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Nicholas' Bargain

By: redsoles



London, 1835

Lara stared moodily out of the carriage window and quickly transferred her look to the woman sitting primly opposite her, her maid -- though jailer would be a more appropriate term. In every part of her life, she was managed. By her stiff father (who was the worst), her mother, her two arrogant brothers, her ladies maid...it was unbearable. Tomorrow was her cousin Amelia's coming out ball and Lara was on her way to deliver her gift early so as to spend some extra time with her and take tea before the grand event. Rare was it that she spent quality time with Amelia since she was usually tucked away in the countryside where company was few and excitement none. But she was in London now and she let her mind wander to pleasanter thoughts. 

Tomorrow, Amelia would be launched into society. She would wear a beautiful dress, would be admired and fawned over by the most handsomest of men...meanwhile, Lara would be in some frumpy, unflattering gown, the perpetual wallflower living vicariously through her lucky cousin. She thought back to her own debut which she had shared with the daughter of a family friend two years ago. Thoroughly unremarkable it had been, with her parents throwing a modest affair, with modest food and proving modest hosts. In contrast, Amelia's parents were so...so light-hearted to an almost blasé degree. She wasn't watched over, she wasn't treated like a delicate child instead of the hot-blooded female that she was. Indeed, if Lara's parents knew the true bend of her thoughts as she summoned a memory from last night, they would suffer twin heart attacks. 

As the carriage came to a halt, she departed with her sour faced maid, Katie, and headed for Amelia's grand townhouse in the fashionably expensive Kensington. It was hectic inside, with maids scuttling about carrying something here and polishing something there and the usual cluster of suited men waiting outside the large study by the staircase, hoping for an audience with the Earl of Hampton, her uncle. 

Somewhere in the fray, a servant spotted the new arrivals and directed Lara to join her cousin in the blue room. Katie was reluctant to stay put.

"We're hardly going to run away and join a brothel, Katie," Lara sighed.

Her maid looked outraged, even though she should be more than used to her ill-humour by now. "You are quite impertinent, Miss Lara. I shall wait here for you. Do not be long; you know your mother worries when you tarry."

Lara turned on a sigh and a swish of heavy brown cape, moving toward the marble staircase.

Nicholas tried very hard. He tried very hard not to look at the sway of the girls hips as she walked up the sweeping staircase opposite Lord Hampton's study. Hips that he knew would be nicely curved despite the unflattering sheet she had wrapped around her. He tried even harder not to latch onto her thoughts at that very moment which saw her guiltily recall pleasuring herself in the bath last night but he was cursed sickened of being in this mortal dwelling, with these pathetic human males practicing their desperate speeches in their heads, speeches that they hoped would win over Lord Hampton's acceptance for his daughter's hand in marriage. Thus, her thoughts proved pleasantly distracting. 

In his many years absence from this world, little had changed. True, the society may not be as crude and inferior as it had been but one thing remained and it was that men were still fools and weak-willed. His acquaintance, Vincent, was mildly obsessed with this world, re-entering it each time like a boy entering a brothel for the first time all eager eyes and fidgety limbs. Vincent loved the women, the mode of dress...Nicholas, on the other hand, couldn't wait to depart, always feeling that twisting sensation inside of him when he first set foot on their habitation and the soiled, cloying human scent assailed him. Still, he was only here for a further twenty-four hours, it would be bearable. 

He discarded the hurried musings of the males before him and instead focused fully on this mortal female who was strangely fascinating. Though she had since walked out of sight, her thoughts were loud and clear. He had to chuckle at the irony of the situation, true. But there was one glaring difference between himself and these mortal men. He got what he wanted when it came to females mortal or not; he used them and did not trouble himself afterward. Meanwhile, the humans got caught up in the trap, fell into distasteful domesticity of producing and rearing more of this cursed race. They then spent their lives resenting themselves for having let their lusts betray them, for leading them to a life of imprisonment whilst licking their wounds by fucking around on the side, unable to control their base, animalistic instincts. 

