly very much aware that they were both still completely naked, and him quite casually so, one arm propping him up, the other resting languidly on his still bent knee. Someone should paint him, she thought, picturing him as some sort of sensual woodland god. 

His expression was certainly befitting the image. She hazarded a glance at his lap and noticed his expression wasn't the only thing up to that particular challenge. 

He took her chin in his hands and turned it back to his face with an amused expression, and leaned in, his eyes darkening. 

"I must warn you, I'm very effective at extracting information from unwilling victims." He let his mouth drag ever so lightly over hers. "So we can do this the easy way," his arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her off her knees and up against him, "or the hard way." She pressed her palms against his bare chest.

"There wouldn't happen to be a very hard way would there?" She asked, already beginning to shift anxiously against him. He gave her a dark smile and leaned in against her cheek.

"That happens to be a personal favorite."

"Then I swear you'll never make me talk."

"I should hope not." He nipped at her ear and started to trail his mouth back down her neck, then paused. "And I absolutely forbid you from thinking about our little problem for the rest of the night." He pronounced absurdly, sliding his mouth lower along her collar bone.

She frowned. "You can't forbid someone from thinking somethi...oh dear gods." 

Clearly he could, and did, because not for a second that night, or well into the morning, did she spare a single thought for the warring Huroth, for her past, or her future or anything else so far removed from the immediacy of that which took place on the happier side of her bedroom door.



Fire Ch. 06



Hi everyone,

I'm sorry for the wait, but things have been rough, what with the things and the stuff, you know how it is. I made it extra long though, so I hope that buys some forgiveness. If you have comments or suggestions please feel free as always to post or mail them. I hope you enjoy this installment as well.

yours, Enithermon.

*

Thea swallowed a yawn as she stared thoughtfully, her hand tracing idle shapes over the chest she rested against. His breathing was slow and even, but the fingers toying with a strand of her hair told her he was awake. 

"I still want to talk to them." She said softly, still watching her fingers. He let out a long sigh.

"It's too early."

"It's well after noon."

"like I said..." he muttered.

"It's going to make me crazy. So you'll just have to suffer."

He chuckled making his chest jump under her, making her smile. "Well you can't."

Her smile faded. "Why not?"

"I can tell you right now they won't listen, and even if they believed you, they'd still want to err on the side of caution. You'll just be admitting your existence and putting yourself in unnecessary danger." He was right. She let out her own long sigh. That's probably what she'd do in their situation. It was the smart thing to do.

"So what do I do then?"

"Wait."

"Ugh."

He let out another low chuckle. "We'll give it a few weeks, during which I'll speak to the woman they gave me as a contact, then 'investigate.'" 

"What woman?"

"Apparently a camp follower who knew you're mother."

"I wish I could talk to her." Her grandparents were never forthcoming with information about her parents, and she suspected they knew little of her mother's life while she'd been gone. She was curious to know more. Not just curious, she needed to know, to know what she might have to face now that she was suddenly the unwanted heir to defunct lineage. 

It was incredibly frustrating to know that she could do nothing but hide. Some things never seemed to change. Then again, shutting herself away from the world hadn't helped much in keeping her safe before either. "I don't like this."

"No. I don't imagine you do." He murmured into her hair. "I'll speak with her, and let you know what she tells me." She felt his hand slip from her hair to her arm.

"Thank you." He didn't answer, but he nodded against her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her surroundings instead of her thoughts: the warm sheets tangled around her waist, the solid flesh pressed against her body, the caress of fingers against her skin. How foolish of her to be afraid of this. She could have been enjoying it already. Well, she never claimed to be a great mind. She wondered how long she might have been enjoying it before she came here as well. That thought particularly irritated her. Why hadn't he told her? She'd been alone so long. To think she might have had this...or at least a friend, someone to talk to even, she would have taken what she could. 

His hand came down over hers. She'd been tapping her finger in irritation on his chest. She looked up to find him looking down at her questioningly.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" 

He frowned. "I just found out. There was no 'sooner'."

"No, no, not that. About you. How...how long had you...had you been, you know... before that night?" she noticed him flinch.

"Ah. That." 

"Yes. That."

"Well, will you promise not to be too cross?"

"No" she replied archedly. He scoffed softly.

"Fair enough I suppose." He sighed. "Four...maybe five years. Not often at first of course." She blinked and sat up, turning to look down at him.

"Five years?" She asked in horrified amazement. Just after her grandparents had died. She had thought maybe it had been a year or so...maybe two...but...as long as five.

Alone.

He grimaced up at her.

"As I said," he began softly, "I have a rule about not letting myself become known...and the first year it was only twice..." She thought he looked guilty, uncomfortable. He should be damn him. She felt cheated.

"Five years." She whispered again.

"I'm sorry, Thea. I should never have..."

"Do you have any idea how lonely I was?" she interrupted. "And for five years I could have been...we could have...augh." She shook her head in disbelief and frustration. She turned away and squeezed her eyes shut balling her fist in the blankets around her in annoyance. So much time lost...and at this rate there was so little of it left. He couldn't hide her forever.

"I wish I had." He whispered and placed a hand along her spine which she instantly leaned into. She was irritated, not idiotic, and she had no intentions of wasting what time she did have. 

She lay back and curled against him, dragging the blankets over her. She should really be getting up, but it was so nice to stay there. He turned and wrapped both of his arms around her. 'Who would have thought that being caught in what felt like a cool steal vise could be such a pleasant sensation', she thought distractedly, as she pressed herself into his grip and returned the gesture with her own much warmer embrace.

**

"I don't want you going out." He said as he open the door to leave.

Thea sighed. "I can't stay indoors all the time. I don't know if you noticed, but there are no windows here. I'll go mad."

Jairus didn't look like he was willing to brook argument and shook his head no.

"I will go outside." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue. "It's not going to happen. I'm upset enough as it is about having to hide here. Besides, what will you do? Lock me up?" She gave him a small smile. Small because his look said he'd contemplated it. He shifted in the door way, then wordlessly moved past her, disappearing into the library. He came back a moment later with a sheathed dagger -- not the pearl one mind you, that one he wore -- and held it out to her.

"If you must go out, stay close and take this with you."

"I don't know how to use that." She said eyeing the thing with a fair amount of trepidation.

"I've seen you skin a rabbit. You'll be fine. " She still didn't take it. He cocked a brow at her and sighed. "Here's a hint, if it you like the person, you point this end at them," he pointed to the grip he held towards her, "and if you don't..." he flipped the knife one-handed and pointed the still sheathed tip at her, "get it?"

She screwed up her face and held out her hand letting him lay it in her palm. 

"Very humorous."

"I like to think so. Promise me?" 

She nodded a little sullenly.

"Yes, if I must."

"If you like I can show you," he pointed to the blade in her hand, "when I get back. And don't go anywhere near a town." He added, pausing as he turned away.

She almost rolled her eyes. "I wasn't going to, but now that you've told me not to..."

His face was calm as always, but she looked for and saw his jaw twitch. 

"A joke." She couldn't quite suppress her smile. "But really, we can't know how long this is going to take, and the thought that I could be holed up for..."He leaned in suddenly, catching her off guard, and stopped her mouth with his own, and very effectively. Buy the time he broke the long thorough kiss she'd completely forgotten what she was saying.

"Be careful?" He asked gripping her shoulders.

She nodded dumbly. He nodded once, satisfied, and was off and out through the door before the rest of her caught up.

"Why that..." she stewed when she finally did cotton on, smirking despite herself. Well at least she could argue with him now instead of just falling apart like some shrinking violet every time he looked at her, except when he did things like that of course. She was feeling much more her own self again, composed and self reliant. The whole fearful timidity thing had turned her into a wreck. 

It was a little pathetic too. Though she felt she could cut herself some slack for it, she had been taken from her home after all, sentenced to death and promptly rescued by a vampire...a vampire assassin. If that wasn't overly dramatic, what was? If her life was novel, she have already dismissed it as the most melodramatic, unrealistic tripe she'd ever laid eyes on, and that wasn't even counting this new nonsense about being an heiress of some kind...and now here she was living it in it's ridiculous entirety. So if it had taken her a month or two to deal with that, then she was well within her rights. 

But now she needed to focus, to be strong. She couldn't afford to be indecisive any longer. At least this time there wouldn't be any surprises. She could see her strange fate moving towards her, and she'd have time to prepare for it before it came. Acceptance was a beautiful thing.

A clatter next to her made her jump. She whipped around to see Tim giving her a suspiciously sardonic half smile.

"Oops." He drawled and picked up the tool he'd dropped behind her. "You gonna stare at the door all night?" she gave him what she hoped was a unimpressed look and walked past him to the kitchen. 

She sighed heavily once out of range. All three of them had been like that since Jairus had come back early. None of them were remotely stupid, and she figured that they had a pretty good idea of what she'd been spending the last three evenings doing, and why she hadn't been getting out of bed until well after lunch. And now they were all having a good old time giving her knowing looks and chuckling when she started blushing despite herself. 

She knew how to be guarded with people of course, but she only had two social settings, full and zero. Either she was as cold as stone, or completely exposed. Naturally she'd spent the last five years being the former, and her lack of a social life kept her from learning otherwise. It was nice to not have to shut down around people for once. Of course that meant they could torture her...which they seemed to delight in doing. 

They probably thought that was why he came home early. She didn't tell them the real reason, there was no need to upset them and they were in a habit of keeping the place secret. She could only assume Jairus hadn't said anything either. 

Thea was cutting carrots between sips of her afternoon tea (also known as breakfast these days) when May bustled in with an armload of linens taken down from outside. 

"You're up early." She could hear the laughter in May's voice and her shoulders slumped a little. May came up behind her and patted her in the middle of her back. She was a rather small woman, so it was the easiest place to reach on Thea without stretching. She chuckled. "You know we wouldn't tease you if we didn't like you dear."

Thea blew out a little breathe of disbelief and kept cutting carrots. 

May went back to her laundry. "I hate this time of year. The linens freeze up half the time." Thea put down her knife and went over to the pile and poked the frosty sheets experimentally.

"I'll grab some twine, I'm sure we can make room in here somewhere." May nodded and poured herself some tea while she 'supervised' Thea's work. 

Once that was done and the place was hung with defrosting bed sheets she went back to her work. She finished with the carrots and started peeling potatoes with a paring knife. She had the curling-off-the-rind-in-one-go trick down to an art. That went for apples as well. She paused and looked at the knife and thought about what Jairus had said about skinning rabbits. Maybe he had a point. She wasn't exactly delicate, and by no means clumsy. 

Of course defending oneself from people was something entirely different than skinning game. She supposed he meant that she at least wouldn't accidentally skewer herself in the process. 

"Thea?" May asked softly after a long moment.

"Hmmm?"

"Would you come here and sit with me for a minute? Oh, leave that silly potato there, I'll come up and help you when I'm finished my tea."

Thea put her knife on the counter next to the potato she was peeling and sat down in a chair next to May and turned it so they were more or less facing one another. 

"What's wrong? You sound serious all of a sudden." She asked smiling dryly. May frowned and looked anxiously down at her hands than reached out and took Thea's. Her hands were still warm from her tea cup. Thea frowned back. "Is something wrong?"

"That's what I wanted to ask." Thea smiled a little again.

"Oh, I'm fine. I've been in a bit of a snit, but it's past now. I'm sorry if I was upsetting anyone."

May shook her head. "No, no dear, you needn't apologize for anything, we understand you've been through quite a bit." Thea had told May about how she'd come to be there, though May had been kind enough to wait until she'd been ready instead of prying. "Now...I know how private and closemouthed you people are," May smiled blandly, for five individuals living in a closed space, it was a remarkably quiet household, "but I have to ask, because I'm worried you see, not because I want to stick my nose where it doesn't belong." She paused to look at Thea and waited for a comprehending nod before continuing.

"Well, I know you and the master...well he, he, ah..." she paused frowning, obviously looking for a delicate way to phrase what she was thinking and Thea bit down on her tongue in an attempt to control her rising embarrassment. "Well, truth be told I nearly walk in...in the library...ah."

Thea instantly racked her memories for anything that happened in the library...oh that's right, the night before he'd left. She did blush, and hard. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. How was she to respond after all, and which part had she walked in on? She prayed to no one in particular that it hadn't been the bit where'd she'd been on the floor. Oh dear, that would be awkward. 

"Just after you arrived of course, that, that was a little while ago...but I assume it's continued...yes?" Thea met May's tentative glance with surprise. Nothing had happened in the library before, unless one included his drinking from her, or feeding, there wasn't a word for it that didn't sound funny to her ears. That must have been what she meant though, not that last time. She exhaled with some relief and felt her blush wane a little.

She nodded, she hadn't quite found her voice. It was less embarrassing, but it was still sort of an odd thing to admit to, and May didn't seem comfortable with the subject either.

"Well, now, I know this is a personal question, but you've not been looking well, in fact you look right worn out." Thea lowered her face to hide her smile, she really hadn't gotten much sleep the last few days, and truth be told she felt a little weak, but it had been completely worth it. "So, I must ask...have...when have you last had your monthly?"

Now that question she had not been expecting. Did she think...did she mean to say? Could she be Pregnant? Was that even possible; why had it never crossed her mind? She considered it and thought back. 

"Oh my god." She looked up in surprise. "Not since I came here. You...you don't think...I, um, I'm...you know?" she stuttered slightly, involuntarily pressing her hand to her stomach.

May's own eyes widened and coloured a little herself, though not nearly as much as Thea had. 

"Oh, well, I don't know...I hadn't meant..." she trailed off "Ah, what I was worried about was that you might have lost too much, well, blood. He hasn't been leaving as much as he used to, for those particular reasons I mean, and I'm worried it could make you very ill...or worse." She raised a hand as if to keep Thea from arguing with her. "Now I won't claim to know what's going on, but I can see the circles under your eyes, and how pale you've become. As I said, I can't claim to understand the arrangement, but perhaps...perhaps you might mention it? I'm sure he wouldn't want to see you ill. Perhaps you might ask him to take less? Or give you some time? Go out more like he used to?" She patted Thea's hand "You don't need to say anything to me, it's none of my business. I just felt I should mention it. Hm?" 

Thea nodded weekly, feeling a little as if she'd been chastised. She hadn't of course, it was a silly thought. But still, part of her knew implicitly that May was right, and the other part also knew, and just didn't care. May got up and started bustling about, indicating that nothing more was to be said on the matter.

May cleaned her cup then started in with the rest of dinner. Thea mutely went back to her cutting board, her thoughts and mood not nearly as light as they had been a moment earlier. She was not unaware of the 'other' effects Jarius's feedings were having on her. But she'd ignored them in favour of the alternative. What was a little weakness and dizziness in the wake of heart stopping pleasure? She wasn't sure she was ready to give that up, not now that she'd just found it, and she still balked at the thought of him going elsewhere, though she knew the feeling was wholly unreasonable. Was there something wrong with her that she enjoyed it so much? That she seemed to crave it...even need it like she did? She stared down intently at the little paring knife in her hand. 

Five years of being almost completely alone. Of course she'd throw herself at the first man, desirable as he was, who wanted her, and jump at the first opportunity for warmth and intimacy. Of course she'd respond with complete abandon to the heat and the desire, the raw hunger, she'd seen in his eyes or to the heat which course through her when he fed. Who wouldn't throw themselves on the pyre when they'd been frozen so long? And she was ok with that. She had already made this decision. It was easy to risk everything when everything never really amounted to much in the first place.

And if the pyre consumed her? Well...so much the better. It would solve her dilemma about what she would do when he bored of her. She just wouldn't give him the chance.

She sighed. It seemed like everyone was clamouring for her death these days. No. That wasn't right. Not Jairus. He didn't want her death, he wanted her life. 'And he would get it,' She thought, nodding faintly. Because he'd asked and given her a choice. Because unlike everyone else, he had offered her something else in return.

"Thea? Are you alright?"

"Hmm?" she asked looking up. She noticed suddenly she was still standing frozen staring at the knife. "Ah, yes, sorry. Mind wandering. I'm fine." She looked back down and thought a minute then smiled over at May. A sincere smile; a real smile. "I'm fine." She reiterated, only mildly surprised by the certainty and strength behind the words.

**

It took Jairus two nights to reach the border of the steppes moving at top speed. It hadn't drained him as much as it usually did, no doubt since he'd been so well fed these last few days at home. As it was, he barely felt the twinge of the hunger normally produced by such exertion. He pulled himself easily up onto a rocky overhang to get a better view of the distant weather worn battlements of the old fortress. It wasn`t quite his destination, he was headed for the village that overflowed around its base. The evening was still quite young, and thankfully they were growing longer with each passing day. With any luck he'd have the information he needed and could be home in another two days.

Then again, it might be best to do a little more digging. He had the impression that Darius trusted him about as far as he could throw him and if one took into account that he'd be dead the moment he tried...well that didn't make it very far now did it. There were other reasons for him to stall his return as well.

As much as it had pained him to have to go, it 

was ultimately good he'd left when he did. He didn't like to admit it, but he was still having difficulty exercising moderation with Thea. It was even more difficult now that he knew she would readily welcome his advances. In truth, much to his delight, the little minx usually started it. But the sight of her looking so drawn and tired when he had left had been a sharp reprimand for his self-indulgence. He needed to give her more time between taking her blood, but it was so damn hard to say no when she'd begged him so sweetly and so erotically, not to stop. Especially when he really didn't want to stop to begin with. 




Fire Ch. 06



It came as no shock that she took some inexplicable satisfaction from his bit. He had learned that pleasant fact about her years ago, but her response to him still continued to cause as much wonder and pleasure as it always had. He didn't question it of course, he was old enough to know that he should just accept good luck when it came. Healthy suspicion was a good thing, but boundless paranoia made life so much less enjoyable. That was not to say life was terribly pleasant to begin with. He smiled faintly. Well, excepting the past week perhaps. Then again, 'pleasant' might just be the world's largest understatement. It certainly wasn't the term he'd use, though he wasn't sure he could come up with single word to sum it up. He snorted scornfully at his own distraction and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. 

It didn't take him long to find her house. He needed only ask one passerby, who'd pointed him in the right direction before congratulating him. The congratulations made him wonder, but he merely thanked the man and continued on his way. He heard the murmur of a woman's voice and shuffling before the door to the slightly dilapidated cottage opened to him. The woman was older and short, and clearly not of Huroth decent, and she wore a long cloak with the hood already pulled up against the evenings chill. Her arms were wrapped around a huge basket. Her head shot up, and she peered at him from under her hood with a sour look then stepped back as if startled, dropping the basket. He caught it deftly and held it back to her, waiting patiently for her to collect herself.

"Oh! You're not Berus!"

"No madam. I am not."

"I thought you were Berus. I'm expecting him"

He nodded, taking it for the warning it was as she eyed him askance taking her basket back gingerly.

"I won't need too much of your time, but I have questions for you. May I speak with you?"

She hesitated, but something in her face told him she might already know who he was and that his visit wasn't completely unexpected. Finally she nodded and beckoned for him to follow her inside. He removed his cloak first, shaking off the light dusting of snow that had accumulated on it and entered. 

He stood in the center of the dwelling's main room as she disappeared to put her things away. She returned and dropped herself into a chair by a low fire and gave him another rather sour look before indicating that he take a seat as well. 

"Well I don't suppose you're here to ask me for advice on birthing, are you?"

'Well,' he pondered, 'that explained the congratulations on the way over here.' She was a midwife. It also explained to him how it was she'd have known the details of Maria's pregnancy. He tipped his head diplomatically.

"Not precisely. I am looking for information on a birth you may have been party to." 

She snorted and looked away into the fire. "I've been 'party' to any number of births. I doubt I can remember the details of many of them."

Again he read something in her eyes, in the tightness of her posture that gave him the distinct impression she'd been forewarned of his coming and knew exactly which birth he spoke of. He decided not to play games with her. Even if she wasn't Huroth herself, she was used to their gruff mannerisms and distinctive lack of tact, she might feel he was insulting her intelligence if he played coy.

"Perhaps, but I'm sure you can tell me about Maria's daughter. I imagine the birth of a potential heir would be memorable enough." He spoke clearly but lowly so that the sound would not escape the room to listening ears. 

She stiffened, but made no other response except to glare into the fire. After a time she snorted again. 

"I don't know who you've been talking to, but there was no birth. Not so far as I saw. She was still ripe with child when she fled."

"To save the child?"

She scoffed. "Hardly. To save herself. "

Her face distorted again into an even more pronounced mask of distaste and she shook her head. "No, when the captains of the old guard were deposed all their children, even the unborn ones, were sent with them, mother and all. So Maria left before the child was ever born. All I know is she went south, and she spoke of a village in a forest...but anyone who knew more than that was wiped out during the coup." She chuckled dryly. "Serves them right for not thinking ahead. Good luck finding the daughter or Maria now...even if either still lives. Maria was a soft one, a bit spoiled really. Making an escape, in that condition, couldn't have been easy on her. I wouldn't doubt if she never made it to safety." The woman didn't sound too upset by the idea.

"I take it you weren't fond of her?"

She shrugged and smoothed the skirt of her dress primly. "We weren't friends or anything. She was too pretty for her own good. It made her proud, and frankly she was intolerable after she caught the chief's eye, and even worse when she was carrying his daughter. She didn't have a lot of friends when she first started on as a camp follower, and less after she started weaseling her way into the good graces of the officers. She was shrewd, and cold, and used her pregnancy to try to gain political influence, despite the fact that the child could easily have belonged to any number of men. She wasn't overly concerned with fidelity. I sometimes think that was part of the reason for the coup, no one wanted that clever snake of a girl getting that sort of power by manipulating a dullard like Belok. Frankly I have no sympathy for her." 

Jairus contained his frown. He wasn't sure that was information he wanted to relay back to Thea, if she had any illusions about her mother, they were probably best left unchallenged. Another thought occurred to him. 

"I see. Tell me, if there was no witnessed birth, how can you know the child was even a girl?"

Here the woman's expression became more confident and she almost smiled. "Well, as I told the others, Maria carried high, had a cool temperature, and ate far too many sweets. It had to be a girl." 

Jairus reached up casually covering his mouth with his hand in a contemplative gesture, managing to mask his smirk of disbelief before she saw it. 

"This is the only evidence anyone has then?" He asked after giving himself a moment to reign in his sarcasm. 

"It's all anyone would need, they know me here. I am a professional after all and my methods are very reliable."

"Of course." Naturally those lumbering superstitious idiots would never question it. How unfortunate that they had guessed correctly. It wasn't hard considering they had a fifty percent chance of being right. "I only mean to ask if anyone has actually seen or heard of the heir aside from what you've told them." 

"Not that I know of."

"I see." He paused. "You mentioned others...I assume you meant Darius." Again, there was no need to play coy with this woman, it would surely only back fire.

She pursed her lips slightly. "Yes." She drawled after a moment.

He heard the 'but' and extricated a few coins from his cloak, letting them appear as if from air in his hand. He said nothing, and merely rolled them in one hand while gazing in a focused manner into the fireplace. He'd let her contemplate the gold for a while. 

He enjoyed watching fire. There was something soothingly hypnotic about its movements. There was something else in the fire now too when he looked. It made him think of Thea, and her face hovering above the flames. The memory caused his mood darken as he also remembered the fear, pain, and desperation in her voice and in her eyes and the small, finger sized bruises that ran up her arms, and her wrists which had been torn and bloodied by her struggle. It had taken a great deal of control to remain calm and suppress his anger. He hadn't wanted to frighten her after all. Most people never saw him angry, but those who survived it usually avoided him afterward as if their lives depended on it. 

It often did.

The midwife shifted in her chair, her eyes darting between his face and his hand. He continued to wait on her until she finally cleared her throat. 

"Well, there was another man...though I think he was also from Darius...assuming you are."

He nodded in affirmation placing one coin very carefully on the arm of the chair he sat in. He wanted her to know that, so she could report it back to him when he inevitably came calling again.

"Do you recall when he was here?" He poised his fingers over the arm again as if about to pile another coin on the first, then paused his hand in the air. She flicked her eyes to his face again and nodded ever so slightly. 

"Yesterday morning."

He nodded and placed the second coin, immediately revealing a third. 

"It was just the one then?" He asked turning his head towards her. She watched his hand. He could see there had been another, but not one she was willing to talk about. He stacked three coins behind the first two, no longer toying with them, and folded his hands in front of him. She still didn't talk and he sensed her mood turn fearful. Whoever visited her didn't want anyone to know they had, and had likely threatened her. She eyed the gold with a pained expression then looked up at him.

He turned his eyes fully on her, catching her eyes with his. He felt the level of her anxiety rise as she tried to break the gaze and found herself unable to. One of her hands began to shake imperceptibly. Well, imperceptibly for anyone but him that is. He was too far from her to hear her heart rate, but he didn't need to hear it to know that it was beginning to race. 

'That's right' he encouraged, 'I am much more terrifying, if you will fear someone, fear me.' He intensified his gaze and she pressed back into her chair as if pinned there, swallowing hard.

"Othwyn" she whispered, her voice rasping slightly. He led the other line of the great house of Robeth, which was both interesting, and unnerving. Now there were two major factions looking for Thea, and the two most influential at that.

"Do you know what they wanted?" He asked in a low soft voice, careful not to break his hold on her. She shivered at the sound and nodded once.

"To find her." She whispered again.

"Maria?"

She shook her head. "The child"

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Do they know about Darius?"

"Yes." She answered, her voice a tiny whisper. Her eyes were growing wide and she was beginning to clutch at the arms of her own chair. With a mild sigh he released her and turned away with a nod then rose, pulling himself to his full height and dragged his cloak back over his shoulders.

"Thank you for your cooperation." He said evenly. "I'll let myself out before your company arrives. I wouldn't want to keep you." 

She blinked and started up at him as if he'd suddenly appeared out of thin air. He inclined his head politely and left before she composed herself. 

He side-stepped a man who tore around a corner and turned watching him rush past to bang on the door he'd recently exited. Must be the expecting father. He squeezed between two cottages and disappeared into the maze of shambling shacks and houses towards the main keep. 

He imagined the general layout hadn't much changed over the years, but he wanted a closer look before he left. It was one thing to have one group looking for her, but now it was at least two, and who could say how many free agents were already working for either group. It was best to be prepared for any eventuality, including dealing with this the old fashioned way and eliminating his problem at the source. He had even considered just getting it over with and putting Darius out of the running permanently. There would no doubt be more waiting to take his place however, and he had no desire to spend the next however many decades making political assassinations that earn him no more reward than the thinning of the Huroth population one idiot at a time. 

He mentally shook his head at himself as he eyed the battlements and noted the distribution of guards. There were quite a few, but most of them seemed disinterested in their work. There were only two gates, but there were enough dark corners and crevices to provide cover to scale the wall. He was too tired to move at speed, but he could still move faster than anything mortal. His fingers found the grooves and weaknesses in the stone easily. The stones were old and pitted by time and weather which made them easy to scale. He slid over the top and crouched in the half crumbled embrasure listening to the two guards several feet away. They said nothing pertinent, excepting a comment about Darius not having come back, but Jairus already knew where the man was and why. 

He slipped by them along the walk way, moving too fast to be much more than an eerie blurred shadow among other shadows. The layout of the Bailey told him the armoury, barracks and main hall were all arranged as he remembered them. 

He tucked himself into a shadow against a turret wall wrapping his cloak tightly around his body and settled against the cool stone with a sigh. After all this time he still remembered this dark corner, the sounds, smells, and the sharp frigid air against his face as it pierced beneath his hood. He had still been human when he had left here to lose himself in the city, to join the empire, to join civilization and escape the bloodthirsty barbarism of his fathers people. He smirked at that. It hadn't taken him long to learn that the rest of the world was little better. They just dressed it better. Humanity was a bloodthirsty lot, regardless of whether they wore chainmail or silk, or as Thea had discovered, a farmer's homespun. 

When Jairus left this place he had taken nothing but the clothes on his back and the knife his father had given him when he'd begun his training. It had been passed on for many generations before, a symbol of the people, of his duty. He'd never been very interested in that particular duty. He slid a hand to his hip and felt the smooth ridges of the pearl hilt under his fingers. 

It made sense that it was to be his duty, he had been the eldest son, and even if he hadn't, he'd excelled in combat and unlike his brothers, had been blessed with his mother's intelligence. Hence why he'd been the only one who'd wanted to join the empire when the offer was made, and the reason he'd left when his father refused and sent the Huroth into five generations of war which ended with the survivors being driven north into the wastes and steppes. This fortress had once marked a central point in the Huroth lands, now it was the southern boundary. 

He had left this short-sighted mess and swore never to embroil himself in their foolish politics again. He'd done a good job of it these last two centuries...but here he was, thrust back in whether he would or no, and once again the fate of the Huroth leadership was sitting in his lap, and once again he wished it would just leave him well enough alone. 

He could certainly sympathize with Thea's predicament, he too had once been the unwilling heir to...well, 'all this.' It wasn't a thrilling prospect, he could hardly understand why Darius and Othwyn would be so eager to claim it. They should just let it die its natural death and move on. The empire was corrupt and ugly, but it was strong and had centuries yet before it finally crumbled as well. That was the way of things, they live, they die. Well, most things. There were things like him as well, who may or may not die, and whose mode of life may or may not be called living. 

That could have been said of him, very easily, until of course these last months had thrust new vitality into his life. New blood, as it were. He winced into the dark at his continued distraction as he tossed himself over the wall, using a chain to slow his drop before falling the last twenty feet into a low crouch. Well if he had to get muddled in all this again, at least he had a worthwhile reason for it. Besides, as strange as it was, he thought with amusement, she was technically family, even if the legitimacy of the blood ties were dubious at best and was at least fourteen or so generations removed. 

Either way she had a power over him that no other living creature had ever had before or after the change, the power to make him do things that were completely against his better judgement. He had always prided himself on being reasonable, logical, and efficient, but she'd had him doing the opposite since the first night he'd laid eyes on her. He wanted to deal with this situation efficiently as well, but he had a sinking feeling things were going to become muddled and chaotic before it was all over. 

Somewhere the piercing wail of an infant broke the evening's stillness heralding the persistent triumph of life in the face of winter's cold oppression. It made a small part of him twinge with a sort of naively optimistic hope for the world. He smirked at that thought, because the rest of him just felt hungry, and the most insidiously disturbing part of that was the fact that he couldn't quite discern or remember which impulse was more innately human. 

**

Almost two weeks had passed and Thea was starting to go a little stir crazy. She realized the feeling was absurd considering she'd already been here a few months and had never desired to go wandering far afield. Now that she couldn't, she was almost desperate to. It didn't help that Jairus left just when she was starting to get used to his now almost constant presence. Not that she'd minded, but it had spoiled her a little for those times he wouldn't be around. Like the last couple of weeks.

So here she was mucking about in ankle high snow just for something to do. A soft thump behind her broke the still silence of the evening and made her jump and turn. It was already midnight, but she couldn't sleep, having already adjusted to Jairus's habits. 

She thinned her lips and nudged the clump of ice that had broken off a nearby branch before turning her face up towards the sky squinting against the thick flakes as they drifted around her, falling into the silence. She pushed back her hood and closed her eyes, letting the flakes catch in her loose hair and short dark lashes, tickling slightly as they melted. She swayed in the snow, her arms wrapping around her under her cloak. She felt her wrist brush the handle of the knife she wore belted over her hips. She was almost used to the feel of it there, but not to point where she was comfortable with it. She supposed it should make her feel a little safer, but in many ways it felt as menacing as those who threatened her. She smiled blindly up into the falling snow. That description might be used to describe the one who'd given it to her in the first place.

There was a soft sound, like a flag snapping lightly in the wind, and she open her eyes just as a hand came down over her mouth. 

Her cry of alarm was muffled by worn leather and her impulse to struggle was quelled by the feel of something sharp and cold against the side of her neck. She stiffened and her fingers gripped the hilt of her own knife. 

She held her breathe and quickly considered her options. If she pulled the knife slowly he might feel it, or she might be dead before she could. It would have to be fast, and she wouldn't be able to turn around. 

She tensed and with all the speed she could muster whipped the knife from its sheath and slammed it backwards. She heard the material of her cloak tear, and felt the tip of the knife contact something firm just as she was pushed away and twisted around at the same time. She stumbled to keep her balance and slashed out at the air before her only to find it empty. She blinked, disoriented. A hand came down over right wrist from around her shoulder. She snapped her head towards it and gaped up at the face looking back down at her with a familiar ghost of a smile. 




Fire Ch. 06



"Didn't I say you'd do fine?"

She breathed out and slumped faintly in relief. 

"Though" he continued, still gripping her wrist and reaching out to pull the knife from her hand, 

"you might consider holding it a little higher," he paused, sliding his hand over hers and rewrapping her fingers over the handle with his own, "to give you more control, and reduce the chance of it being knocked out of your hand."

She coughed out a laugh at that, still panting from the sudden rush of fear. "I wasn't exactly worried about finesse." 

His expression grew into a mild smile. "This is efficiency. Finesse is for dilatants. The rest of us are just interested in getting the job done and walking away from it." He released her and arched a brow as he turned away, his cloak following in a dramatic eddy after him. "Now you also know why I wanted you to stay inside" he added as he walked away towards the dwelling's entrance.

She gave the back of his head an exasperated look. "That doesn't count, you don't play fair...not human, remember?" she called after him, turning one of his favourite phrases back on him. He didn't turn around or stop, but he waved a hand at her. 

"It will never be fair, it never is." He called idly as he began to fade into the darkness.

She watched him disappear and finally decided to go after him, noting as she walked in his tracks that there were none but her own left in the clearing leading towards her. 'How does he do that?' she wondered as a tremulous sensation ran up her spine. 

Sometimes it was easy to forget what he was, that he was...something else. She almost didn't see the blood drinking as odd anymore, just an integral part of the rest of it, another sort of pleasure, potent though it may be. But the other reminders were almost always unsettling. She was also still a little shaken by the unexpected attack. Even if it hadn't been real, it was still a reminder in itself of the danger she was in. This, she supposed, had been his design. It was also a reminder of what he was capable of, and of what he did for a living, something she was still not certain she fully grasped the consequences of.

He was gone, and the night was frigid. She pulled her cloak tighter to her body and picked up her speed.

Jairus watched smiling as Thea shook out her cloak and hung it on a hook inside the darkened store room then proceeded to move from room to room checking and leaving each with a growing look of consternation etched on her face. He followed her up the stairs at a distance. He had taken his time gathering his information, visiting each town further and further south, following Maria's path, 'tracking' a woman he didn't need to track. It felt a bit like play acting, but it was useful. At least he knew what the 'others' knew, and likely before they did. 

Returning to her village had been difficult and frustrating. Unfortunately they were quick to confirm both Maria's identity and the midwife's suspicions, and quickly provided a name and description for the daughter. It took some prodding to discover more, as few wished to discuss her apparent demise at their collective hands and most who would speak seemed appropriately sheepish about the matter. 

There were a few who were less than apologetic however, and it was those cases which made the experience a trial of will. Not his will over theirs, that was a 'no-contest', but his will against the overwhelming urge to exact revenge for her mistreatment in slow and creative ways. Such an act might be taken the wrong way however, and he had no intention of risking exposure just yet, not after all the care he'd taken to make the right impression, and ask the right questions, in case someone else came asking after him. 

Besides, it might seem suspicious if people with relevant information went missing so soon after speaking with him, and he knew there were others in 'the guild' who would be more than happy to find a way to take over the job, if they weren't trying already, or even find a way to be rid of him entirely. As far as he knew, there were none like him, but some were remarkably competent. 

The villagers, who would talk about 'the witch,' generally concurred that she had died, but a few admitted that there was no body, and no trace, other than the bloodied ropes left behind. He knew that his competition would take this to mean she had escaped, and would check the surrounding area for a sign of her. 

Their one stroke of good fortune was the fact that she'd not left this place since he'd brought her here, and no one would have seen her on route. 

Theoretically he should be investigating the surrounding towns if he wanted to continue this farce, but he'd been so nearby he couldn't resist taking the detour home. That was the second major frustration of visiting her village. He couldn't help but be reminded of her, and her nearness. He had meant to finish his inquiries before returning and hopefully convince the Huroth to abandon the task of finding her when she'd clearly vanished. Of course he doubted they would, but it was worth an attempt before he had to start taking more extreme measures. The quickest and quietest way was always the best one...or so he usually thought at least...then again, he reconsidered eyeing the woman who was now knocking on and hesitantly opening his bedroom door, 'quick and quiet' wasn't exactly a universal rule. 'In fact', the thought, slipping silently into the room behind her, and closing the door a little harder than he needed to, making her start and whirl, 'in fact, sometimes the opposite was far more satisfying.'

"Looking for me?"

Thea stifled her gasp and gave him a half hearted glare.

"Stop that. I hate it when you sneak up on me."

He looked rather amused by that. "Liar." His smile tightened and he leaned in towards her, his hands behind his back, and inhaled deeply enough for her to notice. "You give yourself away. I can hear it," his smile widened, revealing just the barest hint of fang in the corner of her eye, 

"and smell it." She stiffened and suppressed her blush. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." She muttered as he pulled away and walked past her, tossing his cloak on the foot of the bed and slumping into a chair pushing off his boots and closing his eyes, a good humoured but still self-satisfied smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're in a good mood. Should I be worried? Or did you just bring happy news, like the lot of them fell off the edge of the world and won't be bothering us anymore?" She watched his mouth as she spoke, fighting the urge to run over and throw herself in his lap and kiss the smug right off of it. And then some. Why stop there after all.

But she'd was damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction after that last comment. 

"Why is it that people seem overly concerned about my good moods?" 

She wondered who else comprised, 'people.' The question seemed rhetorical so she just shrugged.

"Good news then?" She did want to know, truly, but other thoughts were pressing into her mind and distracting her making the question sound slightly flat.

"Actually, no." His eyes remained shut. "Do you want the good or bad news first?"

"Bad."

He tapped the arm of the chair with one finger. 

"There are more of them looking for you now...and I haven't ascertained how many yet, or their intentions...but for safety's sake we might assume the worst."

"More?"

"Indeed."

"Bloody hell."

"Indeed."

"I hope the good news is incredibly good then."

"Well, you're still safe here, no one could have followed you or know where you disappeared to."

"Oh goody." She muttered dryly. More of them. Really? What in the name of all that's holy did she ever do to have this thrust upon her. If she wasn't stuck before, it was official now. He opened his eyes at that and smirked up at her. Somehow, without really noticing when, she'd walked herself over to the chair to hover over him, her leg nearly brushing his. 

"You sound ecstatic."

"You have no idea."

He sighed and shrugged, his face turning suddenly somber. "I will do what I can to end this quickly, but I can't promise you it will be easy."

She shook her head. "No, I know. Don't mind me, I just like to feel sorry for myself. Please, don't think I don't appreciate what you're doing for me." She reached out without thinking, touching his arm to assure him of her sincerity. The contact sent an unexpected sensation, like a shock, running up her arm. She pulled away, startled by the feeling. 

He captured her hand in his before she could retreat and brought the back of it to his lips, brushing them over the knuckles and down along the fingers. She felt another shiver of sensation, this one making her spine twitch. She felt suddenly hyper aware of the coldness of his hand, the way his fingers slid caressingly up the center of her palm, and the way his leg had fallen to the side pressing lightly into her own leg. 

She reached up with her free hand to gingerly run the blade of her finger along the hollow of his cheek, all thoughts of smugness or pride forgotten. She turned, her fingers still entwined with his as she sat lightly on his knee watching his eyes. His smile returned, but it was gentler this time. 

He wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her more firmly against him. The little shivers were almost continuous now as she curled into him, his hand disentangling from hers to run the tips of his own long fingers over her cheek, jaw, and throat. She felt her whole body light up as they slowed almost compulsively over the veins, his eyes following the line of her neck to rest there as well.

He smiled faintly as he heard her heart being to race, pounding harder against his own chest, the lower he drew his fingers. He lingered over her pulse enjoying the throbbing call that sung to him from beneath her warm taunt skin. 

He watched her lips part in anticipation and drew his fingers back up to trace his thumb along the bottom curve of her mouth before following its path with his own lips. She shivered in his arms and pressed into him when he leaned back into the chair, not letting him escape her. Her hands tenderly cupped his face as she dusted his mouth with tentative, feather light kisses that belied the anxious tension he felt coursing through the rest of her that made her breath come out in faint shaky gasps against his mouth. 

She pulled away, looking into his eyes, her own painted with confused expectancy. When he did nothing but gaze back at her she cocked her head and frowned slightly.

"Have you eaten?" 

He repressed his smile and nodded when her hands slid to his chest. He was not surprised to see disappointment in her eyes, but the brief flit of irritation was unexpected. It looked almost like anger, or...jealousy. He narrowed his eyes at her and tipped his head. She wriggled uncomfortably under his glare causing him to hold his breath to keep from letting out a groan as she inadvertently rubbed herself against his erection. He'd been hard as a rock since he'd seen her standing luminous in the moonlight and snow, now it was just becoming painful, and she wasn't helping.

"You seem upset by that."

She stiffened and sat straighter in his lap. He tightened his grip so she couldn't try to escape.

"Certainly not. Why should I be?"

He'd never met a worse liar in his life. Even if he couldn't hear her heart accelerating, it was still written all over her face.

"You're not jealous are you?" 

He watched her eyes flare and mouth tighten. So she was then. She didn't want to share. The silent confirmation filled him with a sudden and violent heat which caused his fangs to elongate and made him tighten his hold on her before he could rein the feeling in. He leaned into her, hiding the evidence of his need against her hair and throat. 

He took a breath and let out a chuckle that sounded a little thick to his ears. 

"I know it's hard to believe," he intoned lowly, 

"but as delightful a combination as it can be," he slid a hand up her spine and wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck, her responsive shudder making his fingers constrict involuntarily pulling a low moan from her as well, "we don't typically combine dinner with sex, so you needn't be concerned." He finished, dragging his mouth over her flesh. 

"What about me?" She asked huskily, her forehead resting on his shoulder. 

"You are different. It would be like comparing porridge to..." he paused trying to remember something comparably delicious and came up short.

"Chocolate cake?" She offered softly.

He laughed against her neck again. "Is that your favourite?"

"Yes." Her voice was lower than a whisper.

"Then yes. Chocolate cake."

He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling. 

They sat there a long time, her head buried against his shoulder, his mouth lingering over her neck.

"Well?"

"Well what?" He asked knowing she was as anxious as he to feel his teeth pressing into her. It was difficult to restrain himself, but hearing her plead made it worth the wait.

She snickered nervously, twisting her fingers under the collar of his vest. "Dessert?" 

He gripped her thigh and let out a low growl. 

"Are you offering?"

She shifted again. "Maybe."

He opened his mouth and dragged the tips of his teeth down her throat, pressing them softly into the crook of her neck before withdrawing. He listened to her sigh of frustration and captured the end of it with a long slow kiss. Her tongue slid eagerly against his, brushing against his fangs suggestively. 

He skimmed his hands up over her stomach and the swell of her breast, tugging carefully at the laces of her shirt and letting the material fall open so that his fingers could glide over the length of her collarbone unhindered. Her breathing deepened and her fingers gripped his clothes more urgently. Her kiss became more urgent as well, and he couldn't help but release his own sound of pleasure at the soft whimpers she made as she forced her mouth against his. 

He felt her tongue trace the length of one fang, then pause at the tip, and before he could respond she pressed against it puncturing herself on the sharp point. 

She shifted again as the trickle of blood ran over his own tongue, coating his mouth with the taste of her. She crawled over him, not breaking the kiss, kneeling astride his lap. He let her prevail for the moment, unable to deny the enthralling flavour or the draw of her warm little body cleaving to him. Her insistence and desire were more than intoxicating, and when she pulled away from the kiss, her mouth red with lust and her own blood, her eyes fiery and blackened, it took every ounce of control to keep from giving in and ripping into her with complete abandon. 

He had always been a selfish and stubborn creature. He wanted more, and he would have it and his way. 

He returned her searing look but only gripped her waist hard and clenched his jaw when she pulled the rest of her blouse open and tipped her head back and to the side, exposing the long column of her neck and smooth globes of her breasts at once. She was a feast in all senses of the word. 

He growled again against the hunger that raced in red waves through his body. He'd come home fully fed, hoping it would dull the edge of his need, make it easier to control himself in her arms, but it seemed to make little difference now. This wasn't that kind of hunger. This craving was entirely for her, and she was the only one who could sate it. 

He reached for her, weighing the supple flesh of one breast in his hand, imprisoning it with his fingers while plucking at the hard wine coloured nipple. She gasped and rocked towards him, grinding her body against his. He could feel the heat of her sex even through their clothes and used his free hand to tug at her skirt, allowing her legs to spread wider before wrapping his arm around her hips to crush her heat to him, ensuring she was quite aware of his own insistent arousal. 

She broke from his gaze, closing her eyes, and tipping her head even further back. She could only have been more explicit if she spelled it out for him, and he had every intention of making her. He wanted to hear her words, her pleas, his name on her lips, to hear her beg desperately, 'take me,' 'bite me,' 'I want you, please...'. It was, all of it, nearly as sweet as the blood that still lingered in his mouth, and he drank it in just as impatiently.

She let out a low growl of her own and looked him in the eye again. Behind the dark desire he saw hints of confusion, or doubt. 'We can't have that now, can we,' he thought curving his mouth into a rapacious smile. He pulled at her breast again, this time less gently, and pressed his hips up to meet hers as a reminder. 

"Are you going to make me beg?" The dusky sound of her voice made his cock twitch and his smile widen. "Do you like making me beg?" She asked with unmasked frustration.

"Yes." He snaked the hand around her waist back up the grove of her spine and curled his fingers into the hair that swept from the nape of her neck.

"Why?" The question was lost in a gasp as he tightened his fingers causing her head to tip back abruptly and a lingering tremor to skitter through her body.

"I like the sound of your voice." He whispered lightly as he languidly drew her towards him, his parted lips tracing the lines of her shoulder. He could feel her trembling against him now and her anticipation made the air thick around them and it played on his own like a harp. He skirted his teeth over her skin again, watching her through half lidded eyes as he felt her fingers mimic his and bury themselves in his hair aggressively.

"Say it." His voice was low, but tight with need and restraint.

"Say it." He demanded again, his voice becoming more harsh than he had intended, but he wanted her too much right now to stop it. 

She shook in his arms, but didn't answer.

"Thea..." she ground into him rhythmically. 

"Please..." he gasped pressing the tips of his fangs into her, marking the skin, but not penetrating it. 

She whimpered.

"Jairus." 

He closed his eyes.

"Jairus, please." She rocked against him, gripping him to her. "I need you." She whispered heatedly.

The heat that had rushed through him before flooded his senses completely now, making his chest ache. 

'I need you'. The words rode through him on the tide of that heat and he groaned against her throat. He had thought nothing could have sounded sweeter than that first 'I want you,' she had blurted out two weeks ago, but he'd been wrong. This...this was so much better.

"Jairus?" she whispered again, her voice full of want and desperation, fear and need. He remembered himself, remembered what she'd been begging for, what every inch of him was also begging for, and ended their torture. He plunged into her, into her warmth, into the hot rush of pleasure, and blissfully let himself drown in it, in her. 

The first dark wave rushed through her. The world seemed to pitch unsteadily and she clung to the solid body beneath her as her sight blurred and her pulse thrummed and fluttered strangely in her ears. The feeling was overwhelming, even terrifying. She'd never remembered it feeling like this. Somewhere beyond the uneven tattoo of her heart she heard a low purring sound and it vibrated through her, flooding her already throbbing sex with an agonizing heat. She writhed against the delicious torment, suddenly aware of the incredible void inside of her that ached to be filled. She could feel his hunger, his fire, moving within her and the pressure of his fangs prising her open, but it wasn't enough. She wanted all of him inside her, filling her, and she needed it now. 

She gasped as she felt him break away. He too gasped, and she gazed down at him as he fell back into the chair panting. Her vision still swam, but she could see the dazed expression he wore. He had broken their connection, but her terrible want had not diminished. 




Fire Ch. 06



She pushed off of him, getting to her feet. The world still swayed unnaturally, but desire fueled determination gave her a heady sense of confidence. The hesitant expression that flitted across his features only bolstered it, making her grin toothily down at him. It felt like predator's grin, fierce and certain. She pulled off her blouse slowly and unlaced the skirt letting it slip to the ground. She stepped out of it and moved back towards him. Instead of taking the proffered hand he offered as he reached for her, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet instead. He watched her with a bemused smile as she snaked her hands down his chest and over his thighs.

"Take it off." She breathed huskily up into his ear, pressing her bare breasts against the leather of his jerkin. She watched his expression darken ever so slightly and she pulled away only to turn him by the waist and push him backward towards his bed. He sat when his legs finally hit the bed and she gave him a light shove to make her wishes know. 

"Take it off" she whispered again, taking a step back. He looked up at her, letting his eyes travel unhurriedly over the full length of her body before meeting her eyes. The path of his gaze licked at her with invisible flames, but the heat on her skin was completely unrelated to the self-consciousness she normally felt at such a fervent and lingering appraisal. Instead his palpable desire only fanned hers higher. She moved out of his reach and shifted her hips waiting for him to comply. 

After a long moment of searching her eyes with his, he did, sliding it off with his shirt and tossing both away. She smiled a slow smile and felt a delicious throbbing begin in her loins as he stood and removed the rest as well. She gave him her own languid examination, caressing him with her eyes. It ended with her hands on his wonderfully firm chest, pushing him back onto the bed until he was laid out before her in all his lean, hard, male glory. 