He glanced at the empty staircase once more and revelled in his own lust without compunction, for Hampton was keeping him waiting and he was growing less and less patient. The magnified imagery of the girls firm, high breasts beaded in water, the dark pink areolas pebbled, the stiff little nipples beaded in arousal, eased his thoughts somewhat. Then there was the trail of her hand as it rested on her soft bush before slipping between her thighs. He mentally shook his head and broke contact with the girl's mind, his iron hard control returning, the mortal girl forgotten. A momentary distraction, albeit a rare one, he mused sardonically. He frowned then. He could not let it go. Had a plain looking mortal ever harassed his senses before? Of course he knew the answer to that. They were all the same, after all. But in fairness, she had not been so plain. To a male human, perhaps, but they saw only what they wanted and seemed to have ignored her veiled beauty in those unremarkable clothes. He shook his head at the trend of his musings. With difficulty that was foreign to him, he dismissed the girl and focused on the task at hand.

*

"Oh, it's...so thoughtful of you." 

Lara rolled her eyes. "Don't lie on my account, there's no one to overhear. It's your grand moment and what does mama send you? The ugliest, most matronly bonnet in the world."

Amelia shook her head. "Well, forget that -- tell me about this dress you're wearing tomorrow. Is it really so terrible?"

Lara sank into the seat opposite, her mood dipping a notch lower. "No man will look at me. They will see a plain, dowdy girl and nothing more. I know I sound ungrateful what with this being your special day but how I dread tomorrow evening."

Amelia sighed in disgust. "I shall not stand for it. Tomorrow you will dance with any man you so choose -- for once, you shall not be subjected to those pathetic duty dances with the witless, unattractive men always in surplas. I want you to enjoy it with me! I have a plan."

"I don't know if-"

Her cousin interrupted her with a hard look. "Now, I'll have to love you and leave and tell you all about the plan later on," she glanced at herself in the wall mirror as she said this. "Do I look ok?" she had the gall to ask hesitantly. 

Well, at least she was sincere. She looked perfect; blonde, taller than most women, and full bosomed. She wondered who the lucky man was this time. 

You see, that was another thing about having blasé parents like Amelia's; there tended to be ample opportunity in which to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. Amelia had missed her come out at eighteen because of a horrific leg injury that her left her bedridden for almost three years and on shaky legs for a year after. Now twenty-two to Lara's twenty-one, she was quite...well, making up for lost time. Perhaps not in the way most young ladies would, mind you, but then there was nothing conventional about Amelia. 

"You look beautiful as ever. But you must tell me - what is the new one like?"

Considering they shared everything, this was no different. Lara positively ate up her cousins exploits, eager for more stories, fascinated. 

"Divine. His cock is...well, I still can't get over the girth. I always think I won't be able to accept him inside me..."

A pleasant tingle between Lara's legs urged her to silently continue. 

"I think he may be the one!"

That made it die a quick death. 

Amelia's lovers usually comprised of servants or delivery boys or anyone that was below herself in rank; pleasant tumbles and nothing deeper than that. 

Her cousin must have seen her expression for she said, "No, no, it's alright, really! It's...well, it's Cole."

"Your father's solicitor!" He was ancient!

"He's only thirty four, Lara. Oh, God, the things he does to me."

"What can he do that the others haven't," Lara dismissed flippantly. She was secretly disturbed that her cousin had done the one thing she had vowed never to do; get caught up in the game and fall for someone deeply. 

Frowning at her unusual bluntness, for Lara was usually quite shy and prudish when she told her stories (though she knew she loved hearing them, by her misted eyes and clamping thighs) Amelia replied just as bluntly, "He makes me cum by sticking his tongue in my pussy."

The thought was so inconceivable to Lara that she merely stared. The pussy -- that was to say, a woman's private place, she amended ashamedly -- was there to accommodate a man's private place. And also his fingers, according to Amelia. But his tongue?

"Shall I continue?"