Jairus watched her with lust, curiosity, and a hint of disquiet. He'd never seen quite that expression on her face before. He leaned up on his elbow to watch her crawl onto the bed after him, her body roiling over his in a deliciously serpentine fashion. He reached out to pull her down to him, wanting to feel her writhing body moving against him.

To his surprise she stopped his wrist and pinned it onto the bed beside him before abandoning it and smoothing her palms up his arms to grip his shoulders. 

Her mercilessly sultry smile widened and she dipped her body dragging the length of it over him, using his shoulders as leverage. He could only close his eyes and breath out a groan as his cock slid between her full breasts and firmly pressed along the curve of her belly. 

He ground his hips upward when she slid higher, but she shifted quickly and found himself thrusting vainly into air. She shook her head and slid back again, letting his cock glide down between the firm rounds of her ass until he sprung free, only to slither over him again. He watched, transfixed, the sight of her slick swelling sex as it slid over his length, the soft folds opening around him, caressing him with her wet silken heat. 

He watched through lust clouded eyes as her red mouth parted and her head rolled back with pleasure. He reached for her again, desperate to feel her open for him completely, to feel that tight silk wrapped around all of him. Again she surprised him and pulled his hands from her hips. He let out a low growl of frustration and considered tossing her onto her back and just pinning her beneath him, but he look in her eyes cut through his haze and made him pause. 

She looked almost ravenous, like she had every intention of devouring him whole and was certain she could. She pressed his wrists into the bed again, but it was the hunger in her eyes that kept him still, and for the briefest of moments made him hesitate. 

Slowly she began to move again, torturing him with her long slow strokes, and coating him with her arousal. He rested his hands on her hips, but made no attempt to control her actions, curiosity causing him to abandon his urge to take her. Instead he let his eyes burn into hers and ground his hips to meet her. Still she denied him, though he could see in her eyes their fierce desire was more than mutual. He growled again and shifted her, poising at her entrance and pressing into her. He almost cried out in frustration as her body shifted higher, denying him yet again.

Her laugh was low and as thick as molasses. 

"Was there something you wanted?"

He recognized those words. They sounded like his. 

He gritted his teeth and dug in his fingers into her hips ready to pull her back. Her eyes hardened and he hissed out a breath, relaxing his grip by a minute fraction. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his ear, her breath 

strangely cool. 

"Do you want to fuck me?" She asked, whispering against his cheek, her voice breaking around the words, for a brief moment revealing a hint of hesitation. 

His fingers dug into her again, this time reflexively as every muscle in his body tensed. He didn't just want to fuck her, he wanted to fuck her until she was screaming his name incoherently into the blankets. And if she didn't reveal her game soon, than that was precisely what he was going to do.

"Well?" she asked when he didn't answer, leaning up to look him in the eyes, her hands supporting her over his shoulders. 

"What do you think?" He growled, narrowing his eyes at her.

She smirked and leaned in, brushing her lips lightly over his. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

He clenched his jaw. "Yes." He hissed. "I do." He voice grinding out as rough as gravel.

Thea leaned in again this time letting her kiss linger. She could feel the tension in his body, the anticipation and restraint, and it sent wild thrill through her. She knew she couldn't wait much longer. Even if she wanted to, the look in his eyes told her he was at his limit. A few weeks ago that expression might have terrified her, now it made her shake with eager anticipation. His fingers were like talons biting into her, and she suppressed the moan as it tried to tear from her chest. She drew in a deep breath and prepared herself.

"Well you can't" She hissed before slamming her mouth hard into his, silencing any protest with her lips and tongue, swallowing his surprise and ire excitedly in a long and brutally rough kiss. She broke away just long enough to gasp for breath and groan out the additional, "if I fuck you first." 

She bruised his mouth with hers once more and thrust backwards against his waiting hips, whimpering into his thick cry as she was forced open around him, her body clenching in spasms, unprepared for and overwhelmed by the sudden invasion. She paused breathless before sliding back up his length and driving herself down to be so exquisitely and completely impaled once more. 

He groaned again as her lips left his one more time and she pulled away from him, her body upright astride his. Her eyes were closed and head tossed back as she twisted her hips experimentally sending another surge of sensation through him and feeding his impulse to drive up into her. He moved, preparing to do just that, overtaken by the now familiar need to move in her and claim her as his. Her eyes opened to look down at him, her hair framing her face in unruly waves that matched her tempestuous expression. There was something else there as well, something pleading, as she shook her head no.

"Not yet, she whispered." He let out a hard breathe, but remained as still as his desire would allow and watched with approval as she slid her hands to the center of his chest and began to move, her tight body clinging to him as she slid her hot slick pussy along his cock. For a time he was content to just lay back and enjoy the feel of her body writhing over his as she began to rock herself against him. 

She closed her eyes yet again as she began to lift and sink herself in a slow rhythm, and Jairus readily drank in the sight of her naked flushed body even as he groaned and clenched his jaw against the excruciating and erotic torture of her unhurried pace. Slowly, incredibly slowly, her pace began to quicken and her movements became more and more halting and uneven. 

He smoothed his hands up her sides and down her arms finally unable to resist, and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. He could feel the blood pumping hard beneath the skin and growled, shifting to meet her as she fell into him. She didn't pull away.

"Thea?" 

She opened her eyes again, panting, and must have seen the question he was asking written on his face because she nodded and curled her fingers against his chest letting the nails dig lightly into his skin. He tightened his grip and held her gaze. She rose again, but this time he met her half way. She gasped out a cry and pitched forward slightly. His grip held her steady and he used her momentum to thrust into her again. 

Thea whimpered his name as he pounded into her, using his grip on her arms to force her back to meet him. He shifted again beneath her and she felt him push even deeper inside her, roughly nudging the innermost barrier. He took both her wrists in one hand, lifting them off his chest. 

She fell forward as she was pulled off balance and gasped as the movement shifted him inside her. His other hand returned to her hip and lifted her again only to press her back. He piston into her and she reeled. She was disoriented by the shift from the thrill of feeling him underneath her, clearly frustrated and tense, to being suddenly caught and bound by his hands, unable to even hang on as he set his their pace. 

She struggled in his grip but she only managed to rock herself back onto another hard thrust. The jolt shook her to the core and she refocused her efforts as a delirious pleasure rolled through her, trying instead to meet his body instead. He lowered the arm that held her wrists, and she came with it. He released her, perhaps feeling her compliance, perhaps looking for better purchase which he found along her thigh. She wrapped her unrestrained arms around his neck and clung to him as they continued to drive into one another.

As she clutched at him with part of her, wanting to somehow feel all of him at once, her mind was besieged with thoughts of want and fear and need. She was flooded with desire, and with the terrifying knowledge of her own desperate need. She felt a pang of distress at the thought that she was alone in that need. Though she had something he wanted, it was still something he could have elsewhere. Could and did.

She closed her mind to the thought and braced against his shoulder, devouring his passion etched face with her eyes. It was enough that he wanted her, here and now. It would be enough, it had to be enough. She closed her eyes as well as her mind and let herself fall back into the oblivion of his embrace allowing the darkness to obliterate all thoughts save the awareness of his unrelenting assault of her senses, and his body moving always already inside her. 

His mouth came over hers, the sharp points of his teeth playing at her lips, drawing tiny beads of blood, his tongue dancing erotically with hers until the teasing game of his kiss degraded into the frantic consumption of one by the other. His gasped her name against her mouth and it resonated through her like a promise and a curse. She mewled her response and shook as he flooded her, filling her completely with his raw heat. 

His release triggered her own, and she arched away from him, a jagged cry ringing out as if ripped from her core. She gasped and wrenched in his arms as her demanding sex clutched at him, her cunt pulsing and suckling him covetously. Her vision washed red as she rode out her orgasm, still moving against him until she felt her breast brush his chest and his arms encircled her, holding her firmly against him. She gasped for breath and dropped her forehead to the heaving chest before her. 

It took her a moment to realize she was still upright. She blinked and turned her head, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. He was sitting up, holding her close as she shivered out the last spasms of her climax. 

He held her long after. She couldn't quite bring herself to speak or look up into his face, but she never let go and neither did he. 



Fire Ch. 07



Hi there. *says the author sheepishly*

Sorry about the wait, I know it was waaaay longer than usual. I was going to keep going and make it a really long one as compensation, but who knows how much longer that was going to take. So here she is, the seventh installment. Got comments, advice, criticism, good intentions, milk? Always, always welcome and needed. I prefer 1%.

Bon Appetite, mes petits choux.

yours, enithermon

***

Thea rolled onto her back with a groan and wiped the stingingly cold snow off her face, sputtering. The night sky gazed back down on her silently, its twinkling landscape framed by the bare frozen arms of the trees that stretched heavenward around her. 

A voice filled the air somewhere behind her head.

"Better, but you're still relying too much on your strength. You can't invest so much forward momentum in your attacks, a half decent fighter will just use it against you and it will be over before it begins. As the weaker opponent, you need to rely on speed and agility, not brute force."

She sighed. "Not everyone is as strong as you. I'm as tall as most men."

"These Southerners perhaps, but not the Huroth." 

"When did you say you were leaving again?"

A face appeared over her, blocking out the stars and grinning a sardonic, fanged, upside down grin.

"Sick of me already?" 

"I'm sick of getting tossed around like a rag doll in the snow is more like it." She said with a sigh and sat up, turning her head to look back up at him over her shoulder. "Don't you get tired?"His grin faded to a smirk. 

"Every so often." He offered his hand. "If it is any consolation you're starting to get harder to throw around." She shook her head and took his hand.

"It's not." He chuckled and hauled her to her feet. She shivered and wiped her red hands on the legs of her pants, and looked around her feet for her lost knife. He tapped her on the shoulder with it and handed it back when she looked up. "I think I'm done for the night." She said as she wiped the slush from the blade and put it back in its sheath. 

"But I was just getting warmed up?" 

His face was serene, but she caught the twinkle in his eye.

"You may be, but I'm going to turn into an icicle if I spend any more time rolling around in snow banks."

"Then stop letting me toss you in them." His eyes still glinted mischievously. She scoffed.

"Doesn't the cold bother you at all?" She asked, turning more serious as she rubbed her arms to keep the blood flowing. He'd been coming back between his excursions to the local villages to 'investigate' her disappearance and had, as promised, given her more thorough instructions on how to defend herself. So far all she felt like she learned was how to land without knocking herself out in the process. That, and how to treat frost bite. The weather was getting damn cold as winter drew on. She rubbed her arms. He shrugged.

"No."

"Lucky you." She appraised him. There was still so much she didn't know about him, about what he was, and what he was capable of. There were things she was vaguely aware of, his speed and silence and strength, but she knew nothing about where his limits were, or what else he was capable of. As her comfort with him had grown, so did her curiosity. "It seems like there isn't much you can't do." She muttered in what she hoped was an off hand manner.

He returned her gaze, his expression muted. They stood there in the snow watching each other silently until Thea felt the oppression of her unasked questions weigh down on her. He smiled grimly, but his eyes were still dark and inscrutable.

"Fishing for your opponent's weaknesses?" She let out a dry laugh.

"Or something." She offered. Her smirk faded and she cleared her throat. "I guess we should head in then?"

He shook his head. "You go on. I'm leaving for the city."

"Now? To speak with them?"

He nodded. 

She swallowed feeling a strange distance in the empty space between them that she hadn't experienced for quite some time, that strange sense of a widening, bottomless chasm. She held her breath as she took the first step towards him, pushing through the thick bubble of tension, and half expecting there to be no solid ground under her feet. She was almost surprised to find she wasn't plummeting into an abyss when she reached for him. She laid her hand on his chest and tilted her head up to graze her mouth tentatively against his bottom lip. He brushed her back, moving as slowly as melting ice, the fingers of one hand touching her face in the barest hint of a caress. 

"Good luck." She whispered, their lips still making contact. 

His lips moved away from hers, and stroked over her cheek to her jaw. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed out her held breath. He feathered his mouth and fingers over the lines of her face and brow before finally settling his mouth against hers, not hesitantly, but carefully. She felt her throat close and her eyes burn inexplicably. 

His mouth brushed her ear. "Watch yourself."

She nodded silently against his shoulder. She felt him release her and pull away, but when she blinked her eyes open, he was gone. 

Something tickled her neck and she reached up to brush it away and her hand hit something cold and metallic. She looked down, surprised to see a necklace resting across her collar. She reached back to remove it. 

She'd never even felt it go on.

It looked almost insubstantial, held together as it was by fine interlocking swirls of silver which reminded her of clouds or whirlwinds and was studded with jade and another pinkish red stone she'd never seen before. It was terribly beautiful. She wondered if it would be appropriate to put back on. Was it hers? Had he put it there as a gift? 

'Well why else would it be there?' She mocked to herself. 

Still, she felt a pang as she replaced it and tugged her cloak so that it was covered. He'd never given her anything like that before, excepting the pearl perhaps, but this was different. She wondered what had compelled him now. 

Regardless, the gesture warmed her. Not least because it came on top of all that he was already doing to help her. He had never actually expressed in words affection for her, barring that first vague 'I liked you,' which now in retrospect sounded charmingly boyish to her. Her lips quirked as she fingered the lacy bit of jewelery. However, the fact that he'd been helping her, as if he'd never contemplated doing anything else...well, that spoke loudly enough.

"Thea!?"

She blinked and looked up.

Berin's face appeared from behind the door.

She held up her hand.

He grinned. "Girl, I need a hand."

She threw herself back into reality and made her way over. "What, are you doing?"

He gave her a pitiful look. "The axletree on the hand cart is startin' to rot out. I'm trying to get a new one the same size, but I can't get the damned vice tight enough to lathe her smooth." He held up a hand and clenched it in an explanatory way. 

She nodded and followed him in. "I'm sure Timothy would be stronger." 

He snorted. "He's in a mood." 

She chuckled.

"He's always in a mood."

He turned back to her and winked.

"Good to see you're not."

Her smile twisted into a wry one. "Well, we'll see how long that lasts." He paused to let her catch up and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Well little girl, that's life now isn't it. Just gotta take the good while you got it."

"You're a wise man." He gave her shoulder another little squeeze.

"You be sure and mention that to May, eh?"

She only shook her head, and giggled softly.

**

"That took a while...any luck?" Marcus asked looking up from his glass. Jairus seated himself at the same table, pulling the chair so that the back pressed against the wall, then scanned the busy common room for interested eyes or ears before answering and pushing back his hood. 

"Not really. It may be a dead end."

"Huh." He didn't sound surprised. Jairus knew he wasn't the only person who used Marcus as a go between, and he wondered if some of the other people looking for her weren't also working with Marcus. Better for the client, and either way Marcus would get paid. However, it was a dangerous game to play. People who killed for a living were not people one normally double crossed, unless of course one had become foolishly over confident. 

It was possible Marcus had become impatient, or the client had for that matter, when Jairus hadn't returned with his usual promptness and results. Then again, someone had beaten him to the mid wife, and he'd not taken that long to get there, just longer than he was generally known to. 

Once again he just couldn't let the girl alone, and once again it was going to cost him.

"Have you spoken to them?"

Marcus snorted, "Unfortunately. They're becoming rather impatient. They want results and fast."

"I'm sorry to have disappointed them, but if it consoles them, there is a good chance she's already dead."

"How's that?" 

"If my information was correct, then it seems the heiress was killed in some sort of ritual sacrifice." He watched Marcus as he spoke, and again noticed a distinct lack of surprise or interest. Jairus was sure the man had heard this before. Marcus only nodded in response. After a moment cleared his throat and nodded towards one of the back rooms.

"One of the clients is waiting in the backroom there, he can send for Darius as soon as you're ready." 

"Now is as good a time as any." 

Marcus nodded again but remained seated and sipped at his liquor, watching the room. 

"There's another group who've turned up looking for her as well."

"And?" He asked when Marcus paused, still looking away.

"And they've offered substantially more...only....only they want her alive."

"Alive? Did they say why?"

"No. But I can arrange a meeting for later tonight...elsewhere of course, if you're interested in hearing them out. They seem to have done some digging of their own, so they might have a fresh lead for you...though I can't say how much more they might know than you. You took your sweet time, so I assume you were pretty thorough." 

Jairus was very interested in hearing what they knew, and if they knew more than he wanted them to. He nodded.

"Do it."

Marcus stood and sauntered across the room. 

A slight blond girl blocked his view before he saw Marcus disappear. She smiled widely, though her eyes were empty and restrained.

"Can I get you a drink?" This was Marcus' regular place of business so he had seen the girl before, and he didn't doubt she had seen him. He shook his head and her smile tightened. "Let me know if you change your mind." She moved on to the next table, and he watched her smile widen again as she leaned into one of the men sitting there and brushed lingeringly against him in a seemingly innocuous way to collect his glass. The man grinned at her and placed another order. Her eyes glinted warmly and she swished her hips and fluttered her hand at him, brushing his shoulder. 

He watched as she moved away, her body stiffening and eyes turning empty once more, she glanced back towards his table, probably feeling his eyes on her. She forced a tight smile onto her face when he caught her eye.

He broke the gaze and let it travel along the bar next to which she stood. He saw one familiar figure. A slight young man with a narrow pointed face sat perched on one of the stools, his beer still full in front of him, though he brought the glass to his lips every once in a while. The youth was also watching the room. 

Jairus had seen him here a few times. He had caught him 'at work' as it were. Twice he had spotted the boy out in the middle of a job. Once because the lad had simply jumped a mark in a nearby alley and the man had called out before he was able to silence him. 

Jairus had been nearby and checked the alley out of curiosity. He supposed the job was effective enough, but the man had set up an alarm and Jairus hadn't been the only one drawn to the sound.

He had watched from a distance as the would-be assassin was chased by two irate citizens shouting bloody murder. Shoddy work to be sure, but amusing to watch. The second time had been even worse. He'd used his alley 'technique' again, only this time the mark was expecting an attack. Unsurprisingly, as Jairus had also spotted the boy tailing the man in the most obvious of manners, and the man would have had to be an idiot or blind not to notice. 

Remembering the previous encounter, he had followed to see the results. They were also most amusing, though he eventually took pity on the boy and pulled the mark off of him once it was clear he had been overpowered and out-maneuvered. 

It was simply enough for him at least to grab him by the throat and tossed him into the wall, knocking him out. 

The scathing look the youth had given him was as comical as it was impertinent. He was only trying to be helpful after all. Ever since the incident, the boy had given him that same look when in a rare moment they happened to cross paths. 

However, he was still in one piece and Jairus had yet to catch him jumping marks in alleyways like a common mugger, so apparently the experience had taught him that at least. Marcus reappeared, and Jairus watched his eyes dart quickly to the boy on the stool. Interesting.

"Well?"

"He'll be here shortly, you might as well go wait."

Jairus said nothing, only stood and left. He did glance up as he closed the door behind himself and watched the boy rise, leaving his still untouched drink sitting on the bar. He sat and he waited.

He didn't have to wait long. He heard Darius before he entered, balking at how long it had taken the "disrespectful cocksucker" to return with information. Jairus allowed himself a brief smile before the door swung open. Darius charged into the room and stood before him, arms crossed. 

"Well? Is it done?" Jairus waited until the door was shut behind him.

"Are you asking if she's dead? Or if I've finished my investigation?"

"Which one do you think I care about more?" He growled. 

"Assuming you mean the former, and forgetting for the moment that I never actually accepted the job, I'd say that if she's not already than she has vanished without a trace, though to more than that I cannot attest. I assume your other informants have told you that there is a village a couple days south which claims to have done away with her already." He watched the large man's dark face contort slightly, confirming that this was so. "If they continued the search they will also have discovered that no surrounding village had seen a woman matching her description, so she is either dead, in the city itself--though how she came unseen is a mystery--or she is far from this land, perhaps even from the empire." The man snorted and uncrossed his arms, balling his fists at his hips and looking down at the floor shaking his head. 

"I assume this you have also heard?" Jairus asked.

"I need a body. I need to be sure." Jairus could tell the words were not directed at him specifically. The Huroth shook his head again. 

"No. We have to keep looking." He sneered, looking up at Jairus. "How much?" Jairus shrugged.

"For what?"

"You're troubles."

"Nothing. You have not had satisfaction; however, if you wish for me to continue searching, it will cost you that much more. I suggest you abandon the search; I have no interest in wasting your time in a pointless hunt for a ghost. My advice to you, though you may disdain to take it, is to channel your time and resources elsewhere. I have a feeling you may have more problems than a wayward girl on your hands before long." Jairus kept his face placid, but noticed with satisfaction that two of Darius's men who lingered behind him were nodding in unconscious agreement. "Besides I doubt you have much to worry about, from what I've heard of her at least. It seems unlikely that she made it out of the forest alive, weakened and tortured as she was...they say there was blood on the ropes..." He added idly.

"She's Huroth, of the great house...she would survive." He interrupted announcing the fact with a mixture of annoyance and pride. Jairus very nearly rolled his eyes. Instead he shrugged again. 

"Fine, but if you wish to retain me, the cost will double, and I make no promises or guarantees." He shook his head.

"No then...but if you do come across a body or proof of life or death, consider it a bounty."

"As you wish. But...tell me, why does she concern you? Do you honestly think a peasant girl raised within the Empire will attempt to re-take the throne?" The man paused and looked back at him through narrowed eyes. For a moment Jairus thought he wasn't going to answer, but he shook his head.

"It's not her I'm worried about. There are...other interested factions, who might use her as leverage."

"Ah. I see. Well," he said smirking and rising from the table, "here's hoping they have as much luck as you have in finding her then." He said it with complete sincerity. The man appraised him again, eyes still narrowed.

"You're Huroth aren't you? Were you born Empire? You don't act like one of us." In Jairus's opinion that was a high compliment. He tipped his head in acknowledgment.

"Something like that." 

That seemed to satisfy the man, as he nodded firmly, then gestured to his men, who filed out behind him in a practiced way. Short and to the point...again, at least they had some redeeming qualities. Marcus slipped in shortly afterward and closed the door behind him. 

"So, how did it go?"

"As expected."

"Ah. Well then. You don't care to elaborate?"

Jairus leveled his gaze and did not smile. He remained standing. "They seemed as surprised as you did with my information." Marcus stared back unflinchingly, though his eyes held questions.

"Is that so? How surprised did I seem to you?" 

Jairus did smile slightly at that.

"Not terribly." He paused only a second before pushing on, indicating that the subject was, for now, closed. "Is the other meeting set up?" 

Marcus was, as always, quick on the draw. 

"Certainly, and another if you'll have it." 

Jairus arched a brow at him. "Not more Huroth chasing ghosts I hope?"

Marcus smirked. "No, this one's a little more substantial. A regular sort of job, but in an odd sort of place. Head to the Three Tuns and they should be waiting for you upstairs, last room on the left, then come back here if you're willing to hear the job." Jairus nodded, both his understanding and assent. 

"It is unlikely that this will take more than an hour. Set the meeting then." 

Marcus gave him a slightly quizzical look, but new better than to comment. The Three Tuns was a good twenty minutes of winding alleyways from where they stood. Jairus knew a more direct route.

A minute later he was grinning icily to himself as he skirted quickly, but carefully, over the red curved tiles beneath his feet, carefully lest he loosen one and sent it skittering down to smash in the streets below. Some of these tiles, he knew, were older than him.

It was early yet, and the city was still bright with life and movement. He paused in the shadow of a bell tower, and glanced around and below him. To the north, the White Sea stood in defiance of its name as an empty blackness signaling the cities edge. The lamps of a few late boats still flickered, tiny and distant. 

Around him spread a different sea, one of red tile slanting into grey, umber, and rose tinted plaster which cracked and peeled and eventually gave way, far below, to the smooth and blackened cobblestones lining the crooked streets and plazas. 

At his feet five young men in dark cloaks and Bautas spilled out into the empty alley. They were probably wealthy, and almost certainly up to no good. Their masks distorted their voices, as well as their features, so no one would identify them when they were spotted doing something their wealthy parents would rather not have to pay for later. 




Fire Ch. 07



They vanished a moment later, around a twist in the street, leaving nothing behind but the trail of their voices, raised half-self-consciously in drunken mirth, and the lingering haze of the old but not forgotten memory that their sudden appearance had conjured up.

He could almost feel the mask on his own face again, hot and clammy, the beads of sweat trapped between the mask and his skin, the scent of liquor clinging to his breath and clothes. He closed his eyes. There was a jostle of energetic bodies, human and alive, limbs flying excitedly, haphazard, bouncing off the walls of the city as if the plaster and stone were the only things keeping them from flying off completely. 

There was laughter, and singing, and cat calls, and vicious remarks. The watching eyes of passersby, some amused, some afraid, following him. So many nights like that one, blurred together, unremarkable, except in their endless similarity. Go out, get drunk, break something or get broken, and if you cling to consciousness long enough, find a girl in a dark alley. Except one night it was the wrong girl...in the wrong alley. 

He opened his eyes, but she was still there, looking at him from her doorway. She tipped her head slowly to one side, her full red lips curving gracefully into a dark smile, filled with promises. Her eyes were like green embers, burning in an alien fire. Some old voice in him had told him to smile and keep walking, to let some other man have her; she was not for him. But it was a voice he had long resented and long ignored. A voice of fear and superstition. 

Instead he'd veered away from his companions, and any who noticed enough to complain, he waved off, ignoring the sound of them disappearing into the night. Why should he waste time carousing when there before him stood beauty unmatched and impossible. Beauty beyond the word itself, there was something more there, something alluring, something frightening, and it had transfixed him. 

He blinked, as if it could dislodge the image, the memory of that slim delicate creature beckoning him off the street with the crook of a single finger and the flicker of jade eyes. She said nothing, merely watched him and toyed with a strand of silky chestnut hair as she prowled, sizing him up. He had waited, foolish boy that he was, his body on fire with the knowledge that she had chosen him, and the strange certainty that she would find him acceptable. 

When she'd laughed, he recognized it instantly as the sound of sex, hungry and dark, and he'd fallen into it without hesitation. That night had always been a blur to him. He remembered the eyes, the burning mouth, and skin that flowed like heavy silk beneath his hands. A series of sensations begun with those burning eyes, the caress of delicate fingers, and that sultry, laughing voice whispering, "you'll do."

It had ended when he awoke, just before sunset, his flesh crawling with ice and fire and his blood screaming through his veins and pounding against his skull. He had stumbled still naked from that unfamiliar bed, in that strange luxurious room, only to find his legs giving way with weakness, leaving him panting on hands and knees. He'd looked up, and she'd been there, watching him from across the room, draped over an overstuffed chair. She was lifting her arm and running a knife, his knife, the knife his father had given him, along the length of it, drawing blood. 

His eyes had been locked on her as it well up from that long thin line and he'd been overcome with fear and horror. Not at the sight, but at the sudden animal hunger that had roared up inside him. He'd shook, and his mouth watered. When he ground his teeth against the feeling, he'd felt his own lip tear open. Lifting one trembling hand to his mouth he'd found them there, sharp and long, curved like the dagger she'd already tossed aside.

He heard the words as clearly as if they were in his throat again. 

"What have you done to me?"

His voice was like a rasp and hers was like honey. 

"Why dearest," she smiled that slow dark smile in his mind's eye and rose with serpentine grace, "I've made you a God. Powerful. I've given you eternal life. Aren't you pleased?" Her smile widened as she swayed towards him, "I've watched you. You're clever and cautious," she paused, and her eyes moved over him, "yet driven by strange passions. Like, and unlike, your kin in so many fascinating ways. You intrigue me," here she stopped and knelt at his side, her fingers drifting to his face, "and I've never taken a Prince before. Of course I know who you are," she said laughing, answering the unspoken question in his eyes, "I know everything. Drink."

A shout came from the street, and Jairus started, blinking, and looked down. Two men and a woman were arguing below him, their din dispersing his thoughts like so many startled birds. He grunted in annoyance and pushed away from the tower, leaping the narrow alley in one easy motion.

**

It had taken far less than an hour. They were Huroth after all, and to his relief, they hadn't much more to add to the search for the missing heiress, at least not yet. Unfortunately he was just as stubborn as Darius in his insistence on continuing the search. Especially unnerving was the fact that he planned to have his men scour all outlying areas in search of some remote habitation she might have stumbled upon. 

Apparently there were rumors. This did not please him at all. 

As he suspected it was Othwyn, Darius's most immediate rival, who met him at The Three Tuns. He'd not divulged precisely what he intended to do with Thea once he found her, but the overwhelming impression was that he planned on 'uniting' his family with hers. Othwyn was less irritating than Darius, but just by a hair. 

He supposed that if either were to find her he'd rather it be Othwyn, not least of all because Darius's intentions were less 'honorable.' Then again there was the question of whether she might actually want to ally herself with him if given the choice. He ground his jaw slightly. Handing her over to another man, for any reason, was not an option he was willing to dwell on for long. 

No, it was not, he had decided, going to happen. 

Yet, even now as he sat listening to his newest client, the possibility plagued him. 

The man was a prison guard, who wished to have a prisoner removed for personal reasons, and his immediate superior framed for professional reasons. He had to wait at least another four days, which was inconvenient, as he had already decided that he may no longer be here by then. He'd prefer to have the extra money before he left, but he would make due. He had more than enough to get her away on short notice and provide for the rest satisfactorily. It was clear to him that they would not let up the search, and he had no desire to wait around for them to stumble blindly upon her. 

Of course he accepted the prison job, both on the off chance he might yet remain, and because he didn't want Marcus to get any more suspicious than he already was. And he was. Jairus could see it in his eyes, and he didn't doubt that Marcus was cut throat enough to stab him in the back if he thought he could. In Marcus's defense Jairus was doing the same to him. However, Jairus had the advantage, so whether Marcus was smart enough not to try to return the favor remained to be seen.

"Well? Is that acceptable?" The nervous looking guard asked, leaning forward to hiss his furtive whisper. They were alone in the same room he'd met Darius in, so he really didn't need to whisper. Most clients did though. The fear, or guilt, or excitement made them do it. 

He nodded. The man started to reach out, as if to shake his hand, then thought better of it and stood instead. 

"I'll, ah, you'll let me know...or the other fellow will, I mean?"

"Yes."

He cleared his throat. "Well...good then. Good evenin' to you then." Jairus also rose and gave him a brief half bow. 

"And to you." And now, he thought, watching the man retreat, it was time to find a new home. He sighed. Starting over was always such an irritating prospect. He looked around the small dingy room. Well, he was sick of this place anyway. And if it meant he could still have Thea...then really, who cared where he went? Perhaps he'd go south, to the Baharin kingdoms. 

It might amuse Thea to be the considered unusually fair for once. 

He frowned, a sudden thought coming to him, perhaps dredged up by his earlier thoughts of his...well the one who turned him. He had never done it himself. The memories of his own turning, his revulsion, his initial struggle to adapt to what he had become, had been long and difficult to overcome. He had accepted it, eventually. It was that or go mad. It had never occurred to him to inflict that on another. And yet, there it was. The possibility of having her, that much longer...perhaps even...he pushed it out of his mind. This was not the time for that. Perhaps...perhaps in the future. There was too much else to deal with now. There was time enough yet. 

**

By the next evening he was still mulling over his options as he wound his way through the crowed choked streets that ran along the main canal. The canal ended under a great arch, carved with depictions of imperial conquest and victory. It loomed like an awkward monolith over the undulating sprawl of the city proper. As absurd as a square of pure marble tossed into a bog to give it form and structure. 

This being the northeast corner of the empire, far from the ancient capital of Demosus, most of the images depicted were of distant lands and strange faces. But that was the nature of empire; the arbitrary grafting of people like the cuttings of a fruit tree. Beyond the arch the canal spilled out of its man made bounds and flowed west. 

As usual he followed the road until it branched south before cutting off the path. Toward home. Or rather towards May and Berin's home. It would soon be entirely in their keeping, along with the money he'd saved for them, knowing he would one day leave. He hadn't been entirely honest with Thea about it being hard to provide for them. There was always business in his line of work...and he wasn't cheap. 

Something caught his eye this time as he turned off the main road. It was a figure amid the carts and pedestrians that trudged along through the muddy slush. It was a fair distance away, but it was a figure he'd caught as he had left the inn. He kept his pace the same and waited until he was out of sight of the thoroughfare before slipping into a shade of trees around which the road bent on a sharp angle. The figure caught up eventually and passed him. The figure was cloaked and hooded, but his stature reminded Jairus of the youthful assassin. He debated his options and decided he didn't want him following this road as it would eventually lead to the villages nearest his territory.

"Out for a stroll?" He asked as he stepped out behind the boy, making him start and whirl. The soft sound of metal on leather, and a tell-tale glint made him take a step back. He smiled faintly as the blade whistled harmlessly in front of him. 

The boy jumped back in a ready stance, his eyes fiery and alert, waiting for a sudden movement. Jairus for his part merely stood his ground and contrived to look bored. 

"It's a bit chilly out for that...don't you think?" He continued, ignoring the weapon being brandished at him. Slowly the young man collected himself, lowering, but not sheathing his blade.

"Shouldn't sneak up on a fellow like that." He growled, his voice still a little breathy from the exertion of fear.

"Ah, I apologize. I didn't mean to...alarm you." He smiled grimly "Tell me," he offered conversationally, taking a few steps to make a slow circle around him, "have you been sucked into playing errand boy for the barbarians?"

His chin went up defiantly. "What I do is my business." Jairus kept his tight smile.

"Indeed. Let us hope it remains that way."

"What do you care...you turned them down."

Jairus arched a brow, and his smile turned fluid. 

"Heard that did you? I wonder where you're getting your information from. Anyone I know?" He purred.

The boy's face fell briefly before he caught himself. He shrugged. 

"Maybe." He offered snidely.

Jairus continued to smile and circle. "Well, as it happens, I don't care...they're all yours. I just wondered at running into you. I just wanted to be...clear. You understand. I wouldn't want any of Your business to suddenly become My business."

He received only a hard look in return.

"Wouldn't you agree?" He widened his smile just for a second, giving him a glimpse of his teeth. Enough to unnerve the boy, but little enough to make him question later what it was he thought he saw. He could just make him disappear...but it was too early for that, it might make too big a ripple in the pool. And why bother when it was so much easier to just walk away. Some one had to replace him for poor Marcus after all. It wouldn't do to lose two knives at once.

The boy paled suitably and after a long minute nodded.

"Well...I suppose I should wish you good hunting then." His smile vanished and he tilted his head 

"Take care." He added briefly then slipped back into the trees. 

He stood a moment and watched through narrowed eyes as the youth made an attempt to follow him, giving up almost immediately when he saw there was no track to follow, and turning back towards the main thoroughfare. "I thought as much" Jairus muttered as he watched him go. 

**

Thea chewed absently on her knuckle and adjusted her legs which were aching from kneeling on the hard wooden chair. The heat and warm comforting smells of dinner still lingered in the empty kitchen, threatening her with drowsiness. However her excitement over her discovery was enough to counteract the soothing effect, and instead she remained quite alert, giddily pouring over the history books stacked in front of her. 

She wondered for the hundredth time that night when he was coming back. He'd not said when...he almost never did, but she was dying to share her excitement with someone, and as far as she knew he was the only one she could tell. She'd hate to have to wait another day for him. She huffed and glanced at the door. It remained closed, and the hall beyond, silent. 

It was late and the others were already asleep. 

She looked around her. The kitchen was still and peaceful. Everything was in its place. 

She closed the book and ran a hand over the soft, worn, leather cover, licking her lips nervously. She'd discovered that it was rare for the Huroth to allow illegitimate children to take the throne, and in the rare precedents set where they did, they were always male. No exceptions. 

Otherwise it went to a cousin or nephew. For once being a woman might actually work in her favor. Their own traditions and laws even forbid an unwed woman from taking the throne at all, regardless of their legitimacy. On top of all that, she wasn't even full blood, and from what she could discern this was also an unspoken requirement. She couldn't take over the throne. It was as simple as that.

She paused and frowned, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Surely they must know that themselves? Or had that information been somehow lost or confused in the flurry of the revolution and the muddle of establishing new rule. Perhaps if she could just tell them...but would they listen? Why should they listen? And yet, the thought ate at her mind, the possibility that she could convince them to leave her alone, that she wasn't interested in their affairs. She'd even sign something, if that was what they wanted. Otherwise what was she to do? Leave? Let them bully her? Run away to some distant land where she'd be lost and alone, all over again?

No. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't. Her previous anxiety was eaten up by the sudden flare of anger. Images of the villagers, thoughts and memories she'd pushed aside and buried in the past months came rushing back, and each one fed her building fury. She remembered the humiliation, the physical cruelty of the sacrifice as she was left to die alone and helpless, raw and bloodied, and all that after years of their subtle and cruel maliciousness. 

How dare they? What right did they have?

An enraged but silent scream ripped through her body, making her shake and tense. She opened her mouth to release it, but all that came out was a hoarse panting breath. She stood there a long time, stiff as a board and panting until the faint tremble in her limbs finally subsided and her hot fury had cooled into a seething coil and wrapped itself around her taunt spine. 

"Am I interrupting?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she turned her head slowly to the doorway. It was occupied. 

She felt the coil loosen slightly as her eyes took in the tall casual figure leaning against the frame.

"Not all interruptions are unwelcome."

He smiled at that and sauntered slowly forward, coming to stand behind her, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on her arms. The coil unraveled even further as he traced up the length of her arms and shoulders, and she narrowed her eyes in pleasure as a tiny current of sensation shot up through her, starting from somewhere in the souls of her feet. The fingers slipped over her collar, and came to rest there with just the barest pressure. 

She smiled softly and reached up to run her fingers over his.

"Thank you." She murmured, her eyes fluttering half-closed as she felt his grip tighten.

"For what? Interrupting?" He breathed against her ear. Her smile widened.

"For the gift." She tapped a finger against his hand, which lay very much like a necklace, lightly around her throat. He inhaled slowly and deeply. "It's beautiful." She added softly.

He said nothing for a moment. But she could feel his mouth close to her cheek.

"You're not wearing it." He offered gently after another long moment of silence.

"It's too fine to work in." She slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt, careful not to shake off his hands with a sudden movement, and drew them out before them both, the necklace tangled daintily in her fingers. 

He reached out and slid it from her hand, his other hand carefully sweeping the loose strands of hair off her neck. She felt a sudden pang of self-consciousness as she felt him fasten the necklace. It seemed incongruous that this handsome graceful man should be displaying something so fine on someone so frazzled and inelegant. It was only a passing unease, and dispelled all the more rapidly by warm breathe and cool lips brushing along the nape of her neck. 

She let his hands lead her, as he turned her by the shoulders to face him, and stood still and silent under his gaze as he studied the necklace with both his eyes and his fingers.

"I have news," she murmured after a time, shifting a little under his careful scrutiny. His fingers slid upwards at her words, encircling her throat and chin in a fashion that, with anyone else, could only have been threatening and sinister. Her pulse did indeed race in response, but not in fear; not even in the mildest of apprehensions. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"I too have news." His mouth twitched up at the corner and his hand snapped open to release her like a trap sprung in reverse. He took her by the waist instead and lifted her to sit on the table's edge, pressing forward to insinuate himself between her knees before she had the chance to snap them shut. His smile widened and was returned in full as he snaked his hands around her body, pulling her close to press against him. "But I think it can wait." he added in a low murmur.

She let out a laughing sigh against the firm silk of his lips.

"Always putting things off," she whispered in a moment between the lingering caresses of his mouth. She felt, more than heard, his chuckle as it sent warm vibrations running through every part of her.




Fire Ch. 07



Her own arms tightened automatically to crush him to her as his kiss deepened and her lips were prised apart with careful insistence. She practically purred as she felt his tongue sliding unhurriedly against her own, and hummed with approval as he tilted his mouth over hers to claim it more thoroughly. The kiss was long and warm and filled with comforting familiarity. It wasn't a kiss of exploration, but of affirmation. 

He broke the kiss and smirked down at her, cupping her face in his hands. 

"What can I say? You're my weakness, my bad habit. Can you blame me?"

Her smile turned a little tremulous despite herself. "Are you complimenting me or complaining?"

"Maybe a little bit of both." His own smile turned into a grin, exposing his partially elongated canines, and his eyes glittered darkly over hers. She almost moaned. It was familiar to her now, that look he gave her, the expression of dark hunger, but that didn't keep it from twisting the depths of her into a tight eddy of need and desire. 

His smile vanished into another long lingering kiss. His tongue toyed with hers, and his teeth played and nipped at her lips until she was groaning in gentle abandon as she tried desperately to keep up. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging lightly, and earning herself an approving growl. Her tentative aggression seemed to spur his, and she found herself pushed back onto the table and gasping for breath against a suddenly ravenous mouth. 

Jairus could feel fingers fumbling at the leather ties and buckles of his vest and he relented in his attack just long enough to remove the impediment and toss it on the nearest chair. 

Her legs were already wrapped loosely around his so it was easy enough to find the ankles of her boots and give them a meaningful squeeze before running his hands firmly up along the cool supple leather until his fingers met with the tender naked flesh behind her knees. 

"We need to talk." She ground out, though her arms were contradicting the sentiment by pulling him down into another long kiss. He tore his mouth away to move it lower, even as his hands slid higher.

"I really do think it can wait." He murmured, tugging playfully at the ribbon of her blouse with his teeth.

"There's no time like the present." A groan sounded deep in his throat as the fingers that twined in his hair tighten.

"What's another hour...or four." His fingers brushed up along the backs of her thighs, the tips curving inward to brush against the edges of her sex. She wore nothing beneath her shift and his fingers found only raw heat and slick flesh. His cock jerked in response, and no doubt in protest at being still imprisoned. "Maybe we should just call the whole night a wash." 

She let out a humming moan and squirmed beneath him, pushing, inadvertently or not, both the soft curve of her partially exposed breast against his willing tongue, and the silky fire of her blossoming slit against his equally willing fingers. In show of their eager devotion, they spread and pierced her without hesitation, and he reveled in the feel of those tight walls clenching around them as they worked deep inside of her in their firm and coaxing way. 

The delicious and seductive movements of Thea's body distracted him from any other immediate thoughts outside of feeling her soft body wrapped around every part of him. And so completely so, that he was momentarily disoriented when she spoke again, her voice calling as if through a haze, and breaking the spell of sensation.

"It really is quite important." When he'd recovered enough to understand her words he stilled his mouth and hands, and sighed, looking up into her eyes from his purchase over the swell of her breasts.

"Can't a man have his dinner in peace?" She let out a wonderfully breathy sound, and he smiled slightly. "It's a little rude to interrupt...don't you think?" She proceeded to writhing once more and her mouth, prettily swollen as it was, parted in a little silent gasp. 'I thought that might work,' he mused with satisfaction, and lowered his head back to his 'meal.'

The victory was only momentary.

"You're the one playing with their food." 

He paused again and lowered his head in defeat against her chest with a pained laugh. Glancing upward he saw the smirk that played across her lips and removed his hands from their most agreeable task and placed them palm down on either side of her head, raising his head as well until he could catch her gaze with his eyes. 

"Sweet One...." He began with a drippingly sardonic tone.

"Yes Dearest?" She replied matching his tone as her smirk mutated into a grin.

"Is any one dead?"

"Not yet."

He snorted.

"Is anyone, besides your own lovely person, in immediate mortal danger?"

"Not that I know of...but isn't it enough that I am?" She was still running her fingers through his hair, and it was highly distracting.

"You're safe." Her grin never failed her. She released his head and leaned up slightly on her elbows, and arched a brow at him.

"Oh, am I really? Pinned under a hungry vampire assassin? That doesn't sound so safe to me."

He turned his expression serious, and her smiled dimmed in response.

"Yes." He leaned forward until his mouth brushed her ear. "I am indeed a hungry vampire...and You...are my girl. You've never been safer in your life." He leaned back a little to give her a hint of a smile as he heard her breath catch in her throat, an almost inaudible sound, and placed a not quite chaste kiss along her jaw.

"You forgot assassin." She whispered.

"There are a lot of things we could add to that list that are better left unmentioned" he chuckled. "However, my point was that since there is nothing truly pressing, there is no reason why you shouldn't grant me a reprieve. Unless, of course...you're just trying to make me to beg?" he drawled out then made his voice low, "I'll get down on my knees if you like..." Thea responded with a tremulous shiver. It was answer enough for him, and he pushed her skirts to her hips which he grabbed immediately and pulled forward. 

He knelt on bended knee, as promised and took a moment to admire the sight spread open before him. Her hips ground anxiously in those brief seconds, a movement which only enhanced the allure of that glistening pink sex as it throbbed in anticipation.

"W-we probably shouldn't...in here." She managed weakly, unable or unwilling to offer any real protest. He contained his own shiver as he experimentally ran the tip of his tongue directly up the length of her, lingering to tease the tight nub of her clit before giving her one last dark laugh.

"Where better?"

He tightened his grip on her hips and raised his mouth over the soft folds, teasing her still with the tip of his tongue. He hovered there a moment, taking in the enthralling scent and taste of her, then plunged the full length of his fangs into the tender swollen flesh. Her hips bucked against him, but he held them still as the rest of her twisted and arched from the table. 

The first wave came at him like a wall and he closed his eyes against the onslaught fighting to keep his head above the tide of electric sensations which threatened to drown him. He groaned and gripped her even more tightly, as if she too might be pulled away by the tide. Blood filled his mouth and he swallowed greedily, swallowing in time with her heavy pulse. The pounding of her heart filled his veins and flowed through him until his entire being reverberated with it. 

The beat changed, and pounded faster, harder, until he felt his mouth flooded with another flavor, and the blood and cum combined and washed over his tongue in a heady mixture, sweeping all else away. 

There was a growling from some where. It was vibrating loudly in his ears, low and needful. Another sound as well, faint, and soft, a tiny mewling whimper. Such a sweet sound. The growl was his, he could feel it. The other sound...the other...Thea. 

Jairus's eyes snapped open, and he released his hold, hastily tearing into his tongue, healing the wound. He pulled up and away, gasping. Her skirt slid back over her thighs once released, hiding her. He glanced at her face with apprehension, still breathing hard. How long? He couldn't remember. It couldn't have been long...could it?

She lay prone, her chest rising and falling in long even breathes, her eyes closed. He bent over her carefully, reaching up to remove her hand, which lay limply over her mouth. On the back of her wrist was a neat circle of half-moon indents which showed white against her tan skin. 

"Thea?" He called softly, smoothing back the hair from her forehead. She didn't make a sound. He frowned and called again, this time more firmly. She shifted but the noise she made was incoherent. 

Half way through his third attempt to rouse her, fingers came up to cover his mouth. He smiled against her finger tips, and took her wrist in his hand, pressing a relieved kiss to her palm. 

"Sshhhhh." She murmured quietly.

"Are you alright?"

She shook her head slightly from side to side. His smile vanished again, but it reappeared on her lips as her fingers found the collar of his shirt and tugged lightly. He leaned in obediently until he could feel her faint breathe against his lips. Those soft doe eyes danced opened into his.

"Kiss and make it better?"



Fire Ch. 08



Hi there folks!

I finally have the next installation, just in time for you all to have forgotten about me. ^^

for those of you still waiting patiently, a million thanks. I hope you enjoy this installation, and I've already started the next, so that won't take nearly as long. 

As always feedback by way of votes, comments, and e-mails is always desired,particularly if you aren't feeling it and have some suggestions for me. 

yours always,

-enithermon

***

The instant he awoke, Jairus knew something was wrong. He turned his head on the pillow, his hand snaking across the cool sheets, his heightened vision soaking up every scant drop of light that could possibly be had. 

It was barely after midday, and though that soft, warm, and wonderfully familiar scent still lingered in the air, on the linens, and even on his own skin, the sheets beside him were already quite cold. He'd been alone for hours. 

It was possible she had just risen early, that she was still just annoyed with him after last nights mild argument, but something in his gut was twisting in a way he did not like. Not at all. 

He rose to wash and dress, running through the events of the previous evening, his movements listless and preoccupied.

He smiled briefly recalling for a moment the way he'd found her in the kitchen, her fists clenched and her face a mask of intensity, and afterward how easily she'd softened to his touch. 

His smile faded quickly enough. He'd been lucky that she'd given him his requested hiatus from her questions. He had taken quick advantage of that pause, afterward carrying her upstairs so that he might proceed to further reassure himself of her continued good health, particularly after he'd lost track of himself while feeding. 

He wasn't surprised that he had, considering his chosen method. Even the brief memory of sinking his fangs into that soft sensitive flesh made his groin tighten and his mouth water. He shook off his arousal and called to mind the less pleasant aspects of the evening instead.

She had finally insisted she share her news, unwilling to wait until the next evening. Said news had unfortunately consisted of a 'genius' plan of looking for the idiot Huroth who wanted her dead and informing them that she was no threat. Apparently the first time he'd reminded her of the futility of that plan she hadn't been backed up with Huroth inheritance laws. 

He'd laughed. He could admit feeling a little sorry for doing it, particularly after he saw the look that had shadowed her face, but it had slipped out despite himself. It was a ridiculously naive plan. He might have been simply amused and charmed by it, by her ingenuousness and innocence. But the fact that such a course would put her in very real danger, unnecessarily so, made it less endearing. His laugh, therefore, had been not so much one of amusement as it had been of incredulity. This had not been lost on her. She had been less than please with his response, and had made her displeasure known.