"I thought you had an appointment?" Lara said hurriedly. 

"That can wait." 

"Oh, tell me, then" she burst out eagerly, prior concerns for her cousin's sanity forgotten.

Amelia wasted no time in shyness. "The first time he seemed to just be kissing my mound. I was confused, naturally, but gave him the benefit of the doubt," she paused at this and glanced at Lara with a knowing look. "Obviously I couldn't do with such pandering about and just wanted him to stick it in me."

Lara nodded understandingly. 

"So I raised myself up to see what he was about and saw him, well opening my pussy lips with his fingers and going in for a good look...then he simply smiled - at least I think it was a smile what with his tongue sliding over my slit and then he...well, I can think of no other term but to say, he ate me!"

"And -- and then what?" the wetness between her thighs grew until she was certain her drawers were soaked

"He kept at it until I came, good boy that he was, plunging his tongue inside me again and again -- curious, but you wouldn't think something so much smaller than that delicious cock could feel so glorious but there you go. And then, when I thought I would die he sucked my clit into his mouth and I swear I died twice." 

Amelia rose abruptly then. "I shall see you tomorrow, dear -- and leave everything to me - you shall have your day!" with that, she disappeared from the room quite hurriedly. 

*

Lord Hampton forced himself to keep eye contact with the man before him. He could feel the sweat gathering at his neck, his palms moistening. The day had finally arrived when he had assured himself in all of his arrogance that it would not. His anxiety was acute. It all felt unreal; the well lit study, the hissing fire, the excited noise of the house staff outside whilst He sat opposite. How could this be happening? But he would not turn into a stuttering infant; he was a peer of the realm, for heavens sake. Anyone could be managed. There was always a solution.

"I have money, there is no limit -- my solicitor can draw you a cheque in no time-"

"I'm already wealthier than you could ever dream to be, considering I gave you the money you desired to start with -- but still, mortal money means little to me. I have to say, however, that I was impressed to learn of your successes these past years. That you have managed to multiply my...loan so efficiently is quite something." He had to give any human points for initiative, since few seemed to have it.

"Yes - of course, silly of me. Then, perhaps-"

"You know what I want. I do not bargain," his guest's voice was colder now. The humoured edge had gone but it had not been a usual humour. It had heckled and mocked.

Hampton wiped at his forehead. Think, he urged. Another way around, a way out. "If we made a deal to-"

"We have one already -- twelve years old it is, too, and you haven't even honoured that yet. I am not a patient being."

Hampton shuddered. He had expected 'not a patient man', for that's what this -- this creature before him presented himself as. Who could tell the difference? But he was no man. He was evil. And so incongruous in his polished boots and expertly tailored coat.

"You must appreciate, surely, how impossible-"

A knock on the door interrupted them before the abrupt appearance of his daughter Amelia caused him to catch his breath.

"Father-"

"God grief, girl, what do you mean coming in uninvited? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Thinking this was where Cole would be since she had to relay her unavailability to him somehow, Amelia had hoped to wander into her fathers study innocently whilst informing him subtly. The uncharacteristic harshness of her fathers tone and his bunched, red face caught her off guard. He had never barred her access to anything before. 

"I - I'm sorry, papa, but I only wished to-"

"Leave immediately," he bit out. 

"Please," a deep voice interrupted them.

Amelia looked up at the elegantly dressed man who unfurled himself from a chair. He was head and shoulders above her, though she were tall for a woman. And he had the most fascinating eyes she had ever seen; icy blue like a slashing ocean, glittering and pale one minute, dark the next. She shook her head of the silly notion. 

"I will leave with you, if you will be so kind to escort me. Your father and I have finished our business," he turned then and looked consideringly at her father. "Good day, Hampton. Until next time." 

"But, my lord -- please, I beg of you-" but Hampton's pleading fell on deaf ears. 

*

When a demon made a bargain with a mortal, it was binding. In exchange for riches, health or whatever else one could dream to wish for, the mortal side of the bargain was always the same -- to hand over one of his or her own flesh, one of their seed. As long as the human exchanged was a son or daughter of the bargaining mortal then the deal would be met and the bond between demon and mortal would be broken, having been successfully fulfilled. 

To use a general, un-bonded mortal for ones demonic purposes was off little use and of fleeting satisfaction. But to use one who had been promised, meant the blood was sacred and precious and priceless. Fortifying, regenerating. Of course it did sometimes follow fue to their flippant natures, that many mortals when it came time to pay the piper, failed to hand over the promised offspring - and there was no way for the demon to posses or snatch the promised since they must be freely given or else the bargain was not pure and the blood meaningless. To renegade on the agreement would mean punishment for that weak-willed mortal, naturally. It also meant that the demon and human would now be forever bonded, the demon now master of that mortal. 

The punishments were explicit but tailor made to that humans greatest fears. Life long torture, loss of everything they had, illness, death, suffering of loved ones... all endless pain with no way out. Hell on earth. If Hampton did not hand over this blonde daughter, then he could look forward to an existence that would make him beg for that human death of suicide, but it would be of no use. Once eternally bonded to a demon, God would deny all claim over Hampton. The man would suffer well for denying the demon Nicholas, with no reprieve. But Nicholas did not give up so easily. He would get his prize.

*

Lara surveyed the opulent room from her vantage point, front row centre in a row of wallflowers. There she sat in her God awful dress, watching as girls with half their tits out were whirled about the dance floor by dashing men who's eyes eagerly waited for a peek of nipple from the daring expanse shown in this new style of dressing, brought over by the Parisians. Her mother looked at her sternly from across the room as if she knew the bend of her unhappy thoughts. Where was Amelia? Surely she had not forgotten about this so-called magical plan? Just then, her cousin waved at her from the entrance of the ballroom, disentangling herself from hero-worshiping girls and cock-teased men as they vied for her attention.

She appeared at Lara's side with a beaming smile.

"What a lovely...off white gown," she began.

"It's yellow and you know it. Discoloured looking, awful!"

"Yes, I suppose - oops!"

Lara jumped up as red punch soaked the entire front of her dress and people around them muttered in dismay.

"I've always been a butterfingers," Amelia shook her head with unconvincing regret. "Come, we must clean you up!" and with sparkling eyes, her cousin dragged her away from the noisy ballroom.

*

Lara felt exposed. As she stood in the ballroom once more in one of Amelia's dresses, she was certainly no longer a wallflower. Indeed, even had she wanted to revert to her well-practised role, she could spy no available seats. She felt nervous and thrilled, her heart jerking oddly at this unexpected excitement to the evening. The gown showed off much of her back, with sleeves that went across her shoulders and sagged slightly due to the slightly larger fit but the look was becoming. It was deep red and the colour was perhaps what horrified her mother the most. Though her breasts were not as big as Amelia's, they still filled out the bodice nicely and caused many a man's eye to glaze over in lust.

"You must change right this instance, why, if your father were to walk in from the games room-" her mother began.

"Really, Helena, Lara looks wonderful! The dress may have been made for her. Let her keep it on, you know how girls are. She is almost glowing." As her aunt's praise, her mother could hardly say a word against it. After all, her aunt was a countess, where her mother was a mere lady having not married into nobility like her sister had. Her unpopular opinion was easily brushed aside. 

"Yes, well I suppose it will have to do given the circumstances - though I forgot to mention Ceilia, we cannot stay for very long this evening-"

"Yes, yes. Come, you must have a glass of champagne - it's imported!" and with that, her mother was pulled away before she could argue further.

Lara silently thanked her aunt for good intuition and mischievous spirit. She was not alone for very long, however, as a dashing man soon dragged over an elder to make the appropriate introductions before asking for her dance card. Lara pleaded thirst very quickly, unused to this male attention and breathed in relief as he trotted away. Though he returned, rather too quickly for her liking. 