Her immediate reaction was to ask, rather shortly, if he could suggest a better course, and unsurprisingly he could. He informed her of his own plan to leave with her and head south through the mountains, away from the Huroth and away from the empire. At first she'd balked...had insisted that she could argue with them, and that she wouldn't need to leave. They had argued until finally he had asked her what she had left to leave, to tell him one thing besides hurt pride, or irrational stubbornness that could compel her to risk her life and he would happily take her there himself.

Again, perhaps in hindsight, he'd been rather more flippant than necessary. Now looking back he could see the darkness that had flashed across her features...and the sadness. Even then he had waited tensely, half expecting her to tear from the bed and sweep petulantly out the door. 

She wouldn't have been the first to do it, though admittedly he'd never much cared one way or the other before. It had been a long while since he'd had a woman in bed that he actually wanted to keep there, so he'd winced inwardly at letting his usual sardonic tone slip out at that moment.

Contrary to past experiences however, she had merely looked at him a long moment before sighing and curling up next to him, tucking her head into his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

Thoughtlessly he had been pleased and contented himself with believing that he had won the argument, that her darkened expression had been one of defeat. Now as he entered her cold bedroom, and opened her little jewelery box, he could see it for what it had really been...disappointment. His eyes surveyed the box, noting what was left and what had been taken.

Foolish girl. Foolish stubborn girl. He slammed the lid back down, causing the wood along one side to crack under the pressure. There were still hours left until sundown.

**

Thea gritted her teeth and pushed on, stumbling through another deceptively high bank of snow. She was grateful that she'd had enough foresight to wear pants but after hours of trudging through the snow, the material had soaked through and was beginning the process of refreezing. Her cloak was faring little better, stiffening slowly under the constant barrage of rising and frigid winds. 

This wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, but she'd been anxious to leave, to get on with it. So much so she neglected to note the signs of the coming storm on the horizon. It hadn't even been snowing when she left. 

She had hoped Jairus would agree to help her, but it was clear he was too set in his own plans, and unwilling to understand her own need to deal with this head on. She needed to speak to them, these people of hers who wanted her dead. She'd been too stunned to say anything to the villagers, and when she'd finally recovered her tongue she'd had nothing left to chastise but the dark of the woods. This felt like a second chance...a second chance to face her accusers...or her would be murderers. 

She glared sourly at the snow and darkness obscured woods ahead of her. He had called her irrational....stubborn...well maybe, but that didn't change anything. It certainly didn't quench this burning need inside of her. 

A sudden gust, whipped at her cloak, tugging the hood back from her head. She raised an arm to shield her face and paused lest she stumble blindly into yet another drift and finally freeze herself for good and all. She whimpered involuntarily at the thought that, as the storm picked up and the temperatures dropped through the night, she might do just that. She backed up in the face of the wind, finding a tree trunk and huddling with her back against it, still using her arm as a screen from the worst of it. 

'This will certainly be an embarrassing way to die, she thought morosely.' 

Eventually the gusts died down enough for her to uncover her face and take a tentative look around. She was not prepared for the startled scream that ripped out of her own throat as a pale furious face filled her vision in place of the sleet she had expected. 

"Jairus!" she gasped as a hand found her shoulder and roughly pushed her back up against the tree she'd been anchored to. 

"Are you mad woman?" His voice was a snarl, his fangs bared, a flicker of white against red lips, and his face...his face was a twisted expression of fury she had never before seen. 

He was normally so cool, so impassive, but right now as he loomed over her, his fingers digging into her arm, he was the very picture of wrath incarnate. She could only gape up at him in terrified astonishment, into a face she barely recognized.

"Well? Answer me!" he shook her, as if the movement would jostle the words from her. He didn't wait long enough for her to respond. 

"Notwithstanding the idiocy of going to face those barbarians alone," he continued with another vicious growl, "what in god's name possessed you to go off into a storm in the dead of winter?" He grabbed both her shoulders and pressed her hard into the tree, leaning in over her, terrifying her in a way he had not since she'd first met him... or perhaps ever. 

"Are you so anxious to die?" He hissed softly, his face just inches from hers. The sardonic note which laced those last words brought her back to herself, and reminded her of who he was and what he was to her. He was furious that she had not listened to him, perhaps, but he was not her enemy. Not him. 

She pulled herself together and straightened up, tilting her face up to his and narrowing her eyes.

"No." She said firmly, anger lacing her own voice. "I'm not an idiot, and I didn't plan to get caught out in the storm." She returned his glare as best she could, resisting the urge to shiver from either fear or cold, not wanting to admit weakness, even the slightest. She feared if he saw it he would use it and break her resolve, which was already weakening rapidly as the cold crept deep into her bones and as his burning gaze ate into her.

He continued to glare down at her. 

Even though it was not unexpected, he was still amazed by her show of nerve as she returned his glare. He wanted to yell at her, shake her, hell, even spank some sense into her. But all he could muster was a long speechless glare. He was so furious he couldn't even think straight. 

For all of five minutes he had considered not coming after her, letting her lay in the bed she'd made, but the moment the sun set he'd been out the door, searching for her tracks and scent, elusive in the rapidly building snow. 

As the winds had risen, and the snowfall had grown thick and heavy in the air, his irritation had turned rapidly to fear. Fear that she was already too far, that he would find her too late, that she had already given up to the cold, to death. His fear was only made more palpable by the fact that she hadn't taken everything with her. More than half her money, and all her belongings, including her grandparents rings still remained, clear indicators that for all her insanity she had planned to return, that she wasn't just suicidal...that she wasn't leaving him. 

When he'd found her, still alive, still whole, huddled so pitifully against that tree, his fear was swept away. In its place came a swift and uncontrollable anger that only seemed to feed off his relief.

"Take me or leave me Jairus...either way, I'm doing this. I have to do this."

She set her jaw, her eyes blazing defiantly, daring him to walk away. Her mouth was drawn in a tight bow, save for the tiniest of trembles, barely noticeable. He saw it. He saw it, and read in it the fear she refused to show, refused to let cow her. He knew the essence and vibrations of her emotions now as well as he knew the rhythms of her flesh and the taste of her blood. 

The arousal those emotions bred, be they of frustration and anger, drew him just as insistently as everything else about her. Take her or leave her? What choice was there in that? He growled low in his throat, making no attempt to mitigate the displeasure he knew must show in his expression. She flinched, a subtle movement around her eyes, like a repressed wince. But she held her ground, his brave, stubborn little girl. He still hovered over her, his fangs partially bared, and with an air of menace he knew would make anyone other sane person cower instinctively in horror.

"I want to be excruciatingly clear about my feelings on this matter...as I'm not sure you've completely understood me." He grated out in a soft whisper.

She winced again, but did not draw away. Instead she steeled herself and shifted forward until he could feel the magnetic pull of her body hovering inches from his.

"I do." She whispered back, her voice hoarse. "I am not contesting that. You're right...of course, but this isn't about being right, or smart, or logical. I know I'm being foolish...but I Need to do this. You have to understand Jairus." she added softly, her voice becoming a plea.

They stood there a long time. 

The winds continued to whip the snow around them, and he watched it catch in her hair and melt against her set lips as he waited for the determination in her eyes to dim. It did not. Her jaw began to tremble. It didn't shake with emotion but from the driving cold which was rapidly draining her of her precious warmth, warmth he had absorbed greedily so many times before and which she had given readily and willingly.

He let out a harsh sigh of exasperation.

"Come on." His hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist. He moved suddenly, striding past her and tugging her along behind. He heard her cry out in surprise and felt her stumble, her free hand grabbing his wrist as she tried, and failed, to pull away.

"Jairus! You can't..."

"If you keep walking in this you'll likely die." He interrupted, still pulling her along behind him. Her resistance lessened. "There's an emergency shelter I use nearby. It's dry at least. It will keep you alive." He did turn back then to glare at her. "Even if it is just delaying the inevitable."

Her expression softened and she looked momentarily forlorn. He wasn't feeling terribly sympathetic. He turned his hard glare away and back into the oncoming flurry of ice and snow. The unforgiving wind chose that moment to begin its howling, signaling the approaching height of the storm. 

**

Thea was shivering uncontrollably by the time they got to the shelter. It was in fact an abandoned cave. The entrance was small, barely enough for a man to slide through sideways and blocked with a boulder which Jairus pushed aside with his shoulder. She was not entirely shocked that he could move such a thing on his own, but his superhuman displays never failed to unnerve her. It was even more intimidating having faced his anger only minutes earlier. He left her there to collect wood for a fire. 

He was not gone long and in moments of his return had managed to start a small fire and shut the two of them in together, sealing them in for the from the storm that was just then blustering outside. She silently hoped they weren't getting buried in. 

Silently because he hadn't said a single word to her since he'd first started dragging her out of the snow and she didn't want to be the first to speak. She sighed and shuffled closer to the flame, waiting as it slowly dried and warmed her.

She wanted to explain to him, somehow, why it was she had to do this. Why couldn't he just understand? She put another couple of pieces of semi dry wood on the fire. They hissed unpleasantly before settling in with a loud pop. 

Jairus had moved to the other side of the fire, his back against the cave wall. He adjusted his cloak around him and sat, stretching his long legs out before him and leaning back with closed eyes. She shivered again and rubbed her upper arms a few times to warm herself.

"Come here." The sound of his voice, so unexpected, made her start. She stared at him. He remained still, save for one brow which arched higher the longer she stood staring. 

"Thea?" She started again and obeyed unthinkingly, mostly out of surprise. 

He reached up and took her by the wrist, pulling her down next to him, his decisive movements brooking no argument. Still with eyes closed he further stupefied her by wrapping an arm about her waist and pulling her square into his lap and firmly up against him with her back to his chest. 

She sat frozen, sitting stiffly until she felt him sigh again.

"Relax." 

She turned slightly to glance into his face and thought for a second she saw a twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

"I'm not going to bite." 

She let out a breath and slumped against him.

"Very funny." She mumbled, and leaned her head back against his shoulder. 

They sat like that for a long time, staring into the flames, thinking. Flames before her, as always. But this time, there was something between her and the cold stone. More comfortable yes, but far more dangerous as well. How dangerous she couldn't quite say, she was only certain that he was. She remembered that first night, and thought of his ghostly face gazing at her from across the fire with those glowing eyes. How they had frightened her then, but no longer...well, not often.

"I like the fire." She murmured.

"As do I." 

She let out a long breath and frowned at the flames. 

"What are you?"

"You know what I am."

"But what does it mean?"

"Mean?"

"I mean, what else is there, besides the sunlight and blood? I know there are other things...that you can do other things."

"Such as?" His eyes were still closed and his head back against the stone wall.

"You moved that stone...you seem to move without sound...without tracks..."

He made a sound like a snort.

"Well you can." 

He sighed softly. "Yes I can. You want to know what I can do? I can do everything you can do...just...more so." He let out another sigh. "There is nothing particularly mystical about what I do. I'm just... stronger and faster. Much stronger and faster, as you have noted. I can see, hear, and smell things that others can't." 

He stopped.

"What about when you visited me, before, were you doing something to my mind? Controlling me?"

"No. I can exert my will over others, but it is not control. I can't make anyone do anything, but I can nudge them in a direction they are already going. I can turn nerves into fear and fear into terror."

She shifted in his arms. "What about desire?"

"Are you asking if I have done this to you?" She could feel his lips brush her ear. She said nothing. He chuckled. "I had encouraged you to remember me as a dream, if at all...nothing more. I have not illicitly fueled your passion...at least, not intentionally." She felt the whisper as if it were a caress running over her skin.

"Are you sure?" Her voice drawled out thickly, breaking under the weight of her sudden breathlessness.

"Yes. I am sure." He paused as his assurance wrapped unsettlingly around her. 

"Other than that there is little I can tell you. I have known few others of my kind, and I lack the disposition to go out of my way to find out more simply for curiosities sake. I know what I need to survive." 

"Were... were you born like this? A vampire?"

She turned to look back at him and he opened his eyes. He stared down at her and she felt the circle of his arms tighten momentarily around her waist.

"No." He paused again and she waited for him to elaborate. She wasn't disappointed. 

"I was turned." 

She continued to watch him expectantly. 

"Ca..." He frowned and looked away. "My sire," he continued, though with a faint sneer twisting his mouth, "took my blood and gave me their own ...long ago...that is how someone is turned."

He didn't continue. 

"You don't sound thrilled about it..." One corner of his mouth twitched up again.

"Not particularly, no."

"You didn't want to be a vampire?" She watched his face with open curiosity. These were questions she had long desired to ask.

"I wasn't given the choice."

"Did you know him? The one who turned you?" His face turned stony again.

"Her. And no, not really."

"Oh." 

'Her.' 

His jaw twitched and he looked back towards the fire. She knew she should drop it, but curiosity...and perhaps, she could admit, a twinge of jealously, got the better of her.

"Were you and she..."

"I'd rather not discuss it" He interrupted before she could finish the thought. 

Yes then, she felt sure of it. She wondered if whatever had caused them to go their separate ways was strong enough to keep them apart. Maybe she died. 

She frowned at herself...at the relief that the possibility gave her. She tried to push it from her mind.

"So you were once...I mean, you were born..."

He gave her one of his spectral smiles.

"Much like you. Very much like you." She frowned. There was an odd quality to his voice.




Fire Ch. 08



"What do you mean? How much like me?" His smile vanished in a sigh. She thought she felt his arms tighten around her once more.

"What does it look like?"

She looked at his face curiously, just beginning to wonder what he meant when all at once it came to her. She could feel the surprise written on her face. He confirmed the fact with a wry chuckle.

"You're Huroth!" she breathed.

"Was." He corrected. She frowned again.

"You're not anymore?"

"I was turned...so I'm not technically a human of any sort." There was another pause and she noticed his eyes darken slightly. "We also disowned one another."

"How long ago was that?" She pressed softly, "How old Are you?" He raised a brow at her.

"Well, I left just before the war broke out."

"Which war?"

His ghostly smile reappeared.

"The war with the empire, of course." She gasped.

"That was almost three centuries ago!"

"Very near."

She shifted in his lap to look him more directly in the eye.

"You're three hundred years old?"

"Give or take. I wasn't much older than you when I left."

"Don't you remember?"

"It was a very long time ago." 

She looked down at her hands which had made their way to his chest and now lay palms down against him.

"There...wasn't there a son...an heir who..." she stopped when she glanced up and caught the expression forming on his face. It was a subtle shift, a twitch around the jaw and mouth, a narrowing of the eyes, but it spoke volumes to her and effectively answered her unasked question. She blinked up at him, stunned. 

"If you're...then doesn't that make me...make you..."

"Your uncle?" He smirked down at her, his eyes glinting. Hers widened that much more and she stared at a total loss for words. "If it makes you feel better," he offered, still smiling, "it has to be at least a dozen times removed. And who can say how many of those wives were actually faithful. If they were anything like their husbands...then they weren't very." He added dryly.

"Fourteen." She corrected softly without thinking, still blinking in surprise.

"Fourteen what?"

"Generations."

"Ah." He shrugged slightly. "I was close." He cocked his head at her. "You really have been doing your reading." 

She returned his look, coming back into reality. She hadn't thought her life could become anymore twisted and bizarre than it already was, but there is was, one more thing to add to the mountain of strange that seemed to comprise her recent existence. But his words awoke a remembrance of other reading she had done. There was something else she wanted to know now, though part of her feared to ask. She sighed internally. 

At this point what could it hurt? She was already as good as dead, and he was already unhappy with her. She might as well satisfy her curiosity. She tilted her head at him.

"Were you really a traitor then?" He snorted and looked away.

"That all depends on your definition of the word. In some ways I was, I suppose." His eyes found hers again. "I had argued to join the Empire, knowing we didn't have the resources or discipline to win in battle against it. The tithe they required was nominal, irritating at worst, and the capital so far removed that they could not help but leave us to our own devices." His mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile. "The Huroth pride would not allow for even that. Good land was lost, and countless died unnecessarily." 

He turned his dark gaze on her, and she was forced to look away, more than conscious of the accusation in his gaze and in his words. She tucked her hands away into her skirts. 'This was different though,' she thought, 'this is just me. I'm not dragging anyone else into it.' Then again he was here, he was being dragged along.

"You don't have to come with me." She said softly to her lap.

"That's true, I am a traitor, after all." She looked up sharply.

"No! I...that's not what I meant..." She flushed and looked down again, "I just mean, that is, you've already saved me once..."

"Yes," he drawled, "and look how you repay me, by trying to get yourself killed all over again."

Her cheeks burned, though this time with irritation rather than embarrassment. 

"I didn't start this, they did. It's not like I went looking for this."

"You're looking for it now. You can just as easily walk away." She could see his jaw tightening in anger. Well, she was angry to. 

"No, I can't." She sat up and twisted again so that she was facing him. "Why can't I make you understand why I need to do this?"

"Because you don't need to do this." He hadn't raised his voice, but his anger was alive in his eyes and she fought the urge to cringe away from it.

"I do." Her voice was a fierce whisper. Her jaw trembled and she turned away sharply, moving to get off his lap. She couldn't stand to see that look in his eyes or feel the tension which made rigid his body. His grip stopped her and instead he pulled her tightly into his shoulder as his other arm snapped his cloak out to wrap it around her, effectively cocooning her body against his. 

She sat in stiff surprise for several silent moments waiting for another response. But he remained quiet and still, simply holding her possessively and with an almost fierce insistence. 

She glanced up to his face. His eyes were shut, but the lines of his face were still tight. Not sure what else to do, she lowered her eyes with a frown and lay her cheek against his shoulder. She felt his fingers squeeze gently as he pulled the cloak more snugly around her.

It was the faintest gesture, but it felt like having her heart ripped out. He didn't want her to go, to die, he wanted her to stay with him. She knew it then, indisputably. She cringed inwardly at herself, feeling suddenly foolish, and selfish, and blind. And he was right, wasn't he? That this was idiocy and suicide on her part? Even she couldn't say why she needed to do this...though only a moment ago she had been so certain, so sure, that this was what she wanted and needed to do. She opened her lips, but the half formed thought died on her lips. Her throat felt too dry for words, her lungs empty and limp. 

Utterly useless.

She buried her aching head deeper into the cocoon. Come what may, she had made up her mind. If it was all stubbornness, all 'Huroth pride,' well at least she came by it honestly. 

** 

When night fell once more, Jairus extricated them from their shelter and delivered them safely to the gates of the city. It was more like a great arch then a gate, a massive structure of white marble. It had made Thea gape so obviously that Jairus had to remind her not to act like the country girl she was, though she had been happy to note the laughter in his voice as he did so. 

She had never been to a city, and the milling crowds and noise, still bustling into the long night, fascinated her. She had to work hard not to stare. It enchanted her to watch the people, as they moved past one another, jostling and sidestepping, and yet behaving for all the world as if no one else was there. It left her with a strange sense of anonymity— as though she was welcome to be part of the chaos, and so long as she didn't get in anyone's way, no one would care. No one would even notice. It felt a little bit like freedom. The only people who dared make eye contact were the a few women she saw lingering in their doorways, their painted lips curving dangerously each time she accidentally met their gaze. Even with her lack of experience she could see what they must be. Their made up faces and clothes...or occasional lack of them, were clear indicators to even the most innocent visitor. 

Despite all this delightful invisibility, however, Jairus had to warn her to keep her head down. 

They had both agreed since she was dressed as a boy, it was best for her to keep her hood up and do what she could to appear so.

Now they found themselves sitting in a dark tavern of some kind, apparently waiting for someone Jairus had sent a message to. Thea was careful to keep her head down so that the deep hood cast her face in shadow, assisted in part by the dim lighting of the shadowy corner he'd chosen for them. She also slouched slightly into her chair to give the impression of a gangling youth rather than a proper woman. She had offered to just extricate herself while he met whoever it was he didn't want knowing she was a woman, but he'd just given her a hard look and shook his head. She sighed. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight, that much was clear. 

"What are we doing here again?" She asked under her breath when he'd waved a serving girl off for the second time. She'd been tempted to order something just to stop the bar man from eying them in annoyance for taking up a table. Though, she thought, glancing about, there were more than enough empty tables, and she couldn't see why anyone should want to drink there. The atmosphere was less than wholesome, and it struck her as the sort of place where one would find unwelcome articles floating about in ones beer. She crinkled her nose at the thought. Perhaps it was better he waved them away after all. She glanced up when he chuckled.

He hadn't answered, but he must have seen the way her eyes had wandered over the place and the expression on her face.

"don't worry, it won't be long. Marcus is usually a minute or two late." 

She smiled slightly in response. "I was asking who we were waiting for and why, but your consolation is appreciated." She turned her eyes to meet his only to see the smile had faded from them and were turned pointedly towards the door. 

She found herself looking at the cold smooth unreadable face she had almost forgotten was his. It seemed alien to her now, devoid of any flicker in the eyes, any quirk of the lips to tell her what he might be thinking. He was like a pane of ice, and just as chilling. Assassin, he had said. Yes, she could see it. It was not a face one should wish to encounter in a dark alley late at night. Or anywhere for that matter.

Her eyes followed his and watched as a non-descript, but friendly seeming fellow casually called for a drink at the bar then strolled over towards their table. For a moment he hesitated, his blue eyes focusing on her, but he continued on again after a second glance at Jairus, collecting himself enough to join them and smile charmingly.

"Well, who's this then?" He smiled, if tightly, at Jairus and gestured to her with his free hand as he sat. Jairus only tipped his head in a manner which indicated nothing.

" A friend."

Marucs raised his brows. "That's a new one." He muttered into his drink. "Friend, eh?" Thea noted that the man seemed relatively unfazed by Jairus's hard expression. Either he was made of steel, or he was just used to it. She decided it was the later. She could relate after all.

The man slouched in his chair and she got the sense he was trying to get a better look under her hood. She bent her head low, taking a sudden interest in the floor boards, effectively lowering the hood farther over her face. Of course it also kept her from seeing his expression as she did so. Better safe than curious.

"You may speak freely Marcus. I came back to conclude the most recent engagement, but I also have possible information for the Huroth Darius about his heiress."

She couldn't see his face, but the man put his drink down.

"The first lot? Is she dead then?"

"Practically."

Thea resisted the urge to shoot him a dirty look.

"It's rather complicated, unnecessarily so perhaps, I'm not quite sure what's going on half the time myself. But they want information, so I'll give them what I have. The issue is sensitive so you'll have to forgive the mystery. It will all be made plain shortly, I'm sure." His tone was impassive and dry, giving nothing away. He sounded bored and slightly put out, if he sounded like anything at all. She was impressed.

"When do you want it set up for?"

"Not tomorrow night, but anytime afterward would be fine."

"And him?"

She could feel their eyes on her and did what she could to mimic Jairus's boredom, thought the curiosity and suspicion laced in those two words did little to calm her nerves. 

"An apprentice...of sorts." He made no impression of intending to offer anything more than that.

"I see..." there was a long paused before the man smacked his open palm down on the table, recovering his joviality, and tossed back the remains of his drink with the other. "Best get off then. I'll see if I can't get her all set up right for the night after next. Unless I get message otherwise, look for us in the usual place at the usual time."

She angled herself just enough to see Jairus tip his head in acknowledgment. The unassuming fellow went off, and once again they were left alone at their table. When she was sure there was no one in ear shot she turned to look at him.

"Don't you think he'll suspect, since you were so unwilling to answer his questions?"

He turned his gaze back on her, his hint of a smile reappearing as well. 

"Actually, I'm more worried he thinks it odd I gave him as much as I did." His eyes shone slightly. "Normally I'd just glare, and if they're lucky tell them it's none of their business. She chuckled.

"And here I thought I had it rough. Compared to that, you're practically giddy at home." She smirked, but her smile faded somewhat as he gave her an odd look. She couldn't put her finger on what that look was, but it made her avert her eyes back to the table in discomfort. "So," she offered, "What now? Do we have anyone else to meet?"

"Now we find a room and stay there until this nonsense is over with."

She couldn't help but be disappointed. She was sort of hoping they could look around. She had never been to the city before. She told him so as they left, apparently for somewhere with less questionable hygiene. He gave her a very unimpressed look in response. When she pressed a second time, after he'd found and procured the room he was looking for, and for that matter bolted them inside of it, he turned a hard stare on her. 

"I'll happily give you a guided tour of any city you like...so long as it's not this one." He advanced on her again, reminding her of his behavior the previous night in the woods, as well as the fact that it was not his idea to be there. 

"Say the word and we'll go." She could only stare back, unwilling to acquiesce and not particularly eager to start another argument. He gave her another inscrutable look and turned away, tossing his cloak over a hook on the door and quickly stripping down to his pants with his back to her. 

She did likewise, turning away and folding her shirt carefully before climbing onto the narrow single bed, slipping under the covers and pushing herself near the wall, her back to the room. She heard him check the lock one more time. The bed dipped next to her a moment later. She closed her eyes.

"If you even think about sneaking off during the daylight, you better hope they find you first." 

He growled deeply. She could feel a smile threatening at the edges of her lips. "And don't smile...death will be a blessing compared to what I'll do to you." 

He sounded serious, and angry, but the way his body turned to meld so perfectly against hers and the arm the slid around her waist and hugged her tightly against him completely ruined the threat, and she smiled anyway. 

**

Jairus had gone to sleep virtually crushing her body with his. It was something he might be inclined to do anyway, but through the day it had also served the purpose of making sure she didn't try running off as she had previously. At least this way she was trapped between himself and the wall. She couldn't leave, and no one could touch her without his knowing. Safe. 

It was the only way short of tying her up that knew he'd get even a moments rest, though as the afternoon turned to evening, that idea rapidly gained appeal. 

He was going to finish his last accepted assignment: the prison warden job. He couldn't imagine it taking too much time, so long as he was efficient about it. Regardless, leaving her here unattended for any period did not appeal to him. It was clear that she was anxious to escape the room and explore, and who knew how many people were in the city still, looking for a girl matching just her description. What's more he'd particularly chosen this area of the city to hide in because it was so easy to disappear here and the locals are very good about not noticing much of anything. Even Marcus would be hard pressed to track him down here. That also meant it was incredibly dangerous. It was especially so for a lone and inexperienced young woman. 

He had explained this earlier, but watching her now, he felt certain she had been placating him when she nodded her agreement. He gave an internal head shake. She was absolutely infuriating. He was sitting at a small table in the corner, watching her, and she sat on the bed, her arms wrapped around her bent knees. The position made the material pull tightly across her hips and thighs and the plainly feminine shape they revealed made him wonder if she could pass as a boy even with a cloak hiding most of her figure. Boyish wasn't exactly the word coming into his head just then.

"What?" She asked petulantly, clearly still irritated that he had told her she was under house arrest. The tone of her voice suddenly made up his mind for him. He stood and removed his cloak and the accoutrements beneath and approached her, dropping them next to the bed and sitting down at her feet. 

He looked straight ahead rather than at her, but one hand snaked out and caressed a bare ankle, feeling supple skin pulled taunt over bone. He wondered briefly how her skin was always so warm. 

He kept exploring her leg with the tips of his fingers until he heard the soft intake of breath he'd been waiting for, then turned to her with a soft smile. 

"You can still leave you know."

Her heart fell. For an instant his suddenly gentle behavior had made her hope he was feeling sympathetic, that he might give in a little. No such luck apparently.

"I can't."

"Won't." He corrected. She went rigid again, but his fingers continued to trace lazy figures up and down the length of her leg as if their bodies had nothing to do with their conversation.

"It amounts to the same thing."

He nodded, his smile vanishing. "Someone will die Thea. I hope you understand that. That's the only way this will end if you follow this path." Her stomach twisted in knots. Was he trying to test her resolve? Did he not think she could go through with this? Her jaw clenched.

"Then I'll have to make sure it's them and not me, won't I."

He arched a brow at that, his expression becoming one of appraisal. For a split second she almost thought she saw amusement as well. She could feel her own mouth twitch. His eyes shone. 

The hand on her calf moved back to her ankle, the fingers teasing beneath the hem of her pant leg. The long cool fingers closed around her with a pressure made meaningful by his watchful eyes. 

The briefest spark in those eyes was her only warning before his grip tightened and she found herself pulled forward and laid out flat on her back. She opened her mouth to protest and froze mid breath as she stared up into his almost smirking face. Some small part of her resisted the urge to melt beneath that little smile, if on principle alone, but that voice was no match for the flush of raw heat which permeated to the very core of her at the sight of it. Instead of being defiant, the tilt of her chin became an offering, an invitation. 

His expression shifted once more. He had expected resistance, she was sure, and she almost smiled at his surprise, as subtle as it was. He never gave her the chance to express her amusement.

His mouth was over hers, devouring her with a hunger that made her falter. The kiss was rough, and heated, and it tore a soft moan of surprise and supplication from her throat as she surrendered to it. 




Fire Ch. 08



Thea could feel the press of his teeth against her mouth with bruising firmness, and the faint taste of blood as his partially elongated fangs carelessly pricked her lips and tongue. His fingers were in her hair, fisted and holding her captive. 

Under the heat of that kiss and all of its painful intensity, or perhaps rather through it, she felt his frustration, his anger, his need, and naked desire pouring into her. It overwhelmed her and she lost herself in the dark haze of the moment. Her fingers threaded into his hair and clenched just as tightly as his. 

She couldn't say how long the kiss lasted, but when she opened her eyes she found herself pinned with her arms over her head, her body arching up towards his, and his mouth working its way down her throat. She felt something strange at her wrists and frowned in concentration, willing herself back into reality, pushing away the blanket of dark sensation which had fallen over her mind. He was leaning over her, his dark eyes flashing into hers. 

She realized too late what he had done. His hands appeared at her waist and she tugged her wrists down to follow them, to touch him back. 

They remained where they were. 

It was like having cold water splashed in her face and she recovered instantly.

"Jairus! What do you think you're doing!" She looked up at her wrists, bound together and tied to one of the bed posts. 

"Insurance."

"Untie me now!" A tiny smile tugged at his mouth as he raised a finger to his lips.

"These walls are thin." he murmured and gave the cord binding her wrists a sharp tug, making her arms jerk uncomfortably.

She glared at him, fury rising up in her throat and turning her next words into a venomous hiss. 

"Untie me now Jairus, or I swear..."

His smile vanished and he leaned in until she could feel his breath against her skin, his eyes glinting ominously. She instinctively shrunk away from him, though it did her little good. 

"You swear what? You'll leave? I don't think you'll be going anywhere little one." His voice dripped with dark sarcasm. He tugged the rope again making her squirm. She lifted her knee to push him off, but he caught her leg easily and moved to kneel over her, her legs caught between his. 

She growled at him and writhed in a vain effort to twist out from under him. 

"I'll scream." She warned, her voice still a hissed whisper. "The walls are thin...remember?" She tried to match his sarcasm with her own. 

"And then what? Unless... you want them to find you. Is that really why you're here? Is my company so unbearable?"

She gaped at him a moment. "N-no, of course not." The vehemence had left her voice.

"Then why are you so insistent on putting yourself in harm's way?" His eyes had lost their dangerous gleam, but his gaze remained intense.

"I'm not."

"It certainly looks that way to me. You know as well as I do that once they know you're here they will do everything in their power to try to kill you, regardless of what you might say. So, why are you here, when you could be leagues away and safe?"

She clenched her teeth and tilted her chin. "I won't run...I won't be made to run. I will not be intimidated, and I will face them. If that ends me...then so be it." The vehemence had returned to her voice and she could only be grateful it didn't waver with the fear she actually felt. All he did was shake his head. 

"What? You think I'm a fool?" She twitched angrily under him again.

"Yes. Foolish. You stubborn Huroth, you're as bad as the rest of them. Is that why you never left your village? To bloody stubborn?" Anger still flared in his eyes and he grasped her upturned chin.

She glared. "Yes. Too bloody stubborn. Now let me go."

"No."

She growled again. "What do you mean by doing this?"

"I mean to keep you alive, Huroth. I advise you to let me." There was something strange in his eyes again, but it was something she didn't recognize. What was that look he kept giving her?

"Don't call me that. You make it sound like a slur."

"Then don't act like it."

She huffed. "What if they find me....here...like this? I'll have no way to escape, or defend myself." She thought she saw his face soften slightly as he raised himself away and released her chin, but it was hard to tell in the low light.

"They will only find you if you let them know where you are. This is the point you don't seem able to grasp."

Jairus looked down at her disheveled form and smirked slightly to mitigate the harshness of his words. He couldn't actually leave her tied up like this, as much as he wanted to. It was really just a bluff. She would be too angry with him, and he was well enough acquainted with her stubborn streak to know she would simply leave as she had threatened. The fact made his chest swell and ache, and his smirk vanish. He leaned further back and watched the emotions swim across the open waters of her face, moving from anger, to confusion, to fury, to fear in rapid succession. 

"Jairus?" Her voice, which had been so hard and confident in her anger, now broke softly around the word. "Let me go."

He leaned back in again, his hands on either side of her head, his face inches from hers. 

"No." 

He watched the passion flare back to life in her eyes, incinerating her uncertainty once more. She writhed beneath him and tugged futilely at her bindings, unwittingly making them that much tighter. Her hair was splayed out in a disordered fan and he couldn't help but notice the red swell of her lips as she thrashed alluringly in frustration. For a second time he was suddenly overcome with the need to lay claim to those flushed lips.

It took only seconds for her irate struggles to change into writhing of another kind as his tongue took possession of hers once more. His cock felt like it had turned to steel when he felt her moan erotically into his mouth and one of her legs hitched up, her foot dragging up along his thigh. He had to focus to drag himself away again.

Her expression was slightly glazed, but he could see her struggling to stay angry with him, to recover herself. Had he done that with just a kiss? His cock throbbed again, aching to be inside of her. God she was bad for him...or good, or very good. ..or incredibly bad. Gods, she was going to be the death of him. 

He sighed. "I'm not going to leave you like this." She blinked up at him, her haze lifting again. He attempted to muster a serious expression. "But you must promise me two things." 

She gave one short nod. He decided it was safer to assume she was telling him to proceed rather than accenting. Lord knows it wasn't going to be that easy.

"First that you will stay here tonight and wait for me to return without running off and getting yourself killed." He watched her face. She looked resigned.

"All right." She rasped out, her voice still thick with passion. She cleared her throat. 

"What's the other one?"

"That you will at least consider leaving." She stared up at him a long time. He wondered what he would do if she said no. Leave her tied up? 

Please let her say yes.

She huffed a sigh. "Alright." There was a clearly pained expression in her eyes. Good, he thought, she might actually mean it this time. She watched him for a moment then raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to release me?"

He could feel the smile as it spread slowly across his face. A new thought occurring to him.

"Who said anything about releasing you..."

"You said..."

"I said I wouldn't leave you like this."

"Yes and..."

"I never said I'd let you go right away."

She stopped, her mouth snapping shut and her eyes turning wary.

"W-what are you going to do?" The fearful trepidation that appears in her eyes surprised him. He tilted his head at her.

"Now, what is it you think I'm going to do to you?"

"I don't know." She said softly. He cocked a brow.

"No idea? Not even an inkling?" She shivered. He smiled. She must have some idea after all.

Thea gazed up at him apprehensively, watching what appeared to be dark thoughts drifting across his features. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be frightened or aroused. Suffice it to say she was an uncomfortable mixture of both. He leaned in closer and her breathe caught in her throat.

"Do you seriously think I'm going to hurt you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His lips twitched.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" 

That made her blink. "Want you to...n-no, I don't." She frowned in confusion. His smile softened. He closed the distance between them, brushing his lips against hers. 

Lights fingers brushed over the swell of her breast, causing the nipple to jump to immediate attention and her back to arch reflexively.

"Then I won't." She released a tremulous gasp as him mouth moved lower once more, a slower, gentler repetition of his earlier kiss. His hands slid up her waist and encircled her ribs, pausing just below her breasts before sliding slowly back down to wrap tightly around her hips. 

She almost laughed with relief and at her own irrational fear. What had she expected? He brushed his lips against the already hardening nipple through the fabric of her shirt turning her arch into a slow squirm.

"Why are you afraid of me?" He asked, as if reading her mind. His fingers were unbuttoning her shirt and his mouth was trailing along behind them with gut wrenching leisure.

"I'm not" she breathed out as his mouth continued to kiss a trail down between her breasts. 

He reared up suddenly with a hard intake of breath, almost throwing his head back, his eyes glittering, his lips pulled back to reveal the white blades of his elongated canines. She cried out at the sudden movement and cringed again before she could stop herself, squeezing her eyes closed. When she opened them again he was kneeling over her cocking his head to the side. He raised one brow. She sighed.

"That wasn't fair. You bared your fangs at me." 

He arched both brows with a faintly amused expression. 

"I've done more than bare them at you before...if you'll recall." His lips twisted in a way that made her want to grab the back of his head and slide her tongue between them. Her body throbbed. She moved to reach for him and found her hands were still tied.

"Let me go, please..." She rasped, suddenly tremulous with the desire to feel her arms around him and his cool solid flesh pressed against hers. He frowned. His hand came slowly forward, his fingers cupping her chin, gently this time. 

"Have I ever hurt you?" 

She blinked up at him again, disoriented, pulled in and out of the fog of desire too many times. She almost answered no.

"Yes."

His fingers stilled along her jaw. She gave him a small smile before his expression could darken too much. 

"But I sort so liked it." She grinned fully at the surprise that registered in his eyes. The grin didn't last long and she twisted underneath him with a groan. "Damn it, Jairus, untie me. I want to kiss you. I want to touch you."

He didn't release her, but she barely noticed. She had his mouth, his tongue mating with hers, she had his body held tight against her as he slid an arm underneath her, crushing her to him. His hands were everywhere, gripping her hard one moment, light and teasing the next. Her eyes fluttered closed and a long sigh escaped her lips as the chill of his skin slid over hers, cooling her heated flesh.

Jairus swallowed a groan as he finally fumbled open his shirt and felt the soft silk of her breasts against his chest. He couldn't stifle the low moan that ground out of his throat as her whole body arched up against him. 

He pulled his mouth from her body long enough to take in the sight of her. Her eyes were shut, her head thrown back and lips parted mid gasp. Dusky, rose colored lips set against the creamy tan of her skin. Perfect. An image of sharp white teeth pressed against those lips leapt unbidden into his mind. Would she? He groaned again and tipped his forehead to her collar. 

"Jairus." Her voice was a husky whisper. He shivered and looked up into those swirling amber eyes. She tugged her wrists and gave him a crooked smile. He returned it, but his hand shook slightly as he freed her, his mind buzzing with the new and disquieting thoughts. Incredibly tempting thoughts. 

"Thea..." he murmured into her hair as a tumble of words, needs, and desires suffused and flooded his mind.

Before he could capture and arrange those thoughts coherently he found himself half pinned beneath a whirlwind of heat and flesh. The moment he'd released her she leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck and thrusting her lips against his, sending them both backwards. She leaned up just long enough for him to steady himself on one arm and for her to jerk her shirt off her shoulders. Her mouth and body were back against his even as she struggled to untangle herself from her loosened pants. He wasted no more time and helped as best he could, stripping them both as quickly as he might without suffering the pain of having to tear his mouth from hers. 

His other thoughts were buried once more, overwhelmed by the more immediate need to have her naked and panting in his arms. 

She didn't disappoint him.

Somehow he found himself seated on the edge of the bed, gripping her thighs as she wrapped them around him, her hand anxiously pumping his already excruciatingly hard cock. He gripped her bottom, enjoying the feel of the soft flesh as it gave beneath his fingers. 

He pulled her up, escaping her hungry mouth and latched instead onto the pebbled nipple that rose enticingly before him. She made a sound somewhere between the purring mewl of a kitten and a broken gasp of lust. He could feel the hot slick folds of her sex brushing against the head of his cock in a form of unintentional torture that made him throb painfully.

He was full to the brim with the feel and scent of her as they clung there together, but he wanted more. The fingers laced in his hair tightened and she let out what he could only take as a sympathetic moan.

"I want you." She whispered, her lips feathering his neck lightly, her legs tightening their death grip around his waist. "I want you so much." Her voice was practically shaking with need. 

Thea somehow managed to untangle herself from him long enough to reach down and cup his face in her hands, tilting his chin up to hers, her eyes captivated by what she saw. She was unswervingly drawn in by those sharp, dangerous features and piercing black eyes, but most of all by that sensual mouth, made that much more alluring by the hint of fang which appeared as they parted. 

She shivered. He had that wonderful, dark expression of desire painted across his features. As always, it took her breath away. She kissed him, though this time it was tender and lingering, her tongue sliding unhurriedly between the valley of his lips. She knew he wanted her. She could feel it in the tension of his body, the way his fingers bit into her, the way his eyes burned. But she wanted to hear it. Just once. 

"Tell me you want me."

He looked up at her for what felt like an eternity before pulling her back down into another long and lingering kiss. When he finally broke the kiss he held her tightly, his mouth against the shell of her ear.

"I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you." She shivered at the silken caress of his soft whisper. "You were the most beautiful, most desirable thing I had ever seen." She held her breath, her fingers digging into his shoulders. 

"I want you Thea." 

His mouth dragged slowly across her throat and along the line of her jaw. Something like a moan emanated from her as she tilted her hips, letting the hot head of his sex slide over the equally heated and incredibly slick folds of her own. She repeated this lazy rocking as she basked in his caress, and the tingle of her skin as he covered every inch of her throat and collar with his teeth and lips. She could still taste her own blood still lingering on her tongue and recalled the wild ferocity of his earlier kiss. She wondered if he was going to feed. The thought sent another delighted shudder through her and her languid rhythm hitched. 

She felt him suddenly at her entrance, the head already pressing in firmly, spreading her to him. 

He entered her with aching slowness, and it was as if she could feel each contour of both their bodies as she spread only to mould tightly around him. When she had finally slid down his length, sheathing him almost completely inside of her, he stopped. 

His mouth still moved over her body, sliding down to graze her breasts, his lips quickly finding and teasing first one than the other aching tip. She rocked against him with unconscious need, her eyes falling shut. 

He groaned and he nipped lightly at the hard nub between his lips. She twisted her hips once more, grinding into him and running her nails down over his shoulders and back, marking him lightly. Her thighs tightened around his waist as he released her breast and gripped her, guiding her hips and thrusting back up into her with slow measured thrusts. She clung to his shoulders, tucking her head into his neck and matched his movements. 

Despite the unhurried pace she could feel that her skin was already flushed and glistening, and her blood was pounding through her veins announcing what she knew to be an imminent climax. He never changed his slow pace, the only sign of his own excitement the gradual tightening of his grip and the low, raw growl which escaped him when her body squeezed down on his with the first throbbing spasms of her orgasm.

He continued to fuck her with unhurried and deliberate strokes. She could only cling, her limbs twining like some type of erotic ivy, and writhe more urgently as the first wave of sensation washed over her. Instead of dissipating it swelled in time with his thrusts, each one causing a new and progressively stronger wave, until her body was nothing more than a ball of pleasure and sensation contorted into the shape of a woman. 

Jairus grunted with the effort of his restraint as he continued his careful movements, impaling her completely before lifting her and sliding her over his cock with painful deliberation. 

Each upward thrust became that much harder to control as her now trembling body began clenching down around him with almost violent urgency, demanding his release. He closed his eyes when she began whimpering and gasping his name against his shoulder, her hips grinding mercilessly against his, and clenched his jaw firmly when her nails dug into his back so hard he wondered if they drew blood. But still he held back, doing his damnedest to torture her with pleasure and to draw out his own. 

But when her mouth clamped, sudden and hot, at the joint of his shoulder, her teeth pressing hard into the skin, all efforts to resist were lost. His focus snapped like a taunt cord met with a fine blade, and he gasped sharply as the whiplash of pleasure shot swiftly through him. 

He gripped her hard, his own nails digging into soft flesh as he buried himself one last time and came hard inside of her, his cock twitching violently with the force of each pulsating shot. 

She cried out into his shoulder and bucked her hips in time with his pounding release. 

It seemed to last forever, as if he was pouring every ounce of himself into her. When it was finally over he let his head tip forward to lean against hers, his breath still coming in soft pants. He had not moved from where he sat at the beds edge, but he felt exhausted, empty. She quivered against him, her body slick and cool with the sheen of sweat which covered her. He smoothed her hands up along her back and smiled into her hair when she purred softly. 

Holding her, he was unexpectedly reminded of the Ishvaran aesthetes of the southern kingdoms. He had heard that they held a belief that a man lost a piece of himself to each woman he lay with, reducing him slowly. Unsurprisingly they were celibate. It might explain the strangely clear headed emptiness. 




Fire Ch. 08



Carefully he shifted them, laying her back on the bed before finally pulling himself from her, making both of them wince. Her eyes remained closed and he brushed a tendril of hair back from her cheek. 

The notion, as fanciful as it was, that she had some piece of himself in her keeping turned his thoughtful calm into a warm sense of contentment. The feeling grew as he watched her until he felt the need to turn away. 

He left her side, drawing a blanket over her, and swallowing hard. The empty calm had been short lived and was replaced with a sensation that made his chest swell to the point of aching. 

Jairus dressed quickly, his back to Thea, only turning as he fastened his cloak, returning to her side to retrieve his things from where he'd tossed them earlier. He breathed deeply and dared a glance at her face. She appeared to be asleep. He smiled at that. His smile grew into a smirk as he untied the remains of the rope still looped about the bed post.

He paused before he left, leaning in and running the back of his fingers over her cheek and giving her an almost chaste kiss on that same soft skin.

"Stay put." He whispered into her ear, pleased she couldn't argue this time. He chuckled at himself and the foolishness of that pleasure. 'If I'm very lucky she might not wake before I return,' he thought idly, 'in which case she might actually listen for once.' He drew the blanket up over her shoulders and pulled away with a sigh. 

"I'm not holding my breath." He murmured to himself as he turned away. He closed the door softly behind him. 

He took a few steps then stopped in the hall, glancing back at the door before lifting his hood and pulling himself away once more. Stepping into the brisk evening air he was shocked back into reality. He craned his neck once, to ease the tension from it, and strode silently but purposely into the waiting shadows of the city.



Fire Ch. 09



Hello folks,

I tried to be quick about this one to make up for the last chapter. Next chapter is in the works, but I have a lot of fun RL work to get to first. I'll try not to take too long.

I love to hear suggestions so please feel free.

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

yers,

-enithermon

***

The White Bay shone blindingly under a high moon. For miles it stretched, a glorious waste of ice and snow. Within its embrace, three dark islands, dumping grounds for the cities unwanted and forgotten: The mad, the criminal, and the dead. Around the base of the second a dark figure slid unnoticed over slick black stones, shining with layers of ice and mottled with patches of crystalline snow. In the distance the flickering but ever present lights of the city burned as a perpetual counterpoint to the silent despondency of the three 'sisters' which sat off and alone like hunched crones of fate, busy with their work of spinning and measuring and cutting. 

The stones of the keep loomed high and the dark stone of the north-west face, untouched by moonlight, was as black as the stones below. Along this wall a hand full of men patrolled lethargically, pausing now and again to sip from flasks or rub life back into chilled limbs. One paused, momentarily startled as a movement, suddenly caught in the corner of his eye, caused him to turn his head sharply. He blinked and saw enough to think it the passing fancy of tired eyes, or at best the flutter of a hunting owl led too far from the shore by skittish prey. 

Jairus cast the bright clear sky another look of supreme annoyance as he crushed himself against the wall to let yet another guard pass. The prison had one entrance, and three consecutive gates to guard it. The walls themselves were well manned and impossibly high, a feat of engineering in themselves, and all of it was located on an isolated island, its nearest neighbors a graveyard and an asylum. Near impossible to escape or infiltrate. That is unless one could scale impossible walls at a speed faster than the eye could catch. And even if one could accomplish this there were no windows or unlocked doors save the wardens window, another twenty feet of uninterrupted vertical assent up a broad turret. Jairus picked his way around to the moonless side of this very tower and began his quick assent. 

As he neared the narrow slotted window overhead he heard the low and conveniently sonorous sounds of the warden. He made a quick check before slipping inside the dark room. He could already catch the sickly sweet smell of too much liquor from across the room. He made a quick inventory and found what he needed at a glance. The keys hung next to the door, a sword, with its red ornamental tassels, stood propped at the foot of the bed, and the almost empty bottle of spirits sat still uncorked on the desk. He took all of it, thinking the liquor might be an amusing touch.

The client had given him explicit and careful directions as well as guard rotations so it took very little time to painlessly reach the desired location. Fortunately the information he'd been given was good. Unfortunately, however, the man in the cell wasn't quite asleep and stirred at the sound of the key turning softly in his cell door. Jairus wasted no time. He was on top of the mark well before he could cry out, pulling him up out of the cot before rapidly spinning and shoving him against the wall, one hand over his mouth the other already unsheathing the wardens sword. 

The man, Jairus knew, was a political prisoner, but the clients own personal interests lay more in the 'family way,' in all senses of the word. Specifically, the man had impregnated the client's sister, a member of his household staff, and promptly fired her, denying any and all responsibility. Of course such a thing wasn't uncommon, and by no means the reason for his imprisonment. The fact that the girl's brother was a guard was only an interesting coincidence. However, as a political prisoner he wasn't subject to the same indignities as other prisoners and thus the brother of the young lady was forced to seek professional aid since he was prohibited from gaining access to the man. Jairus wondered if the man knew that it had been his imprisonment which had been keeping him alive this long. Poor bastard.

"Julianna's brother sends his regards." He whispered into the man's left ear just before the blade slid upwards into his right side. He twisted the blade quickly, paused to listen for the soft gurgle of blood rapidly filling lungs, and withdrew the sword. He dropped the body, his ears attuned to his slowing heart, and carefully wiped the sword on the man's clothes before snapping off one of the tassels and shoving it into the man's clenched hand. He then took the liquor and tipped a minuscule amount onto the floor next to the body and a little more near the cell door. The space between the moment he'd first slid the key into the door to open it and the moment he turned it back to lock it once more had been significantly shorter than the time he'd given himself.

He replaced everything as he'd found it, though not quite perfectly so, and, with one eye on the warden, began shuffling through his desk. It was not the warden he was framing after all. He smiled as he found a number of papers with the name of the second mark. There wasn't a great deal to work with but he did find one less than glowing review and an incident report which had been recently dated. He decided they would do. He tossed the two letters on the fire, and waited long enough to be sure they were burned past recognition, hoping momentarily that it wasn't over kill. Some people didn't do subtlety very well. He glanced at the Warden who turned and snorted once or twice then settled back into a rhythmic snore. No, this one would have no use for subtlety. 

Jairus sighed. Overall it had been remarkably easy. Too easy perhaps, as he had expected a bit more of a challenge. If this was too be his last job, he was hoping it would be one worthy of the title. He'd honestly found stealing those paintings far more difficult. No doubt the councilman was paying his people significantly more. He'd been attempting to do it without engaging the guards and had had to improvise. These guards, though plentiful enough, were little more than warm bodies. 

Still, he thought as he eased himself out the window, whether the set up would work remained to be seen. He had decided that to frame the man directly would be too obvious, but to implicate him in the framing of an immediate superior was perhaps convoluted enough to hold water, not in the least because the warden's departure would mean an almost certain promotion. 

The hardest part had been getting to and from the island unnoticed. Even moving as quickly as he did, navigating the plane of ice which covered the lake was somewhat nerve wracking. As he made his way back, it was hard to ignore the echoing groans beneath his feet as thick ice slowly buckled under its own weight, or the sharp snap as loose pieces broke and shifted around one another in the distance. It probably wouldn't kill him, but slipping and getting caught under shifting ice wasn't his idea of a pleasant way to spend an evening. 

He'd paused to feed before he'd begun this little endeavor. Adding that time to the rest, the job and the odious work of keeping himself out of the ice bath, his total time amounted to less than three hours. He couldn't help but allow himself a moment of satisfaction over that. He'd like to see even another of his own kind match that. He hadn't been lying to Thea about the turning just making one 'more' of what they already were. He had already been well trained in combat and a skilled hunter, so those abilities had been magnified. Even his sire, who had been several hundred years his senior, could not have matched him in many of his abilities, then or now. Of course, she had her own. 

He kept one eye on the distant city he approached and wondered idly what such a change might do to Thea. He smirked, god help him. He could imagine she'd be strong, and graceful, and utterly fearless. It would probably make her that much more stubborn as well. His smirk turned into a wry grin. He was strong, it was true, but he wasn't sure anything was strong enough to deal with that. Then again, he'd always claimed to like a challenge, had he not? 

Gods help him indeed. 

**

Thea couldn't say what it was that woke her, but something stirred in her and forced her to open her eyes. Call it fate, chance, or just blind stupid luck. 

There were voices in the hall. She couldn't hear the words, but they were deep and male. She didn't know how long she'd been asleep for. Jairus was gone but the high, diamond bright moon shining through the window slates told her it wasn't all that late. Instinct told her to get up and get dressed. Reason told her to be quick about it.

Quietly she slipped out of bed and fetched her discarded clothes from wherever she'd haphazardly tossed them earlier and tiptoed to the door while struggling into her shirt. She turned her ear to the cool wood to listen even as she started hopping into her pants and boots. The voices drew closer and she caught a knock a little ways down the hall. She wondered if she should risk a peek. Someone told them, very loudly, to go do rather nasty things to their mother. They knocked again and she took the chance, cracking the door by just a fraction. There were three men, all very large, very tall, with dark hair and, she didn't doubt, dark eyes. She pulled the door shut immediately and slid the bolt just as quickly home. 

She licked her lips and backed away from the door her heart suddenly pounding in her ears. This was not good. This was a terrible mistake. This was too soon, she wasn't ready...god, Jairus was right. But then she'd already known that, hadn't she? What was wrong with her, why was she even here? Had she gone insane?

That must be it. She must have cracked the moment they tied her up at that post and she hadn't recovered since. She was a calm person. A reasonable person. Or at least she used to be, before she was sucked into this strange dark dream. Now she felt like she'd been doused with a bucket of full ice water, and had abruptly found herself wide awake and staring down the sword blade of reality. 

She didn't want to die, but she was here now, and she was alone, and she was running out of time. 

"Think girl, think" she whispered under her breath.

She bit her lip and looked around the room. The sparse furniture wouldn't do much to hold the door if they decided to break it in, but she grabbed the chair and shoved it under the handle anyway. It might buy her a few seconds.

She ran to the window and tried to push up the latch. It was rusted and stiff and resisted her efforts. She heard another knock even closer and took a long deep breath, trying desperately to still her nerves and rapidly fisted and opened her hands to try to keep them from shaking. 

She tried again, using more force until she finally slammed the meat of her palm up against the damned thing as hard as she could. It popped free, but she had to bite back a hiss of pain as she managed to cut herself on the degraded metal hinge at the same time. 

A loud knock behind her made her gasp and jump, and her hands started to tremble again. She leaned out the window and looked down. They were on the second story, but, she decided, if she hung out the window first it shouldn't be more than an eight foot drop, if that. It still didn't sound like a lot of fun to her, but what were her options? 

"That's right, you don't have any." she whispered.

The knock came again, this time louder and she stifled another sound of alarm.

"Hello?" The voice was the same she'd heard earlier. She swallowed hard at the sound.

"I'm sure I saw it open just a moment ago." Came a second.

She cursed herself silently and took another deep breathe, slinging one leg up onto the ledge and wriggling it up and through the window, hefting herself after it. She made the mistake of looking down again and groaned involuntarily. The pounding grew louder, both on the door and in her chest. It felt like her heart might just explode it was thrumming so fast against her ribs. She grabbed the ledge and gingerly turned herself and slid down until she was dangling over the alleyway below, the bottoms of her boots scraping uselessly against the rough stone of the wall, instinctively seeking the footing that wasn't there. 

She took one more long breath, swore, and let go.

The ground came at her fast, but she managed to twist herself before it caught her unawares and she threw her momentum off into a roll. As she landed she could practically feel the bruises forming along her entire left side and back as she tumbled into the unforgiving brick of the next building. She groaned and cast her eyes upward. There were no faces yet at the window, she still had time. Wincing and biting back several self pitying whimpers she struggled to her feet and made her way down into the darkness of the alley. It twisted off in various directions and she automatically chose the one which felt the most like 'away' to her. All she could do was keep going, trying to follow a simple re-traceable pattern of left-right, as she lost herself in the labyrinth of alleys and canals. 

She grimaced as she ran, trying to stay on her toes to minimize the echoing sound of her boot heels on the stone streets, keeping to the dark and empty lanes which wound between and behind the tall, tightly packed buildings and skirted the dark stagnant waters of the many narrow canals. 

She paused finally in what felt like a particularly well hidden alleyway to catch her breath. She leaned against a pile of emptied crates for support and gave herself a quick examination. She was definitely bruised and scratched, but she'd been lucky and suffered nothing worse than that. She almost laughed. It seemed being tossed around by Jairus had taught her something after all. Who knew falling would be such an important skill. 

As it was her face couldn't quite manage the smile. She was throbbing all over. Her hand hurt like hell and was still bleeding quite a bit. She looked around for something to use to put pressure on it and realized with another soft sound of frustration that in her haste she had forget both her knife and her cloak. Without them she felt utterly naked. She groaned and leaned back against the crates again, letting herself slide to the ground. She looked back down the alley she'd come from. It was silent and empty, but she was still alone and unarmed, and she'd been warned this was no place to be caught in such a state. 

If she survived, Jairus was going to kill her. 

She watched the alley intensely, debating whether to keep moving, and probably get hopelessly lost in the process, or to return the way she'd come to risk seeing if they'd moved on. Ultimately her indecision kept her where she was. 

It didn't take her long to regret her decision, or lack thereof. Voices sounded in an alley behind her and she crawled around the pile, tucking herself in next to it as best she could. She listened closely and was relieved to hear they didn't sound like the voices from the inn. As they drew near her relief dimmed significantly and she huddled closer to the pile of refuse, hoping they wouldn't choose to turn into her alley. She was boxed in on one side by the high walls and on the other by the black waters of a canal. If they did turn down toward her, she'd have only one route of escape...back the way she came, and back toward the Huroth.

These new voices weren't Huroth she decided, but they weren't friendly sounding either. They sounded rough and slightly drunk, and as they neared she could hear much of what they were saying, and none of it was making her feel any better. She closed her eyes as their shadows were thrown into sight and prayed silently to no one in particular.

**

Jairus paused as he approached the inn where he had left Thea, pressing himself up into the shadow of a watch tower as he gazed down on a familiar figure lurking in the street below. The youth was cloaked but his hood was drawn back and he was watching the mouth of the via, his narrowed eyes darting restlessly along the connecting street. 

He didn't like how close the agent was to his hiding spot. That old territorial wolf reared its head and he ground his teeth in irritation, resisting the urge to let out a low growl. Jairus was sure that the boy was with Marcus and that he'd been sent to sniff them out. He winced at how close he'd gotten, annoyed with his own confidence. 

'Perhaps overconfidence might be the appropriate term,' he thought bitterly. He was about to push off and clear the alley toward the inn to check on Thea when another figure appeared in the alley and made him pause once more. It was a Huroth, he'd know that swaggering bulk anywhere.

He crouched low overhead, his eyes and ears intent on the scene below.

"How did it go? Was she there?" the young man asked in a hushed voice.

"There was someone there who made a run for it, but we never saw who it was. Leapt straight out the window, didn't even see where they went. Could have been anyone."

The assassin shook his head. "They were there, and he was gone, saw him off myself. The 'friend' had to be there." Jairus tensed at that, his skin prickling uncomfortably. 

The Huroth snorted his reply. "Who's to say who it is...no one saw a face. And I can't imagine a woman jumping out a window like that and just disappearing. Besides, I don't put much stock in the notions and feelin's of some slippery imperial type."

"Your boss seems eager enough to believe us."

"Othwyn's an idiot." The man sneered. "They both are. Wasting everyone's time if you ask me. If you ask me they should just get it over with and fight it out the old fashion way. All this cloak and dagger makes me queasy. No honor in it. No glory."

"I doubt he would like to hear you saying so. Besides, I imagine if he thought he was up to that he wouldn't be spending his good money on us 'slippery imperials,' would he." His could almost hear the sneer in the boy's voice, and it almost tempted Jairus to smile.

Another snort. "Already has heard it, told him so myself. You wet city types only know how to lick boots. Too weak to give and take solid advice when you have it. You sure it was the Nine Tails?"

What was left of his patience deserted him with that confirmation and Jairus was moving over the roof tops with careless speed before another word could be spoken. The Nine Tails was where she was. Where she may no longer be. 

He was there in mere seconds, above the alley facing the window Thea had purportedly jumped from, his heart pounding in his throat. The shutter was hanging open and there were several men in the narrow road below milling about aimlessly, looking for answers they wouldn't find. As it was there was something he could see that they couldn't. Or rather, something he could smell. It was the faintest of scents, just a bare hint drifting like a favourite perfume over the mire of unpleasantness that made up the essence of the city. He'd know the scent anywhere.

It was blood. Her blood. 

He could smell it as it wafted up to him, curling around him like fingers of smoke, teasing him. There wasn't a lot, but it was there. He took a deep breath to calm his rising panic, reminding himself that she'd gotten away. Now he just had to find her first.

He slid along the roof tops, following and occasionally losing the scent. It didn't take him long to catch the pattern of her movements and before long he wasn't bothering to wait until he caught the scent, only marking it when it came to him, telling him he was closing in on his target. The wolf tracking a wounded doe, his ears turned to the heavy tread of the hunters. 




Fire Ch. 09



** 

"Well, look here Remy, seems like the gods have seen fit to bless us with sport after all. I told you to quit your bitching."

Thea felt her stomach slam up into her throat and she opened her eyes turning them toward the voice. Two faces grinned down at her. The man who spoke looked almost youthful, his face clean shaven, his hair a devil-may-care swath of wheat and his eyes the clear sky blue of a local boy. Remy looked at least middle age, and much darker, the feint shadow of a beard graced his chin and rounded face. The one thing they had in common was the bright glint in both their eyes.

"Hello pet. What seems to be the problem? A lover cast you out? We can fix that for you if you like." The one called Remy leaned in, his hands on his knees, his mouth twisting into an unappetizing leer.

"Leave me alone. I'm not interested." She rasped, the hardness of her glare not quite covering the tremor of fear in her voice. 

The first man frowned mockingly. "Well that's not very friendly. Maybe she likes girls better, she is dressed up like a man." 

Remy grinned again. "We can fix that too." Behind them she heard a low chuckle.

There was something sharp and hard in both their eyes that accompanied that first glint and it made up her mind for her before she could bother formulating a plan or even a coherent thought for that matter. Hesitation was no longer an option. 

The blond opened his mouth to add something, but before the sound could escape she had launched herself forward, catching him in the gut with her shoulder and sending him stumbling back while she jumped past him.

She made it all of four steps when a hand seized her by the collar, yanking her back with a sharp tug. She threw back a hopeful elbow as she stumbled backwards and felt it connect. A cry and a curse behind her filled her with a furious satisfaction and spurred her on. 

She spun, taking advantage of the weakened grip on her shirt. They were so much slower and weaker than Jairus, and no doubt not expecting a fight, so she shook them off with surprising ease. She caught two handfuls of someone's shirt, not bothering to check whose, and yanked it with every ounce of strength she had. The one trying to hold her released her completely and the figure she'd shoved tripped sideways over the low rail running along the lip of the canal. The loud splash was still echoing in the narrow alley and she was no where near finding her bearings when another pair of hands caught her, twisting a wrist behind her back and an arm wrapped suddenly around her throat. She clawed at it with her fingers and tried desperately to twist away, but the arm only tightened, slowly cutting off her air.

She sneered as a third face appeared before her. 

"Crazy little slag."

"Disgusting pig." She returned, punctuating her words by recklessly spitting in his face. She was rewarded with a solid blow across the face. It was thankfully open-handed, but still hard enough to make her eyes tear in pain. The second blow split her lip and made her head spin slightly. 

She could taste the blood. But the taste of her own blood had long ago ceased to frighten her. Instead of fear, her first response was a surge of energy, heightened senses, and instant arousal. That arousal quickly flowed into fury. 

The man behind her grunted as she twisted again, and her heel connected with his shin. He buckled a little, but didn't loosen his grip. She tried to knock her head back into his, 

"She ain't all that little, Campbell." he gritted out as his other hand fisted in her hair and wrenched her head back in an attempt to subdue her. She let out her own grunt and suppressed the urge to kick him again. Instead she took a deep breath and let her brain catch up to her body. The more she struggled the tighter his grip got she reasoned, and at this rate she'd black out if she didn't get some air soon. So she let her shoulders slump and her legs buckle a little and went slack in his arms, forcing him to do the work of holding her up. 

As he loosened his grip slightly she was able to turn her head a little and saw that there were actually four of them, though the darkness of the alley made it difficult to make out the features of those not directly in front of her. One was still in the process of dragging his dripping self out of the water, cursing loudly as he did. She briefly wondered which one it was, though she didn't linger on the thought as the arm was still chocking off most of her air. 

In the corner of her eye she saw a shutter open and close overhead, telling her she was unequivocally on her own. They'd seen, they must have seen...but they didn't care. Jairus hadn't been exaggerating about this place. With a mental groan she steeled herself and let her eyes flutter closed and went completely limp, seemingly falling unconscious. She endured a few frightening moments of suffocation before the arm around her finally let her go and she felt herself slide down to the ground.

"Well that's more like it." The others chuckled again, muttering replies she couldn't hear. She heard the jingle of a belt and diverted every ounce of focus she had to maintain her even breathing. She watched them through her lashes, seeing enough to know that none were close enough for her to do anything. There were four of them, and one of her. She'd have to wait. 

She nearly broke when she felt her pants being tugged roughly down over her hips. She flinched and instinctively twisted away, though she managed to keep her eyes mostly shut. She tried to be patient, to keep her focus, to recall the things that Jairus had been teaching her. But it was hard.

"Hold her down." 

She saw a figure kneel down next to her head and reach out for her hands. She rolled toward him with what she hoped was a groggy sounding moan and caught a glimpse of his leg and the sheath strapped to his thigh. She focused on that, gritting her teeth against the sensation of a rough hand being thrust down the front her trousers and up against her sex. They were still trying to get her pants down but apparently this one was too impatient to wait. Her stomach lurched nauseatingly and she could taste the bile of it in her mouth as she choked back the urge to be sick. Another hand was moving under her shirt, causing the top buttons to pop open. She gritted her teeth. 'Focus' she growled to herself, forcing herself through the ordeal, imagining that knife in her hands as the embers of her anger and fear made a rapid crescendo into a white hot flame.

All she could do was slow them down by trying to make it that much more difficult, buying time. So she spread her legs to keep her trousers up, despite the fact that it went against every thought and instinct in her body, all of which screamed at her to slam her legs shut in order to keep him and his filthy hands off her. She swallowed another whimper as the rough fingers pried her open, digging deeper into her sex, clumsily seeking entrance and pulling at the skin painfully.

The man feeling her up laughed.

"Look at that, the little slut can't wait for it."

"She probably don't get much running around dressed like that."

The other man was still trying to capture both her wrists when she flailed one arm out against his leg, in what she prayed looked like an unintentional gesture. Still more laughter. Half way through the laugh she wrenched her captured arm out of his grip to snatch at his shirt and pull him nearer, grabbing the knife with the other. 

She plunged it into the nearest wall of flesh without so much as a thought, using all her strength in a quick and twisting in-out thrust before slashing it at the man between her legs. He had just enough time to pull away and throw an arm between them to protect himself, but not much more than that. The blade glanced off his arm, slicing into him and leaving a painful but relatively harmless wound. 

The others were already moving forward so she let instinct take over completely. Her spread legs closed around the man between them and she twisted, putting herself for a moment on top. It was the blond. He blinked up at her in surprise and before she knew what was happening there was a long blade lodged firmly in his throat. 

She froze and stared down at the hands still wrapped around the hilt. Her hands.

Her eyes darted up to his. She saw confusion and fear, and then...nothing. She didn't really hear the movement or cursing behind her. The fear and anger which had fueled her was sucked out of her, pulled into the strange void before her. She could hear nothing, feel nothing, couldn't move, not even to take her hands from the hilt she clutched so tightly. All she could do was stare back, entranced by those glassy eyes. He was dead. She had killed him. 

It was the sharp tug on her hair that finally pulled her out of the bareness of those eyes. Her head jerked back painfully, shocking her back into real time and making her cry out for the first time in surprise and pain. She was pulled off the body and thrown face first onto the stones. There was a knee on her back, a fist in her hair, and the silver flash of a knife under her eye. 

And then it was gone.

Her head dropped to the flagstones as the fingers pulled from her hair. She breathed once, and turned her cheek against the smooth stone surface, watching in breathless horror as a red spray arched high across the wall beside her. She climbed to her knees, slipping in the pool of blood that had slowly begun forming beneath her. 

She caught sight of the man who'd been holding her down as he crouched pathetically back against the wall. His face was pale and damp, and he clawed his bloody shirt with both hands, covering the wound she'd given him. His eyes were filled with fear but he wasn't looking at her. She turned and scrambled awkwardly back away from the spreading red tide and from whatever fearful thing she knew was behind her, that even now was casting the shadow of its presence over her. 

A cloaked figure came into view materializing over her, and stepped forward, its boots somehow avoiding the red mess which had half-hazardly painted the street. She gazed up into the hood and saw nothing but the brief glint of dark eyes as the hooded face looked slowly from the knife in the dead man's throat to her own body as she shied away. She could see the path of those shining eyes as they traveled down her partially open shirt and trousers. Her eyes also slid lower, trailing down toward his hands. They were pale hands, wielding a strange blade, long and curved, its handle wrapped in red silk. The pale hand became that much whiter as it tightened around the red grip. She could feel his gaze burning into her. 

Black fire. Searing, all-consuming, blessedly familiar fire. She licked the blood from her lips. 

Without a word he strode past her, the hem of his cloak brushing her lightly. She didn't turn to watch. Not when there came the briefest of cries, cut short by a long choked gurgle,or at the soft thud of a body hitting the ground, nor when all was silence again except for the gentle lap of water against old stone. 

Instead she stared forward at the two bodies in front of her, the nearest with its throat sliced open, the second with his head twisted unnaturally, both as limp and lifeless as two hay-stuffed scare-crows, both gazing back at her with those empty eyes. 

She put up no resistance as she was hauled to her feet and felt fingers wrap around her chin, tilting her face up to meet the dark face before her. Her mind was a blank sheet, her body cold, and her heart like a lump of ice frozen hard in her chest. 

He could think of nothing to say as he gazed down at her, his mind still spinning with fury and relief. If the sight of her pinned under that son of a bitch had made him see red, then there was nothing in the world to describe his fury when she turned and he caught a glimpse of the slow bruises forming on her throat and face and the way her shirt hung half open from her shoulders. He almost wished there were more of them so he could work out the remainder of his fury on their sorry carcasses. Slowly he reigned himself in and did his best to suppress his rage until it was reduced to a cold ball in the pit of his stomach. 

They hadn't found her. She had defended herself. She was safe. His jaw felt locked, his throat closed. 

He felt he should say something, comfort her, but even when he felt he could finally force out a sound more eloquent than a growl, there was a strange turn to her expression that made him hesitate. 

He expected fear and relief, possibly even gratitude, but not whatever it was he was looking at now. So he stood and waited and watched. Finally she broke his gaze and turned her eyes down toward the dead man with a knife in his throat.

"He's dead." she whispered. He watched her pale face as one of her hands slid up her stomach to grasp close her gaping shirt.

"Yes."

"I killed him."

It suddenly dawned on him what strange emotions were warring in her eyes. She was in shock. Not from having been attacked but from having killed a man. It had been so long he had nearly forgotten what that moment felt like. He had been brought up expecting, and even looking forward to it, but it had still left him a little rattled. 

Voices drifted towards him, still a ways away but he didn't want to be standing here when they finally stumbled upon the rather gruesome scene. She clearly needed a few moments to collect herself, but this was not the place to take them.

"Come." He untied his cloak, laying it over her shoulders and slid an arm around her waist to guide her away from the body she was still staring at. "You did well. The first time is always the hardest." He muttered, not quite sure if that was consoling or not. He was only repeating what was told to him, not knowing what else to say. He was focusing on their path, pulling them across a narrow foot bridge, but he could see the way her head had snapped towards him in response. He dared a glance toward her face and turned his eyes away just as quickly. The look she gave him was one of sheer horror.

"The first?" her voice was low and hoarse. The voices were getting closer and she was tugging away from him slightly, slowing their progress. He sighed and swept her up into his arms. She made a small yelp of protest but otherwise did not resist. 

"Hold on." He whispered and held her against him with one arm as he turned and began climbing an old wrought iron ladder at the end of the street. Up, he found, was generally the last place people looked. 

She obeyed and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was reminded once more of the night he found her, only this time it wasn't fear which made her shudder in his arms. At least not fear of him. 'That at least is an improvement.' 

He set her down lightly on the roof top and waited. She was silent for a long time and merely stood before him, her hands clutching the front his shirt and her forehead leaning against his chest. She took one long shuddering breath and pulled away. He released her as she turned.

"If you're going to tell me it gets easier, don't. I don't want it to get easier. I don't want to hear that." 

She looked back up at him, but he was already looking away. She wondered briefly if that disappointed him. Why should it? God what was wrong with her? 

She killed someone, that's what. They were dead right now, bleeding out in the alley below. She thought of all that blood. There had been so much.

"Sort of a waste isn't it?" Her voice sounded like gravel. He looked at her again. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes, it wasn't something she was used to seeing there, and it made her nervous. Perhaps he thought she'd gone mad...perhaps she had. "All that blood." She qualified, managing a shaky smile. 

His gaze remained serious and her own attempt to remain calm crumbled and she buried her face in her hands before running them through her hair in a gesture of extreme frustration. Or perhaps despair, she couldn't quite tell. She shook her head at the sky. It was clear and bright, the moon right where she'd left it when she leapt out the window. Had this all really happened so quickly? Mere minutes. That's all it takes, just minutes, seconds, between alive and dead.

"I can't do this Jairus. You were right. I...I'm not..." she shook her head again and turned her gaze downward. "They...they left me for dead, so I thought...I thought I could handle it, if I had to. I thought I'd seen enough." Her shaky smile returned as she looked up at him. "I was certainly angry enough." 

He was before her again, so quickly she hadn't seen him move, making her inhale her surprise. His fingers lightly held her neck and jaw, his thumb smoothing over her cheek and whipping away an escaping tear. His sudden touch seemed so gentle that it caused more tears to well up in the place of those he had removed. Her skin felt hot where he touched it, pulsing as if he were some sort of load stone drawing in the fragmenting remains of her heat. The rest was like ice. She could feel herself shivering again.

"They're not the same Thea, the villagers and the Huroth."

"Feels like it. They both want me dead."

"It doesn't work that way. And anger isn't always enough."

"Why not?" she bristled. "It should be dammit."

He smiled slightly. "I don't know. It just doesn't. Thea..." His fingers tightened and he stared deep into her eyes. She felt like her heart was seizing up. "You need to listen to me...alright?"

She swallowed and made a motion of assent. 

"Good people don't like killing. For some it never gets easier. But you did nothing wrong. You were defending yourself, and if he had lived, then he would live to hurt someone else. Ask yourself Thea, what if they had found a different girl, younger maybe, or less able to defend herself? What would they have done to her?" 

She felt the anger that had been so quickly drained from her flare back to life and it cleared some of the muddiness from her mind. 

She felt...startled. What if they had found someone else? They would have hurt her, raped her for certain...and who knew what else. Would they have killed her to silence her, or just left her alone and battered in the alley? Bastards. 

He searched her eyes and nodded releasing her face and giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. She frowned.

"What about you?"

His eyes searched her face again and he sighed. 

"I'm rather used to it."

"You felt nothing then?"

Another long pause. "Honestly?"

She nodded. He took a deep breath.

"If I hadn't been concerned for your safety, I wouldn't have been so merciful. I'd gladly do it over again...and I'd take my time about it." His eyes glittered darkly and she could see the muscle in his jaw twitch slightly.

"That is rather honest." she breathed.

"Too honest?" The remnant anger in his eyes turned to something else. 

She bit her lip and shook her head no, averting her eyes. "No. I...I like that you're honest...even...even if it's hard to hear." She cleared her throat and her eyes flicked back up to his. "It lets me know I can trust you." He gave her a strange and intense look and she felt compelled to look away once more. "S-so for some it does get easier then?" She murmured. 

He looked at her another long minute before answering. 

"For some, it was never that hard." 

She only nodded. More honesty. He continued.

"I do what I do because it comes easily...because it's what I know, what I was born and trained to do." 

"To be an assassin?" her gaze returned to his face. He shook his head.

"Killing is killing. War is as much death for profit as assassination, only less...intimate." He released her shoulders and shrugged. "I thought it translated well enough. Besides, the anonymity of war just lets some people sleep a little better at night. On the most primitive level though, it's all the same, at least to me. How is the man who kills you in an alley for your purse any different from the emperor who kills you in a field for your land?"




Fire Ch. 09



"One's dressed better." she muttered wryly. He did smile at that. And she managed to smile back. "Sounds like you've given it a lot of thought." 

He nodded. "I've had a lot of time to do so." 

She sighed and nodded again. The skin on her face and arms prickled strangely, and she felt a little sick, but her head felt clear now at least. 

"Now what?"

He let out something like a snort, though too elegant to bear the name. "Now you ask me? I think you know how I'd answer that."

She looked up at him in confusion. It took her a moment to realize what he was saying. Her shoulders slumped.

"I meant what do we do about what just happened, those men...but yes...I do know what you'd say." She pursed her lips. "I told you so?"

He didn't confirm or deny that. But then, he didn't need to. He put his hands behind his back and walked over to the ledge, tipping his head to look back up the alley way. He looked oddly at ease, almost casual. 'Probably used to it.' She thought morosely. Well she certainly wasn't. She shuddered convulsively. The tingling chill on her skin seemed to be seeping into her bones.

"It appears to be out of our hands now. They've been found. Though I don't think there's much to worry about. If they're local to this neighborhood, then no one will take the time to investigate, if they are foreigners...same thing." He smiled slightly. "And if they are wealthy and in the wrong part of town, then it is unlikely their families will want that information getting out...or more likely they'll use it as an excuse to blame a favorite enemy. Either way..." He turned and sat on the ledge with a dismissive shrug, crossing his arms over his chest. "But as to the other issue...as you said, now what? Do you still wish to continue?"

She sighed. "It seems I've been duly chastised, so I suppose I should just give in."

"But you don't want to give up just yet."

She shook her head again. "No, actually I do want to...I...I don't think I can do...that...again. And you're right, I'll probably have to. I wanted to face them, to go out that way if I have to. I wanted to be brave, to fight, or at least to face my death... with my boots on, as they say...but I don't think I'm prepared to do what I'd have to." 

She smirked sadly. "Look." She held out a hand, palm down. It was shaking like a leaf. "Not exactly nerves of steel."

"You don't have to die."

She scoffed, but it was humorless as she was also biting back the sting of tears. "Yet." She swallowed and cleared her throat of the unshed tears. "As you said...delaying the inevitable." 

She recalled her many contemplations about her possible death at his hands; that long weakening as her life was slowly drained from her. Her 'death by pleasure.' A wry smile pulled at her lips.

He shook his head. "That was only because you were running in the wrong direction. There are other places you can go Thea. The world is a big place to get lost in. There are other lands, other empires. Most superior to this one."

"If they're so superior, why are you here?" she asked, genuinely curious. His brows arched slightly and he looked at the flat roofing stones contemplatively.

"Old habits die hard?" he offered with a quirk of his lips. He sighed. "My own eccentricities aside, there truly are better places for you Thea, even within the empire. Demosus is as much a festering hole as this city is, but at least it does it with a certain forgivable grandeur." 

She was compelled to smile at that. "Perhaps."

"I still hear that 'but.'"

She swallowed and gripped the edges of her cloak, missing her skirts where normally she'd hide her shaking hands. She gave him a look which she knew must be absolutely pitiful, but she couldn't contain it. 

"I don't want to be alone. Not again...I can't do it again. I can't. I'd rather die...truly."

His face softened considerably and he stood.

"No one said you had to. You don't have to. Come with me."

What was she to say to that? 'Yes, God yes?' It was so very tempting, to throw herself into his arms and wish away the rest of the world. She wanted to, badly. There was little else she desired. But old fears still rode her hard. It would hurt too much when he finally left her, she wanted him too much...loved him too much. 

It didn't matter who or what he was. She was already his, completely, to keep or throw aside as he saw fit. She clenched her jaw and held her breath to fight the tightening in her chest.

That little voice was right when it told her to run. It was always right. It knew from the start that he was dangerous...that he could hurt her in ways no one else could, in places no one else could reach, places she had long kept hidden and protected. She had always prided herself on her strength, on her self-reliance...but he undid her. He made her weak. 

He took a step forward.

"But for how long?" she whispered, her voice suddenly tiny. 

He cocked his head at her and searched her face. Finally he gave her a thin smile.

"I suppose, for as long as you can stand me." 

She smiled faintly back. "Won't you tire of me? You'll stay young and..."

He moved in close again, his palm cupping her cheek firmly. She turned automatically into it before she could steel herself. 

"I will never tire of you Thea." Her heart ached as she gazed up at him. She desperately wanted that to be true. 

"Never is a long time Jairus." She felt his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly against her skin as his head tipped lower towards hers and his other arm snaked around her waist.

"Longer than you know." She thought she could see a question in his eyes, but then it might have just been the reflection of the questions she knew were swirling in her own. "Thea," he began again, his voice lower, "You could...if you desire it..."

His eyes glinted meaningfully at her. She trembled, wondering if he was saying, suggesting, what she thought he was. She remembered what he said about once being human, about being turned. Could he do that to her? Would he even want to? Did she want him to? Never for a moment had she considered....

"Yes." She gasped out before she could process the remains of that thought. 

His arm tightened and the fire in his eyes flared to life.

"I'll go with you...stay with you." She added quickly, still not quite sure what she had been gasping yes to. His grip remained firm as he tipped her mouth up to his, brushing his lips over hers in a gentle kiss. Her own hands came up, cupping his face in return and holding him to her as she deepened the kiss.

He gladly let her take over and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her tight against him. Everything else was suddenly as nothing to him. The voices and carnage below, the Huroth, the city, even his very self, his history, was obliterated, made suddenly meaningless. There was only her, her mouth, her scent, her soft warm body pressed against him, and her 'yes.' He didn't care what she was saying yes to, only that it was yes. Only that it was vehemently, and absolutely yes. 

She broke the kiss first and clung to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head against his shoulder. 

Eventually he noticed she was shaking and the world returned to him at a slow creep.

"Are you cold?"

She nodded.

"Let's get inside then." He smirked into her hair. "I imagine you could use some time to lick your wounds as well." Her shoulders shook in a silent laugh under his hands and she nodded again. 

"Maybe you could give me a hand, you seem to be better at that then I am." 

His smile widened at that as she peeked up at him through her eyelashes, her eyes finally registering a glint of real humor and mischief, a sight which sent a bolt of relief through him, telling him she would be alright. 

He let out a sigh of mock resignation.

"Well, maybe this once...for old times sake."

** 

His previous overconfidence led him to keep watch much more carefully as they neared the 'usual' meeting place. He rubbed the bridge of his nose to dispel the mild ache that had begun to build there. He didn't require much sleep, but he did need some. The last three days had provided little, especially today. 

He had wanted to stay ready in case they were found, so they both remained dressed and seated on the bed. She had dozed off quickly, no doubt unaccustomed to the rush of adrenaline which had been driving her the night before. He hadn't wanted to let her out of his grasp, never mind out of his sight, so he spent the night propped at the head of the bed soothing her as best he could through her unsurprisingly troubled sleep. 

Looking at her now she seemed so different from what she was a few hours ago. She had looked so small, so delicate, curled up in his lap, her hands gripping his shirt and head buried under his chin as she'd flinched and whimpered her way through god knows what nightmares. Now she gazed down into narrow street below, her expression calm and eyes careful, her strong clear profile catching the faint light of a nearby lamp making it appear even harder and more angular. The dark circles under her eyes were the only evidence of the dark dreams which had plagued her. Her eyes flicked to his and he nodded.

"We don't really need the money." He reminded her.

She nodded right back. "Still, it can't hurt, and this way you might be able to tell for certain what your friend is up to."

"Or threaten him more efficiently."

"Or that. Besides, if he decides to follow..."

He nodded. "We can use that to our advantage and put an end to it." he finished. "I'm curious to know who he's working for. Though I suspect I know who it is already."

"How do you know?"

"One offered to pay more."

She nodded. "That would do it. What are you going to say?" 

"That it seemed someone came after my informant and spooked the lad, and that I've lost him. Poor thing went right out the window." He smiled at her, and she grinned back. 

"Yes...and ouch." She muttered dryly.

He chuckled.

"So I stay here and watch for Huroth and some young dark haired boy?" she asked, her expression sobering as she returned her gaze to the street.

"Not that young, somewhere between 16 and 20 I wager, but young enough. And you know what Marcus looks like already." She nodded and steeled her expression. 

"Alright then. I'll be waiting here. Good luck."

"Luck has nothing to do with it."

Her lips twitched. "All the same. Take what you can get, when you can get it. That's what Berin tells me at least."

"wise man, I'll have to remember that." He stood next to her and tipped his head over the edge to ensure the street remained clear. "You'll be alright?"

She took a breath and it shook slightly as she nodded in his periphery. "I can take care of myself."

"Of this I am aware. You've proven that." He turned his eyes on her. "That wasn't what I was asking."

She didn't look at him, but he could see her eyes whirling, even in the darkness. Finally she gave him a curt nod.

"Yes...I think so. I'll be alright." She looked up then and gave him what he assumed she hoped was a brave smile. It looked pained to him. He reached forward, took her by the nape of the neck, and pulled her toward him, giving her a chaste peck on the forehead.

"Don't go running off now." He gave her a tight mouthed frown and narrowed his eyes, effectively pulling a much more honest smile from her lips.

"I won't." He nodded once more and without further preamble leapt down over the ledge of the roof. He landed quietly in the empty street, casting a covert glance upward before moving around the corner to the entrance. 

**

"Genius. I'd never have thought of that. The warden is furious and went on a war path the second he thought someone might be trying to get rid of him. Of course only one man had access to his rooms so...." he chuckled. "Wonderful, absolutely wonderful." the man beamed at him. 

Jairus gave him a stoic nod. "I'm glad you approve."

He nodded enthusiastically. "I do, I do."

Marcus smiled and cleared his throat and the man started slightly.

"Ah, well, I guess you want the rest then don't you." He placed a leather purse on the table and stood, wiping his hands on his pant fronts. The other two remained seated. "Well it's all there. Wouldn't even think of trying to cheat you." he said with a nervous laugh and nodded to Jairus. "Doubt that would be good for my health."

"No indeed." Jairus gave him a hint of a smile before turning his gaze on Marcus, whose eyes flicked toward him, but never fully connected with his. The man excused himself with a nod. As soon as the door clicked closed Jairus spoke, his voice low. "Well now..." He opened the leather purse and counted out Marcus's cut by feel, his eyes set on the agents face. 

"Got impatient did you Marcus?" He used the blade of his hand to push the stacked coins in his direction before retying and pocketing the rest. Fair is fair after all.

Marcus, to his credit gave him a mildly curious look. "What's that you mean? No more impatient then usual..." he grinned lightly "whatever you're accusing me of."

"Someone...someone working with or for Othwyn, scared away my contact last night..."

"Really? You know you never did introduce us properly. I might have found 'im safer quarters for you."

"and I saw your boy." He continued as if Marcus had remained silent.

"Boy?"

"Don't be coy Marcus. I don't blame you...entirely. I might have done the same thing. Othwyn is paying more after all...but I'll tell you now, he's not the horse to bet on, that is, if you should be betting at all." Marcus leaned in and narrowed his eyes. 

"Alright, since were speaking of games here, what the hell have You been playing at. Who's this contact, what do they know? You've got my balls in a vice, I know you're well aware of that...my options are limited." Jairus knew he wasn't easy to read, but Marcus was surprisingly adept at it. Years of working together no doubt, it had to count for something. It'd been very foolish to have underestimated him like he had. 'I'm certainly old enough to know better.' he thought sourly. 

"Yes. I know. But I assure you, I'm not playing." He rose slowly and placed his palms on the table leaning in and letting his gaze burrow into Marcus a little longer. "In fact, I am deadly serious. I recommend you let this one slide. Consider it a personal favor. If not, then I'll have to take it...personally."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

Marcus blinked a few times before he managed to get control over himself again. 

"I see. That's it then? No explanation? Just, 'drop it'."

"Correct." He straightened and adjusted his cloak. "I highly recommend your little watch dog keep his nose out of my business as well. He seems promising. I'd hate for you to lose him so early." He turned to leave. Marcus was no fool. If that threat wasn't enough, nothing would be. He'd said all he needed to.

"Will you at least tell me where you found her, or at least when?" Jairus paused and cocked his head to look back at Marcus, holding him in his gaze for a long time. 'Was there any point', he wondered, 'in telling him'? Would something go wrong if he did? No, he decided, it didn't matter. And there was something strangely amusing about the answer to that question. He smiled slightly.

"I'm not sure if it counts as irony or not, but I always knew where she was. I merely...went home."



Fire Ch. 10



"So?"

"So."

"Are they?"

Jairus listened as Thea's breath labored. She soldiered on behind him at a steady clip, and he occasionally caught glimpses of condensing air out of the corner of his eye. She was out of eyesight, but near enough for him to feel the persistent shadow of her presence against his back, making his skin prickle in response. Jairus cast a glance back over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow in her general direction. "Are who, what?" He intoned dryly.

He caught the disgruntled look she shot at him before he turned away and was forced to quash a smile. She sighed heavily and responded in a soft voice, vexation silvering her tone.

"You know what I mean." She was too on edge for his teasing, so he relented.

"Yes. They are."

"Oh." She paused and he waited with amused patience for the question he knew was coming. "Would it be an insult to ask if we're safe?" 

"Yes." She let out something between a sigh and a soft but frustrated growl. He couldn't quite hold back the smirk which such a sound produced. It amused him, and was...endearing. 

She was still behind him, barely visible in the periphery of his vision, but he could feel the heavy weight that settled over her shoulders as if it had been laid over his own. He didn't need to see her expression to know what it was. That fact sobered him.

"I will take care of it."

She made another un-interpretable sound and he cast one more glance back toward her. She was watching the road, her brow furrowed. Whether in concentration or irritation, he couldn't quite tell. Her eyes seemed darker than usual, more so when set against her pale skin. The natural tan warmth which usually graced her cheeks had been drained from her, leaving her wan and tired. The only color left was the unnatural pink flush in her lips and in the hollows of her cheeks, put there by the winter's chill. It made her look doll-like...fragile. He looked back to the road, ignoring the twisting sensation in his gut and sighed. If poppet she was, then it was not of the porcelain variety. She was not so easily broken...and for that he could be grateful. 

He smiled again, faintly, remembering having called her that once. What had he said? Ah yes, she'd asked him to cut her down... that was it, and her word choice had amused him, as much as he could have been amused in that particular situation. She'd felt like a rag-doll in his arms then, fragile, weakened...needing him. He felt another strange stirring...he was proud of her strength, approved of it...yet....

She stumbled behind him, cursing softly, and pulling him out of his meandering thoughts. He blinked once and found himself again in the present. 

They were making their way along the river road, and he took in the dark swirl of crows lifting like a black mist from the trees ahead of them. A murder of crows. His lips twitched, though this time without humor. He watched their westward flight and surveyed the wide scar of uneven snow and ice which marked out the width of the river's path, and allowed the vacant whiteness of it to blanket his troubled thoughts, clearing his mind.

The road they took was the same road Jairus had been tailed along before, and it was painfully slow work; the rutted and slush covered roads made the effort less than pleasant. He could just as easily have bundled her into his arms and made the journey less arduous, or dull, but he was more than sure they were being followed, and had no intentions of letting that fact go unpunished. 'Indeed, that is what my mind should be on,' he chided himself halfheartedly.

At this point avoidance was preposterous. They would find his home, it was only a matter of time. Unless he took care of the issue himself...which he had every intention of doing, and very soon at that. Thus it was that they found themselves trudging along the road's edge, cold and damp. 

She fell in further behind him until once again he felt more than saw her hovering at his shoulder. 

They had once again receded back into the silence which had thus far accompanied them on their wearying journey home. Thea chewed her lip and tugged her cloak tighter around her, trying and failing to block out the damp chill. She'd spent most of the trip watching his back, in the literal sense, and using his foot prints to ease her own. The snow hadn't had a chance to build up much on the road proper, though the banks rose up high on either side. She felt as if they were being funneled along a narrow channel. The thought made her nervous. She felt trapped, more so because she knew they were hemmed in from behind by those who were following. The dark wall of Jairus's cloak blocking the view before her wasn't easing her mind much either. 

Her rational mind acknowledged she was safe. Jairus at least would not be hampered by a few snow drifts or the miserable slushy mess beneath their feet. Yet this knowledge did little to keep her insides from knotting with worry. She dared a glance behind her, the first in a long, long while....and still nothing. Just the grey-white of old snow and the black of night and of the naked branches tangling in the woods around them. 

Where were the men? How could he tell they were being followed?

Not human. 

She smiled to herself. That's what he would say if she asked, she knew. Thea watched his dark, broad shoulders. His hood had slid back and she noted the way the short hairs on his neck sloped inward in a sharp V. She smiled at a freckle just to the left of the V. The freckle struck her as somehow too human for him, too odd and imperfect. How 'not human' was he? she wondered. She also wondered how much he'd been changed, or if he had at all. What had he been like as a human? How much would it change her if....if...well, it wouldn't matter. She probably couldn't bring herself to do such a thing as it was...if such a thing he actually thought to do. 

Thea continued to worry her lower lip absently. Who could say what he meant, or how much her own strange fancies had befuddled her mind and made her hear and see what she thought she wanted to. 

She shook her head to clear it--trying and failing-- of the unnerving and titillating thoughts flitting through her mind.

"What will you do with them?" Her voice was soft, and she wondered if he could have even heard her, but he turned his head slightly to the side.

"Discourage them."

She pursed her lips at his unrepentant vagueness, even if it had been expected. And she knew with certainty that it was unrepentant....he was unrepentant. She had the strange feeling that he had always been that way...human or not. She couldn't resist the smile that pulled at her lips again at the realization. She decided she secretly liked that about him, though she'd probably never admit to it. But her smile was brief and she let out an undignified 'erp' as her heel slipped on a bit of wet ice causing her legs to buckle beneath her. 

She blinked owlishly up at him before turning her gaze to the arm that held her steady.

"Thank you," she murmured. He nodded and released her, letting her wobbled back onto her feet. As much as he wanted to, it wouldn't do to let his hands linger, or treat her any more gently than he already had. There were enough eyes trained on them, he didn't need more. 

He smirked down at her as she caught herself and straightened with an embarrassed grimace. Had she been an actual apprentice he'd probably have let her fall, both for his own amusement and her education. A lesson in watching where the hell you were going. 

Not that he'd have faulted her either way. If she was distracted, then she had every right to be. She had passed through some very difficult moments these last few nights. Yet she'd handled herself admirably, better than many would have. He'd seen youths barely younger than her lose the contents of their stomachs, or even consciousness when faced with death. He also knew it wouldn't do to tell her that. She'd made it clear that this was not something she had any desire to hear, and he had no opinion on the matter to make an issue of it one way or another. If she had no desire to continue putting herself in harm's way, then so much the better.

She cleared her throat. "Sorry." She added with a shrug. His eyes caught a spot of red where her chapped lower lip had split, and he watched riveted as her tongue darted out to erase the mark. He felt a different sort of stirring, one which sent a shiver along his spine and made his finger twitch to touch her again.

"You've nothing to be sorry for." She shifted restlessly, her large doe eyes gazing up into his.

It took a moment for him to realize that he had been staring. He broke her gaze and turned away, continuing along the half frozen, half sodden road. He grimaced. He really would prefer to travel more quickly, but then he'd lose his quarry, a quarry who thought they were being ever so clever as they trailed behind in the trees along the side of the road. 

She was silent again for a good while before he heard her clear her throat behind him. He smiled at the expanse of gray before him as he waited for her to unburden herself of the worries he knew were still plaguing her.

"Erm..."

"Yes?"

"Why...ah, how come Darius and his men were gone?" He'd accuse her of fretting...but the fact that Darius had left the city concerned him somewhat as well. Not too very much, as Jairus had what the man was looking for stumbling along behind him, but he'd been curious about that when Marcus had informed him before his meeting.

"Who's to say. We can only hope they've tired of the hunt, done the intelligent thing, and gone home to prepare for the next step in this silly game."

"Game?"

"War, my dear."

"War? Because of me?" She sounded shocked, at least if the breathless quality of her voice was to be taken as any indicator.

"No, you're merely a signifier of what's to come. This scramble to find you is just part of a larger bid for power as each side attempts to secure their positions."

"I see...it's odd that they would worry about me then...if they all want me dead, why should it be a point of contention? They do...right?"

He clenched his jaw. "I do not know all of their intentions. Darius certainly...the others...I can only surmise."

"Do you think the others want something else...that..." She trailed off, and he wondered what she had thought better about saying.

"What?" "It's nothing...it's better to be safe than sorry...right?"

"I would have to agree with that sentiment. Come." He turned slightly and motioned that she should follow him down a narrow side road. He would leave her soon, though he was loathe to do it. He knew these were Othwyn's men who were tailing them, so at least she was in no immediate danger if by some miracle one should slip past him. 

He snatched her up the moment they were hidden from view. She made a soft sound of surprise, but was quick to recover and wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head against his shoulder as he slipped into the woods, immediately picking up speed. He would leave her close to the house, past the village, and return to wait on Othwyn's people alone. He would feel better knowing she was safely home.

"You're a bit bossy you know that?" She muttered against his shoulder. He didn't answer except to smile thinly at the top of her head. 

He was focused on moving as swiftly and silently as possible through the bare and blackened trees. He was concentrating well enough to keep them from slamming into any stray branches, but only barely. It was made rather difficult by the distracting warmth of the body pressed trustingly against his, and by the long fingers moving unconsciously and teasingly against the back of his neck. He found himself suddenly aware of the fact that not once since the day he'd found his bed empty had he tasted her. That thought, and the nearness of her body, her soft warmth, caused a surge of hungry desire to flood through him. 

'What incredibly poor timing' he thought sardonically. This was not the time for such thoughts. However, even as he reminded himself of this all important fact, Jairus was struck by an image of her pinned against a tree while he arched over her like some half starved raptor, his fangs buried in her throat. His body responded to the image appropriately.