"Thank you, Tom. You are most kind to attend me so." 

"Er, it's Tom, my lady."

She apologized but he seemed not to be offended as he eyed her cleavage with warm eyes. Another man joined them shortly.

"May I have the next dance, my lady?" he asked eagerly.

"Oh, Tom has the next."

The two men glared at each other. 

"Perhaps the next-" she began

"I believe the next dance is mine," she was interrupted by a deep, almost gravely voice.

She turned and, too stunned to answer, merely nodded her acceptance. 

The most beautiful man she ever seen gazed down at her. He was dressed completely in black, from his shiny boots, pressed shirt and the silky cravat tied at his strong neck. He pulled her away from the two men with much ease and into his arms as the next dance began. 

"I need to taste your skin," he said abruptly, as he twirled her about. 

They were not the caressing, gentle words of a man in a romance novel but spoken bluntly and unashamedly. 

Embarrassed and thrilled, Lara merely craned her neck to meet his eyes. She should feel affronted, she should walk away from this mysterious man but she wanted what he said, even if she didn't understand it. His face was unsmiling, serious. 


Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 02



Here is the second part of the story – I know the first was a bit all over the place and I wish I hadn't submitted it so quickly but I knew if I spent time contemplating, I would never have the courage to submit... hopefully I can only improve from here. I hope you enjoy it; there will be one more part after this to conclude the story. Thank you for reading!

The story follows on directly from the last part.

***

The two girls avoided the ballroom as they fled the garden, taking a servant's entrance into the house. They skulled the palatial hallway, the noise from the ballroom a muted hum, before Amelia pulled her cousin through one of the many side doors lining the wall and closed it behind them hurriedly.

"Your mother has been looking for you," Amelia said by way of greeting, but her expression didn't look particularly foreboding at this piece of news. Instead, it hinted at curiosity and speculation about something else entirely. 

The first flushes of despair filtered through Lara's sagging body as she vividly recalled what had transpired but a few minutes ago – that 'something else entirely'. Supporting her back against the wooden door, she peered at her cousin through the dark and shadowed room, just about making out her features. 

"And what did you say?" she managed to inquire in calm, off-hand tones.


"I relayed that you were feeling a little unwell and had gone to lie down in one the guest rooms – which was half true, you did admit to some disquiet before you disappeared. Well anyway, this seemed to please her a little too much... I have a feeling this was mostly down to her hatred of my red dress since she seemed considerably unconcerned after that. 

But enough about that...did you – Lord, please tell me you weren't frolicking with that gorgeous man you were dancing with earlier, Lara?" if Lara were not wallowing in her own guilt and misery, she could have sworn she detected regret in her cousins voice.

"It's nothing to worry about, really. I had a sneaky glass of champagne and it made me a little bold. We only... fondled a little," Lara explained, her tones defensive by the end. 

While not something you would run around declaring to the collective ladies of the ton, it was not uncharted territory for a young unmarried female to indulge in flirtation and clandestine caresses at a soiree or ball. The usual haunts for such occurrences were the conservatory or orangey, true, but considering Lara's fumblings had gone a bit beyond the flirtation mark the change of location seemed now a sensible decision. Lara found herself wanting desperately to tell Amelia everything – not the specifics, but of her frantic emotions. After all, this was her cousin she was talking to - her cousin who would neither judge nor condemn. Besides, she was condemning herself enough for the both of them. 



"Could you light the gas lamp?" she asked then and heard Amelia fumbling about before the room was shrouded in mellow light and she blinked, taking in the sight before her. 

The room was papered in soft pinks and greens and Amelia divulged that this was her mother's personal parlour. Lara was not certain she had seen this room before but then there were so many chambers inside this mini palace that it would take a week's tour to fully appreciate them all. She felt a pang of melancholy then as she realised that she would soon be heading back to the country, away from her cousin and away from London and all of its excitements...which, in all actuality considering her weak will, was probably for the best.

Moving into the room and taking a seat on a plush chair, Lara looked down at her clasped hands as she collected her thoughts but her glance carried over to one of the tall windows and she concentrated on the darkness without, too ashamed to meet her cousin's eyes. 

"I - I feel so dirty, Amelia. How could I have taken leave of my senses with that man? Lord knows what I was thinking but he... I can't explain it but when I was with him, nothing else seemed to matter. The things he did – I allowed him to do. I really am a strumpet," she shook her head in self-loathing. "All he had to do was to look at me and I knew I could deny him nothing."

"Did he take your-"

"I'm still very much a maid," Lara interrupted her sternly.

"Well, there you go then," Amelia took a visible exhalation of relief. "You are certainly no strumpet. The only strumpet here, my dear, is I."

"Oh, you know I didn't mean it like that. It's just that I'm not like you - not confident and able to be carefree and follow my feelings. I have always hoped to be but..."

"And nor would you want to be like me," Amelia's tone was almost angry now and it startled Lara. "Look, I know I've gotten up to some shameful shenanigans - things that I should not even know about, let alone indulge in - but you must understand that it all stems from circumstances. If it hadn't been for that cursed accident – and David - I would never dare half what I do now. 

When I was lying in bed for months and months, listening to the physician telling the parents that that my left leg would have to be removed, I honestly believed that it would happen and that I would be bed-ridden and have my livelihood ruptured from then on. The thing was, Lara, I had also been so painfully self-aware before the accident – you might think you are a little reticent and timid but for me, it was painful self-awareness. I was...scared of life, I suppose you could say but in vast contrast to that I had always been hot blooded and often thought that I would die a virgin, so shy of men and of the idea of marriage was I. And then when things changed with the accident, it shifted things in my mind."

"I never realised," Lara shook her head. 

A self depreciating smile replaced Amelia's straight mouth. "Well, I can't play the poor little rich girl until the very last page. It's true, mother and father have always let me get away with murder and I don't think that helped but still, I would have gone to my husband a maid had it not been for David entering my life just as the leg healed. 

Everything was all too much; the freedom of mobility after over two years being bed-ridden and the joy of simple pleasures that I thought would be denied to me from then on that I suppose I simply decided to follow my heart and I guess you could say, lived to suffer from the lesson."

"Do you still think of him?" Lara rested her head against the back of the chair, the atmosphere in the room soft and languid. The parlour felt so cosy and secluded that one would hardly guess there was a lively ball taking place within the same residence. Or a handsome, overwhelming man walking about who had been scant seconds from taking her virginity.

Seating herself on the floor by Lara's legs, Amelia sighed pensively. "Yes, but not in a lovesick way. Lord, I was naïve. I really believed that David wanted to marry me and make a home, otherwise I'd never have given him my virtue, Lara," at the last part, her cousins eyes were imploring. 

"And then of course Garret came along shortly after David departed and helped me to forget," her cousin grinned now.

"You are terrible," Lara shook her head. 

"A wanton woman!" her cousin rejoined, before sobering. "So, are you saying that you've dipped your toe in the waters of pre-marital liaisons and decided it is not for you?"

"That is correct," Lara confirmed decisively. "I know this will sound strange – but I truly did not feel myself when I was with him...I don't think it was the champagne, either. All of my concerns seemed to vanish. It was almost as if my will was ripped from me."

Amelia snorted, making light of her uneasiness but Lara hadn't been speaking fancifully. 

"Well that's men for you - I'd best keep one eye on you from now on, after all we want at least one female from this family going untouched to the marriage bed. But who was the gentleman? I know he's acquainted with father in someway and he was certainly a handsome devil, seeming more than taken with you...ah! And here you were yesterday complaining that my Cole was an old man but this gentleman looked to be around thirty years too. You never know, Lara, you might be able to bring him to scratch if you play you cards right – which means withholding your maidenhead, dear," her expression was rebuking.

Lara blushed. "There is no danger of any of that for I'm sure he has already forgotten me by now...and that I shall probably never see him again after tonight anyway."