Her arms tightened around him as if she could sense his thoughts, her fingers weaving into his hair. He looked down to find her staring back up at him, her amber eyes swirling with curious heat. He fought the irresistible urge to drown in those eyes, in that heat and struggled to reign in the fierce hunger which swept over him in slow dark waves. This would not do at all.

He slowed and they found themselves in a small clearing. He decided that they were close enough. If he carried her any longer he might do something foolish. The cold might not bother him, but she was still susceptible to it, particularly if he lost his head and started trying to remove articles of her clothing to get at the exquisite flesh beneath. 

Thea watched his face as he lowered her to the ground, his arms lingering around her waist as she steadied herself, her own hands resting against his chest. She knew this was where they parted, but she was reluctant to leave his side. Even dark and silent, his presence comforted her. 

There was also something in his expression, something she hadn't seen, she realized, for some time. Desire, fire, anger, humor, even that chilling nothingness...those things she had certainly seen...but not this. It was a stark and naked hunger. Her stomach twisted, and her head tilted unconsciously in wordless assent. 

She let out a small gasp of anticipation as he caught her chin in his fingers. But, instead of moving to gain better access to her throat as she expected, he tilted her face towards his and brought his mouth hard and hot against her own. 

His mouth covered her, his tongue easily prying her unresisting lips and teeth apart. Though his fingers held her lightly, gently, the kiss was anything but. He was all heat, hard and relentless, and she softened against him in eager submission, letting him take her as he would. Thea felt his elongated fangs against her tongue as she answered his hungry kiss with an urgent one of her own. The sign of his hunger, sharp against her lips, made her shiver with anxious desire and she groaned as he pulled her in tight against him, molding her body to his, drawing her steadily into a dark, spiraling haze of need.

He released her just as suddenly, and she gasped as his mouth ripped unkindly from her, leaving her alone and unsteady in empty space, her legs wobbling and swaying beneath her. He had stepped back and she looked dazedly up at him. He nodded in a curt perfunctory way, as if coldly satisfied with his work and that bemused her all the more.

"Do I leave then?" She asked softly, once she had found her voice. She received another curt nod. She must not have hid her disappointment well because his icy features softened until they were just cool...normal, for him at least. 

"It shouldn't take too long. I'll be home long before sunup."

She gave her own curt nod and suppressed a smile. The coldness of his expressions no longer bothered her, and certainly not when it was so obvious that the shell of ice was really only there to hold the fire at bay. She could still feel the heat of it on her lips. Her eyes flicked down, catching a motion at his waist and she blinked as he pulled his knife belt out from beneath his cloak. It was dark out, and her vision obscured, but the hilt glinted in the moonlight in a strange yet familiar way. 

He stepped in, his body inches from hers. Her eyes turned back up to his gaze. It was intense, but still controlled. His nearness made her skin buzz, and she wondered how long that control was going to last. And then she wondered whose control it was she was wondering about. Thea swallowed a groan as his hands slipped into her cloak and circled her waist. This really wasn't the time for this, she knew, but was not quite able to bring herself to mention this. 

His eyes never left hers. She finally had to tear hers away, and with great difficulty, in order to watch his mouth as his body bent over hers, bringing that mesmerizing red crescent closer to her own. Her heart was beginning to throb in her ears.

The breath that she'd been holding came out in a surprised rush as something jerked tightly around her hips. She stepped, or rather stumbled, back, reaching for her waist. He released her just as she noticed the knife pressing against her hip. She felt the small smooth rounds as they slid against her questing fingers, and the tightly wrapped silk which she knew without looking was a deep crimson red. She blinked and looked up at him curiously, not quite sure if she should articulate the questions which filled the silence between them. His eyes glinted slightly, but revealed little else. 

"Be careful, and if you wouldn't mind, try not to get yourself killed." His tone was as hard as his eyes, which bore into her in a fashion that invited neither questions nor comments.

"I'll try." She managed. The uncertainty that rung in her ears made her spine to twitch.

"Try hard." He bit out dryly.

She pursed her lips at him, turning her expression of obvious uncertainly into one of obvious annoyance. 

He winked. Her face registered a moment of surprise before her lips broke into a grin. She returned his unexpected gesture with a cockeyed salute. He felt the tension between them snap as whatever spell they had been under broke with her smile.

"Whatever you say, your Majesty."

Her eyes glinted as she wrapped her cloak back around herself and turned away, replacing the hood which had slid back over her tightly braided hair.

"Don't get smart, your Highness."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She drawled over her shoulder at him. She was already moving away and fading off into the darkness. She looked back once more, lifting a hand in farewell before the trees and the chill night finally swallowed her completely. 

He watched the tree line a while longer, his chest growing suddenly heavy with apprehension. He couldn't say why. Perhaps it was just that the moment she left his sight, trouble seemed to find her. 

He smirked at the trees. Different trouble at least. Better the evil you know, or so they say. He had a feeling they were both fairly well acquainted with his brand of evil by now. She even seemed to rather enjoy it from time to time. 

He sighed and turned back towards the road.

**

She was still pleasantly distracted when she finally returned to the little clearing marking out the entrance to the 'house'. Her lips tingled slightly from the remembered feel of where his had so recentlybeen, and the pearls of the knife hilt impressed themselves on the palm that wrapped possessively around it, tight enough to make her fingers pulse. Though perhaps that was just the cold. Either way the memory of those two parting gestures was fresh enough, and welcome enough, to warrant the exaggeration. 

She was exhausted, worn, and half frozen, but she could hardly keep the satisfied smirk from twisting her lips. She was still raw from the shock of the last few days, almost numb with apprehension, but the thought that he wanted her, would stay with her, sent an electric energy coursing through her veins, heightening her senses...making her feel alive. There was that other thought as well, that he had hinted at, and it too filled her with both fear and excitement. 

She wasn't sure just how she felt about it yet, about his being willing to change her and make her like him, but that notion that he would consider it filled her with pleasure. She knew now that he wanted her and more than that, had no intention of casting her off....at least not any time soon. 




Fire Ch. 10



She looked around the little clearing and felt her pleasure diminish significantly. She liked it here, and would be sad to leave. She liked her little makeshift family, both for themselves and for the sense of belonging they gave her. She paused, and sagged into the shadow of an ancient oak, it's heavy arms dipping low overhead. They looked mournful. They made her mournful. She smiled sadly. Why must everything be so bittersweet?

The door in the wall opened and she smiled more sincerely, waiting to see who it was so she could call out to them. She moved to step out of the shadow, but stilled as her stomach lurched violently up into her throat. She thought for a moment she might be ill as a creeping tremor ran through her body, leaving her skin cold and prickling in a sickening way. 

The tall figure was wreathed in light from inside, and she couldn't see his face because of it...but she didn't need to. He stepped forward, his hand resting idly on his hilt and gazed around the clearing. It seemed as if for a moment his eyes locked with hers as he turned in her direction. But it was only a moment, and he moved on, turning back to the door. He called something she couldn't make out and two others appeared in the doorway. She stood rooted to the spot as they spoke and gestured, then eventually moved on, leaving the door standing open behind them, with the warm glow of torches emanating from within.

'It might be alright...they might be ok...' she repeated the thought over and over to herself as she watched the door, her eyes as fixed to it as her feet were to the ground. Her heart sat like a lead in her chest and she felt as though it had stopped beating altogether. She stood and she watched and she prayed, and still no one came to close the door. 

The first step was the easiest. As though she was being pulled forward, and she nearly stumbled in her haste. Each one after became more difficult, heavy with apprehension. She stopped just shy of the doorway. She had been wrong about the torches. Smoke was beginning to seep out the door, crawling along the ceiling in twisting wisps of grey. 

What if they were in there? Were injured or trapped? 

Her mind snapped like a twig and she rushed forth into the smokey hall.

"May? Tim? Berin?" Her voice broke around her cry, and she stifled the urge to sob out, resisting panic as it clawed through her, threatening to devour her completely. 

She pushed open the library door. It looked...almost normal. Everything was in its place, calm sedentary. She had half expected chaos, books and furniture thrown about. But nothing. She shuddered. Nothing but the flames licking calmly up the walls, climbing the hangings, skipping along the bookshelves in an almost orderly fashion, leaping from book to book. It stunned her. 

She couldn't say how long she stared until reality snatched her back and she escaped into the hall and called again, disoriented, blinking against the heat and haze, ignoring the nausea swimming through her body in uneven waves. 

The smoke was thickening, and she could see it was rolling down from the upstairs hall. She started up the steps, then paused turning to the kitchen door. She was here, she should check. They were probably gone, taken, or fled...it probably looked just like it was supposed to...but she should check...she should check. Her hand hesitated at the handle and she steeled herself, pulling in a breath as the door swung open. 

The breath came out in a silent scream as she collapsed into unconsciousness.

**

It wasn't long before awareness returned to Thea, quickly...cruelly. She felt the warm stickiness beneath her hands as she pulled herself to her knees and retched until her throat stung with bile and her face burned with the heat of her tears. Thea collapsed again and dragged herself to the wall, hiding her head against it and clawing at the stone for hold as she wracked her body with heavy, painful sobs. 

She wept and stared at the wall. She stared because she didn't dare turn around, and she didn't dare close her eyes.

But she had to, eventually. And she did. 

May was nearest her, Barin behind. Their eyes were still open. 

Thea let out a hiccuping sob and began her slow crawl towards them, her sobs growing in violence until she could barely hold herself up. She tried not too think too much about the blood on her hands and knees. She went to Barin first, lifting a trembling hand to his staring eyes, looking at her, through her. She closed them...but she could still see them. She took one gnarled hand in hers and doubled over it, choking back her tears as she clutched it against her. 

It felt cold, he felt empty, she felt alone. Thea leaned over him and kissed his forehead gently, ignoring the red arch which had painted his throat with a vicious smile. She turned her face away and half crawled, half dragged herself to May's side, covering her eyes quickly and gently, taking care not to look into them. She knew instinctively that if she had, she'd be lost.

Thea sat next to her, one curled hand cradled gently in hers, stroking the soft papery skin with her thumb. Gone. They were gone. It was all gone.

She'd lost everything. Again. They were gone. Because of her. 

The tears fell again, so many of them, uncontrollable. She whimpered and fell forward, covering May's small body with hers, cradling her head against her chest, as if her heart beat were catching, as if she could will it away and into another. But life wasn't catching, it couldn't be given...only taken. 

Why? Why would they do this? These people did nothing. She'd done nothing. Her tears turned bitter. Thea kissed May as she had Berin and stumbled to her feet, fleeing the room and closing the door behind her. She barely registered the smoke. She was already gasping for air through her sobs, and her lungs ached.

Thea made it halfway to the outer door before she collapsed in a pitiful heap in the middle of the hall. She wasn't going to make it that far. She hardly cared. What did it matter? 

She closed her eyes and focused on the cool smooth-worn stone of the floor against her cheek...so cool against her flushed skin, against the hot hazy air surrounding her, filling her, pulling her slowly away....into blackness...

A cough. A groan. Not hers. Thea opened her eyes and took a trembling breath. But it wasn't coming from behind her...it was coming from the storeroom. She skittered to her knees, not thinking, not considering, just hoping...begging. A cry escaped her lips as another figure drew near from the darkened doorway. He was on his knees, his head smeared with a vivid red that streaked over one eye and bent in jagged lines down his jaw. 

But he was moving...he was alive.

"Tim!" He looked up as she fell next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He wrapped an arm about her waist, squeezing, and coughed out another lungful of smoke.

"We have to get out of here...fire..." he paused to cough again, "the others..." His eyes met hers, and he must have seen something there because his already ashen face turned a paler shade of grey and his voice caught in his throat. "No..." he whispered hoarsely. 

Her own face, she knew, was wet again. "Come on." she whispered and helped him up as they both stumbled to their feet, coughing out bouts of hot air and leaning against the wall for support as they struggled to the door.

The winter air hit them hard, and she coughed harder, gripping Tim tightly to keep from dropping him despite her trembling. His head looked like it had taken a knock, and he swayed on his feet in a way that terrified her. 

"Timothy?" Her voice cracked slightly and he must have heard it. He squeezed her arm and shook his head. 

"Fine...I'll be fine. " The expression on his face didn't quite match the words on his lips. 

"You don't look fine." 

He groaned and winced again. "My arm...I don't know...broken maybe, or just dislocated. I can't...I can't move it."

She swallowed her whimper and nodded. She didn't have time to be afraid, she had to help him. He needed her to help him. He needed her to get him to safety. She nodded again. 

"Ok. Can you walk? Can you make it to the village?" They weren't too far, no more than an hour, even in the snow, and even moving slowly. She took a deep breath, letting it clear more of the smoke from her lungs. They needed to go. "We better go...they might come back."

A hand on her arm stopped her and she began ushering him towards the trees, her free hand around his ribs for support. She looked at him sharply, fearful he would tell her he couldn't make it, that she should go alone...without him.

"They were looking for you...you're in danger. I didn't...told them they couldn't come in and they knocked me out. I...didn't see anything else." She nodded and cast her eyes back to their path. She frowned at the mess of footprints before her. It might cover them, at least if anyone came back to look. Her eyes pricked slightly, but only for a moment. The night chilled and dried her face, leaving it still and frozen. They started towards the village.

**

Jairus stared at the tracks and frowned. He had doubled back, pausing some ways up the road from where he'd left off, expecting to wait until they'd finally caught up. He'd waited. They didn't arrive. Eventually his patience had worn thin and he'd made his way back, finding tracks and nothing else. He examined them closely and decided that there had been no more than a half dozen, and that one had been smaller than the rest. He suspected also that one had joined them late. He sighed. So much for returning early. He hoped that a messenger, likely Marcus or one of his men, had come upon them and warned them off, sending them back the way they'd come...but thoroughness told him he couldn't allow himself to make that assumption. He'd underestimated Marcus before, he wasn't doing it again. There was too much at stake...possibly the rest of his damnably lengthy life. Or rather, how he was to spend it...and if there was any option but one in which he was willing to spend it. He knew there wasn't. His mind was set on having her, and keeping her. He snorted at himself. Who was he trying to kid...it wasn't his mind that was set on it. Either way, he wasn't about to let these fools disrupt his plans.

He decided the footprints of the late arrival probably belonged to a Huroth...too big to be Marcus...and most of the 'professionals' that Marcus might have sent in his stead were less heavy on their feet. Who ever it was had been armored, probably in chain and weighed down with an oversize sword. 

He followed the prints to the city...but there was one divergence, just before the cities edge and it veered off into the deeper woods. They were the smaller prints. The remainder slipped back into the roadway and blended in with the multitude to prints and tracks which had stirred the earth and snow into an indiscriminate chaos. He followed the little one, a smile playing on his face. It was cruel of him to toy with the boy...but he couldn't resist the opportunity, especially with the Huroth tucked safely back in the city. 

Jairus made short shrift of the distance between them, tracking him to an inn, only to find the little bastard had taken a horse and moved back again to the city. How irritating. He caste a cautious glance up to the slowly graying sky. So much for being home tonight. It was not the first time he'd had to hole up in this particular inn, but he didn't like it. It was too close to a main road, and the owner talked too much. He was a friendly sort, the sort who lets things slip. Necessity is as necessity does however, and there was nothing to be done for the moment except lock himself in and spend the day bored and pondering his circumstances. 

**

Thea watched as the little flames licked up the fresh log, consuming the dry, frayed edges in a swift and hungry rush. She cast her eyes back to the floor, hardly able to face the sight of the fire, and unwilling to look up...all too aware of the other bodies flickering against her consciousness, moving about on the edges of her vision, watching her with the curious eyes of people at home when a stranger is in their midst. They were cautious, and full of questions. She avoided them by keeping her eyes on the floor. Tightening the blanket around herself, blocking the world out. She didn't want to be here...couldn't stay here. There were too many people, too many questions, too many words waiting to be spoken and hanging in the air like vultures, eager to rend and open and expose. 

And then they were there, pecking at her, digging in with needling little claws.

"You alright then?"

She inhaled and swallowed her breath whole. "Yes, thank you."

The man was middling age, a friend of Tim's, or at least a friendly acquaintance.

"So, yer a friend then?" She didn't smile, but she could hear all the other questions laced in behind that one. She didn't know how to answer or what Tim had said.

"Yes." Let the questions remain. 

"Odd yer out in the dark to find him...lucky."

"Very." Very odd, very lucky. A cold throb ran through her legs, and her face prickled. She suddenly felt light headed. "Is he ok? Is he going to be ok?" She looked up, meeting his eyes, and he reared back a little, as if her gaze had weight, pushing him away. His mouth twitched as if to speak, but he only nodded.

She nodded too, then turned her eyes back to the fire. It was so hard to look at now. It made her think of him. Of what she'd taken from him. Of how he'd never...

"He'll need a couple of days at least." There was a soft voice from a doorway, a woman's voice. Thea stood and removed the blanket, folding it neatly and laying it over the back of the chair she'd been sitting in. She moved toward the voice, nodding as she passed the other moving bodies in the room, but not meeting their eyes. 

Tim was laying on a narrow bed, his head bandaged, his arm in a sling. They'd made fast work of it. She traced the edge of the bandage lightly. He was deep asleep and didn't move when she squeezed his hand. He would live. There was that at least. But...everything else....all of that was gone. All of it. Jairus...what would...how would he...she closed her eyes and conjured visions of the snow, of the ice, of the nothingness. She couldn't stay here, with all these people, with Tim, the fire...

They tried to stop her, delay her, but she wouldn't let them.

"I'm sorry I must, thank you...please, help him...you will help him?" She met the man's eyes again. This time he didn't look away. 

"Of course." She nodded.

"Thank you."

Her cloak was wrapped tight around her, her hood low. The icy snow broke loudly beneath her feet, filling the silence of the night in a sharp and satisfying way. 

She let her legs move, trusting them to take her where she needed to be, to do what she needed to do. What should have been done before. She could have...she could have asked him...why hadn't she? Why hadn't he? No, that was done. There was no undoing it. There was only forward. She closed her mind and heart to what lay behind her, to the hot flames at her back, and focused on the blank whiteness before her, her eyes greedily seeking the great, cold marble rock, the final milestone marking out the end.

** 

Thea winced as the bright morning sun beat down on the white snow, turning it brilliant and blinding. She'd almost forgotten the gleam of ice as it caught and reflected the sunlight. She tugged her hood lower and watched under the edge of it as a cart passed her on the road. Neither the horse nor the master acknowledged her as they hunched past, the overloaded cart creaking behind them in protest. 

The weather was clear and the roads busy as she entered the city, passing under the gray shadow of the white marble arch. In the light of day the monument seemed strange and harsh to her, huge and insistent, rising from the mucked up road like a parody of itself. How romantic it had looked in the flickering torchlight when she had first entered the city. She couldn't remember how it had looked when she had left. But it was what it was, and she was here.

Her heart tightened and she struggled to focus herself, pushing the sudden sting which lurched up into her throat back into the pit of her stomach where it belonged. Later. She would do it later. She would hurt later. 

And what if there was no later? She asked herself. Well so much the better. 

The paved streets of the city were clear of snow, and bustling with traffic, and the rim of the canal was lined with small merchant tents. She walked sightlessly past the small pavilions, her feet following a familiar path to a small, well worn tavern not far from the main canal. The narrow streets tilted and veered, but led her inevitably to a battered wooden sign with three once gilded barrels carved into the center. The door also bore remnants of paint from a better time...or at least a better owner. The air was as still inside as it was outside, but warmer. Her hands and face pricked painfully as the warm, sour smelling air hit her numbed skin, attempting to force life back into the half frozen flesh.

The barkeeper glanced up at her, watching her approach with resigned indifference. 

"Yeah?"

She sat down on a stool not quite across from him. 

"Marcus." she said softly, lowering her voice to as deep a timber as she could manage without sounding unnatural.

He straightened and looked a little less bored. He must get cut in on business she decided as she saw a sort of gleam come into his eye. She knew that brand of gleam. It was hungry, but she could see it was different from the sort she was used to. There were different kinds of hunger. This kind was for bright, golden things... not the dark red ones. She was glad she had guessed right. She wondered if she was expected to pay him. Well ...not until she saw Marcus, she decided. 

She wasn't put to that test. The man called a boy over, and told him to fetch Marcus before turning back to her. "You wanna drink?"

Thea looked around the room. It was mid day but there were a scattering of men about the place, most siting alone and steadily ignoring each other as they contemplated the bottom of their glass.

"Mug of small is fine." She murmured. He snorted but bent for a glass anyway and turned his back on her. 

"Country boy?" He asked, trying to peer up under her hood as he set the drink down. She shrugged noncommittally and he shrugged back, and went back to take up a stool a ways down the bar. The beer was warm and tasteless. Watered down...more than small normally was at any rate. 

She wasn't sure how long she'd sat there before she heard the click of well shod boots closing in behind her. The man passed her and approached the keeper with a broad, white smile. 

Words were exchanged, too low to hear, and the keeper nodded in Thea's direction. Marcus turned a curious blue gaze on her. She tipped her head toward a table against the wall and close to the door, then got up and made her own way toward it. Her back was to him for a moment as she crossed the room, and the sensation of his eyes on her made the small hairs of her neck stand on end.

She turned and sat, and he followed.

He recognized her, she could tell. He no longer smiled and his blue eyes watched her cautiously as he approached the table. He sat down across from her, his hands under the table.

"I don't believe we were ever properly introduced."

She cleared her throat. "I want Darius...where is he?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Nothing's free girl." Thea's stomach lurched. He knew. 

Of course he knew, how could he not. She wasn't that convincing of a man, and Jairus wouldn't have been working with an idiot. She tilted her head up, letting him see under her hood. He raised a brow at her. 




Fire Ch. 10



"You haven't even offered a name." She stared at him from under the hood, deciding.

"Thea. I have money."

"Can I ask why you want him?"

She paused again.

"It's better if you don't know." He would figure it out soon enough, one way or another. He gave her a humorless laugh. 

"No need to be so obvious. Where's Jairus." His eyes narrowed again, and she steeled herself forcing hers to narrow back. She didn't know...she didn't want to know. Cold, horrible thoughts, memories, visions, started clawing their way out of her mind, filling her throat, and mouth, and eyes. She couldn't stop them. 

"Where is Darius?" she whispered huskily through the ash in her mouth.

He just watched her. She could feel the trembling in her hands, the burning behind her eyes. Why wouldn't he answer her? Damn it, speak! 

Nothing but hard, calculating blue eyes. She wanted to reach across the table and rip them out. Something in her reared up, like a bucking horse trying to tear itself free of its guidelines, furious and terrified, wild eyed. She stood, too quickly, and he reached for something.

"Don't..." she whispered, her voice raw and tight. He stilled but his hand hovered out of sight, ready. She pushed her cloak slowly to the side and drew out her purse so he could see it. She threw it on the table and waited. He didn't look at it. His eyes were still glued to the belt she'd taken the purse from. Her eyes followed his and fell upon the dagger.

She looked back into his eyes and found them staring back up into hers. The expression she saw there was impossible to read, but it made her hands shake even harder...even as she tilted her chin and clenched her teeth, hardening her expression against his questioning eyes. "Well...?" she asked, the quaver in her voice betraying her.

"Is....he dead?" She blinked and inhaled sharply. 

"Who are..." his face softened slightly and he almost smiled, causing her to break off.

"Of course not. Of course he isn't. He gave you that then? Or you took it?" She didn't answer. He smirked slightly. His eyes flicked to her hip and back again. He tilted his head, that calculating look returning to his eye. "Keep your money." He reached out slowly and pushed it back across the table to her. "Don't do this thing."

She frowned. "What..." he shook his head cutting her off.

"Don't. He wants you dead."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. So she said only, "I know."

"Let Jai..."

It was her turn to shake her head, shutting her eyes, fighting the burning. "No. It's mine...he's mine...he..." she swallowed, "where is he?" She opened her eyes into his, seeing the winter sky staring back.

"The Wolf's Head." 

**

A beggar told her what she needed to know, and for a coin, led her there. Another sign, a recently painted door, forest green, standing loudly in the gray of the alley. The beggar lingered, watching her with small dark eyes as she hesitated. Thea glanced at him then back at the door, her hand pulling away sharply as is opened. A large man stepped out, tall and dark, nearly colliding with her. She froze a moment, then shifted to the side, allowing him to pass. He glanced at her and she turned away, muttering an apology as she slid past him and into the inn. 

She made for the back of the place, veering towards a side corridor, feeling as though everyone in the room were watching her. They weren't, but the sensations still drilled between her shoulders like a dull knife. She wanted to pause, catch her breath and decide what it was she was doing, but it was too late. Three men were talking at the end of the hall. One was giving orders. The others were accepting them. The master glanced at her, his eyes giving her a curious look before he turned away and entered one of the rooms. The other two passed her in the hall. Her feet moved beneath her, and she followed them mindlessly. 

She felt cold and hot at once, sick, and alive. Terrified. What if anger wasn't enough? She reached under her cloak and wrapped her fingers around red silk. She let the flames come back to her, let the visions crowd into her sightless eyes, let her body move, watching it from a distance, like some indifferent observer. She would know soon enough. If not she would be dead, and it would be over. One way or another...it would be over. The thought gave her some ease, calmed her...the hand on the hilt stopped shaking, and was steady by the time she laid it on the cool metal of the door knob.

He didn't turn around. She locked the door behind her.

"Did Othwyn send you?" His voice made her stomach jump. It was low, dark, and smooth. Familiar. The wry smile on his lips as he turned was also familiar. That sick feeling twisted her stomach once more. She pushed back her hood as an answer. She wanted him to see her face. Needed him to.

Darius had sensed something amiss with the figure as soon as he'd seen him in the hall, and had been unsurprised to hear his quarters breached. In fact he'd left the door unlocked on purpose. 'Confident fool' he'd thought as he listened to him enter and lock the door. 

He was expecting an assassin, but he stared with curiosity at the pale woman standing before him. She was Huroth, though no one he knew personally. Yet...there was something familiar about her. He tried and failed to place her face. It was unimportant.

She was not unattractive, despite her pallor. Wisps of auburn hair framed the strong lines of her clear unmarred face, and her lips were full and soft looking. He couldn't see much of her figure, but her posture spoke of a tall, lean, strong body. Her eyes made him wonder though. They spoke volumes, and nothing they were saying said anything about a good time. 

They screamed hatred. The golden brown depths swam with a turbulent mixture of pain, and fear, and rage. He braced himself, but she was as still as stone and just watched him. He shifted under her stare, suddenly annoyed.

"Well girl? Cat got your tongue? Is there something you'd like to say?" He smirked at her, trying to goad her into action, or at least into words. He was curios who this pretty girl was, and why she was staring at him like she was thinking of gutting him. But he was not a patient man and his mood darkened rapidly. He tuned his back on her, thinking that might goad her, but he could still feel her just staring that drilling stare. 

"If you've nothing to say, then leave, I'm a busy man...rebellions to quash, wars to fight."

"People to murder..." she offered finally, her voice a soft whisper, but steady and cool. He glanced over his shoulder at her and sighed turning back to face her and taking a step forward. He gave her another smirk and cocked a brow. 

"Someone you knew I take it?"

He watched her fingers tense and his smirk grew. "Ah, so that's it then. Well it happens woman. War is war." Her calm face broke as the fury in her eyes finally spilled over into the rest of her. She practically shook with it. 

"You took everything." 

His smile faltered a moment...not from the words themselves, but there was something beneath them which made his spine twitch. It was a desperate, hopeless sound, and it sobered him. He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering again who she exactly she was and why he felt so keenly that he should know her. 

Her eyes caught something, drawing her attention violently away, and he watched curiously as she moved slowly to the little table, her face a strange new mixture of emotion. She fingered a necklace she found there, one of silver and coral, one his men had brought back with them. Her hand tightened around it, abruptly, and shoved it into her waistband even as she whirled on him once more, black fury repainting her face. She looked like wrath incarnate. He must have really pissed this one off.

That thought was followed swiftly by sudden recognition. It was her mouth. She had her mother's mouth...and the red in her hair which was caught and reflected by the dim lamp light confirmed the suspicion. This was Maria's daughter. It was a mouth he'd known well...as so many men had. His ease and smile returned. Foolish chit, what did she think she was going to do?

"Did you come so I could finish the job?" He eyed her up and down, imagining what she looked like under the cloak, wondering what else she had in common with her mother. She really didn't look like her supposed father...but that was hardly surprising. His smirk became a leer. "Or perhaps your more like your mother than you appear and hope to buy your life with your body." He chuckled, "You'd be selling it a lot less cheaply than she ever did." He watched the flare of hatred in her eyes twist itself into something unrecognizable. 

She took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them. There was a momentary pause. 

"Bastard" she hissed and lunged at him, her left hand clawing towards his face. He caught it easily and laughed as he pulled her towards him. She was feisty like her mother too. He wondered if he should kill her right away or keep her around for a bit. His thought was interrupted by a sudden pain in his wrist. His eye flicked down just fast enough to catch the glint of silver before he found himself reaching for his throat, suddenly unable to find air. Choking, pain...blood. He stumbled and fell to his knees, clutching his throat, his wide eyes staring up at the woman standing over him. Her marble face was marked with a single delicate ribbon off blood across one cheek. Her cloak was steeped in it. 

Her eyes gazed hotly from her hard face, a curved dagger in her bloodied hands. She loomed over him, transcendent, like a spirit. Impassive and furious at once, terrible to look upon. She was a vengeful wraith, or goddess, or demon. 

In the end she was only one thing. She was the last face he saw.

**

Thea watched as he crumbled, felt the damp heat of his blood against her skin, and trembled. She was still alive. He wasn't. She looked from the body to the door. She was still alive. Now what?

She mechanically wiped the blood from the dagger, using a corner of her cloak...a corner not covered in blood, and sheathed it. It slid in so easily, contentedly. She gazed down on the body and waited for something to happen. There was no knock, no alarm, no panic, no horror. Nothing. There was nothing. It was worse. The nothing was worse. She should leave...find something, anything. The door seemed a poor idea, the thought of walking through the room of curious eyes unappealing. There was the window. 

She removed her cloak and lay it over the body. It seemed to help. 

The shutter swung open easily, inviting the cool air to seep in. She met it and slid out the window. Everything was ease and silence. The voices of the city soft and distant, a murmur of voices, the somber ringing of bells, all humming gently under the late morning sun. She glanced up to see it shining white and mute overhead. 

The soft sound of a leather on stone made her turn. A young man in black, with flashing dark eyes, his hand raised...

**

Thea dreamt she was waking. There was a cool gentle breeze on her bare skin, pleasant in the heat of a warm summer's night. Had she left a window open? She shifted with a yawn, stretching languidly before searching for the blankets with a fumbling, half sleeping hand. She sighed when she couldn't find it, and opened her eyes groggily. She must have kicked them off the bed. She groaned in annoyance as she scanned the floor nearest her, then rolled to check the other side, sitting up slowly as she did. 

She paused mid turn and found herself unable to move or speak, and could only stare in stunned silence.

Thea gazed up at the tall, male figure looming over her. He stood near her bedside, clothed in dark pants and boots, fitted like a hunters, and white shirt sleeves. His shirt was open at the collar, the ties hanging loose, and the sleeves were rolled back to reveal pale skin stretched taut over hard, tightly muscled arms. His short dark hair was brushed back from the dangerously angular lines of his face, and matched his sharp, near black eyes. Eyes that shone down on her and seemed to pin her to the bed, robbing her of both her will to move and the very breath of her lungs. Eyes that swirled with strange inner fire.

She let out a low animal whimper in the back of her throat, the only sound she seemed capable of making. Her arms snaked around her body and she curled her legs, trying to hide herself, her nakedness, from that fierce gaze. She wanted to cry out for help, demand to know who he was, that he get out of her house, but all she could do was lose herself those gleaming eyes, caught like a sparrow in a weir. 

He broke the spell first, and she watched riveted as he bent slowly, retrieving the lost blanket from the floor and lay it over her bent legs. She snatched it up and covered herself, tucking it under her arms to shield her breasts from his view.

"Who are you?" she managed to rasp out finally as he turned and sat at the edge of her bed, his strange, handsome face in profile, gleaming pale and unearthly in the darkness.

"A dream, I suppose." He murmured softly, gazing out toward the un-shuttered window. 

"A dream?" He nodded. "What sort of dream?" The strangeness of his existence, here in her room, with looks that no man she knew possessed...it made her believe it. Yes...this could be a dream. He didn't look real. She looked at him more carefully, less fearfully, and was not hard pressed to admit that, perhaps, he was something she might conjure up. A dark fantasy drawn from somewhere in the depths of her lonely mind. His lips twisted into a little smile. His lips were so deep a red.

"Well...I suppose that depends on you sweet one. What sort of dream would you like me to be?" He turned his gaze on her, his red mouth still twisted into a dark little smirk. She may not have spent much time in the company of men, but the promise held in that smile, and in his dark, smooth voice was too immediate to be missed. She felt her skin heat, and her insides melt. His eyes seemed to burn brighter and his smile broadened, seemingly in concert with the spread of the hot blush which snaked up from her throat to redden her cheeks. 

"I'd rather it be pleasant." She whispered hesitantly, not sure how to respond to the expression on his face. A little whimper escaped her throat as he bent in towards her and she shivered as long fingers fluttered up the side of her neck to capture her jaw in a delicate vice. His mouth was just a hair's breadth away and she could feel the cool tingle of his breath as it ran over her parted lips.

"I will do my best." 

He was against her before she knew what was happening. Her body clung to his instantly, unquestioning. He was hard and cold against her flushed and heated skin. He held her to him with an unbreakable grip, and she found herself welcoming it, reveling in it, in his insistence, in his almost cruel strength. Her own arms released the blanket which separated them and twined about his shoulders instead, gripping him just as tightly while his mouth sought hers and taught her through example how she should respond. 

He tasted like so many things she had never know...yet she knew instinctively what they were the moment she tasted them. He tasted like fire, and sex, and desire, and need....but the thing that made her whimper, made her tremble with fear and longing as he pulled away and gazed hotly into her eyes, was that he also tasted like home. 

And then it was gone, torn away and ripped from her arms, the dream broken and scattered, scattering into nothingness.

**

Thea came to with a start, her lungs filling quickly with cold, damp air. There was a loud sound in her ears, a gasp, and she realized belatedly that it was her own. The world was spinning, a dark shifting blur of blacks and grays cut sporadically by the slow register of dim torch light. There was a face, a hand on her cheek...it was an unfamiliar face.

She jerked her head back to escape the hand and inadvertently slammed it back against a cold stone wall instead. She knew it was cold, because she could feel the ice of it seeping through her clothes and into her skin. 

"Careful," he admonished softly, his hand coming up to cushion the back of her skull. "You've already had a bit of a bump." He touched her forehead gingerly, making her wince in pain as his fingers encountered a tender spot. His own expression reflected hers, twisting in pained sympathy. His eyes were hazel green. They were also smiling softly at her. 

She was sitting on the ground, she realized, and he was crouched down before her. Her hands were bound and resting limply in her lap. Her consciousness expanded once more and she registered other figures in the spinning room. Her eyes darted nervously away from his to the men at his back.

"Don't be frightened." He spoke softly, soothingly...as if she were some tetchy falcon in mews to be crooned onto a gloved hand. She ignored him, still watching the dark giants in the shadows. "My men were ordered not to harm you, it was the imperial who gave you the knock. I'm sorry for it. I hope you won't hold it against me." 

He smiled and she turned her gaze back to him. The world was slowly orienting itself. The expression on his face was gentle and encouraging, his voice calming. She allowed it when he touched her throbbing forehead.

"A bit of a goose egg you have there." 

He ignored her steady glare. It may have been a soothing touch...a gentle one, but it was the wrong one. Foreign. 

"Who are you?" She rasped out. "Where am I?" She bit before he could answer the first question.

"South keep."

"Huroth." She coughed. The air was still damp, still cold. She glanced around to see they were in a stone room, a cell. A prison cell. She felt her eyes widen as the realization dawned on her.

The grim faces looming over them looked back at her with dark eyes. She recognized their hawkish, predatory faces, hard mouths, and granite jaws.

"Yes my dear, we've brought you home."

She frowned at him. His face was less hard than the others, handsome, but less severe, and the scattering of gray at his temples suggested he was also somewhat older. Yet there was no mistaking that he was one of them. She pulled away again, but he seemed to be expecting it and held her steadily by the shoulders. His grip was firm and she could feel the warmth of his hands through her shirt.

"There now, none of that. No one here is going to hurt you, you're safe." He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. Her legs trembled slightly with the effort of holding the rest of her upright.

"Then why am I bound? Why am I in this prison?" she muttered, looking down at her wrists. He reached for the knife at his belt and slipped it though the rope. She watched it slide to the floor. He smiled an apologetic smile at her when she looked back up. The smile didn't quite erase the concern and weariness she saw lingering in his eyes. 

He chuckled.

"Well my dear, it seems we all of us had underestimated you. I didn't want to make Darius's mistake and give you the chance to stick me before I explained myself properly." His arm was still around her shoulder and his free hand took her elbow, guiding her out of the cell. "That was you who did Darius in, was it not?" she glanced at him then averted her eyes to the floor. She managed a curt nod, but her voice was gone.

He squeezed her shoulders briefly as he led her down the murky hall, the other men fanning out around them like a circular wall of flesh.

"Don't fret my lady. Enemy of my enemy."

"You're no friend of mine." She managed, her voice still rasping harshly in her ears.

"I'd like to be." He murmured back, seemingly unfazed by her petulance. She remained silent , watching the moving wall before her as it led them through stairs and halls and what looked like a barracks...if the large numbers of heavily armed men rushing about was any indication. They looked busier than they should. Some were shouting out orders. 




Fire Ch. 10



She had briefly toyed with the thought of escape but had given it up the moment she realized her knife, Jairus's knife, had been confiscated. That and the fact that she was surrounded by a small army of huge, well armed men...men who were clearly not farmers or merchants. These were warriors....killers. In a fair fight she'd last all of two seconds. She sighed heavily as they passed on into a quieter hall. She wondered where they were taking her. She should have been frightened...but she just didn't seem to have it in her. She smiled a little bitterly at that thought.

"Who are you?" She asked suddenly, surprising herself with the previously forgotten question.

"Othwyn."

She made an unladylike sound. "Friend...you wanted me dead." she drawled sullenly, pulling her arm away from his, forcing herself to keep moving of her own volition. He let her go.

"Nonsense. Did Darius tell you that? I was trying to find you, yes, but I specifically requested that you be unharmed. I wanted to know if you still lived, and to bring you back here. It got a little bit messy there, what with you killing Darius, but what's done is done, and you're here now." She frowned at him.

"But Jai..." she stopped herself. Jairus had said...or had he. He had sure as hell implied that they wanted her dead.

"Did Darius want me dead?"

"Oh to be sure." He nodded. He glanced at her. "If you're feeling guilty over his loss, don't, he was a right prick."

"I don't."

"Good."

There was a long pause.

"He took everything." She whispered it softly, not quite sure she'd said it aloud. The memory was suddenly hot and alive in her mind. Finding the door, the blood, the bodies. Her throat burned with bile and her eyes pooled with tears she didn't know she still had. And then she thought of Jairus, and imagined him finding that same unholy scene.

Her feet failed her and she stumbled. He reached for her again, but she pulled away before he could touch her. She didn't care if he wasn't Darius...he was still Huroth. He cleared his throat. 

"I'm sorry for your lo.."

"It's awfully busy around here...throwing a party?" She interjected before he could finish his condolences. She didn't want it. She wanted anger. Fierce, bitter, hungry anger. She needed it. It was what kept her walking, kept her breathing. She relished the venom that poured out with her words. He would have to bare it...someone would. She wasn't sure she could.

She kept her eyes on the men in front of them but she could feel his eyes on her.

"We'll soon be under attack: Darius's men."

"Oh. Don't they know he's dead?"

The men around her chuckled. She glanced at Othwyn and he smirked back. "That is precisely the problem. They're hear for blood. They think I did it." the smirk finally reached his eyes. "I did also secure the keep while Darius was away. There were those in Darius's camp who refused to switch over and so I was obliged to oust them. They are merely awaiting the return of their compatriots and the arrival of their allies."

"Oh."

She bit her lip. Her first instinct was to apologize. Was she sorry? Yes and No.

"Why wasn't it you?"

"I'm not sure I understand." he arched a brow at her.

"Why didn't you kill him?" she asked softly.

He let out a heavy sigh. He gestured to the keep around them.

"I was trying to avoid this...mess."

"There's no shame in combat." One man grunted from behind them. Othwyn smirked again, though his eyes still looked weary. She understood then that the concern she had seen in his eyes earlier had not been entirely for her. For some strange reason that thought pleased her.

"No indeed. No shame at all." he murmured dryly. "However, at the rate we're killing each other off, there won't be many left to carry on the time honored tradition...now will there?"

"You sound like some one I know." She gave her own wry smile, only to have it falter and crumble a moment later. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked back to the floor fighting the burning ache which blossomed in her chest like some dark thorny flower. 

"Anyone I know? He asked lightly. She kept her eyes to the floor and said nothing.

They arrived in silence and she was ushering into a bedroom. Some of the guards left, other spread out in front of the door. He shut the door behind him and gestured to the room.

"I imagine you'll find this more habitable than the cells." He smiled, trying to cheer her with a light tone. He wasn't an idiot and gave up on it right off. "Well, there's a bath and some fresh clothes for you, and food if you're feeling up to it." He nodded off to the side of the room, she kept her eyes on him. He cleared his throat. "Well, we have a good deal to discuss, but I'll let you to it. I'll be back in an hour or two." 

She remained standing a long while after he left. She moved slowly to the bath, drawing her fingers through the warm water. 

Thea stripped herself and stepped in, kneeling. The heat of the water bit razor sharp, cutting her, opening her up. As she washed, and the water slowly turned the palest shade of pink, she wept, her tears coming until she was utterly sightless, until her mind was erased, until she could remember nothing, feel nothing, just blessed numbness once more. The dream was gone. He was gone. He would never come again. 

No more dreams...please no more dreams.

She touched her left breast, half expecting to find a gaping hole where her heart should be. There was just flesh. 

She was dressed and waiting when Othwyn arrived.

He wandered over to a nearby chair and dropped heavily into it with a heavy sigh. Looking at her from under a lower brow.

"I'll just get to it then I suppose." He took a clearing breath and began. "So my dear...the plan, originally, was to find you and lure you back with promises of grandeur, sweet talk you if I had to, and convince you to marry me...but I'm afraid we will have to delay those pleasantries until we discover whether or not either of us will actually survive this ridiculous siege. We've shut up the gates, but I'll tell you in earnest, this place is far from secure, and this is all rather last minute, so I find I am..." he held his arms wide and shrugged, "completely unprepared. I apologize in advance for putting you in harms way...but as I said, this was all very last minute. As an unfortunate pawn in out little game, you'll just have to endure it I suppose. Such is life." 

"That was surprisingly blunt."

He gave her a tired smile and ran a hand through his hair. "I may have been educated in the empire...but I am still Huroth. In times of stress I revert to what is comfortable. What is it they say? You can take a boy out of the country...." he waved his hand. 

"But you can't take the country out of the boy." she finished for him. 

"Yes, precisely. Or the Huroth, in this case."

"I thought you sounded different." And familiar. Painfully familiar.

He nodded. There was a long pause. She sat on the bed and stared at the floor, her mind running over what he had just said. 

"You wanted to marry me?" 

**

A lone figure stood, gazing silently into the mouth of hell. Black eyes trailed the path of gray strewn before him, an invitation into oblivion. Time, for fear, stood stiller than stone, than even death perhaps. Though none could have been stiller than the dark man, his hanging hands whiter than marble and far more lifeless, his onyx eyes mirroring only the empty portal which gaped before him.

Yet not everything was cowed into stillness. The moon, high and insistent, slid slowly through the black branches behind him, and an anxious wind pressed against his shoulders, tugging his cloak and rousting the black soot. It stirred restlessly and caught the wind. For a moment it fluttered, unsure, before being drawn off inexorably into some distant sky. 

Some sad few remained, trapped and frozen in the snow, laying penitent about the dark man's feet. In those ashes something stirred.

Drop by drop a rose bloomed, it's icy crimson petals clawing their way deep into the white, seeking out the still living earth hidden below. The wind pulled again, and the pale statue followed, letting the too bright moon carve a new path, the only record of his passing a wilting flower in melting snow, carved of ash and blood. 



Fire Ch. 11



The waning moon hung low, barely reaching above the tangled arms of the forest. The naked branches reached out after it like slender, grasping fingers. The starless slate sky loomed overhead and offered little more than a murky and dismal silence, complimenting the heavy darkness of the forest below. Yet, from this still, silent blackness a light emerged, peeking tentatively through the dark trunks and branches, growing stronger with each fraction of a second until it formed a small, square window, a window set amongst others, revealing with their soft glow the shape of a low, wood shingled cottage. One of many which nestled tightly together, forming a small village. 

The village was quiet and settled for the night, and though half buried in sloping drifts, was warm with glowing windows and smoking chimneys. But it was toward that first cottage with its little window, that a dark shadow sped, oblivious to everything save the twin trails drawn in the crisp snow by awkward, stumbling feet-- a trail which led from the hills, through the snow, and to this very cottage's door.

He paused, sliding a hand along the sun-bleached door frame, listening to the soft sounds reverberating within. 

The trail stopped there, at the foot of the steps. Two people had come here from his home, and at least one had been injured. There was blood in the air here as well, half hidden by woodsmoke and dulled by the chill of the air, but it lingered all the same. He cocked his head and his eyes narrowed at another set of prints headed away from the cottage in the direction of the river. The stride was long and sure...and, he knew, headed east. In his gut he already knew the answers to his questions, instinct and logic both pointed in the same direction...but he had to be sure. There was no room for error. So he knocked. 

**

Moments later, he had his answers. He could be certain now. Berin and May were... gone. 

He'd known it, but something in him needed to hear it. He'd felt almost cruel making Timothy say the words out loud. It was clear by the way the man graveled out the words, and by his refusal to meet Jairus' eye, that he blamed himself. 

Jairus did nothing to talk him out of this thought. He didn't blame Tim, however. He blamed himself. The feeling was only natural, and there were no words which could possibly persuade him otherwise. He knew that like him, Timothy would be just as difficult to convince, and he hadn't the time to spare for such a pointless exercise. Tim had been injured, but was well enough, and with people who could care for him until he was whole. But she--that foolish, stubborn...

She was alive...is alive... perhaps...

Even as his anger burned hot in his mind, his throat clenched with fear, just as it had been doing since he'd first come across that...that tomb which was once his home. He'd been sick with pain and fear. Frozen with it. But it was his fury that had finally moved him, which moved him still. So he clung to it and let it overtake him. 

He'd failed May and Berin. He'd broken his own rules, and it had destroyed them. But he still had the others to protect, and he'd be damned if he would let them be taken from him as well. 

And once his remaining....family, was safe, he'd take his retribution...and it would be terrible.

Jairus growled low in his throat, a sound lost in the whipping wind which rushed past him in a deafening roar. It vibrated through him joining the shudder of exertion and hunger which was already boiling dangerously close to the surface. He suppressed it, wielding his will like he would the reigns of an unwieldy mount. He pressed himself forward, and his body strained for speed as he hastened toward the city.

A dangerous combination of fury and hope sped his way, recklessly pushing him to the very limits of his abilities. It was a feeling very much like the one which had overcome him when he'd found Thea huddled in that storm. Instead of easing with time, the maddening blend of rage and the half terrified yearning only built on itself until it numbed his body and pushed the still growing hunger and pain from his mind.

It was only when the glistening shape of the great imperial gate finally appeared, rapidly expanding in his vision, that he slowed and felt a flood of exhaustion followed by a powerful surge of hunger wash over him. The feeling caused him to hesitate and stumble slightly and he steered himself away from the more heavily populated areas, suddenly uncertain about just how in control of himself he actually was. 

He entered the city from one of the lesser used entrances, keeping to the narrow alleys and shadows, clutching his side under his cloak as the ache of his need built until it became almost unbearable as the sharp stabs of pain sliced through him. His body cried out for blood. 

He peered into the darkness, now seeing the world with weakened, almost human eyes and followed the wall with his free hand. He steeled himself, willing himself past the weakening drain, straining the last of his senses in order to navigate the dark twisting alleys.

He expelled a relieved breath as his eager ears finally caught something more than noisome ringing which had begun to fill them. He veered left into another narrow via, toward the sound of the single beating heart which called out to him, and blocked all other sounds from his mind. 

A door swung open ahead of him and he wasted no time. 

Slim hands caught his wrist and tugged futilely as his hand clamped hard over the warm gasping mouth. Her head was tugged roughly back and his thoughts registered dimly that it was a she, with pale hair and dark eyes. But then his eye caught a pulse of blue along a column of white and there was nothing else to see. His vision blurred, red and needful, and he groaned as his fangs broke flesh and sunk deeply into its welcoming heat. 

He drank greedily, and relished the hot sear of it as the blood filled his mouth and throat. The body in his arms struggled and protested, but he was beyond blind to it. Even in his weakened state he was too strong for her and eventually the woman grew still and silent as he continued to feed. 

His body shook with relief and his numb limbs prickled painfully as the life returned to them. 

His furious desperate pulls slowed as his vision cleared. His mind cleared as well, enough, at least, to let him pull away, though he was forced to will himself to do so and with a difficulty he found disturbing. 

The woman was alive...limp and unconscious...but alive. It had been a long time since he'd come this close to draining a victim, and much longer still since he'd lost control as he had. Memories of feeding from Thea flashed through his mind, unbidden, and questioned the truth of that thought even as he had it. A desire and need more potent, and at this moment more painful, than mere hunger tightened his chest. He pushed the memories away with a grunt of frustration and tried to refocus on the present, and the woman he currently held in his arms.

He'd pushed himself hard...too hard perhaps, but what was done was done, and there was no going back. Nor would he have done differently if he could. Jairus let out a shaking breath and closed the girl's wounds, shuddering at the taste of blood and closing his eyes against the urge to take more, shutting the door on his need once again. 

He checked the passage around him, refocusing his gradually strengthening senses as he searched for warnings of interruption, then, when he saw none, he looked beyond her to the still open door and shook his head. He'd been fortunate, his instincts had guided him well and she'd been alone. He had been desperate enough to not care...he had been lucky. He lifted her and lay her on the floor of the entry hall and shut her inside, then leaned against the door with a sigh. 

Jairus shook his head again, partially in frustration, partially to clear the buzzing. He'd been reckless. So much so that his body still shook with faint tremors, and twinges of hunger still flitted through him like tiny currents of fire, making his fingers twitch and skin crawl. 

He pushed off from the wall and turned back down the alley. Only a few minutes had passed, but his step was already more sure, his hands nearly steady, and his senses sharpened to the rhythms of the city. He would feed again, an easier proposition now that he had regained his focus, and then...Marcus.

**

Marcus, it seemed, had been expecting him.

He'd been easy enough to find, perhaps wanting to be found, but Jairus had wasted no time with polite formalities. He appeared instead in Marcus' rented rooms and had given the man no more greeting or warning than his name snapped out in a menacing gravel from a shadow behind him.

When Jairus had shown himself, stepping out of the darkness, and had used every iota of his freshly gained strength to crush Marcus with his will, there had been fear painted all across the man's face...terror even, but no surprise. That lack caused the anger which had been driving earlier him to explode back into an all consuming flame. He knew. He knew why he was there...he knew where she was.

This was the last conscious thought he had before he found himself staring up into Marucus' darkening face as it hovered suspended above him with Jairus' own hand wrapped tightly around his throat. Jairus whirled and slammed Marcus back first into the nearest wall, but didn't for a second relent in his grip. The smaller man's hands clawed at his ineffectively, desperate to break free, and his feet kicked at the wall. All his struggling was futile and he remained soundly pinned despite his frantic efforts.  

Jairus let out a low sound. It was feral, a deep animal growl, and tightened his grip, his free hand clenching and unclenching spasmodically beside him. Marcus stilled, wide eyed, his fingers digging into the unyielding wrist which held him captive. 

"Where is she?" He hissed lowly, his fingers digging in as he leaned toward Marcus' fear stricken face. "I...can't...ans...er...wh....wh...." Marcus tugged at Jairus's sleeve with frantic jerking motions again, pleading with his eyes when his voice failed. The restraining hand sprung sharply open and Marcus dropped to his feet with a thud and a gasp. His knees immediately buckled and he slid down the wall to the floor. 

Jairus watched impassively as the fair hair man glared up at him and coughed his way though a deep breath. 

"Crazy bastard..." he wheezed, one hand clutching his throat, the other pulling himself unsteadily back to his feet, using the wall for support. He looked back up at Jairus and for a moment seemed as though he wanted to spend a few more minutes cursing him, but something he saw changed his mind and, after a few more throat clearing coughs, he very intelligently moved on to more pressing matters. 

"I...I ah, she was here, your girl," He wheezed, "and asked for me at the Three Tuns." He paused to take another shaking breath.

"And?" Jairus pressed, speaking through clenched teeth. It was taking a good deal of control not to just pin him to the wall by the throat again and squeeze until he felt better. But that would get him nowhere and certainly not the information he needed. When Marcus looked up sharply and didn't answer quickly enough Jairus took an impatient step forward. The result was immediate.

"She wanted to know where Darius was. I didn't take her money, but she was insistent, so I told her."

Jairus couldn't hold back his snarl of rage. "You fool. They'll kill her!"

"Hey! You're the one who was keeping me in the dark here," he countered, still watchful, but irritated enough to raise his voice as he continued, "and it was you who introduced her as a potential apprentice, I figured she probably knew what she was doing" he rubbed his throat and his voice returned to a more conversational, if not sardonic tone. "Besides, you should have seen her...she was pissed." He shrugged. "She was with you, so the smart thing to do was to not go making assumptions about how dangerous she was based on the fact she has breasts." 

Jairus had said nothing but made another threatening, frustrated motion towards him and Marcus held up a defensive hand and stepped back. "I told her not to go, I did...but she did anyway, and that was the last time I saw her...and I haven't even seen the kid since before I talked to you, he's been unreachable."

Jairus's face must have darkened because Marcus jumped in quickly holding out both his hands in a reasoning manner. "Listen now, he didn't know. If I'd gotten to him, and he knew the score he'd have been smart enough to drop it. Please..."

The unusual pleading note as he voiced that 'please' caused Jairus to pause and catch his own breath. "And who is he to you then?" He murmured, suddenly aware that, despite having worked together as long as they had, he truly knew as little about Marcus as the man knew about him. Their relationship had always remained purely professional, and they both went to great lengths to keep it that way.

The answer to his question came from behind him, from a door which, in his distraction, he had not heard open. He cursed himself silently for his inattention, and turned a cool stare towards the voice as it spoke.

"He's his sister's son." The boy leaned against the door frame, his voice soft and face serious. He shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest. "He's right, I didn't know...but I still might have done it," he smirked, "just to piss you off." Jairus arched a brow at him and the boy stared back, still smiling. He also kept talking. "Othwyn's men have her, but she's fine, if that's what you're wanting...still in one piece. I saw her half way to South Keep myself. I just got back. 

"It's early enough, so if you ride out now you can probably get there by the late morning, but it might be hard to get her out. Othwyn's wanting her alive, as I'm sure you know, and he seems reasonable enough, so there probably wouldn't be much trouble from his end, but there's another group to contend with now as well. From what I've seen and heard Darius' men are on the war path. I passed a number on my way back to the city. They've all cleared out, it seems, and are headed to the keep to start a war." The boy shrugged negligently. "If you can call something so small and laughable a war. Either way by tomorrow night they will have amassed enough men to begin a respectable siege." 

Jairus silently considered this, and cast a glance at Marcus who was still rubbing his throat, but was, unsurprisingly, looking his old self again as he smoothed his ruffled feathers. His expression turned wry as he tugged his collar straight.

"And what is She to You?" Marcus asked dryly, taking advantage of the momentary hesitation to turn Jairus's words on him. 

He felt his hackles raise in response and his glance turned into a glare. 

"None of your business." He snapped and tilted his head sharply toward the still occupied door.

"Pretty much what I figured," Marcus groused with a sour expression on his face. Jairus ignored him and addressed the youth as he made his way to the door.

"You're sure they headed to the South Keep?" He demanded, his voice still sharp, as he pushed past the young assassin. 

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Jairus put little faith in the word of others, and he didn't need to. He could usually read the small signs, the breathing, the eyes, the rapid beating of a heart, in order to ferret out the lie from the truth. In this case he sensed no deception despite his natural suspicion to the contrary. The young assassin's readiness in giving him that truth was...unexpected, and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. It was a mystery, but once more he hadn't time to sit and ponder it. 

His hesitation at these thoughts was brief enough that it didn't even slow his step and he was on his way out even as he pondered the boy's unexpected behavior. To his chagrin the youth turned and followed him down the hall, though he added nothing further to the conversation. Jairus ignored it until he'd left the inn only to find the boy still tailing him, at which point he stopped short and spun on him, causing his shadow to physically shrink back, though he resisted his obvious urge to take an actual step or two away from the glowering vampire before him.

"What, exactly, do you think you're doing?" Jairus bit out, with more than a little warning in his tone.

The boy shrugged. "Coming with you."

Again he was forced to pause, and he narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

The youths face remained impassive, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"I want to see how it is you think you'll get her back."

Jairus sneered, his brief flash of curiosity overcome with derision. "Go home boy."

The twitch left the youth's mouth and his eyes darkened.

"I'm not a bo-"

"-You're acting like one. Go!" He was practically snarling, but he had better things to do right now than indulge this ridiculous...in fact, Jairus wondered, why was he even entertaining this? He turned on his heel and strode off.

"Wait, I can help."

"You can stay out of my way." He cut out over his shoulder, then, surprising himself, stopped. "Is Darius still in the city?" If he couldn't reach her tonight, he thought, then he might at least find Darius and have some satisfaction before dawn. Spending the day watching Darius bleed out slowly while begging for his life would most certainly come under that heading.

The boy blinked in response. "Darius? He...haven't you heard? He's dead."

Jairus frowned. How very disappointing, he thought. "Who?"

"Your girl."

His surprise must have registered in some small way because the youth nodded his head in confirmation. "I know, I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen the results first hand. Slit his wrist and his throat. He must have bled out in a flash." He shifted as he spoke, and his usual persistent, snide lilt faded from his voice. He looked unexpectedly thoughtful, and perhaps...impressed. Jairus found he had no response for that and only made a guttural sound of acknowledgment before turning away and dismissing him with a vague gesture.

The boy ran after him. Foolish...persistent, but foolish. 

"Listen, I may not be the best, but I'm getting there fast...I can help." Jairus turned with another low growl, more felt than heard. The boy skidded to a stop, but was close enough that Jairus was able to snap out his hand and fill it with the young assassin's shirt front. He pulled him in until they were nose to nose. 

Jairus held none of his fury back, and was well aware that his eye teeth were extended as a result. He let his anger and frustration wash out into his words as they fell from his lips in a tight and dangerous whisper.

"If I find her alive than the position of 'best'" he hissed "is yours, if not...I'll rip out your heart and choke you with it. Now go. Do what you need to do, and stay of my sight." He released him with a shove and the boy wisely opted to remain where he was.

A moment later Jairus took to the roofs. He moved East his grip rigid around the edge of his cloak, and his heart leaden in his chest. There were too few hours of darkness left, and even well fed he was worn from his exertions. He would not make it to her tonight...but he would get as close as he could. He only hoped Othwyn wasn't as useless as he seemed and could keep her safe and hold his keep long enough for him to get to her.

**

Thea watched from her window as torches danced in the twilight, shaking fitfully in the winter wind as the first wave broke and the men of both camps swarmed the walls. The old, rough stone surrendered itself easily to the hooks, ropes, and ladders appearing along its length. 

The men along the battlements rushed from one ladder to another, dislodging the hooks as fast as they could, but their number were too few. Most of Othwyn's men, insufficient as they already were in numbers, stood in the courtyard waiting for the barred door to succumb to the heavy pounding it was receiving, leaving the walls poorly defended. The castle was old and the wood well worn--neither the doors nor the walls could stand long. 




Fire Ch. 11



The thrum of the ram echoed like a drum, and vibrated through her as she stood still and silent in the last fragments of a rose coloured dusk. Cries of pain rose up over the panicked shouts as the first men breached the walls. 

The ringing of metal grinding against metal made her spine twitch. She blinked and started, feeling as though her mind had been thrust suddenly and violently back into her body after a long absence. That shiver of nervous energy was back, and it shot through her in a way that made her think she might very well come apart at the seems. They were coming, and they were going to kill her. 

Inevitable. Death was inevitable. 

"Maybe" she whispered to herself hoarsely as a tight coil of anger twisted stiffly around her spine, "but not yet...not now." Her death wasn't theirs to take, and she'd be damned if she'd let them have it without a fight. If death was her fate, then she would have it her way...and on her terms damn it! 

The clothes she'd worn the night she'd arrived were tucked in the back of the wardrobe. She'd tucked them there herself after she insisted she keep them, despite their being men's clothes. 

They'd been cleaned, but the scent of smoke and blood lingered. For some reason, the scent made her pensive, but didn't send her into a fit of tears as she had half expected it to. She stared at them a moment, the din of war fading into a distant hum as she focused, but she saw only rough, worn cloth.

With a nod Thea dismissed her heaviness and stripped, carelessly tossing the ladies gown into the bottom of the closet and donned her old weeds, adding to them a dark hooded cloak. 

She glanced out the window as she headed for the door, deciding to pick up an iron from the fire place on her way as well. 

Something caught her eye as she gripped the handle and pulled the cloak tight around her. There was a shield, highly polished and bearing the markings of the...her...house. There was a figure looking back at her, tall and dark, its eyes shining out from the darkness of its black hood, and it made her breath catch in her throat. 

She pulled her hood back slightly with one trembling hand, revealing long auburn hair reflected back to her in the glossy shield. Thea released the breath she'd been holding and turned away. 

Outside the cries became desperate, and the sun vanished completely, throwing the room into grey shadow. She rested the iron by the door and gathered the knotted bed sheets she'd tied together earlier into her arms, testing the end tied to the foot of the bed before leaning to look back outside the window. 

The battle ranged over the walls now, and a thunderous, splintering explosion told her the courtyard would soon also be swarmed. That didn't give her many options, or much time. She tossed the makeshift rope out the window, strode back to the door, this time acknowledging but not wondering at the dark figure reflected back at her in the shield. Instead she wrapped the image around herself and sunk into it. She lengthened her purposeful stride and caught the iron back up in her hand as she flattened herself against the wall.

She paused a silent moment, holding her breath to better hear the voices outside. The guard in front of her door shifted, anxiously she surmised, as the others ran past to the proper fight. Her lip twitched...it must be killing him to be left behind. 

She waited until the others had left and screamed.

The door crashed open almost immediately and a huge and powerful figure lunged into the room, sword drawn and body ready for action. He swore when he caught sight of the white sheet, gleaming as it streamed tellingly out the window, and ran toward it.

Thea slipped from the room and pushed the door shut behind her with her shoulder, sliding the poker into the door hooks the moment it closed. Another curse resonated within and Thea jumped back as the door vibrated with a dull thud. Then she ran. 

She moved through the halls as quickly as she could, far more concerned with speed than stealth, and prayed to anyone who was listening that she was moving in the direction of the barracks. Luck was with her and she realized quickly that she recognized the rooms as those she'd passed through with Othwyn on the way in. She ducked into one of the rooms as voices raised loudly down the hall. 

She closed the door softly behind her and glanced around the room, taking in as much as she could with her rapid glance. There were bunks and tables, chests and wardrobes, all indicating that she'd found the soldiers' living quarters. She snatched up a dagger left on one of the tables and tucked it into her belt for lack of a sheath. She also picked up a sword from one of the racks which lined the wall, then instantly thought better of it. It made her shoulders tire just to lift the damn thing. The dagger would have to do. 

There were no windows, but she spotted a side door. The door led to what looked like a bathing room. This room was small and would be a sad place to be trapped in, but it did have what looked like a small window, set high in the wall for ventilation. She pulled a stool beneath it and found it to be little more than a ventilation shaft...though it did look fairly wide and accommodating on closer inspection, and on a fairly shallow angle. At least it wouldn't be impossible to climb into. Probably not big enough for your average Huroth man, but certainly enough for her. 

The iron vent opened fairly easily and she gripped the edges of the narrow passage carefully, hefting upwards and scrambling her feet against the rough stone to push herself into the shaft. She managed to wedge herself in only to find the second vent not as easy to push open. She winced and shifted so that one of her knees bent out against the vent wall and her foot the other. Her legs shook slightly with the effort of keeping enough tension to hold her up as she pushed against the vent with both hands. It popped and she grabbed the outer edge immediately to take the strain off of her legs, once again pushing and pulling as she wriggled upwards. 

She peeked quickly outside. The vent opened up high on the wall. Beneath her were a set of stairs leading back up into the keep and flattening out to run along into the walkway of the battlements. There was no fighting here...yet, and what had been there had moved on, so she shuffled out, clinging to one of the old iron hooks jutting out of the wall. The metal bit into her palm, reminding her of the last time she was forced to climb out a window, and she grit her teeth to push past the pain. Somehow she pulled herself out of the shaft and dropped to the walkway below with little more than the few scratches, and none very deep. 

The night was dark and moonless, the only light from the still sputtering of torches. She headed towards the place where the shadows lay the heaviest along the walls. There were no ladders here, but a few ropes still dangled loosely from the pockmarked stonework. She found one likely looking rope and secured it more soundly to one of the less rotten looking bits of masonry. The ground was lost somewhere below in the darkness, and gazing down into it she nearly lost her resolve, but the pounding of booted feet and hoarse cries of alarm seemed suddenly too close for comfort. 

Thea breathed deeply and gripped the rope, twisting part of it around her leg as she slid herself over the ledge. The voices were upon her and she feared to move, lest her twitching rope alert the passersby to her presence. Instead she clung to both rope and wall and shut her eyes tight, willing the soldiers past, and trying not to think about the expanse of darkness below her. 

The noise passed, but she made the mistake of opening her eyes and the void beneath her seemed to open up as if it were a gaping maw threatening to devour her. She whimpered and shut her eyes again, sucking in short sharp breathes as she desperately tried to keep herself from panicking. Her arms were already starting to tire and she let out a low groan of frustration. She wasn't doing herself any favours just dangling there, she needed to move. With a deep breath and a terrified whimper, she loosened her grip and moved one of her hands down. She repeated the process. Then again. 

Before long her hands burned and her arms shook. They were unused to the strain and already worn from pulling her through the air shaft in the bathing room. Again....and again...and again she grasped the rope, wrapping her fist around it before sliding the next down. Thea tried to focus on the grey stone before her, feeling out foot holds so she could to ease the strain on her arms...but it did her little good. The burn increased until it was almost unbearable. A steady whimper shook her and she squeezed shut her eyes to block out the terrifying nothingness below her. Still her hands moved, one over the other, but the ground never seemed to come. 

And then her hand, smeared with sweat and blood, slipped. 

The ground came quickly, somewhere between her heart lurching into her throat and the escape of the scream which was also lodged there. She let out a surprised grunt instead of the still-born cry, and another small gasp of pain as she fumbled her landing, twisting her ankle on the uneven ground. By some miracle she kept her feet under her, though she'd nearly tripped over a fallen body which lay on the ground next to her. 

She swallowed hard and tried not to look at it.

She tested her ankle. It was sore but still functional. She would have to move quickly, and the ankle wasn't going to help. 

Just as she thought this, a light filled her enclave of shadow and she looked up, startled. A Huroth warrior looked back, the surprise on his face telling her that her hood had probably fallen back. His wide eyes took in her face and began to narrow with what she feared was recognition. She looked about in a panic and caught the body she'd avoided looking at before. His sword had fallen nearby. 

She turned and went for it, grasping it with both of her aching hands and swinging it up towards the soldier. The sword was even heavier than the one she'd left in the barracks and it was by sheer force of will alone that she held it aloft, and her already tired arms trembled with the effort. 

He lunged forward, swinging, and she was able to pull back just enough to let the tip whistle through the air before her and breeze past, just a hairs breadth from her face. The sensation made her sick to her stomach. She realized that there was no way she could defend herself against his next attack and so did the only thing she could do. 

Thea twisted and hurled the sword toward him and flew in the other direction, jumping over the prone body on the ground and swallowing the stabs of pain that shot up from her sore ankle. 

She heard him curse as he batted away the sword with his own before shouting out to his fellows somewhere in the darkness. She didn't dare turn back to see how close he was as he followed in pursuit. 

She let out her own curse as well as she stumbled blindly into the heavy woods, pushing through the thick, close growing pine. The darkness here was nearly total as the branches weaved tightly around her, forcing her to run sightlessly, trusting to luck and desperation to see her through. 

Thea whispered silent thanks that the ground had remained flat and unencumbered with boulders or logs, none of which she would have seen, not in this smokey darkness, not the way she was moving. 

Somewhere behind her another shout went up, and there followed the reassuring sound of combat. She hoped that one group of combatants were those following her, and that they didn't win. 

Her fumbling finally brought her out of the thicket. The smoke and clouds obscured the night sky leaving the clearing swimming in heavy shadow, but Thea made out the evidence of a creek, some of the smooth stones still jutting out of the ice and snow to mark its path. She looked back at her footsteps. They were painfully obvious in the snow, even if it was less than a few fingers deep.

The creek gave her an idea. She ran across it, letting her footsteps trail into the woods before she retraced her steps to the icy creek, using the exposed stones as steps to try and obscure her true path. She was slowed by her ankle, but if they were still on her track, this would at least buy her a few precious minutes. At least she hoped it would.

She slipped once in her hast, but only winced as her foot broke the thin ice and the frigid water soaked her boot. The sounds of fighting behind her were over, and she allowed herself to shudder once in speculation before pushing herself forward, not knowing where she was headed or in what direction, only following that instinctive, animal directive of 'away' once more. 

**

Othwyn swore loudly as another group surged forward on his right.

"Why the fuck isn't the postern covered?" He hollered, his question only semi-rhetorical.

"It was!" Came a panting response from his left as one of his captains hauled his sword out of another man's body, wrenching it loose from a narrow gap in the armor's joint.

"Well it ain't bloody well covered now. " He shouted angrily as he stormed toward the newest onslaught, motioning for his captain and two others to accompany him. A glance at the main portal told him the newest barrier was yet holding, so he focused on the group cutting their way through his men in front of him. His heart was in his throat. It didn't look good. In fact it was looking progressively worse as the seconds ticked by and the steady stream of combatants only seemed to build as the enemy flooded the yard, their numbers easily overwhelming his own.

Well, if he was going down...he wasn't going to make it easy.

He broke into a run and didn't bother with preliminaries, bringing his sword down hard on the nearest shoulder. The scaled armor caused the blade to glance off, but not harmlessly, and the man buckled from the force, opening his side up for a more serious blow from one of Othwyn's fellows. 

He brought his sword up immediately to fend off a blow from another direction and it was Othwyn who nearly fumbled this time as he was pushed back by a fierce warrior who rained down fast and heavy blows and forced him into the defensive. 

The noise was terrible, and the din of sword against sword made his ears ring. In a final fit of frustration he pivoted, letting his sword tip down and watched as the next blow missed him and dug into the hard earth of the courtyard instead. 

The warrior sacrificed just enough forward momentum that Othwyn was able to throw him off balance with a solid kick. As he stumbled, Othwyn brought his own sword around aiming for just beneath the helm, but the bastard blocked and rolled away, leaving Othwyn cursing in frustration. 

A shrill and terrible scream sounded off to his left and he hoped in passing that it wasn't one of his own men. For a moment he thought the chaos grew more muddled and the voices more frightened and confused, but it was probably just the blended streams of fear and blood lust flooding his body, surging through him and keeping his nerves screaming and his senses sharp. 

The warrior came at him again, but faltered slightly, this time without help, letting Othwyn twist to let him stumble by. As he twisted he understood the man's sudden and careless hesitation. He himself was struck to stillness by the image of one of the enemy combatants having his own sword wrenched from his grip and shoved deliberately through the opening of his helm in one swift, savage movement even as another found himself on the wrong end of his own shattered halberd. 

Othwyn's men were stumbling back from the spectacle and watching in surprise as a man in nothing but leathers and a dark cloak, a stranger to them, strode froward, cutting his way through Darius's men as if they were but minor irritations to be swiftly disposed of and forgotten. 

Othwyn almost shouted out to the stranger as a warrior came at him from behind, but before he could the man twisted to avoid the blade before capturing the warrior's sword arm and snapping it at the joint with a terrific cracking sound, then lifted him and did the same to the his neck before letting the hulking mass drop from one hand as if its weight were nothing. 

In almost the same breath he snatched a lance from one of Othwyn's startled men and hurled it toward Othwyn himself.

He gasped, expecting to find himself suddenly skewered, but the lance missed and sailed past him instead. A clatter behind him made him whirl, and brought his senses back to their surroundings. His forgotten opponent lay on his back behind him, the lance protruding from the helm and keeping his head bent back at a disturbing angle. 

Othwyn turned back to find the stranger inches from his face and a blade point at his throat. It was then that he recognized the face. It was difficult considering he'd only seen the assassin once and his face had been a icy mask, unnaturally devoid of any emotion save, perhaps, boredom. Now it was a mask of rage, replete with burning embers in the eyes and a snarl which Othwyn could only honestly describe as that of an enraged wolf, vicious and fanged. What sort of man sharpened his teeth to fangs? 

Othwyn briefly wondered if he'd live long enough to discover what could have accounted for the assassins presence, or why and how he'd single-handedly cut through a good portion of Darius's forces. The stranger, however, didn't make him wonder long.

"Where's the girl, Thea."

Othwyn's men surged forward, finally spurred into action be the sight of their leader at knife point, but Othwyn held up a stalling hand.

"She's up in the keep, in one of the rooms...under guard. I can take you to her."

The assassin gave him a long hard look, clearly weighing Othwyn's words and, finding them true, released him.

"Then move." The man spit out in a dangerous gravel. Othwyn cleared his throat and nodded toward the postern and the main portal. 

"We can't yet, if we lose the yard and the entrances then we'll have no way to defend the keep proper. We'll all be in danger." He paused trying to get a feel on the situation and took a risk. "Including the girl."

The man narrowed his eyes at him and let out a low predatory sound that made the hairs at the back of Othwyn's neck stand on end. The assassin turned away, and marched towards the barricaded portal. 

To their collective shock he pushed past the the men who stood still holding the entry, ripping a sword from one of their unsuspecting hands, and literally catapulted himself over the barricade and into the fray on the other side. The sound of battle reached them immediately, and they all listened in stunned silence to the cacophony of cries and shouts punctuated occasionally by the singing clatter of swords. 

And then there was nothing. The men exchanged glances, but Othwyn couldn't tear his eyes from the barricade. 

When the man...if he could be called that, dropped from over the barricade, Othwyn's own men shifted away, brandishing their swords halfheartedly and casting anxious looks in Othwyn's direction. No doubt, he thought, fearing he would order them to charge. No man could have done that. So the silent consensus seemed to be that this was perhaps no man at all and that it would be foolishness to stand in his path. Othwyn wasn't yet prepared to admit to superstition...but some ancient fear was coiling about in the very pit of his being and screamed out for him to stand aside and let the demon pass. The feeling was too strong to ignore and he decided that instinct would prevail.

The...man finally came to a stop in front of him, his dark, burning eyes offering him a silent challenge. Like a defeated hound, Othwyn glanced away and nodded to the keep.




Fire Ch. 11



"This way." He turned back to his men and shouted out orders until he felt he'd restored at least a shred of his dignity, though he doubted very much that any of his men would have done much differently in his shoes. Besides, this strange assassin, whoever, or whatever, he was, seemed to have just solved the bulk of his most pressing problems, the least he could do was oblige him for the time being. 

He took the fastest route to the upstairs bedrooms and started with some surprise at the fire iron wedged across the door.

"Well?" An impatient voice snapped behind him. 

Othwyn shrugged it off, deciding the guard must have abandoned his post to fight, and removed the iron. He stepped into the room and the dark man stepped in beside him. They both stared at the disgruntled warrior sitting at the edge of the bed. He looked up at them from under his brow, his expression a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"Where is she?" Othwyn demanded, his tone short with anger and fear. Anger for the obvious reason, and fear that the assassin would be unhappy with this development and take it out on their sorry hides.

The man bowed his head slightly and shook it. "She tricked me...the damned little witch." 

Othwyn winced and didn't dare look at the dark man. He suspected this wasn't about money, and he wasn't sure the man would like hearing the girl cursed.

"What do you mean, tricked you?" Othwyn bit out through gritted teeth, his hands clenching at his sides.

"She...she faked jumping out the window, and had me run in...then ran out the door before I could stop her...she locked me in." The guard stood, his head still bowed in shame.

Othwyn was about to lay into him when a strange sound startled him from his anger. Laughter. The assassin was chuckling. They both turned to him in horrified fascination, something which apparently made him laugh harder. Othwyn couldn't look away, though the sight of that fanged smile and those black eyes glittering with mirth was very nearly as frightening as his previous expression of rage.

Eventually his apparent humour tapered off and he smirked with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry, you must forgive me."

The guard, annoyed at being laughed at, bristled. "She tricked me." He muttered again mulishly and rolled his shoulders in discomfort.

The dark man waved him off. "I'm quite sure she did." He smiled with a decidedly sardonic twist to his mouth, though his teeth were blessedly hidden once more. "I'm merely glad to know it isn't just me. That woman Never stays where you put her." He chuckled again. "I considered tying her down once...but really it's a waste of rope. She'd manage to find a way to be difficult." His face grew serious and he sighed. "Did she go out the window or the door then?"

"Door." The guard grunted, still looking askance at the stranger.

He only nodded and stepped abruptly out the door before pausing and tilting his head as if listening very carefully for something. Both Othwyn and the guard followed as he turned and strode down one of the passage ways. They arrived shortly after in the barracks and he paused again before retracing his steps and leading them eventually into a bathing room. They all noticed the out of place stool immediately, sitting overturned beneath a ventilation shaft. The dark man paused beneath it, running his hand up along the wall.

"Take me to where this leads." He said softly, still looking up at the shaft.

"She couldn't have possibly squeezed up there and managed to open the vents, how would she stay up?" The guard asked, looking to Othwyn for support.

"She did." Othwyn answered, knowing that if this man thought so, then it was foolishness to disagree. Besides the fact that this...being, was anxious to find the woman, which in itself marked her as unusual in Othwyn's mind, she had escaped Darius's men and avenged herself on the warlord all unscathed. they were all factors which indicated that she was not to be taken lightly. He was dying to ask the assassin why he was so determined to find her, but caution won again over curiosity, so he instead led them out onto the walls as asked. 

"There," he pointed at a gap in the stones which marked the exit of the vent and watched fascinated as the man walked towards it, tipping his head as he did before...his nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly and his eyes burning once more. An eerie sight to behold, to be sure.

"She was here....and she went down...there." He murmured aloud as he crossed the wall and slid his hand along one of the ropes. "Bleeding..." 

"She's injured?"

He glanced back toward them with an appraising expression, then jerked his head toward the vent. 

"Cut her hand on that hook."

"How..." Othwyn frowned at the hook then looked back at this very strange man, but he was already looking away and peering over the ledge. How in the blazes could he know that? Even the best trackers wouldn't have found her path this quickly. He shook his head internally...he probably didn't want to know.

He muttered something else that Othwyn couldn't hear before stunning them once again by grasping the rope in one hand and leaping over the side, vanishing into the darkness without a sign or sound. Part of him waited for a cry or the soft thump of a body hitting the ground, but there was nothing. 

They stood in stunned only a moment before Othwyn collected himself and grunted. "Get men together and meet me at the base." The guard blinked over at him, still lost in wonder. "Ten minutes ago." He snapped and strode off, looking for the nearest set of stairs.

**

Thea groaned at the sight before her as she came though another thicket of trees and brush. The frozen creek, it seemed, had come from a half-frozen waterfall. A waterfall trickling weakly down from a high sheer cliff face which now stood in her way. 

"Son of a..."

She had no idea how long she'd been moving since she left the keep, or how far she'd managed to come. There were no sounds of fighting anymore, but she heard the occasional voice in the woods behind her. 

Her eyes whipped between the line of trees and the wall of stone. It might have been almost funny...the irony there. This was how it was supposed to end, not that long ago...but he'd found her. Found her and taken her with him. Brought her into his home...and she'd only brought...she growled out a frustrated cry and roughly pushed the threatening tears out of her eyes with the palm of her hand, swallowing back the rest.

She fisted her hands next to her and turned to face the woods around her with a stiff back and determined glare. Somewhere in her mind an image formed, and she saw a circle of hard packed earth instead of icy snow, a circle surrounding a great fire whose hungry flames licked up around her, lashing across her numb flesh. 

But this time there was no sacrifice, no rope, and no fear. And this time she was ready for them. She hardened her gaze as her fingers shifted their grip on the blade handle of the dagger, and decided that there would be no more running. This was her death, hers to accept passively or to take, not theirs. They had no right to it. At the very least she would chose where and how. 

It would be here, in this clearing with the wall of stone at her back and the dark of the woods before her like it was meant to be. And how? Not meekly, not waiting...alone and frightened. When she went down, it would be fighting...and so help her she'd take at least one more of those bastards with her.

Another call rang out and she tightened her grip reflexively. The shout was returned. Like hounds baying to one another excitedly as they captured the scent of the fox.

Her heart leapt up into her throat and stayed there, pounding out a stiff, fast, and primal rhythm of fear and expectancy.

Any minute, any minute, she thought. And then they were there, loud and bumbling, as they stumbled upon her. There were three, and they looked surprised.

One caught himself and yelled out "found her," telling her there were more. This one moved forward, his step sure. She let her fear show and quailed away from him as he reached for her, taking her by the wrist and tugging her toward him. Just as Darius had done, confident and glaring at her in his superior way. He sneered and glanced back at the other two behind him.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about...she's practically shaking. If Darius let this kill him, then he deserved his death. You sure this is the heir?"

"Yes, she must be. Just hurry up and kill her Flin, don't screw around."

He turned back to her just in time to throw off her aim and she missed, slashing him across the side of his cheek instead. He cursed and his sword arm came up instinctively, but the long blade was useless to him in such close quarters. 

He tried to push her back, but she didn't let him and surprised the man by clinging to his wrist instead and taking another half-wild swipe at him. This too went wide, nicking his jaw, but doing nothing in the way of serious damage. He cursed and finally did manage to throw her away from him.

The force of his shove sent her to the ground, and she rolled out of the way as a sword blade glinted overhead then sunk itself into the impression her body had left in the snow. The drag of the snow slowed her, but she still moved with more speed than they could and was out of sword range instantly.

Another came at her, and she dodged. Once again they seemed so much slower and clumsier than the man who had begun to teach her how to avoid the blade as she did. She had to fight not to let this make her too confident, and she was glad she did since the third fighter was more careful and flanked her while she was occupied with the second.

This third sword missed her by only a fraction, and she realized that trying to stay away was not going to work, so she opted for what worked with the first man and got as close as she could to the new assailant. He caught on and gave up trying to use his sword and made a move to grapple her instead. She twisted out of the first grab just as he caused her aim to miss once more. When he finally did manage to get an arm around her, she backed into him, gripping and twisting his wrist in such a way that when she sidestepped, his body followed and twisted past her shoulder. He thudded down onto his back with a grunt. She might have had him if one of the others weren't already there, forcing her to dodge several more sword blows. 

One blow finally caught her arm, sending a sharp stab of pain running up her shoulder and on into her chest, making her to stumble. She went down and as she did they fell upon her like the vultures they were. She kicked at one while another held her arm, twisting her wrist painfully and forcing her to drop the bade she held. Her struggles bought her precious few seconds though she knew they were ultimately pointless. Out of the corner of her eye she saw at least another two emerge from the trees. One scoffed.

"We were chasing a woman? It takes three of you to catch a woman? That's embarrassing." 

Indeed, it had seemingly taken three as one was holding her wrists while the other was sitting on her legs. The third was snatching up his dropped sword in order to use it on her now exposed middle. She whimpered and twisted, trying to wrench free...but it did little good. All she managed to do was cause her shoulders to ache all the more from the force of her yarding on them. 

The situation suddenly struck her as bizarrely familiar. More so when one of the new men dropped his sword and went suddenly stiff. They all turned their eyes as one and watched in horror as his head twisted sharply and unnaturally to the side, his mouth gaping in a silent cry. His large body dropped limply into the snow as a tall, dark, hooded figure materialized from the darkness behind him, his cloak shifting around him, obscuring his form so that he seemed for a moment as if he were merely a shifting shadow in the night. 

For a moment she was as stunned. A pang of shock...and then something much stronger...warmer ran through her as she gazed at the newcomer. Luckily for her she wasn't the only one staring in stunned silence. 

Her moment of shock passed more quickly than theirs. The almost palpable aura of menace spilling off of Jairus was too familiar to her to be terrifying...and she knew it could be no one else. No one else felt like that, or made her skin crawl with excitement like that. She realized she was breathing harder, nearly panting...and it had nothing to do with her struggles. That thought and the sensation of the cold snow in which she lay broke through her benumbed haze and she snapped out of it and back into the world. 

She was able to break free as the one threatening her with the sword and the one holding her legs turned away to face Jairus. She kicked back away from the later and managed to loosen her wrists from the grip of the third who was equally distracted. Rolling away and on to her knees, she remembered herself enough to snatch at the dagger she'd dropped when they'd fallen on her. 

She got far enough from the lot to pause but found herself suddenly unclear about what her next move should be. She had a clear chance to make a run for it as they were all suitably distracted, but that was easier said than done. 

Now that Jairus was here, and with him a new hope for survival, she found her determination to stay and take on all comers dwindling rapidly as her sense of self preservation emerged once more. Such a dangerous thing, hope is, she thought with some bitterness. 

Yet despite this renewed hope and this urge to run, she found she couldn't quite tear herself away. Not when he was there, right in front of her. She couldn't see his eyes past his hood, but she could feel them boring down on her from across the clearing. His hidden face was still turned toward her as a hidden blade left his hand and found its home in one of her abandoned trio. 

The other two rushed forward, finally drawing his focus away from her.

So intent was she in watching him, watching the swift and deadly grace with which he disarmed and dispatched his opponents, and the almost lazy brutality of the act, that she failed to notice one of the men moving toward her until his blade was nestled against the base of her jaw. 

Jairus, who had barely moved from his original position, and who now loomed over three lifeless bodies like an avenging wraith, turned very slowly to face them, his left hand raised to push his hood back just as a glint of silver announced the appearance of another blade in his hand. 

The movement caught her eye as he twirled the knife in his hand, pausing it so that it faced backward just as her eyes dipped down to notice it. 

A glance back at his face showed little to the untrained, or at least unfamiliar, eye. There was just more of that impassive, deadly ice. But there was a tightening of the jaw, a glint in the eye, and the faintest tilt of the head, all of which screamed out at her to pay attention. 

"Always playing the damsel in distress, poppet...when will you learn?" He drawled out, almost casually, his voice that smooth, rolling murmur she still remembered from the night he'd first found her struggling to free herself from that post. She felt a odd pang at his tone and choice of words, but pushed it away in order to play along. She commanded herself to focus.

She let out a gasping laugh and twitched, shifting her body to hide the movement of her hand. "You're right, we have to stop meeting this way. Men holding knives to my throat is beginning to get tiresome. Though as I recall, you were one of the first to try it." Was that what he wanted her to do? What she had done that night?

He gave her that ghost of a smile and cocked his head. Yes. He did.

"Then you should stop letting them." He confirmed in a low, deadly purr. 

She heard in his words another ghost of the not so distant past...'throwing me in snowbanks...' 'you should stop letting me...' and envisioned that night when he had first tested her abilities to defend herself. The knife to her throat...him adjusting her grip...surprising her in his room...his naked body beneath hers....

She blinked back the rest, not willing to face the rest of that memory, and focused back on the task at hand.

The Huroth behind her must have sensed the subtext of their words, or at least that there was subtext because the knife at her throat pressed in tighter forcing her to keep herself still or suffer a slit throat. 

She could see Jairus's eyes darken even as he smiled, exposing a hint of fang. She fought not to be drawn in by that smile, or distracted by its striking similarity to those he'd given her in the past, though in a very different context. It wasn't meant for her this time. The knife in his hand spun, theatrically she thought, and she felt her captor inhale sharply as his attention slide to what she realized must be for him a terrifying sight, rather than an enticing one.

Thea could hear a noise not far off that told her more Huroth were upon them. 

The combined distraction of their blundering into the clearing and Jairus' threatening presence caused the man holding her to lose his focus, letting the knife drift away from her neck. Two more Huroth came at Jairus and the man holding her yelled out a warning to them, but too late. Jairus had already engaged them and, she knew, it would not be long before they joined the grisly heap collecting at his feet.

Her captor was distracted for only a moment, but it was more than enough time for her to take advantage of his error. She pressed against his body even as the steel in her hand cut through the layers of cloth and leather. He grunted and stumbled, the knife at her throat nicking her before she could pull his wrist away completely and twist her body around it. She followed by shoving her foot behind his, just as Jairus had taught her, in order to push at him and send him off his balance. His priorities were no longer trying to hold her as he fumbled to regain his equilibrium and she took further advantage of that fact. 

Pulling away, Thea pressed a hand to the cut on her neck to stem the blood. It wasn't deep, but it bled profusely. 

As she was twisting her body toward Jairus she noted with satisfaction that the Huroth behind her was down on his knees. A split second later she watched as another Huroth fell in a similar fashion as a sword slid through him, its bloodied tip protruding grotesquely from his back. 

She hadn't taken more than a step toward Jairus when she found he had already cleared the space between them in a flash of movement. 

She caught sight of his eyes widening at the same moment his hand reached for her. His touch came but was overwhelmed by a blow from behind. 

Time slowed and the world was thrown suddenly out of focus as a fire exploded from her back and shards of screaming pain shot through her body. She opened her mouth to cry out, but all she managed was a tight gasp that caught in her throat.

She stumbled as her legs weakened and buckled beneath her. She half expected to fall, but strong arms already held her fast. 

She collapsed against his chest, shuddering, unable to voice anything but a long moaning whimper of pain. Her vision swam with stars and her skin crawled nauseatingly as waves of tingling numbness spread out from her center to the tips of her fingers. 

"What..." she gasped, panting for breath, and burying her head against his shoulder, clinging to his cloak as the hot shards and cold nausea fought for her attention. 

"Shhhh...be still."

He whispered something against her hair. She couldn't hear what, but they were soft, encouraging sounds. The wave shifted and she felt something else, a pain in her chest that wracked her with choking coughs. It was suddenly hard to breath. The taste of blood filled her mouth.




Fire Ch. 11



This was it. A matter of time, it had always been just a matter of time...at least he was here. She shut her eyes as he whispered her name, and relished the feel of his fingers against her tingling cheek. She opened them to find his gaze burning into hers. That wonderful dark fire, consuming her. It drank her in and made her forget all else.

"Yes." she whispered. "Do it." She bit back a cry of pain even as the blood continued to well up in her throat. She raised a hand to his collar, grasping it hard. "Take me, I want it to be you....who...ends it."

Fingers again, against her skin. She was going, she could feel it— the numbness crawling up her body, the slow creep of death. 

She fought to breathe, fought for words. 

"Quickly," she gasped, "take my blood...finish ...don't let them...finish me." She gasped and her eyes grew heavy, too late. It was too late. No....please....

"No." 

His denial was the last thing she heard. 

**

Jairus watched in horror as her eyes fluttered closed, her flushed cheeks growing rapidly paler as the blood drained from them. 'Quickly,' she'd said. He snapped out of his frozen state, inhaling sharply. Quickly. He shuddered and lowered them to their knees, and without wasting anymore time to consider his actions, he pulled the knife from her body and slit his own wrist with it in one long movement. 

He moved as quickly as she'd begged him to, knowing that as soon as he removed the thing her lungs would fill rapidly with blood, and that the growing drops of red in the snow would deepen and bloom. His own blood joined hers, first in the snow, then at her lips as he tilted her back against him. His breath came rapidly and his hands trembled as he worked her jaw open. 

His wrist healed all too soon and with a growl he tore into it with his own fangs before pressing it back between her parted lips. It seemed to do little good. 

"Damn it." He bit back a snarl. "Sweet one," he whispered hoarsely, "stay with me." 

He watched her face for a response, a breath, a twitch...and saw nothing. He pressed his lips to her ear, begging her to drink, pleading with her in desperate whispers. Had he waited too long? Had he done something wrong? 

"Thea...please."

He pulled his wrist from her mouth. He had to get his blood inside of her, somehow, that much he knew, but that was as much as he knew. He had never intended to change another, so had never learned. And what a fool he was for it. 

She lay limp in his arms, her parted lips stained with both of their blood. He gripped her tightly, one hand against her nape supporting her, the other gripping her wrist and holding it to his chest in a pathetically futile and beseeching gesture. He felt it then, the faintest pulse, tiny and weak against his finger tips. It was not too late. He had to try something. His eyes searched the snow desperately and he found the knife he'd discarded. 

Taking a deep breath he reached around her, pressing her back against his chest and took her left hand in his right, twining their fingers together so that their hands lay palm to palm. He laid the knife between them and slit their palms first, pressing them together tightly even as the blade slide across the skin, then with another deep breath did the same between their joined wrists. 

He gasped as, instead of the wound closing as he'd expected, something else happened. 

The fingers twined with hers tightened reflexively as their very flesh seemed to bind at the wound and something like fire of hunger shot through his veins. His head spun as another gasp inducing pang ran through his body, this time more reminiscent of another sort of desire. He shut his eyes, riding the sensation like a wave. 

It was as if he was drinking her in again, only more, so much more. He could feel her moving through him, feel himself moving through her, falling into her. Her faint pulse sounded through him and he felt himself reach out to it, only to have it vanish beneath the pounding throb of his own. 

A sharp cry jolted him back into the world and his eyes shot open to find dark golden-brown eyes staring dazedly back into his. 

"Jairus?" Her eyes were wide, frightened, and clouded...with what he couldn't be sure, but her body still leaned weakly and limply against his, and she was still so very pale. 

He breathed out in relief, but the tightness in his chest remained. He could take no chances. He was so close now, and to lose her....no, it was unacceptable. 

He opened his free wrist once more, not releasing her hand for fear of what might happen if he broke their connection, and offered her the upturned arm.

She gazed down at it in confusion. 

"Drink, Thea."

"Drink?" Her voice sounded so small to his ears.

"Please." She didn't respond so he pressed his hand closer to her mouth, letting the blood brush her lips. It must have triggered something because she moaned softly and pressed back. He watched gratefully as her tongue snaked out to catch the blood which slid over his palm and as her lips found and covered the fresh punctures. 

The iron fist that had been clenched around his heart eased a little at the sight, and he dropped his forehead to nestle against hers. 

She continued to lap at his wrist long after the wound was closed, cleaning the now unmarred skin and murmuring softly. When she looked up to meet his gaze she didn't look much stronger, but her eyes had cleared and now they burned with a hunger he was all too familiar with. 

He himself was feeling similar pangs. The exceptional level of force he'd exerted over the past few hours, turning her, and the nearing approach of dawn's first light, all conspired to drain him. Now, he feared, with her so weakened and him without living blood, he wasn't completely sure he could get them back to the keep before first light. He could barely move, but he would have to try and he hoped with a sigh that the strength of the will could defeat the weakness of the flesh. He knew for a certainty that it was going to be too close of a call.

"We have company." Her voice sounded darker, huskier, tainted as it was with her hunger, and her eyes glowed as she licked the dried blood from her lips. 

His gaze followed hers and lighted with a mixture of pleasure and surprise on the figure of the young assassin just joining them in the clearing. 

He stopped short at the sight of them kneeling in the snow surrounded by the lifeless bodies of the warriors. The boy managed to keep his expression even, but his eyes widened nonetheless.

"Hell" the boy breathed softly, his eyes flicking from the lifeless bodies to their own strange tableau nearby.

Jairus untangled himself from Thea and rose, sliding her carefully off of his lap. She remained where she was and he could feel her hot gaze at his back as he approached his prey, stepping carelessly over the fallen men, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

"Tell me assassin...what is your name?" He asked in a low, smooth voice. The boy's mouth opened to speak, but no sound emerged until Jairus reached and circled him with measured steps.

"I go by Sil." He answered, his voice soft with wariness.

"Well Sil," his mouth twitched, "today is your lucky day...today you turn out to be useful after all." He didn't wait for the boy to contemplate his words, but snatched him up by the throat and hauled him in, burying his fangs in his throat with only slightly more restraint than he had shown the woman in the alley. 

He could hardly believe his luck at this opportune interruption and was quick to take advantage. He snarled in triumph as the blood brought with it a surge of dark energy. He fed only briefly, taking fast and deep pulls, drinking just enough to give them the strength to find shelter before the break of day. 

He released the boy while he was still conscious, though barely, and pressed him against a nearby tree before releasing him, letting him slide down the trunk weakly. The gasping, confused youth stared up at him in shock.

Jairus smirked wryly down at him. "You also get to live. Congratulation."

A soft sound behind him made him turn and his eyes met the swirling amber depths which were watching him so very needfully from across the snowy glade. He moved forward, pulled into those eyes, at once bright and dark, his skin quivering with its own eager desire at the sight, and he groaned low in his throat as she let out another soft mewling whimper. 

Thea had moved closer to the clearing's edge and was clinging to a slender tree in a failed attempt to raise herself to her feet. She remained on her knees, unable to do more than hold herself upright. He dropped onto his knees bedside her shaking body. Shaking, he knew, with hunger rather than cold. 

She confirmed this by tangling his cloak and shirt in her hands as he reached for her, pulling herself bodily into him, her cold flesh instinctively seeking his new found warmth, her eyes dark with hunger and desire. She crawled into his lap, pushing him back, and found his mouth with her tongue. She let out a groan to match his own as he kissed her back and she caught the taste of fresh blood still lingering on his mouth. 

The kiss deepened and he twisted his fingers into her hair, forcing her mouth harder against his as her hips ground back into him, pressing their bodies together with fitful urgency. 

His cock throbbed as she writhed against it in his lap, and the sweet moaning whimpers that emanated from her made every muscle in his body tighten with excitement and need. 

The very worst of it was when his exploring and hungry tongue rubbed against sharp pointed teeth that weren't his. 

He gasped her name and rocked his hips back against hers as she pulled away from the kiss, nipping his lower lips enough to draw blood before running her tongue back over it.

Her lips slid lower and he felt her new fangs scrape his skin as she dragged them roughly down the side of his neck. He tipped his head to give her better access and waited for her to follow the drives of her need. She barely hesitated and bit into him eagerly, if clumsily, the moment she found her mark, her teeth tearing the flesh with a sharp tug. He winced but did nothing more than adjust his grip, one hand about her waist and another at her throat ready to pull her off when she would inevitably try to take too much. 

To his surprise she pulled away almost immediately, lapping at his throat, and, he realized, healing it. A trick she must have learned watching him all those many times when he'd done it for her. 

Her breath was hot against his neck as she panted softly, her hands still tangled in his shirt. It wasn't clear if she was trying to push him away or hold him closer. 

She writhed against him anxiously, but made no move to continue feeding. 

"Why have you stopped?" He asked softly, turning his head to rest his cheek against her hair. Her own lay against his shoulder. 

Her voice, husky and dark, shook with restraint. "I...I'm sorry...I don't want to hurt you..." He smiled against the top of her head and chuckled, remembering how she'd told him he'd hurt her, and her smirking response to that fact.

"I know" he whispered with a smile "....but I sort of like it."

She let out her own nervous laugh, which devolved quickly into a whimper. He took her chin in his hand and turned it back to his throat. "Go ahead, sweet one. You can make it up to me later." He could feel her begin to laugh again, but hunger took over and her teeth were once again sliding into his throat, this time with relative ease and a soft growl of pleasure.

He leaned back against the tree, holding her close as her soft mouth sucked at his throat. He could feel himself grow colder as the chill of the air and ground raced in to fill his body as she slowly drained him of his own heat and blood. 

The mild discomfort it caused was nothing compared to the joy of holding her to him, knowing she was his, or the erotic pleasure of feeling himself slowly slip away into her body. He wasn't sure which thought was dearer to him, that he was feeding her life with his own, and that some part of him, however small, was forever in her keeping, or that finally she was completely his. Even if she left him, there would be this, this inescapable bond, a bond he would never let go of. 

His arms tightened and she cooed softly against his throat, her small tongue still lashing at his flesh, coaxing the blood from another fresh wound. Was this what she felt when he'd drank from her? No wonder she'd begged for it. He sighed out a long moan of pleasure and gripped her hips as they continued to grind against him in slow, unhurried circles. If she didn't stop soon, he thought with another low chuckle, the only blood he'd have left in his body was whatever was keeping his cock as painfully stiff and throbbing as it was. She pulled away suddenly with a soft gasp, as if somehow complicit with his thoughts. 

He didn't think it possible but the image that she presented before him ratcheted his level of arousal even higher, causing his already elongated fangs to ache with need. Her head was tilted back, her eyes heavy with satisfaction, her lips parted, revealing blood stained but still neatly pointed and, he thought, beautifully delicate looking fangs. She was exquisite. 

He reached up and slowly wiped away a smear of blood which lingered at the corner of her mouth. She gazed lazily back at him, her eyes dark and glazed, and took his hand in hers and licked his fingers clean, her heavy lidded eyes still locked on his and an intoxicated and sated smile twisting her lips. 

Slowly her eyes grew heavier and her body slid back into his which he facilitated by tightening his own grip around her waist and pulling her tight against his chest. She made a gentle mewling sound and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her face half hidden against him. He held her like that a moment, his own mind and body awash with a confusion of joy, concern, and deep, barely controlled lust.

Jairus growled low in his throat at the sound of another impending interruption from the woods behind him and slowly forced the growing inferno in his gut back down into a slow burn. He managed to control himself enough to retract his fangs before he made a spectacle of himself. 

More of a spectacle, he thought with another growl as he remembered the scene he'd caused getting into the keep...only to find her already somewhere else. She mewled again as his arms tightened involuntary.

Thea was asleep and curled against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, by the time he stood to greet the newest arrivals to the party.

"Looks like we missed the fun." Othwyn muttered dryly as he slid down from his mount, his eyes lingering on the young, half conscious assassin hunched nearby. Wordlessly, he motioned the reigns of a spare horse to Jairus indicating he take it as his mount. "What about him?" He nodded to the youth who blinked up at them with a pained groan.

"May as well bring him." Jairus arched a brow at the boy, outwardly cool once more as he battled the strange fire of emotion still consuming him inside. 

He lifted Thea and set her on the horse, still holding her hip as he leapt easily up into the saddle behind her. He didn't often ride, but the motions came back easily to him on those rare occasions he did. The animal pranced uncomfortably as Jairus accepted the reigns. He could feel it shudder beneath him, confused by its instinct to get away, and yet not quite sure what it was supposed to be getting away from.

He was able to control the animal, but the tension trilling though its flesh remained. Jairus imagined, with some irony, that it was probably not all that dissimilar to the sensations plaguing his own body.

"And the girl? Thea? Is she alright?"

Jarius held his breath as he was overcome by, then resisted, a sudden wave of ferocious jealousy. He couldn't explain it, but the sound of her name...on his lips...or perhaps it was on any other lips...he grit his teeth and tried to regain his equilibrium. 

If the expression on Othwyn's face was any indication, he hadn't succeeded. Othwyn looked away and motioned for one of his men to collect the boy who was still propped against the tree. 

Jairus expelled a long breath very slowly before answering and hardened his expression back into its usual cold mask, schooling himself back into rationality, and suppressing the territorial old wolf which seemed suddenly so very close to the surface. It helped that she was still in his arms, and was pressed close against him. The feel of her, it seemed, satisfied and quieted the beast's greed enough for him to at least consider the question calmly.

And consider he did, and in doing so another thought occurred to him, an unwelcome and even frightening thought. She was alive, yes, and she would recover physically, but how would she respond when she awoke? 

The feeling of his own horror upon awakening to find himself thusly altered came back to him and washed over his mind in a nauseating wave. Would she feel that same horror? He choked the thoughts and sensations back with some effort and felt his lip twitch involuntarily in a grimace, then turned his gaze toward the dark of the wood.

"She is out of immediate danger...but we shall see."

**

There was a terrible pain, like a pounding drum, throbbing behind her eyes. Thea shifted and her stomach shifted with her, rocking nauseatingly. She blinked open her eyes, only to shut them again with a groan. Bright...far too bright.

"God...what did I drink?" 

There was a sound, a low soft laugh that seemed everywhere at once. She blinked again, still groaning. Her body shifted without her once more. 

Wait, no, she was on a bed...and the bed had shifted. She managed to keep her eyes open this time, though still blinking the stars from them, and looked around the relatively familiar room. 

There was a figure with her, sitting on the side of the bed beside her, looking down at her. There was only the soft glow from a low fire in the corner of the room, but it was enough to make her eyes sting, as if it were a bright light, blurring her vision.

"Good evening, sweet one."

The voice was low and male, and it made her curl her body towards his, instinctively wrapping herself around his side, wanting desperately to get closer to that sound. Her body still pulsed and throbbed in uncomfortable ways so she clung silently to him, using him as an anchor in the sea of unsettling sensations. She couldn't bring herself to speak, and he too seemed content to sit in silence, though he offered the comfort of a cool gentle hand against her forehead, stroking the hair from her face.

"You know," he spoke softly after a long moment. "I thought you looked like a goddess the first time I saw you asleep in your bed." There was another long pause. "Did you know that Thea means 'divine one' in the old tongue."

"No" she whispered... not really wanting to speak, but wanting him to keep talking enough to respond. She looked up at him when he remained silent and felt herself begin to tremble. Dark, sad eyes met hers. He smiled gently and continued to smooth his hand over her hair. It didn't make the pounding go away, but it was pleasant. She let out another self pitying whimper and curled tighter.

"How are you fairing little goddess?"

"Unwell" she murmured softly into his thigh as she shifted closer to his lap.

He sighed and she saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. "That is unsurprising."

She continued to watch him through heavily lidded eyes as he began loosening his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it at the foot of the bed and out of the way. She moaned in protest as two arms came down and wrapped around her waist, pulling her up until she found herself sitting in naked in his lap, curled up against his bare chest. His skin was smooth and cold against hers. It felt wonderful under her hands and against her fevered cheek.




Fire Ch. 11



"Jairus?" She asked, testing the name.

"Yes?"

She smiled and pressed tighter against him. She felt less dizzy here.

"Thea, drink."

She opened her eyes with a frown. "Drink what?" There was another long pause, and she felt a silent chuckle rumble through the chest she leaned against.

"The hair of the dog, I suppose." 

She felt something wet against her mouth, wet and hot. She moved her tongue and groaned again, only this time in pleasure. It was like having liquid fire wash over her tongue, only without the burn, just the warm, wonderful, soothing heat. She latched onto the source and drank with long heavy pulls.

He moaned softly as well, his grip tightening around her. As she drank she felt the strange sick feeling leave her. Her body tingled with energy instead, filling with light, and making her feel suddenly powerful and alive. She reveled in the feeling and tried to drink more deeply. 

"Easy." He whispered against her ear, pulling away the source of the exquisite heat. She moaned at the loss, blinking as her vision suddenly cleared. She instinctively searched for what she had lost and inhaled in surprise when she realized she had a death grip on his bloodied arm. 

Thea gasped and released him quickly, jerking her head up to meet his eyes. They were dark and unreadable, a blend of too many things, conflicting thoughts and emotions, though his expression seemed expectant. His fingers were at her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw with the lightest of touches.

She pulled away, as if it were burning her. Her confusion cleared as quickly as her vision had and she remembered with vivid clarity all that had passed in the glade. She had been dying, stabbed through the back with one of the Huroth's blades. He'd caught her and she'd begged him to be the one to finish it...and then it all went hazy from there. Just a blur of heady sensations, too visceral to be the cold creep of death, yet so unlike anything she'd ever experienced. 

Thea looked quickly around herself, taking in her surroundings. They were in a large, well appointed room, her room at the keep she realized, the one that Othwyn had placed her in when he'd captured her. The one in which he'd explained his proposal to her: his offer of marriage and protection in exchange for her support and whatever legitimate ties she had to the former ruling house. But it was not him here with her now...it was Jairus. Jairus who had come for her, who had held her as she died, whispering soothing things into her ear...and who now sat gazing at her with dark swirling eyes...with a blood smeared wrist.

He reached for her again, slowly, and she pulled farther away, scrambling backward onto the bed. A strange panic gripped her and as hard as she tried, she couldn't seem to tear her eyes from his arm. His eyes followed hers to his wrist then looked away towards the far wall. He rose then, and she watched him breathlessly as he moved, his usually powerful, fluid movements seeming somehow less easy, less graceful than she remembered. He was not quite that frustrated, human version of himself she sometimes encountered, but he was something very like it. 

Her panic eased a little as he continued to ignore her and cleaned the remainder of his blood with a cloth before tossing it on the edge of the heavy wash basin. He didn't turn around, only laid his hands flat on the table on either side of the basin so that he leaned over it with a bent head as if contemplating its contents. He stood there, still as stone, for a long time. His back was to her, but she didn't dare take her eyes off of him. After a time...she no longer tried...or wanted to.

The firelight, no longer irritating to her eyes, glowed warmly and snaked over his skin in undulating pulses, highlighting the ripple of muscle and tendon which ran along his shoulders and down his back. His skin seemed different, seemed to...be alive in some way. She tilted her head in curiosity, squinting and wondering if it was the firelight playing tricks on her eyes. But no...he seemed to...glow...like a warm ember. She brought her own hand up to compare and to her surprise found she could see the same thing in her own flesh. As if she could see the life pulsing beneath her skin...as if she could sense it...taste it...smell it....she blinked.

She felt her nostrils flare and bit back a whimper as her senses were inundated with information. The scent of the lye still lingering on the sheets which twined around her naked hips, the roughness of the fabric, the taste of fragrant ash and woodsmoke from the fire, it was all sharp and immediate...impossible to ignore. 

And then came the gentle cacophony from beyond. A swelling of soft voices like whispers from across the room, and the pulsing throb of...hearts...she could hear heartbeats. One in the hall in front of the door...another through a wall...

The sound awoke something else in her, a warm, not quite erotic stirring. A hunger that wasn't hunger. Her eyes flicked back to the smooth corded muscles of Jairus' back. He turned and pinned her with his eyes. She could see the deep brown of them now, even from across the room, even in the darkness. She could also see the smooth hard lines of his body, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark red curve of his lips as they parted to speak her name. 

"Thea." 

That softly spoken word...at once a plea and a warning...a fervent promise. Every part of her responded to it. Including those parts she was not aware she had.

Tentatively she brought her hand to her mouth. "Oh God...." she moaned softly, the panic rising up in her once again crushing back the seductive warmth that had begun to course through her flesh. She gasped and felt her chest tighten, making it suddenly hard to breathe.

He stepped toward her and she cringed automatically away. "What..what have you done to me?" she gasped out between pants. "I...I never...I asked..." She wasn't sure how to continue, or what to say. What could she say? What had he done? What was to happen now? What about...they hadn't spoken since...did he even know about...No, he... no....

She gripped her stomach as that sick feeling came over her again, though this time it had more to do with her thoughts than actual illness. Now with him there, with this...with what he'd done...like this...now all the things she'd been ignoring, everything she'd pushed into the dark corners of her mind came screaming back out at her. She couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe. 

Jairus had frozen when that look of horror, the very same that he had feared he'd see, shone from her eyes. When she spoke and those words, the same words he himself had once said, spilled from her mouth, his guts twisted into a tight icy knot. The ice spread rapidly through the rest of his body turning to claws which buried themselves deep into the heart of him. 

This was it, what he'd feared her reaction would be. He closed he eyes to take a deep and settling breath, sorting his thoughts as best he could and willing his emotions into submission before he spoke. The last thing he needed...the last thing she needed, was for him to over react and frighten her even more.

His relative calm vanished when he opened his eyes to find her hunched over on the bed, clutching her middle and clenching the sheets in a white fist, her breath coming in short violent gasps. Instead of approaching her slowly and gently as he intended, he rushed to her side and gathered her quivering naked body back up into his arm, gripping her tightly as she tried to pull away from him. Her new found strength was not enough to keep him from overpowering her, but it didn't help him keep her still as she fought his grip.

When he finally did manage to force her to meet his eyes he could see the wild, almost animal terror in hers. "Thea please, listen to me. It will be alright. I'm sorry, but I had to do what I did." the tightness in his throat caused his words to come out in a harsh whisper.

She shook her head, still looking dazed and terrified. "No...no it won't be...you...you don't understand..." She turned her face away and tried to twist from his grasp, but he only strengthened his hold, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing her against him as his other hand came up to grip her neck and jaw firmly, forcing her to look at him once more.

"What? What don't I understand?" His voice continued to sound rough and raw to his ears, but was even enough. Her fear only seemed to mount however, and she pressed her hands between them, pushing at his chest and shaking her head violently.

Her voice was equally raw, stripped bare by her emotions, as she denied him again. "No, please, you don't know...you can't..." 

"Know what?" he asked, almost impatiently. When she looked back into his eyes he suddenly felt he might know at least part of the answer to that question. It was a look not unlike what he had seen in Tim's eyes when he'd told him about May and Berin. 

He moved his hand from her neck to her cheek, gripping her more gently and tilting her face up to his. 

His mouth came down over hers a heartbeat later. The kiss was instinctive and unplanned, born of a sudden desire to both claim and comfort. She didn't fight him, and only whimpered softly against him mouth. When he released her lips he saw the tears beginning to collect in her eyes. 

"I know." He whispered against her mouth. "I know."

She said nothing and they knelt facing one another in tremulous silence. She seemed frozen to the spot and he feared to say or do anything, sensing that they stood on a very narrow precipice, and that the wrong step might throw them both over at any moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

His own hand flinched against her cheek, and that seemed enough to send her spiraling back into her previous fear. She pulled from him, and this time he let her, watching as she scrambled off the bed, pulling the sheet with her, clutching it to her breast as she stood. He followed, but paused when she bowed her head and held up a warding hand to keep him at bay. 

"I-"

"-No...please" her voice was soft, and shook with restraint, but it at least sounded less frightened, "stay back."

"I won't hurt you, you know I wouldn-"

"Please, just stop...stop. I just..."

"Thea..."

"Jairus..." her voice broke slightly and he moved closer, only to have her move that much farther away, "Please I just need you to stop." 

He remained where he was, watching her closely. Again she was still, frighteningly so. So very still, and not looking at him. 

"You...changed me." It was a statement. 

"Yes." He whispered softly. "You would have died." She didn't look at him but her head twitched sharply to the side as if she'd been slapped. 

"I...I think you should go."

He frowned at her. "Thea, I understand if you're an-"

"Stop...just...just-"

"This is not a time when you should be left alone." He interrupted, taking another step forward, his voice low and insistent. "You're not stable yet, you could-"

She cut him off with a shake of her head, looking up into his face and showing him her cheeks, already stained with watery streaks of red. "I won't go anywhere...I just want to be alone. Please." Her eyes pleaded with him as much as her voice did. 

He could only nod numbly in concession. The knots inside of him became like led as he bowed his own head and turned away. She needed time, he told himself. She would perhaps forgive him yet...she just needed time to understand that he did what he did out of necessity. Surely she would see that eventually. 

He stopped at the foot of the bed to retrieve his discarded shirt and paused to look back at her, but she had sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him, shutting him out.

He left, left the keep, and took to prowling the nearby villages, knowing he'd need to feed. It had been an exhausting few days, in so many ways, and it was an exhaustion that had yet to lash back at him with its full force...but he knew it would be soon. So he made sure to feed a great deal more than he normally would, knowing too that Thea would be even more weary and hungry than he. 

He remembered the first days of his own change. The constant pull of hunger, the foreignness of his own body and its strange new urges. It was frightening, and draining...

Jairus stayed away just long enough to work himself into a fit of worry before he was forced to head back toward the keep, unable to will himself away. Not much had changed there at least, he thought with a quiet, bitter laugh. He never could...that's what had started this mess. Then again, if he had, then he'd never have found her at all, and they still would have. 

There were no easy answers to what could or should have happened. But she was here now, and alive, and he had a chance to keep her that way. The past could not be changed. If it could he'd have gone back and wiped out Darius the moment the bastard had stepped through that door in the inn. But he couldn't, so all he could do was look ahead to the future. 

He wouldn't force her to stay with him, he couldn't, but he would do everything in his power to make that possible. If she needed time then he would give it to her, but right now there were other things she needed, whether she knew it or not, and he would see to it she had that as well. 

When he returned she was asleep again, propped up in a chair by the fire with the sheet still wrapped tightly around her body. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, or the little tremulous gasp that escaped her lips when he ran a hand along an exposed, dangling calf. She murmured something, but remained asleep. 

Nor did she wake as he lifted her and took her back to the bed before stripping and joining her, forming his body to hers and pulling her cocooned form against his chest. She wriggled in response and an arm slid out of the wrapping to drape across his own. He felt her stiffen slightly, but he remained as he was. 

"Jairus?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

He only shushed her and caressed her stomach through the sheet that separated her flesh from his searching fingers. 

"I-"

"We'll talk later." He whispered against her ear. "Sleep."

She tensed in his arms. "But, I-"

"Later. We'll talk later." 

He waited a tense moment then felt her ease back into him, her body relaxing.

"Always putting things off." She muttered almost inaudibly into her pillow. He smiled against her hair then pulled her tightly to him, pressing his mouth to the back of her shoulder, growling softly into it.

"Stubborn Huroth." He purred affectionately, his lips grazing her skin. "Go to sleep."

She yawned. "You...can't..tell me w...." The rest was lost in an low mumble as she shifted once more in his arms and did just that.

@@

Thanks for your patience everyone. If you're wondering this is not quite the end. There's at least another portion to come, which I'm actually a ways into, but I wanted to give you something, and to end this chapter at a place which didn't resemble an awful gut twisting cliff hanger...'cause I really do that too much to you and you deserve better. That said I will be getting the next portion to you, hopefully fairly soon, so that we can all revel in the exciting...or perhaps not so exciting, conclusion. You can be the judge. If you have any thoughts, suggestions, complaints, or observations, please drop me a line. I love to hear what you think. Warm fuzzies are always nice too.

Yours very sincerely,

enithermon 



Fire Ch. 12



Thea wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. She was afraid to leave the room, yet after having seen nothing but those same four walls for days...the thought of a little fresh air and night sky was a welcome one. Or even simply a different room.

The first few days after the attack she'd done little more than sleep, so there hadn't been much to get worked up about, and thankfully nothing much to say. Jairus had stayed with her those days, leaving during the nights, no doubt to feed, then returning to what had become their bed. He seemed just as inclined as she to simply sleep the days away. He had said they'd talk later, but she was becoming anxious to get it over with. At some point the torture of waiting had begun to outweigh her fear of the conversation's outcome. 

The turning had been unexpected and unnerving, but in the end it was not so un-thought of –or even disagreeable—as to account for the tight knot of panic still contorting her insides. She was able to suppress it well enough, but it hadn't left her entirely. 

No, what truly troubled her was how he would react to the truth about May and Berin, that it was her who had caused their deaths. He had hinted briefly that he knew what had happened, but it had been so ambiguous that she still feared she hadn't understood him correctly, or he her. He said only that 'he knew.' What could that mean? It could mean anything.

She paced, biting her lip and accidentally drawing blood for the umpteenth time. Her control over her fangs was still spotty at best, and became more erratic when she let herself get upset...which was often lately. 

She needed to go, to get out of this room, out of these lands. Hell, out of the empire for that matter. As far from here, from the memories...the pain, as she could. Or...she could stay, and he could go. Othwyn would let her. She'd have no where else to go now anyway, not once Jairus realized what she had done. He couldn't have known it was the Huroth, and that they'd come in search of her. She'd brought them there. Unwittingly, yes, but if she'd just listened to him...just gone when he'd told her to...

He would go. He would once he knew...whether she wanted it or not. She pictured his face, imagining his eyes when she explained it to him—accusatory...the pain and anger that lay almost hidden beneath that cold gaze. The fantasy tore at her cruelly. There was no way she'd survive the reality of it. No. He would have to go, forget her, and salvage what was left. She'd only make it worse. She be a constant reminder, and who knows what other mess she'd end up dragging him into. 

**

Jairus frowned at the crumbling stone from his windblown corner of the battlements. It was the same corner he'd picked the last time he'd paid the fortress a visit, and the same one he'd frequented in his youth. 'The non-eternal kind,' he thought sourly. That was the catch, or course. You were only young on the outside. It doesn't sound so bad until you've gotten old enough to stop caring about all the things youth was ever good for. He smirked. Then again, eternal old age would be a much more potent sort of hell. He could think of at least one use for this body which still brought pleasure.

His thoughts drifted toward Thea and his frown crept slowly back. She hadn't come out and accused him of anything, or expressed her anger. Indeed, she accepted his presence next to her as they rested, and allowed him to provide her with blood without repulsion or disgust as he had feared she might. Yet, she avoided him. She was quiet, withdrawn, and had gone back to barely meeting his eyes when they spoke. He was unsure of what he should do next. He assumed patience was what was necessary, but he had never had an impressive supply of the stuff. 

But, at least, she was recovering well and had taken to the change with surprising grace. Perhaps it was her previous exposure to him, but something seemed to speed the learning process and she was already adept in knowing when and how to feed, and when to stop. What's more she seemed to enjoy it, something which yet increased his hope that she could adjust fully, and when she was ready, open up to him once more. Until then he'd have to be patient. 

His frown deepened. It was that or lose her to Othwyn. He wouldn't normally be so concerned, but the man was persistent though not foolish enough to challenge whatever claim Jairus had, not outright. Othwyn tread carefully on the subject of Thea in the few encounters he'd had with the man, but Jairus sensed that he was biding his time until he could speak with her and asses the situation for himself. He'd been deferring to Jairus, allowing him to look after her, though he'd still insisted she be seen by a doctor, and did so enough that He'd been forced to let the man in to see she was resting and looking well. Which she was. Better than well. 

His body responded to the thought and he growled low in his throat. He was glad she let him stay with her without complaint, but he'd not touched her other than to hold or feed her—not even to taste her himself— and the restraint was beginning to wear his control a little thin. He wasn't in danger of doing something rash, not yet, but it was taking less and less to push him. 

Point in case, after his last one sided conversation with Othwyn, he was obliged to come up here to this little nook of wind pitted stone in order to cool and order his thoughts before he returned to her with his news.

Othwyn, it seemed, was also growing impatient. After Jairus had put him off once more, Othwyn requested, rather insistently, that Jairus relay a message for him if he couldn't yet see her himself. A message regarding reinstating Thea as a member of the ruling house, and giving her both title and dues: read gold, as befits 'her rightful position.' The sly bit was that it wasn't something Jairus would want to withhold from her. How could he complain about Thea being given what was hers...and even if it wasn't hers how could he not want her to have anything which would benefit her. Ultimately he did want her to accept. The money would give her power and freedom, and she could go and do with it what she pleased. Yet this was the very reason why he didn't want her to have it. The reason why he lingered here on the wind eaten turrets instead of returning to her. He steeled himself for whatever would come of this. With the freedom to leave, she just might do so, alone. Or perhaps worse, she'd take the offer as the invitation it was. An invitation to remain as one of the ruling body, to begin a new house, allied with Othwyn.

She was free to do either. So he glared impotently at the crumbling stone. At least until an interruption gave him something more satisfying to glare at.

"Enjoying the view?" He called. The boy stepped out from behind a turret a few feet down the walkway. "I thought you'd left for the city already?"

Sil moved closer, wary, and nodded. "I did leave. Came back. My uncle wants to know if you'll be coming back as well." Jairus observed him a moment, then shook his head.

"Back to playing errand boy are we?" He murmured dryly. "No, to answer you question. One way or another, I'll be gone." He smirked. "Congratulations, again. Not only are you alive, but you get my job as well."

"You won't re-consider?"

Jairus arched a surprised brow. "Is this your uncle asking?"

The boy shrugged. "No."

"Why Sil, I'm touched." Jairus smirked. The boy glared. But the anger faded into something unreadable.

"What are you?"

The smirk widened to expose a hint of fang. "Nothing you'd like to meet in a dark alley, I'm sure."

The boy let out a laughing snort despite his obvious effort to choke it back. "You could say that about any of us." 

"Hm. Especially you, certainly in regards to your bad habit of jumping people in them."

"Ah, yes. I don't do that anymore."

Jairus arched a brow in response and the boy smirked back, "Much."

Jairus cooled his expression and looked back out over the blackened landscape. Sil cleared his throat.

"She's what you are, isn't she." Jairus turned a slow glare back toward him to discourage his line of questioning, but he was undaunted, and stepped forward instead. "Did...did you make her that way? In the clearing? Can you make others that way...like you? You aren't human." Jairus said nothing in return, only stared back, watching with an odd mixture of amusement and annoyance as the boy pushed on, steeling himself against the silent glare.

"Make me as you are." 

He raised a curious brow. "Do you have even the slightest clue what you're asking?" The boy's face lit up as the half-sardonic query confirmed for him his answer to all of his previously unanswered questions. 

"No. Not really. Will you anyway?"

Jairus had to laugh at that. "Well," he chuckled, "at least you're honest." He turned away once more, giving the boy a sidelong glance. "I am a vampire." He admitted. "It isn't usually all that pleasant. I live a very long time, which can become a tiresome and pointless exercise if you haven't anything particularly important to be living for. Believe me."

"I do. I still want you to. I want to be able to do what you do."

"We all want something. Whether or not we get it is another matter." In the corner of his eye he saw the young man slump slightly then turn to look out into the darkness as well. 

"Well, it was worth a shot." He murmured.

Jairus tilted his head in acknowledgment and turned away. He paused briefly at the top of a set of stairs that lead back into the courtyard. It was deserted save for one or two guards who stood watch at the gate. He remembered how busy it had always been during the day, loud and harried and vibrant...but at night...

"Give it some thought. If you're still alive in a decade or so, ask me again." He called over his shoulder.

"How will I find you?"

"If you want it enough, you will find a way."

***

"Thea?"

She started and turned from the window. Jairus closed the door behind him and folded his hands behind his back. He seemed to be eying her cautiously, but then she was probably doing the same to him. She sighed and turned back to the window, flattening her hands against the sill and leaning on them for support. "I've been thinking." She whispered.

Silence. 

She swallowed hard and pushed forward. "It...I think it's best if I stay."

"I see. Alone?"

She clenched her jaw tightly. "Yes." She tilted her chin up. "I think it's for the best." He stepped toward her, and she removed herself from the window, putting herself back out of reach. A glance at his face let her see how his eyes darkened. "I will be fine on my own." She rasped, gripping her skirts tightly, hiding her shaking hands in the folds.

"You aren't ready. If you insist on staying here you will be a danger to those around you." His voice was calm, yet there was a timbre to it as deep and threatening as the look in his eyes. 

"Whose fault is that?" She muttered darkly, her hackles raised against his glare. He ignored her but matched her tight sarcasm note for note.

"I will wait until you are ready, and then I will go and leave you be. I don't suppose you're so stubborn that you won't at least allow for that?" 

Thea swallowed a knot forming in her throat. "And who decides when I am ready?" She had meant to sound cold, but her voice shook despite her efforts, and she was forced to swallow again.

Jairus narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't be childish. I am only speaking the truth." 

Her anger flared, but her tongue remained tied. She searched for words...but he was right.

When she could think of nothing to say to that, she did what she always did and blurted the first thing that came into her head. 

"You lied...you told me he wanted me dead."

He gave her a long look, his eyes searching her face, forcing her to turn her eyes away as she was once wont to do when she felt him searching her eyes for her thoughts. As before, she didn't need him to see her clinging desperately to the last vestiges of her shredded self. She clenched her jaw and burned a hole into a rug on the far side of the room with her gaze instead. 

For a moment, in the past, she had thought— hoped...foolishly, that a new home would fill the gaps in her heart, mending the rends...and then all of this happened, and it was gone. It had happened again. Now there were more holes than than before...more hole than whole. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling herself deflate slightly. What a time for puns. 

He chose that moment to speak again. "I told you he was looking for you."

She dared a glance at his face. "You let me believe it, that he wanted me dead, you can't deny that...why didn't you tell me what was really going on? About Othwyn?"

He sighed and arched a brow at her. There was another long look, but she didn't look away this time. To her surprise a twitch of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

"The truth?" 

She twitched back, she couldn't help it, and nodded.

"I didn't want to share."

She just stared at him. Share? Didn't want to...? she shook her head.

He gave her a grim smile. "I was concerned that if you knew, you'd choose..." he gestured to the room, "this."

She shook her head again, still trying to jostle free her thoughts. "Why would you think that?"

He shrugged and turned away, clasping his hands behind his back as he moved towards the window.

"You've been alone, the thought of family might have been appealing...a people to call your own." He gazed down out of the window. "Do you remember what I told you when you first asked me what I was?"

She frowned at the shift in topic. 

"A vampire?"

"No...before that." She shook her head. He nodded, though she thought more to himself than to her. "I told you I was your alternative. I kept you with me...because you had no other choice. Here was another alternative." He arched his brow, but his face was a mask once more. "He seems like a decent enough sort: reasonable, educated....competent, and is more or less offering you a throne...who wouldn't say yes. Speaking of which, he has renewed the offer. He asked me to tell you so...you need not even marry. He is prepared to reinstate your title and fund your way, whatever course you choose.. It would be foolish not to accept the offer."

Anger flared in her. Why that...how dare he! Did he think her so shallow....did all those things she'd said mean nothing...did her words mean nothing? The same words he'd forced her to say over and over again, as she begged him, pleaded with him to love her back in every way she could think of without just coming out and saying it. How could he think...? and what right did he have to keep that from her...?

"Indeed. Why wouldn't I?" The words came out as half rasp, half snarl. 

His jaw tightened visibly, his body rigid with tension. "You're angry."

"Damn right I am. You should have told me...you had no right to keep it from me. God damn it Jairus if I had known..."

His eyes narrowed. "What? What would you have done if you had known?"

She stalled, using her frustration to stare him down, but finding herself unable to manage a coherent thought. She let out a frustrated sound. "I don't know. I could have....I could have talk to them, settled this, changed it before..." she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought, to think the thing, let alone say it out loud. It was too horrible a thing. She trembled with sorrow and anger.

There was a long silence. Neither broke their gaze. His was dark...so dark.

"So...do you seek to blame me then?" she blinked, then gasped, realizing abruptly what it was he meant. 

"No...no of course not." she stuttered out, her anger turning to fear.

"It certainly sounded that way."

"No." she let out a loud breath and turned away to hide the fresh tears that were blurring her eyes. Would she never stop weeping? "I'm sorry," she whispered towad the floor. "It's not your fault..." she felt the first trickle of tears run down her cheeks, "It's mine...I know that." She slouched down on the bed, suddenly too weak to keep standing. "If I had listened..." she breathed a shaky sigh, "I keep thinking of everything I've done wrong, everything I've ruined since you found me..." she wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked down at the blood that streaked her hand. She was crying blood. 

The sight made her let out a broken sob.

"Thea...it's not your fault either." He murmured softly from where he stood by the window, turning to face her. She turned her face up to his. 

"You warned me. Someone would die, you said. Those were your very words." Her voice was low but fervent. His face softened and he moved towards her. She stood, suddenly alarmed and held out a bloodstained hand to ward him off.

"No...I....I don't want your...I've no right to it...I don't need to be comforted." Her jaw trembled pathetically but she still took a step away. In truth she could hardly bear the thought of his comforting her, not after all the misery she had brought into his life. It would have been better if he'd never found her that night, if she'd been left to rot on that god forsaken pole. Then she could never have visited this hell upon him, then May and Berin would still be alive.

He stopped short, his face tightening again...not the mask though....it was something else...something she wasn't sure she recognized. When he finally spoke his voice was slow and as rough as gravel.

"Did...." He paused and let out a breath, "did you ever consider that perhaps I do?"

She had not. 

She didn't know when she had done it, but she'd somehow crossed the room. Her hands were in his hair pulling him to her, and her stained cheek was pressed against his as she murmured incoherently, begging his forgiveness, her voice a litany of 'I'm so sorry,' 'please forgive me,' groaned and whispered in low and fervent tones against the shell of his ear. 

His arms slipped slowly around her waist and held her tight against him and her own came down to wrap about his shoulders, the fingers of one hand still twined in his hair as he bowed his head into the crook of her neck. 

She felt him let out a single shudder as she silently wept for both of them.

Jairus remained still as death, holding her carefully, afraid that a wrong move would send her away again. She cried silently, her fervent words dying quickly into soft panting breathes. He had not meant for his own words to slip out as they had, but it had been said, and they were not untrue. Her reaction was as startling as the words he'd spoken, so he could do little more than stand and wait, grateful to feel her in his arms, to feel her fingers caressing the back of his neck, and fearful that at any moment it would be taken from him again.

**

There was no answer after Othwyns first knock. Or the one after that. So he took the irritated "What is it?" after the third as an invitation to enter. He was greeted with an unnerving glare and the equally unnerving, though not entirely unexpected sight of Thea and the assassin, Jairus he'd learned his name was, standing with their arms around one another. Thea gasped and turned away hiding her face against the man's shoulder, but not before Othwyn saw what she was hiding. Blood. He'd seen a streak of blood across her cheek, he was sure of it.

He strode toward them unthinkingly, his own sudden spike of anger catching him off guard.

"What the hell did you do?" He growled at Jairus, still ignoring the pointed glare the man was aiming at him. He didn't quite make it close enough to fetch her away from the menacing figure when the glare increased the the point where is was significantly less easy to ignore. It was...almost physical. Othwyn was forced to come to a near stop, just to catch his suddenly short breath, before he could step forth once more.




Fire Ch. 12



The girl held up a hand, muttering that she was fine just as he came within arms reach. He paused again at her words, long enough to see the arm around her waist tighten in a way that was clearly possessive, even as the other hand raised to cradle the back of her head gently against the man's shoulder. Othwyn was torn, but his sense of self-preservation, caused by that damned inhuman glare, coupled with her words kept him from coming any closer. Still...he didn't like it, and he shifted his weight instinctively, dropping it to his back leg and his right hand twitched before he could stop it. They were obviously lovers as there was nothing even remotely fraternal about the way the assassin was holding her against him, but there are men who are cruel to their women, something Othwyn had never stomached with patience. This was especially true with a woman who, even though he'd known her so briefly, he'd come to admire and feel a sort of affectionate regard for—not shocking considering he had thought to wed the woman.

The next question was directed towards her, and the burning glare he was still receiving from her protective companion ignored to the extent that it didn't keep the words from issuing forth. He watched her carefully to catch sight of her face. 

"Did he hurt you?" As if he could do anything about it if he had, Othwyn thought bitterly. He had not forgotten the Assassins performance in the courtyard when he had first arrived. But logic be damned, if he must at least try, than he must. Code of honor, and all that bull.

She responded with a low, and to his ears, humourless sounding laugh, a sound well suited to his own mood, and shook her head, still hiding her visage from his eyes. 

"Hardly." She then pulled away, turning her back to both of them. They watched in silence as she crossed the room and moved to a side table to lean over a water basin and wash her face. 

Othwyns eyes glanced back to Jairus and noticed telling blotches of pinkish-red staining his shirt where her head had rested. When he turned his narrowed eyes upward he found the assassin giving him another version of that chilling stare once more as he reached up and very deliberately tugged his cloak down over his shoulder, covering the stains, and daring Othwyn to do or say anything about it.

The fact was he was tempted, but the girl had turned to face them again, and there was no sign of violence there, just exhaustion and sorrow. He searched her face carefully, looking for the source of the blood he knew he'd seen...but there was nothing, not a scratch or even a hint of a bruise. 

The assassin was still watching silently as Othwyn glanced back toward him with an acknowledging grunt. Fine...it said, you win. That seemed enough and the glare became slightly less intense. They shifted their attentions back to Thea at the same time, and she looked uncomfortably between the two of them.

He cleared his throat. "I came to let you know the siege is officially ended so we're no longer on high alert...my men have routed and rounded up the remains of Darius's men and everyone is free to come and go as they please once more." He grunted again and looked askance at the assassin. "Though after your little show, few of the survivors lingered for very long, and I doubt they'll return if they escaped." His tone was sardonic, and it was answered with a similarly sardonic smirk and head tilt of acknowledgment from the assassin. 

Othwyn licked his suddenly dry lips. He had come to speak with her on another matter as well, not entirely expecting to find Jairus there. But it was probably a moot point now. He had wanted to reiterate his proposal, and to offer her the opportunity to join him once more. He'd be glad to have her, most assuredly so, and he'd been hopeful that she might still be interested since she'd not made a flat refusal the first time he'd mentioned it to her. Though now he was seriously reconsidering it.

To hell with it, what was the worst thing that could happen? He'd have his lungs ripped out. The best? She'd say yes, the assassin would miraculously disappear, and he'd have himself an attractive and interesting wife. Odds were in favor of lung removal...but, hell, with the siege over and won so quickly. he was feeling lucky. Maybe he'd get off with a light pummeling.

He smiled mildly at the two of them and moved to a nearby chair in front of the fire, plunking himself down in it and crossing an ankle casually over his knee. Thea moved in his direction, her expression one of curiosity and mild surprise as she crossed her arms in front of her and leaned against the mantle. He couldn't see him, but he was pretty sure the assassin was still standing exactly where he'd left him. Probably glowering up a storm too. Well, let him. Besides, it was better that way, he wouldn't have to see the son of a bitch coming when the prick finally did him in. 

Othwyn smiled warmly up at Thea. "I also wanted to let you know you're welcome to stay as long as you like, regardless..." he leaned forward and looked back around the chair at Jarius, "both of you, of course."

"How kind." 

He couldn't help but continue to smile at the dryness in both the man's voice and expression, though it was significantly less warm. His smile faded and he sighed, turning back to Thea. 

"Also, I wanted you to know my offer still stands."

"Offer?" She frowned at him in confusion. He chuckled.

"My dear you're very hard on a man's ego. My offer of marriage of course." She blinked, then looked embarrassed, her eyes subtly shifting towards Jarius.

"Oh...ah, yes...of course..." she blinked again looking fearful, "I mean not...that is..." He stopped her by raising a hand, laughing. She was actually quite charming when flustered.

"You need not answer now...or at all for that matter. I won't be offended. I'd like us to be friends either way...I just wanted you to know of your options...your alternatives...if you were considering them." She flushed and looked away from them both and toward the fire place.

"I see." She whispered softly.

There was a long moment of very uncomfortable silence which he felt obliged to break and did so with an air clearing cough and another warm, though slightly forced, smile. 

"Really, though, I am sincere when I say that though I'd be most pleased if you'd stay, I will not be overly hurt or upset if you do not. After all it is often said by my people: Thaet mon eathe tosliteth thaette naefre gesomnad waes." He grinned toothily at her. The assassin finally joined them, looking speculatively down at Othwyn. Thea only frowned in confusion.

"What does it mean?" she asked, tilting her head. Othwyn was about to repeat it for her when the assassin interrupted. 

"It is an easy thing to divide that which was never united." 

"Indeed. A phrase popular with both lovers and warriors...as the tactics in both endeavors can look shockingly similar." He slapped his palms lightly on the arm rests, feeling a little bit cheerier now that he was more or less sure his lungs were going to see it through the evening unscathed, and stood. "I brought you back your necklace and dagger as well. I probably should have given it to you before the fight started but I was distracted by the hulabaloo, and it honestly hadn't occurred to me that you might find it useful. Though all things considered, it really should have." He pulled the blade and sheathe out from under his cloak where it had been tucked under his belt, and handed it to her. 

She looked at it like it was a live snake and made no move to reach for it. She did, however, reach for the necklace which appeared in his other hand. Her expression shifted from poorly hidden fear at the sight of the blade, to something sweeter, though perhaps rather sorrowful as well. Another strange tension filled the room and he glanced at the assassin for some sign as to what he'd seemingly stepped into, but the man only had eyes for Thea, and was watching her intently. She wasn't much help either. She just stood staring down at the thing in her hands with this strange look of yearning dancing in her eyes. He knew that she wasn't very good at hiding her thoughts, but he was used to seeing nothing but anger and hard defiance, so this was most curious. 

He cleared his throat after he felt sufficient time had been passed in uncomfortable silence.

"Won't you be wanting the blade back?" he asked, nodding to the blade she'd passed over, "It's yours by right, being passed down from one heir to another." He turned it in his palm to examine it, running a hand over the sheath. "Though it was long thought to be lost. It's a wonder how your father came by it...or whoever before him had." He looked back up at her and found her attention back on him. Her expressive face now registered confusion and she tilted her head endearingly, like a bemused pup. He smiled and chuckled.

"I did recognize it, yes." He replied, answering the unspoken question. But she blinked and shook her head.

"N-no, ah, no...it's not mine." It was his turn to look confused.

"Not yours? This was the knife you wore was it not?" He asked, knowing full well it was. He'd hardly have confused such a unique dagger with some other more banal piece. Who could?

She nodded, though her forehead crinkled in thought, and a few more dark and indecipherable emotions skittered across her features before they settled back into something like calm indifference. She also cleared her throat and nodded toward the assasin without looking at him.

"It's Jairus's. He...lent it to me."

Now that was a interesting turn of events. "You don't say?" he murmured softly. His eyes were already meeting the assassins and he turned and slowly offered the blade up to him, an arched expression of 'care to explain' on his face. Of course he didn't expect much of an answer, but what could it hurt to ask...or at least hint...

"This is the ceremonial blade from Thea's house. They'd ruled these northern steps for literally dozens of generations. Before it was lost it was one of the symbols of ruler-ship, past to the heir the day he experiences his first kill and becomes a man."  

"I know." 

Well, it was more answer than he expected. Jairus didn't take the blade from him, and surprisingly, kept talking. "It's hers if she wants it. No one could rightfully...or reasonably, object." 

Othwyn felt the fool holding the thing out, so he lowered his hand as they both turned to her for a response. She looked back at them, from one to the other, her eyes settling finally, and he sensed, meaningfully on Jairus. There was another long, awkward pause. It was for him at least. These two oddities seemed content to stand and stare at one another as if they had all day and night, to do so. 

Finally, after an excruciating silence she shook her head. Her voice was low and soft, almost breathy.

"No. I don't." 

There was another pause and Othwyn was stealing himself for another painful bought of meaningful silence when Thea screwed up her face in distaste. 

She looked back at him with a comical half sneer of disbelief. "Experiences his fist kill? THAT's how you people define manhood? That's utterly repugnant." She looked like she was going to say something else but only let out a disgusted sound and shook her head. 

He couldn't help it. He laughed. She looked like she'd just sucked on something sour and rotten. He couldn't help but notice the assassin had also allowed himself a lip twitch as well.

"It is." She insisted. Othwyn nodded and reigned in his chuckle.

"Yes. It is rather, isn't it." He agreed. 

The bubble of tension hadn't burst completely, but it had certainly lessened. She eyed him thoughtfully and a gentle smile appeared finally on her face. It was odd to see...it was perhaps the first time he'd seen her smile. The effect was unnerving. Not in the way it was with Jairus. When that man smiled it gave you the chills...it had this knowing, predatory quality, even when you couldn't see the teeth. With her it had the opposite effect and softened her whole face, and made her eyes glow warmly. She was no longer the striking, intelligent, and potentially dangerous woman he'd come to know in their brief acquaintance, but a sweet, pretty girl. She opened her mouth to speak, then quailed, her eyes darting shyly back to Jairus. Yes...shyly, another thing he had not ever expected to see from her. Jairus returned her look with something that might have been a smile...but it was too faint to tell, and tipped his head in a bowing fashion. She nodded and took a deep breath. 

"You keep it. It's fitting for you to have it if it signifies ruler-ship."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You're sure? It's worth a lot..."

She smiled at him again and nodded. "I'm positive." Othwyn cast a quick glance toward the assassin, but he was no help and just stood there staring back at him with that impassive expression that may or may not be hiding what may or may not be a smile. Damn but that man was exhausting. Othwyn shrugged it off and smiled back at her.

"Then I'd be honored." There was a brief and warmer pause before the not so comfortable pause began to reassert itself. He realized he had nothing let to say...and it was unlikely that anyone in the room had actually forgotten the fact that he'd interrupted them in the middle of what ever they were in the middle of. It was a sobering thought and the slight chill returned to the room. He nodded, as much to himself as anyone else and stepped forward, and placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek. When he pulled away and saw her look of surprise and slight blush, he grinned. "If you need anything, any time, just let me know."

He patted her arm and turned away only to find himself face to face with the assassin, and only barley resisted the urge to gasp. He did stiffen and cock a brow at the man, who returned the gesture, his lip twitching slightly again. Then, to Othwyns unending surprise, he offered his hand. He was so surprised by the motion, that he simply stared at the proffered hand at first. He did finally school himself, but it wasn't until he felt those icy fingers around his own that he was shaken out of his stunned haze. They shook once, nodded curtly, and Othwyn made to leave...but paused at the door as a question suddenly popped into his head. 

He turned to Jairus and tipped his head. "You know...would you mind if I ask how you came across that blade?" The assassin gave him one of those eerie, knowing smiles and Othwyn repressed a shudder.

"Not at all. It was a family heirloom...passed down for generations." Othwyn frowned at that and turned to Thea, who had raised a hand to her mouth, not in shock, but to cover her own smile. 

"Th...but that..." he paused frowning when another thought occurred to him. Jairus...his name was Jairus...no...it couldn't be...

He looked at the man speculatively. Hell. "That knife disappeared when one of the early heirs vanished with it...he was said to be a trai-" He paused when the man's smile turned into a smirk, and Othwyn caught himself. He might be touchy about having his line besmirched after all. "You're from that line aren't you?"

He merely nodded. 

"Well I'll be damned." He paused again wondering at another question...then decided to risk asking, the suspense would kill him if the assassin didn't. "How the hell did you two come to know each other then?"

Thea answered this time. "He happened upon me in the woods near my village one evening, unexpectedly. I...was in a bit of a bind," she chuckled softly at some private joke, one that earned another twitch-smile from Jairus, "and he helped me out of it."

He left shaking his head. It was a strange bloody world.

**

Thea watched the door after Othwyn left, feeling the tension fill the room once more, creeping over her skin and seeping into every muscle and bone until she was feeling as tight and brittle as a hide left too long in the sun. She felt Jairus watching her, but couldn't bring herself to look back. The spell had been broken when Othwyn entered, and she wasn't sure what to do now that she'd made a gesture so at odds with her earlier decision to stay. Her instincts were suddenly at war with that nagging little voice in the back of her head. They both wanted her to run, but in utterly different directions. Eventually one voice out screamed the other in her mind and she found herself moving toward the door, force of will alone ripping her from where she'd stood rooted with indecision and her step faltering as she tore herself apart with the action. She opened the door and waited, trying to ignore the fact that the necklace was still clenched tightly in her hand, to ignore the screaming desire to close and lock that door instead. To lose herself. 

But she couldn't. Why should it be so easy...and why should she have what she wanted, the little voice whispered, and let's not forget how dangerous that desired thing is, how easily it can destroy you...how weak it makes you...

It was him, after all, who'd said it would be foolish not to accept Othwyn's offer. 

For a moment she thought she might be sick. She was shaken from her daze as the door was wrenched from her hand and slammed hard. Locked. Thea looked up into those dark eyes, drowning in their heat even as she fought the urge to let herself come undone and melt into them willingly, eagerly.

"What are you doing 'Thea?" he growled, jolting her back into the close walls of her own cool skin.

"What...what do you mean?"

"You don't want this."

She frowned and back away, her uncertainty building rapidly into something else. "How do you know what I wa—"

He shook his head. "No."

"No?"

"No."

He strode toward her and she pulled away, but not quickly enough. His hands caught her arms and hauled her against him, his fingers digging roughly into her flesh.

"I've changed my mind. There will be no waiting, no time for adjustment. I won't wait."

She inhaled sharply, her uncertainty wavering, but still strong enough to keep her from struggling. What was he saying?

"I'm leaving, and you're coming with me." He said it with an air of finality that finally forced her out of her dazed shock.

"W-what? No! You can't...what do you..." She wrenched her arm and fought to get out of his grip, but he held her too tightly. Her cry of objection was cut short as his mouth came down over hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She responded instinctively and kissed him back before she knew what she was doing. Her own whimpering alerted her to what she was happening, and she tore her mouth away, irritated at his use of the old trick, and furious that it had worked. She managed to pull away enough to let him see her fury, only to have him capture her jaw in his fingers and force her mouth back to his.

She didn't forget herself this time and used his distraction to lash out at him. She ripped one arm free as she pushed away and backhanded him with enough force and speed that he was unable to catch her arm in time. He was momentarily stunned, releasing her and allowing her to stumble back and gain her footing. 

His eyes were on fire, and his fangs fully bared in a dangerous snarl as he watch her skirt away.

She felt her own teeth lengthen as a surge of something indescribable ran up the length of her spine and through her limbs. To her surprise, it wasn't fear. She snarled back, and allowed whatever it was to wash over her. It felt...good, and she felt powerful, energized....and needful...though of what, she couldn't say. The little voice was silenced and instead of fleeing, her instinct told her to move forward...to lunge for him. She did and he was more than ready for her.

It happened so quickly she didn't know what had happened until she landed on the bed, hitting it on her side. But she was quick to get her bearings and rolled up onto her hands and knees, not caring what she looked like, only feeling a sudden and overwhelming urge to have his throat under her mouth...to feel her fangs sliding into his flesh. The thought caused a low moan to escape her throat as she sunk deeper into the red heat coursing through her veins and filling her mind. 




Fire Ch. 12



She didn't have to lunge again as he was already bearing down on her, pressing her back against the bed and capturing her wrists to keep her from striking at him. 

She struggled until she realized the futility of it and went limp instead, a trick she'd used once before with some success. He was not so easy to fool, and never completely released her hands, but the moment he relaxed his grip to adjust it, she lunged in again. She had no interest in escaping his grip as he expected, and this time pressed her body up against him, crushing her mouth to his throat and groaning in deep satisfaction as her teeth found their mark. She tasted his blood as it washed over her tongue, the flavor and power of it inundating her senses and the heady euphoria of the sensation weakened her attack until her struggle became an insistent writhe.

She felt his growl, and elated at the animal fury she heard in it...but she also heard something else mixed in with the sound, something like a moan. The hand that came up to grip the back of her head, tightening in her hair, didn't pull her away quite as quickly as she expected it to, but lingered and held her where she was.

After an eternal, delicious moment he did eventually end it. Her head was wrenched back with a force that left her breathless, not giving her time to pull her fangs from him properly, leaving his throat wounded and bloodied. The sight only made her fight harder to resist his control. She managed to get close enough to run her tongue over the base of his throat and catch a single rivulet of blood before he reigned her in, this time with a vicious strength she had no way of resisting as he pinned her to the bed by the throat, his other hand still crushing her wrists in its iron grip.

She gasped in pain, and also in surprise. Not surprise at the maneuver, but at the hot shard of ...something, that the pain sent hurtling through the core of her where it coalesced into a tight, hot eddy of need and desire. 

There was dangerous fire in his eyes, and fury. Fury like she'd seen when she'd been caught in the storm. Her body responded to the sight, becoming a dark pool, reflecting the flames and throbbing in time with the pulsing embers. She remembered the way he'd gripped her in his fury, hurting her...and suddenly, inexplicably...she wanted that back, wanted more. 

With a growl of her own she wrapped her legs around him, twisting herself and turning them over. Another familiar trick. Like the man in the alley, she remembered...the one she'd killed. The thought made her falter and she struggled to force that thought back into the retreating depths of her mind. 

She was astride him now, but his hand was wrapped in her hair again, tightened as she went for his throat again in an attempt to sink back into that all consuming flame. This time, however. he twisted her head away with his fist and buried his own fangs in her neck in retribution. 

His bite was rougher than normal and accented with a pain he normally kept her from feeling. He made no attempt to be gentle and dug deeply. It sent another white hot shard through her body and it burnt away everything else in its path. She twisted in his arms, opening the wound and keeping it from healing as it would likely do the moment he pulled away. Instead of fighting him she gleefully pressed her throat against his mouth, encouraging him to pull deeper, desperate to feel more of the blinding fire and have it obliterate her.

He tore away from her before it could and she whimpered in frustration. What's more, his hand released her hair and he pushed her away from him on the bed as he slid off of it, staggering stiffly away from it with labored breath and clenching hands.

Jairus gazed down at her sprawled form, his chest continuing to heave with the exertion of his restraint. There was something fierce and dangerous kept buried deep within, something which had surfaced and taken over when he'd first come after her, and which had seethed anxiously and expectantly since the night he turned her, waiting...wanting. That hungry thing was rearing again now, lashing away at his control, and made more insistent by the sight of this equally fierce creature glaring up at him from the bed. Her face was dark, her fangs bared over swollen, parted lips, and there was a familiar glint of fire in her eyes, a fire the hunger knew intimately. He didn't just know it...he felt it. Not just his own hunger...he...he felt hers. It radiated off of her in waves only to snake around him like a black mist.

He inhaled sharply at the realization, frozen in rapt fascination as his mind instinctively reached for hers, only to be caught in wave after wave of whirling, confused emotion. 

She never moved, just knelt there panting, but she felt furious. Furious, but hesitant...watchful and wanting. But wanting what? He swallowed hard, pulling himself out of the confused eddy and focused on her, on her eyes. Jairus experienced another surge of red hunger and desire rage through him, sure that this time it wasn't just his own. He dug deeper, letting himself be dragged into the whirlpool. Beneath the hunger was anger, yes...but beneath that, pulsing needfully at the center of it...was pain, terrible twisting, searing pain. 

It was a pain that needed, wanted.... 

It called to him and begged him...but for what? She glared at him, her desire blackened eyes taunting and daring him. He relaxed his stance and took an experimental step forward, watching her reaction. She rose up on her knees and tilted her head defiantly, her elongated fangs grazing her bottom lip as her mouth parted, inhaling softly like a cat scenting prey. He swallowed his own responsive growl but couldn't stop the pulsing ache of undiluted lust she elicited in him. He resisted the urge to give into it, to sink himself into that wet heat, but the strain of his control sent a tremor up his spine forcing him to clench his fists that much tighter to keep his hands from shaking. 

Her hips shifted and her eyes followed him as he approached, circling slowly. She remained watchful, but made no attempt to lunge at him until he was nearly on top of her. And even then, it was only after he'd stood hovering over her while she'd waited impatiently for him to make his move. 

He caught her by the throat and pinned her easily to the bed just as he had before, only this time watching her intently for her response. She writhed and gripped his wrist, but made no real attempt to escape him, not even when his grip began to tighten. He watched with hungry, and faintly curious eyes as she pressed herself that much harder into his grip. Had she been human still, the move might have killed her, or come very close. Now it merely made her arch off the bed, her eyes glazing with a potent mixture of fury and lust, a mixture that reached into the core of him and demanded an immediate answer. There was an answer, unequivocally...but there was also recognition.

How many times in his youth had he thrown himself into battle, let himself drown in lust or pain, in order to push a deeper, more potent anguish from his mind, from his very being— to wipe it clean.

Some part of him understood what was happening, and recognized what she was begging him to do as she signaled him with her writhing body. He understood what the searing pain was demanding now. It desired a different sort of pain, so that it might be soothed and, for a moment, forgotten.

However, as he continued to kneel over her and watch her twist in his grip, his realization was slowly subsumed beneath the furious, voracious thing which had already recognized a hunger and darkness to match its own and now was only waiting to be released, with or without his permission. 

She made that decision for him. "Is this the best you can do?" She hissed, her nails digging into his arm as she attempted to release herself from his grip. It was permission enough, and he took it with a speed and relish which might have been disturbing if it hadn't already gripped him so completely.

Before he could change his mind, he seized the front of her dress with his free hand, ripping the delicate bodice open and exposing the thin fabric of her shift beneath. He smirked at the fine, lace-lined bit of nothing which had come to replace the coarse, homespun cotton and wool she normally wore.

She practically hissed at him, her eyes bright with fury. Yet, he couldn't help but notice that her hands had released his wrist and now gripped the quilt beneath her instead. He tugged again, lengthening the rent down past her waist, admiring the ruined dress with satisfaction. It was a fine enough frock, but one that Othwyn had given her. It pleased him to remove it from her. He did the same to the shift, making much shorter work of it and baring her silken skin to his eager gaze. He drank her in with his eyes, lingering on her half covered hips before tracing the long, smooth expanse of her stomach and waist, letting his hand follow. It had been too long. 

She gasped as his hand climbed to tease the underside of one full, heaving breast. Her skin prickled beneath his touch, the dusky tips tightening in immediate reply. She twisted as if to get away, but the movement only served to press her soft body that much more firmly into his teasing hands. A graveling sound of appreciation rumbled in his chest and his groin tightened as that supple flesh yield to his own implacable grip.

It had been far, far too long.

She glared and growled in her throat, but her hands remained knotted in the bed clothes and her diamond hard nipple pressed into his palm as she arched into his groping hand, spurring him onward.

He slid a knee between hers, pinning her more firmly with her own skirts and leaned in over her to sound his own low growl against her throat. She twisted beneath him and he could feel her struggle with herself, her waring desires emanating off of her in conflicting pulses. He watched with some sympathy and a cruel sort of satisfaction as she was torn between her urge to fight, and her fear that if she fought him too hard he might leave her unsatisfied and suffering alone in her desire. 

His hand left her throat and gripped the back of her neck, tilting it back roughly as he brushed his mouth against her ear, his lips curving into a dark smirk. 

"If you want me to stop, you'll have to say the words." He graveled, swallowing a moan as she squirmed again, grazing his hips with hers and grinding against his thigh, letting him feel the heat of her sex. He did...most keenly. He grit his teeth as she rubbed her own thigh firmly against his still imprisoned cock. 

The look she gave him was heated, and with far more lust than anger, but she released the quilt and shoved hard against him, accepting his invitation.

He allowed her to push him off, and chuckled darkly at her cry of surprise and pain as he caught her and flipped her off the bed, laying her out on her back and knocking the wind from her as she hit the floor with far too much force. She was too stunned, and he too fast, for her to do anything but lift one feeble resisting hand in her defense as he followed her to the floor and covered her body with his own.

"I wasn't finished." He smirked and tore both her dress and shift to her thighs as she continued to struggle pointlessly beneath him. It seemed more to escape the ruined, restraining dress however, and kick it from her legs than to free herself of the hands which wrapped around her arms, or the hard mouth angling feverishly over her own.

Thea gave into the kiss, basking in its intoxicating urgency and delighting in the pure naked desire pouring through it to engulf her. She resisted before it could entirely and raise a quick knee, hoping to catch him off guard now that his hands and mouth were more pleasantly occupied. He let out a smug laugh against her lips which both infuriated and aroused her as he shifted to deftly avoid her attack. She knew he would, having done it so very many times in the past when they'd sparred. She was prepared for it and used his momentum against him in order to buck him off and she almost laughed as he was forced to release her in order to keep her from landing a second blow. 

Once again she let her desire lead her and instead of taking the opportunity to escape she rolled onto her knees and used her full weight to push him to the floor, her thighs trapping his and hands pinning his shoulders.

For a moment she felt a surge of elated triumph as she smirked down at him...but the feeling was short lived. Red lust and anger had been driving her— instinct and pain. Now...now that she was kneeling here naked astride his fully clothed form, she wasn't so certain. What happened next? She'd been fighting for the upper hand, now what should she do with it now that she'd gained it? 

His eyes were fiery black pits, and they devoured her with their heat, burning her very thoughts into indistinct ash. 

His hands came up once more, thankfully, and didn't leave her time to think too hard or long about what was happening. His long fingers bit into her flesh cruelly, bruising and possessive...saving her once more from the trap of her thoughts, pulling her back into the game. 

He grinned darkly at her, his fangs curving, sharp and white, over his blood red lips. She grinned back and took her cue from him, banishing thought, and fear, and guilt, and wrenched his shirt from his shoulders with her hands. The material tore like fine paper in her inhuman grip, leaving nothing but the firm, smooth expanse of his muscular chest for her to admire. 

She wasted no more time and fell upon him like a starved animal, lapping and nipping at his flesh, dragging her fangs across it and leaving fine lines of welling blood in her wake only to drag her tongue back over them, tracing the map of his body with her own. His grip weakened and she trembled with renewed elation as she felt him shudder with pleasure, for the moment too caught up in what she was doing to even pretend to resist her and the fingers in her hair urging her on instead of forcing her away. 

She loved the taste of him, his skin, his blood. She had from the first time she'd felt it flood her mouth. It filled her with electric strength and inflamed her desire until she was a quivering mass of raw energy and lust. He still made no move to stop her, but let out a sound somewhere between a throaty growl and a moan, his body twisting beneath her restlessly. She felt the sound as much as she heard it, felt it deep in the core of her being, and it sent another wave of liquid heat straight between her legs to her already throbbing sex. 

She could feel his hard cock still trapped in his breaches and ground her bare, aching pussy against the rough material between them. He answered by capturing a hanging breast and squeezing it roughly, his thumb flicking hard over her nipple and sending shards of pleasure-pain all the way to the tips of her fingers. Her own questing tongue captured one of his own in return and she pushed back, scrapping it with her teeth, taunting him as both their minds flitted to the many times their positions had been reversed. 

She chuckled as a hand gripped her neck in warning, but too late. Already her fangs were piercing flesh and letting that liquid fire wash over her tongue and scorch her until there was nothing left but blessed emptiness, nothing but that pulsing void, throbbing with the dark rhythm of his essence. 

Jairus cursed and hissed through clenched teeth, bucking his hips involuntarily as she sunk her teeth into the sensitive flesh. His cock pulsed and he fought to keep it under control, to keep from releasing then and there. Already he was so close, teetering on the blade's edge. He gasped in relief when she released him only to find her moving lower to loosen the ties which held him prisoner.

Her hands were like hot silk, and her mouth...dear god her mouth...

Her tongue wrapped around his cock head, pulling him in deep, pressing him against the soft flesh of her throat. He felt her laugh again sending a warm vibration up the length of his shaft and straight to the back of his skull, a sensation soon joined by a shudder as the tips of her fangs grazed the flesh at the base of his manhood. With a feral growl he caught himself and pulled her from him.

"None of that." He warned darkly.

"Why?" she rasped back, her dark eyes defiant. "You did it..." she smirked and gripped his cock with her free hand.

"I," he snarled, "have more than a weeks experience wielding my fangs." She laughed again, a deep throaty sound, made rougher by the fact that he still held her head tilted back. 

"Afraid?"

"Don't push me woman."

He rolled to his knees, pulling her along with him. He still held her captive as he knelt before her, and pressed her down on all fours. His grip tightened, making her grunt and struggle, but when he turned her face back to his cock, all she did was glance up at him with blackened, knowing eyes and slide her tongue along his length, making his cock jump in response. She moved to take him into her mouth once more, but he held her still with a growl.

"No teeth." 

She glared, but only let out the faintest whimper as he pressed himself roughly back into her mouth, thrusting against her throat and making her fight for purchase and air. He watched with furious delight as his cock disappeared into her searing, suckling mouth and savored her groans and whimpers as she was forced to accept him. He groaned in even greater satisfaction, his thrusts increasing in urgency, as he abandoned all delicacy and restraint and fucked her mouth hard and fast, the way he had longed but feared to do. 

She took everything he gave her and more. The harder he thrust, the harder and longer she would pull at him, her nails digging into his thighs hard enough to draw blood if she'd had skin beneath her fingers, and forcing him ever deeper into her eager mouth. He shut tight his eyes and tried to focus on something other than the heavy throb of his cock as it slid inside of her sultry mouth. He still rode the precipice and willed himself to hold back, desperate to make the sensation last, but his control couldn't hold out long. It became an impossibility when he opened his eyes and found hers gazing hotly back up at him just as he slid wetly from her swollen lips. 

He gripped her with a snarl, holding her still and pushed in the length of his cock with one thrust, feeling the head slip past the barrier of her throat just as the first hot rope of cum seared through him and shot into her waiting mouth. The second landed across her tongue as he withdrew, and the third across her open lips. 

He reached down and gripped his cock, groaning at the erotic sight. Thea made a similar sound as he pulled her from her knees by her nape, hauling her up towards and against him until her legs dangled uselessly beneath her. He ran his tongue over her mouth, tasting himself on her lips making her gasp, and giving him fuller access. He took it only to have her push back, her lips crushing against his as her own tongue plundered his mouth with relentless ferocity. 

Her body slid like satin against his as she twisted in his grip, her serpentine limbs causing just enough trouble that he was forced to pin her arms to her sides with his own and use his body to pin hers against one of the bed posts, keeping it immobile, but still taking far too much pleasure in the way she fought against him to be free..if fighting was what it could be called. 

Thea's heels were roughly tracing the length of his thighs through his trousers before digging aggressively into the small of his back as her own soft thighs came up to wrap around his waist, squeezing as if to pin him back. She held him close despite her attempts to loosen his grip on her arms. She wanted to turn the tables once more, but the only thing he was pinned to was her. Not that he was keen to complain about that contradiction, nor over the way her firm breasts pressed tight against him as she fought his grip on her arms...or the way her slick pussy was sliding along the length of his still rigid cock. Every inch of her was softness and heat. But it wasn't a searing heat, it warmed and soothed his chilled flesh and made him long to sink deeper into her, to drown in her. 




Fire Ch. 12



Despite her struggles, she wasn't complaining either. Instead she gasped for breath and whispered dark promises between violent, eager kisses. Some were threats and some were...helpful suggestions for how the evening should proceed. Others were an intoxicating blend of the two. Regardless, the effects of her words were all the same, and he clenched his teeth in an effort to remain in control of the situation...a difficult proposition considering that with every hotly murmured word he came that much closer to seeing the tightly pulled cord of his own desire snap completely. Oh, he would fuck her, and thoroughly at that...but his way, and in his time...and she would beg...

Thea choked back another rough groan and fought the instinctual movements of her hips as they coddled and ground against his body, her traitorous body seemingly doing everything in its power to pull him closer and deeper even as she struggled to free herself. It was futile, that much was obvious. Still...if she gave in now...it would all end too soon. And the one thing she didn't want, was for this to end...not ever.

She lashed out, trying to catch his throat in her teeth and pull him back into their fierce struggle once more, but he was too strong and in the end she only found herself pinned that much harder to the post. He pressed in against her, shifting so that the slick head of his cock moved along the length of her slit, prizing her open as it passed and caught tortuously against her opening. She found herself betrayed once more as her hips bucked higher, shamelessly angling to let him slip more easily inside of her. She wanted him, wanted him inside her...desperately...but not yet...don't let it end...but oh, he felt so incredibly...

To her surprise, and pleasure, he pushed back. He thrust hard, burying himself fully and deeply inside of her, letting her feel all of it as he held her against the ridged post. His hips ground slowly, pressing deeper inside of her, forcing her deepest walls to stretch to accept him. She only ground back, digging her heels even harder into the backs of his legs, savoring the burning stretch, and gasping as her passage clenched tightly around him in sharp, sudden spasms. He withdrew just as quickly, pausing when only the broad head still lingered teasingly at the tight, aching entrance of her still pulsing cunt.

Somewhere through the red haze she heard him murmur something indistinct against her throat, something followed by a purring growl. She whimpered her own half-formed response as those long, sharp fangs slid along the length of her throat leaving hot, wet rivulets in their wake. Just enough to make her burn, but not enough to satisfy. She struggled again, her body throbbing around the thick cock inside of her as she desperately and futility attempted to press herself more fully along his length, to impale herself completely. Yet he resisted, using his superior strength to hold her while he teased and taunted her, sliding the hot head of his cock slowly along her dripping slit, letting it linger and pull at the entrance of her hungry sex, sliding just inside, only to pull away and begin again. 

Her body was an inferno, blazing with furious energy. Jairus found himself fighting for control once more as it threatened to consume him utterly. Her body throbbed around him, pulling at his manhood as it clenched and pulsed as if defying his denial. But still he held firm, reveling in her palpable desire and savoring the faint taste of her blood as he lightly marked her throat...her collar...her shoulder. The scent and taste of her filled his head, making it spin dangerously.

"Beg me." He rasped out, his throat tight with need.

Her voice was no more than a harsh whisper, as raw with desire as his own. "...Go fuck yourself." 

He didn't think it was possible to get any harder, but he did. He thrust hard up into her, using his grip on her hair as leverage. As he withdrew, he pulled from her a broken cry of denial.

"Beg."

"No." Even less vehement this time. He let a slow, malevolent smile spread across his face, a smile which widened as her own face registered her fear and hesitation even as her arousal continued to mount. And he knew it did. He could feel it, in his mind and around his body...he could smell it in the air around them...taste it...

He released her hair, and firmly cupped her chin instead. Another hard kiss. Not challenging, but urgent. She moaned into his mouth, flicking her tongue against the tips of his fangs. "Bite me." She husked against his lips, her lips twisting in a half smile, and causing him to chuckle despite himself. 

Before he could respond, she pulled away, ripping her chin from his fingers and sinking her teeth roughly into his wrist. His control wavered for a moment, vibrating like a plucked string that had been pulled too tight, then snapped.

His response was unthinking and immediate, and he instinctively crushed into her, piercing her eager flesh with both his fangs and cock, groaning as he slid so easily into her, her body opening to him and drawing him into its heat. His snarl of exultation was lost in the hot pounding of their blood as it coursed between them in dizzying waves. He heard nothing else, and saw nothing but the red, enveloping darkness. 

Yet, he could still taste and still feel. Soft flesh filled his hands as they continued to delve into her, pressing and pulling...spreading it wide as he drove into her very core, claiming and reclaiming her with every urgent thrust. 

Thea cried out sharply and clung to him as he rammed her into the post with increasing intensity, her fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling and rending the material of his shirt, her mouth metallic with blood and fear. 

He was done with teasing, done with their game. All that was left was a raw animal hunger. A hunger which overwhelmed her, singing out to the nameless nascent thing which coiled restlessly under her skin, twisting and straining as if to free itself, to reach out and touch the black flames which surrounded and devoured her.

In her mind she suddenly saw herself, her naked body pale against the black, crawling, face flushed and contorted with strange emotion...grasping at the flame as it lashed her...black fire.

And then it was gone. All of it...he'd pulled from her and released her, leaving her wavering on her feet. 

She gasped and stumbled, alone and disoriented, her galvanized skin prickling from the cool air washing across it. And then there were hands, grasping and demanding, fingers like claws as they dug frantically into her flesh, pressing her down and forward...cold stone against her palms...scraping her knees...roughly caressing her breasts. Cold stone, searing hands. 

The hungry thing writhed and arched into the violent caress, its curved back becoming her back... its eager, wriggling hips, her hips. She threw back her head and breathed deeply, shuddering as the lightening currents of sensation shot through her limbs, each pulse growing stronger with each pass of those demanding hands over her body, peaking as he gripped her ass, spreading it with one hand in order to roughly fondle and expose her slick cleft with the other. 

She bucked and razed her lip with her teeth as he spread her with two firm, twisting fingers, whimpering as they withdrew, and grunting softly as they slammed back into her. She met each thrust, her own intense desire building to a fever pitch as her body demanded more.

She wanted to beg...she was ready to beg...but all she could manage was a hoarsely whispered "yes" as his fingers were ripped from her and quickly replaced with something far more satisfying. 

The first thrust was hard and deep, finding the resistance of her deepest walls and sending hot shards of electric pain skittering up her spine and over her already tingling skin. The next was no less violent, but she arched her back and spread her legs wider in order to feel him that much deeper. She ground out a low, pained groan as he attempted to comply, his fingers digging claw-like into the rounds of her ass, spreading her wide as he slammed harshly into her. 

She was close...so close, but was pulled unwillingly from the edge of that blessed oblivion by a strange sensation, one which tore her mind from the brink and further back into the moment. There was a firm pressure on the tight rosebud of her ass and it caused her to shift in surprise. She whimpered in alarm, but didn't pull away. She couldn't if she wanted to. She was still too desperate to keep him inside of her, to keep him fucking her...punishing her cunt with each brutal stroke. 

She whimpered as the pressure increased, prying her open, filling and slowly stretching her tight hole. Her mind and body were torn, confused by the alien sensation of her virgin ass being painfully stretched even as his pistoning thrusts continued to push her towards release.

The strange eroticism of the act was compounded as he leaned over her, his hard, bare chest sliding over her back, and his cool breath against the shell of her ear. He groaned and slowed his thrusting, pausing to grind into her as he stretched her tiny star wider, sliding a second finger into her, finally forcing a cry of pain from her lips. His fingers moved, sliding from her, only to penetrate once more, matching the now slow hard rhythm of his hips.

He let out a growl against her neck, laving it with his tongue as he traced back up to nip the lobe of her ear. She squirmed beneath him, trapped both by his body and by the strange net of pleasure and pain in which he held her. She shuddered and bucked as he continued to open her to him, pushing her past anything she'd felt before. He chuckled darkly against her ear as if aware of her thoughts, and her cunt throbbed mercilessly in response.

"If only I could fill all your sweet holes." He purred, rotating his hips and fingers in concert as his free hand slid up to run a suggestive finger over her gasping lips. She groaned, her stomach twisting at the thought, and her lips closed instinctively over the fingers, toying with them and sucking hard even as the rest of her body clenched around its invaders, sending a spine bending pulse of lighting through her body. 

It was Jairus's turn to groan as he felt her soft lips close around his fingers. The sensation pulled him part way from his trance, forcing him to see with slightly clearer, though still lust darkened eyes. He released her, listening with pleasure to her moan of loss as he pulled his fingers from her sweet, hot little body and gripped her hips instead, watching as his fingers imprinted themselves on her hips and ass, bruising and marking her.

He slid his cock from her body as well, only to plunge back into her, making her hips jump, making her cry out. Again and again he took her, his eyes fluttering closed as heated images of the first time he'd taken her like this flooded his mind's eye. The same finger shaped bruises...the same trembling limbs...the exquisite pale arch of her back. 

His eyes shot open to find that same lithe body beneath his, pressing into him and matching his own relentless thrusts, wanting, begging to be claimed. Beautiful...so beautiful....his sweet, eager little goddess...

"Jairus!" Her body tightened around him as his name was torn from her throat. The feeling of her gripping him...his name on her tongue, screamed in ecstasy...he broke again with a snarl as his own climax was wrenched violently from him and he spilled himself inside of her in long powerful bursts. He doubled over, clutching her to him as she clenched around him and the explosive pulses wracked his spine, leaving him gasping for air. 

Thea whimpered and gripped the arm wrapped around her waist, clinging to it as the tight growing knot finally burst, exploding a single white shock of back twisting sensation. She bucked and writhed as spasm after spasm rolled over her in one unendurable wave after another. Her cries were a mix of relief and fear as her seemed to fly apart, finally undone...unmade.

And yet she clung...and that steal arm still held her...held her as her legs gave out beneath her, as the stone cooled her, and as, piece by piece...she returned slowly to herself.

She could feel his hips still cradling hers, and his forehead resting lightly against her back just as hers rested against the cooling flagstones of the floor. She shifted her hips against his and he squeezed her tighter. It was impossible to say how long they stayed there locked in that embrace, exhausted and panting.

Thea breathed deeply after some time, and wet her dry lips. "The bed would be more comfortable," she offered softly, her voice sounding tight as it escaped her raw throat. 

He let out a long breath of his own against her spine and slowly raised himself, pulling her up along with him. They said nothing else, but staggered to their feet and then to the bed. She collapsed first, her eyes already closed and her back to the room, but smiled weakly as she felt him shove her over in order to climb up behind. She wriggle halfheartedly out of his way and turned on her back to watch him as he stripped the remains of his ruined shirt and pants and tossed them over with her equally ruined dress. 

He settled in on his back with a sigh, his hands resting beneath his head. She in turn curled to look at him, watching his face intently as he seemed to ignore her. For some reason, that didn't bother her in the least and she was happy to simply lay there and study him.

Everything felt different, stiller...calmer. The air hung heavily around them, like a blanket, shutting out the sights and sounds of the world outside. It was as if nothing else existed beyond that room...beyond them. His face was smooth and unreadable, but somehow less hard than she remembered. 

For a moment she tried to decide what had just happened, and what would happen...but it was impossible. Thought was impossible. There was just a soft haze of nothingness, numb and silent. The wold was silent...the nagging voices were silent, and she...she was content to let it remain so. Later...she would think later. For now she would simply be. She smiled faintly again. That, at least, would be a sentiment he could agree with.

It was a long time before either of them moved or spoke, they just lay there, him watching the ceiling, and she watching him. 

"I liked that dress." She offered softly.

"I liked that shirt." She smiled and he turned his head to meet her eye, his expression relaxed, but still serious. "Feeling better?"

She licked her lips again and shrugged. "In a way...I suppose." He frowned and her lip twitched slightly. "Perhaps once more, for good measure?"

"Hm. I see." He looked back up at the ceiling, frowning, seemingly deep in thought. She was about to speak again when he rolled toward her, pressing her onto her back and sliding to cover her body with his, causing her to tense and blink up at him in confusion. Both her tension and confusion melted quickly enough as his mouth came down over hers...though softly this time, merely brushing his lips against hers with a gentle, teasing pressure.

She twisted under him, not to escape, but to let him slide more easily between her legs as she drew them up over his own, her limbs snaking around him, pulling him closer.

"Only once more?" He murmured quietly against her lips. She suppressed another smile and held him tighter nipping his bottom lip.

"I'll let you know."

**

Her breath came in long, slow pulls and she savored the feel of the cool night air as it washed past her parted lips and over her tongue with each long inhalation. Her vision was still blurred and starry from exertion, but her mind was sharper and clearer now that that numbing haze had finally passed, letting her thoughts finally, if gradually, return. 

She tuned her eyes lazily toward the uncovered window and back toward the world outside. Beyond the grey of the walls the deep, velvety blackness of the night seemed to shine with a dark brilliance. She smiled at that thought. 'Dark light'...such a strange contradiction...and yet it was precisely what she saw with her new vision, and what she felt. It called to her, pulled at some place buried deep in her flesh, in her heart...made her yearn for...who could say what. But then, she'd known dark fire before, and seen how it glowed and burned, black and bright at once. That fire had called to her. She felt it even then, as strong and insistent as the bright stars flickering in the distant sky, and promising much more than any empty winter's night could ever hope to. 

Her eyes turned toward the flame which drew her, toward the source of the heat which still licked up through her sore and sated limbs even as they lay heavy and weak, bare upon the twisted blankets. She could only find strength enough to slide one hand up to cradle the head which lay so still upon her breast. 

His hair slid smoothly between her fingers as she ran the tips in a long caress over the back of his skull. His eyes were closed and the fire that she knew burned in them was hidden from her. Hidden, at least, from her eyes...she felt it keenly in every other part of her, and in the tremors which still slid through her in the soft afterglow. 

She turned her eyes back to the ceiling and smiled wistfully, amazed at how they'd gone from trying to bury their teeth in each others throats to this sated stillness. Amazed...but, strangely, not confused. Nothing, it seemed to her, had been particularly wrong or strange about it...it just was. The near violence and this lazy calmness both seemed right. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly in his hair and she sighed. He shifted in response. 

His body lay heavily between her thighs, his chest pinning her stomach and hips to the bed with its familiar weight, one hand gripping her hip, while the other loosely cupped her limp wrist. She thought, for a moment, he might be asleep until the hand on her hip slid up to curve around her waist and under the small of her back. He let out his own sigh, and tilted his head so that it lay nearer to her shoulder allowing her to tip her chin so that she might brush his forehead lightly with her lips. She wrapped herself about him, sliding her calf against one of his muscular thighs before hooking her ankle to capture it.

Her eyes caressed the lines of his shoulders and back in silence as his free hand slipped down to run over the thigh that had wrapped itself so possessively around him.

"You know that you can't make me go with you." She whispered.

He sighed again, but kept his eyes closed. She continued to draw her fingers through his hair until he slowly shifted and rose over her. She closed her eyes and groaned as he settled his hips back into the cradle of her own. When she opened them again her searching eyes were finally captured by the exquisite black flame which had so thoroughly lapped at her flesh and filled her veins that she thought it could no longer have any effect on her. She was so wrong. Even now, after everything, she found it suddenly hard to breathe.

He held himself over her on one elbow and brought a hand to her throat, wrapping his fingers lightly around it. His touch was unhurried and gentle, but she could feel the firm pressure of his palm as she swallowed reflexively. His eyes were dark and tumultuous, and though she tried, she couldn't quite cipher them. 

She had always known he was dangerous... powerful, capable of things she tried not to think about...yet it wasn't until she'd felt that same strength coursing through her own body that she'd truly known the full extent of it. How easy it would be, even with her enhanced body, for him to close tight that fist and crush her wind pipe, or twist it and snap her neck. 

The blood she'd taken from him pumped hard through her until her ears rang with its throbbing tattoo. 




Fire Ch. 12



He held her like that for a long time, the pad of his thumb lightly caressing the underside of her chin, before a tiny smile crept across his lips and he leaned in, breaking his hold on her eyes and pressing his mouth to the ridge of her ear.

In the faintest voice he finally answered her question in a whisper. "Of this, I am well aware. I cannot make you follow me, or do anything for that matter...but I should like to see you try and stop me from following you." She heard the smile that lingered on his lips, and she let out a faint chuckle of her own...though it sounded more like a breathy gasp to her ears. He pulled away to regard her again, and slid his hand higher, curving his long fingers around her jaw. His smile was gone. "Why do you still fear me?" She couldn't resist her own wry smile. 

"Your hand is wrapped around my throat...why shouldn't I fear you."

He arched a brow, but did not release her. "As it has often been before...and I recall it having a much different effect in those instances. You do know, " he added, " that I wouldn't hurt you." It wasn't a question.

The truth was, as dangerous as she knew him to be, she did, actually, know this to be true. He was many things, but what he had never been was her enemy. She'd known that when he'd pulled her from that stake, and now more than ever she knew. She had been certain before, but now that knowledge was written in her very flesh...her blood...down to her bones. His essence was written there. Scrawled in heavy red ink. And because of that, she was more lost than ever. There was no going back, and no forgetting. The only way to escape him was to escape herself, and that made him more dangerous than any one had ever, or could ever be. 

"I know." She whispered back. But she couldn't live without him now. It was that simple...and what could be more terrifying. She blinked back the hot tears which burned at the backs of her eyes and tried desperately to keep her captured jaw from trembling. He frowned and caressed her cheek with his thumb. 

"Do you?"

"It's not you who frightens me..." His frown twisted back upward into an almost smile.

"But what I do?" he offered with a glint in his eye and a sardonic lilt in his voice. "I think we've already had this conversation..."

"No...." Her voice came out in a horse whisper as she continued to fight the burn in her eyes and she watched him sober. "No, what...what would happen if you didn't...if you left." His brow furrowed and he twisted his head in consternation.

"You make no sense to me sometimes, woman...you tell me to leave...then say you fear it..." He sighed and reached up to wind his hand in her hair and tilted her head back to force her to look him square in the eye. "Tell me...please, what is it you want. Name it. Tell me you don't want me...and I will go, tell me to stay, and I will...gladly. What is it you want Thea?" His hand released her, cupping her cheek, as his eyes searched hers.

She felt the heat rise to her throat and face, and for a moment her vision hazed. I love him, she thought...I love you...and I want you to love me. That was it. No little thing to ask...not something that could be demanded. Stay or go...such simple things, so easy to say. She begged him with her eyes not to make her say it...but those black flames continued to delve and plummet her, sear her, devour her. It was inescapable...and yet she could not drag the words across her lips.

Instead she blurted something else, coward that she was.

"Why did you turn me?"

Jairus gazed back into her tortured eyes and felt his gut twist. She hadn't answered the question...and they were back to this. Couldn't she understand? "Thea," he sighed and turned his face from hers, "you would have died...there was no other way. I would have..." he paused, not sure how much he should tell her, before submitting to the inevitable, "I was going to ask you, to give you the choice. I wanted you, but it was not my intention to force the change upon you...but I had to decide then and there."  

He felt his eyes widen in surprise as her hands captured his face and turned it back toward hers. Her eyes were still gleaming with uncertainty, but they were also searching. She was looking for something in the gaze he returned, and he wondered if she found it. Her next question answered his, though in the negative.

"I...I know that...I just mean...why? Why not let me die...after everything that's happened? I've caused nothing but pain and--" 

He stopped her there, using the only method he'd come to find effective. Her words caught in her throat as his lips slid over hers as he attempted to steal her words away, along with every last one of her absurd thoughts. 

He knew then what she was looking for. So stubborn... and brave, yet so sweet...so vulnerable. She couldn't bring herself to ask. It broke and warmed his heart at the same time. It was a strange sensation. He held her a little tighter to him.

Thea's fingers slid up to twine in his hair and pull him more firmly against her. Her mouth was hot and insistent, and her lips met his with a surprising eagerness. It spoke to him more eloquently than any word could. Even That word.

Her desire, her need, cried out to him and he felt it just as he felt her....under him, around him...inside of him. He felt the pulse of it from their dueling, hungry tongues, to his stiffening cock which moved restlessly against the slick heat between her thighs. He shivered as she whimpered against his mouth.

Nothing but pain indeed. He'd have laugh at her if he wasn't too busy drowning in her. 

He broke the kiss quickly enough to cause her to groan. 

"Isn't it obvious?" 

She looked at him warily, still dazed from the unexpected kiss. He smiled despite himself as her brow furrowed in consternation and as she attempted to recapture and arrange her mazed thoughts. She didn't answer except to part her lips and gaze into his eyes. There was quite a bit to read in those eyes...but he was certain now that he could pick out the question she had meant to ask—the words she couldn't give voice to. His smile turned into a smirk and he was pleased to see her fear and confusion disperse and rework itself into mild irritation. 

"Do you want the long answer or the short one?"

She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Short."

He smiled toothily at her, fangs and all. "That's my girl." He watched, satisfied, as she fought a grin of her own. She was only partially successful. He rolled over onto his back and brought her with him so that she lay partially over him, her long silky limbs splayed pleasantly over his. She chuckled despite her best efforts to hold it in and let her head rest on his shoulder.

"Well? The short?" She prompted, still begrudgingly amused.

He smiled mildly at the ceiling before looking back down at her upturned and expectant face.

"Because, you impossible creature...I love you." 

His smile widened at the open look of surprise she gave him, and he ran a finger over the red swell of her bottom lip.

Jairus erased his smile as quickly as it had come and gazed down at her with a raised brow. "Obviously." He added dryly.

She stared at him a moment longer before her pale face flushed suddenly red and she was forced to hide it once more against his shoulder.

"Oh." She whispered. 

He looked back at the ceiling and clenched his jaw to keep another chuckle from spilling out. "Indeed."

"I...I love you too." She offered softly.

"Obviously."

Her body went rigid against his, forcing him to bite the inside of his lip. She launched herself up into a sitting position and turned an incredulous glare on him. "Oh, for the love of god! You have to be the most arrogant bastard tha-" 

He was unable to contain the laugh any longer and the sound made her pause in mid insult. She glared at first, but the hard stare broke quickly as the corner of her mouth slowly twitched up.

She lay back down next to him with a sigh, wriggling in close to him and folding her hands over her stomach as they both stared up at nothing in particular.

"You Are an impossible woman." He reasserted.

"And you Are a right bastard when you want to be."

"Figuratively speaking, of course." He corrected wryly. "At least I knew who my father was."

"How nice for you." 

There was a long pause before she looked back over at him, her voice and expression softening. "I want to see Tim before we go. And it has to be somewhere warm. I'm sick to death of the snow. And I know I can't really feel it anymore, but I don't care." 

He reached over and captured one of her hands. She turned it, twining her fingers between his as he met her gaze.

"Have you ever seen the dessert in the spring?"



@@@

Epilogue:

Antonius Ryder—former councilman, now account-keeper and struggling trader—wiped the sweat from his brow and decided he was, unequivocally, in dire need of strong drink. 

He turned with a sigh to watch the wiry, caramel skinned man as he hunched over a nearby desk, his long, narrow nose so close to the papyrus it was a miracle it wasn't smudged black from being smeared in the ink on the page. He was so involved in his work he didn't realize he was being watched until the nib of his quill bent causing his audience to chuckle at the low curse he let out. 

He glanced up from under his brow and his partner grinned back at him from across their desks. Ryder watched as Tamir straightened and set his pen down with a sigh. 

"How are they coming?" Ryder asked, pointing to the accounts the man had been devotedly working on. 

Tamir placed his palms on the table before him and gave the papers a forlorn look. "I think I'm making progress...but there is so much, it's hard to tell. We need to start considering dealing in larger shipments...this business of selling in small lots has been profitable, but it's giving my wrist a cramp. Too many names to list."

Ryder nodded. "Not a bad thought that. But, for the time being, I think we could use a break. Besides," he added, pulling a kerchief from around his neck and dabbing his forehead with the poor, limp thing, "this damnable heat is killing me."

This earned a smile and amused glance from Tamir. It was everyone's favorite joke: how the pale-faced northerners were such delicate flowers when it came to the desert air. Tamir seemed to like his partner well enough, so he kept his mockery to a minimum. Ryder grunted and stood, returning the man's wry expression with one of his own.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, we're getting a drink. It's late and it won't hurt to leave the rest for the morning." 

He blew out most of the lamps as Tamir collected himself, then grabbed a dust cloak from a hanger by the door, and folded it to lay jauntily over his shoulder, a fashion uniquely his. He didn't want to wear it unless he absolutely had to since it was such a warm evening...but he didn't want to chance it either. 

Kenareh was an Oasis city, and partially shielded by a range of cliffs to the east...but it still had its fair share of sand storms. The city walls kept the worst of it at bay, but Ryder had made the mistake of taking them for granted when he first arrived in the city. One good blast of hot, sandy air was more than enough to disabuse him of the notion that he could still go around in his old, northern-style clothes and be just fine. 

Besides, now that he'd taken to local customs he no longer looked so much like a wandering merchant...an impression that didn't sit well with the local guilds and merchants, all of whom put a great deal of stock in a man's fealty to his city. They were more than happy to do business with newcomers and travelers, but he found out fast that the best and first deals went to locals. So he was quick to put down roots and wasn't quiet about it either. It helped that not long after he arrived and set up shop, his family had followed to join him.

It also didn't hurt that his clever wife had liquidated most of his assets with surprisingly rapidity and brought with her a small fortune. It was money that made money after all. He was just grateful she'd agreed to do it, rather than declaring herself widowed and spending it as she saw fit. Of course she did leave a sizable chunk to her useless brother, but all things considered, it wasn't something he was going to whine about.

He'd balked at first at having to come to this place, and had viewed the whole of the southern kingdoms, and the very city he found himself in, with a petulant and unforgiving eye. He was irked at having been forced out of his previous home by grasping, power-mad councilmen. But once the first wave of self-pity had settled, and he'd spent a season soaking up the local color, he had decided it really wasn't so bad after all. 

Like the imperial city from which he'd come, it had its problems. Every city had crime, corrupt officials, extremes of wealth and poverty... and the wind storms were no worse— and better smelling— than the seasonal flooding of the over taxed canals of his former home. Here one merely traded the wet for the dry and the cold for the hot. 

In the city's favor the spring season was glorious here, and the people slightly less obnoxious. Also, the wine was fantastic, though once in a blue moon he found himself inexplicably pinning for the heavier brews of his former life...even if it had sometimes resemble horse piss in more ways than one. He figured that particularly masochistic inclination would pass soon enough. He'd only been here a year and a half, so there was still time to ween.

"I could go for a beer, Tamir."

"The drink you said tasted like watery camel piss?" 

Ryder chuckled. "I was just thinking that. It is not always like that. Sometimes the beer is pretty decent...it just depends who sells it to you." 

"I still do not understand how you now what that would taste like."

He shrugged. "Just something we say."

Tamir shrugged and tugged his own dust cloak up over his head, tossing one corner over a shoulder so that he might more quickly cover his face should a storm arise. That was the actual way to wear it, Ryder just couldn't stand the extra layer if he could help it.

"You know, Ryder, there is a place that opened not long ago, and it has a northern sounding name. There is a chance they might have your preferred drink."

Ryder chuckled. "Do not misunderstand me, I prefer the local spirits...I just get a little longing for the past every once and a while." He frowned and thought about it. "Do you mean 'The Queen's Head?' Odd name for a place in these parts, you're right. It sounds like a the taverns we keep back in the old city. I have actually been meaning to take a peek at the place, but haven't had an excuse yet. Heard anything about it?"

"A few friends decided to go out of curiosity. They thought it surprisingly pleasant and have returned since, but they only ordered local food and drink, so I don't know if they would carry beer, or serve anything for northerners...though I've heard it is run by such as yourself. I am most curious to see it, most especially since they said a woman was running the place, and a giantess at that...so I am anxious to see this wonder. Who ever heard of a woman running an establishment such as that?"

"Not so uncommon, up north." He chuckled. "And Tamir, everyone is a giant to you. Hell, as short as you lot are, I probably seem to you as physically elevated as I am intellectually, yet where I come from, I'm average at best." 

"Physically or intellectually?" Ryder smirked and sighed dramatically, tucking a hand into his waist cord of his knee-length wrap coat. 

"Sadly...both."

They reached the place after a pleasant, round-about walk through one of the city gardens, where the air hung heaviest with the scent of herbs and the flowers of late spring. It was a preferred path for the locals since the streets of the Barid district, where the caravans, merchants, and traders kept their business, were usually choked with people and merchandise at all hours of the day and night. 

The entrance was just off the main thoroughfare, and the building looked just like all the rest, a low, two story affair with smooth, almost-white clay walls and a round-topped door, upon which a fine script spelled out the name of the enterprise. If the name had not been slightly unusual for the area, one would not expect it to be anything other than your average Assaban tea house found everywhere else in the city. There was nothing else which set it apart from the other buildings along the street.

The interior was perfectly reminiscent of a tea house as well. Low benches and long, low tables lined the walls while a few larger, round tables surrounded with cushioned stools took up the center of the room. At the back was a small platform where a musician was working his magic on a small, four-string Kamanche while patrons chatted softly and looked on periodically in nodding appreciation. Beyond that were a few private rooms partitioned off with sliding papyrus doors, all in varying states of openness. Fairly standard. 

What wasn't quite so standard was the long and very familiar looking bar which ran along the right hand side of the room, behind which stood what Ryder assumed was the 'giant' northern woman in question. The locals weren't necessarily a tall people, but Ryder had to admit, she did have an extra inch or two on her, so she could be considered tall even by his own standards, especially for a woman. Of course 'giant' wasn't the word for it, but popular gossip usually bred some level of exaggeration. 

She was striking, however, giant or not. Her height, and something in her deportment seemed almost...regal. The name of the place suddenly seemed a little more appropriate. Her hair was a rich auburn brown, and her skin much, much paler than the more standard shades of dark tan and deep brown, but her mode of dress was local enough. She wore the same light, colorful wraps and shawls one normally saw—a more somber, dark green in this case, but with the usual bits of pattern peaking out in layers from beneath her sleeves— and her hair was swept up into the same sort of elaborate braid that his own wife had taken to wearing. 

"That must be her. Pretty, actually...even for such a tall woman. Younger than I expected" Tamir commented from behind him. He nodded in agreement. He wasn't close enough to see details, but from here she looked attractive enough. 

"Well, that's different." Tamir pointed to a young woman who was serving hot Pekha wine to a nearby table. Usually only men served in tea houses, but then men usually ran them as well. She was a local girl, small, and very pretty, and wearing a more cheerful pink and gold robe. Her small hands fluttered gracefully as she poured and passed out the glasses. The men she was serving seemed to appreciate the view as well.

"That's common enough up north. In fact it's the preference. Who doesn't want to look at a pretty girl while they drink?"

"You people are shameless." 

They smirked at one another and made their way by silent consensus to the bar. No doubt because they both wanted to get a closer look at the supposed proprietress. 

There was another northerner behind the bar who approached them first. He was a nondescript sort, moderately built and grey eyed, but who looked like he might have come from the same area that Ryder had. Something around the eyes perhaps. 

"Evening. What can I get for you?" His accent was thick and his words a bit halting, telling Ryder that he hadn't been in the city long and was still learning the language.

Ryder smiled and offered a hand. He spoke in his old tongue, hoping to be understood. "Evening friend. Name's Ryder, and this here is my partner, Tamir. We run a little outfit, trade and loans, just a few streets down the way. I heard there were other northers here and I'm wondering if you don't happen to have a passable ale available for a poor, thirsty pale-face."