Shortly after, the two girls rejoined the ball. After all Amelia was the star of the show and had already built up a firm hoard of admirers who would surely be missing her. Lara was both relieved and disappointed not to encounter Nicholas again. This brief respite with Amelia in the parlour had made it seem as though the events in the garden had happened an age ago. Despite herself, Lara found her head craning this way and that throughout the night, hoping to catch a glimpse of that beautiful, raven haired man but met with no success. 

No doubt he is with the rest of the men in the gaming room by now, she mused. Or off in some guest room tumbling an old lords' neglected wife. The thought induced momentary jealousy but little regret that it would not be she. It had indeed been a lucky escape and now that her senses were restored, the thought of scandal and its consequences was a real, debilitating thing. Lara would listen to her cousin's advice and would feel only grateful that Amelia had stumbled upon them when she had. But Lara knew that for the rest of her days, she would never forget that blue eyed elusive man. Not for as long as she lived.

*

The following day

The rented townhouse in Piccadilly was thoroughly ordinary. It comprised wholly of sturdy brown stone, which just about summed up her family; economical to the hilt. Lara could not help but compare it to Amelia's residence with all of its luxurious splendour and hated herself for her uncharitable thoughts but the problem was that she had always harboured grand delusions and had always struggled to school them. For as long as she could remember, she had frequently procrastinated about herself in another setting and life, living in wonderful luxury and contentedness but without the cynical and shallow edge that was true for most wealthy debutantes. Unlike her reasonably wealthy but frugal parents, the stuffiness of her life suffocated her.

Her father's stern tones caught her attention then and she abandoned her frivolous thoughts, focusing on her breakfast.

"It was all a farce; do you realise how much Hampton spent on that French chef alone?" her father declared to the room which further consisted of her mother and two older brothers who she had not seen for at least year, them being older and married by now with families and duties of their own. 

"Yes, well my sister has always been extravagant," her mother rejoined in disapproving tones. "She always had to have the very best of everything."

"Did Aunt Cecilia tell you of her plans tomorrow, mama?" Lara said quickly now, hoping to put an end to the negative atmosphere. 

Her mother nodded once, before stirring her tea for a long moment and Lara crossed her fingers, hoping that her parents would not put a damper on the day. "She mentioned that she was taking you and Amelia to the Connaught Hotel for tea and asked me to come along. I am afraid, however, that I shall have to sit it out but I am sure it will be a tranquil, pleasant afternoon for the three of you," her mother concluded. Tranquil and pleasant meaning dull and inoffensive to her mother - the recipe for a fine day. 

If there was one thing her mother was not fond of, it was of traipsing around London and she avoided venturing into the city at all costs. She was therefore grateful in one large respect when it came to her sister's - the Countess of Haverton – full and energized lifestyle; she had plenty of connections to see to it that Lara was introduced to people of fine-repute and good standing. She herself did not have the patience for putting on airs and graces when it came to conversing with the ton so was more than happy to leave it to her younger sibling who had always been the personable one of the two.

Lara had been on enough excursions with her aunt to know, however, that tomorrow's activities would comprise of tea at the Connaught for five minutes followed by a full day of shopping at countless bazaars and eating wonderful food like raspberry Ice's at Melvin's Sweet Shop on The Strand. Her toes curled under the table in anticipation, eager for tomorrow to arrive. 

*

After breakfast, Lara took to her room and was diligently reading 'The essential handbook on female etiquette and deportment' before a knock on the door announced her flustered looking mother. 

"There was a caller for you," her mothers look mirrored her own surprise. 

Lara had only ever received one male caller - a duty caller and family friend – and that had been shortly after her own come-out a few years ago. She had long ceased to feel envious of all of the popular debutantes who received hoards of attentive men with invitations to Hyde park or the theatre or with various gifts of chocolate truffles and pink roses. 

"Who is it?" her heart lurched painfully as she pushed a particular face away as it vied for attention. Of course it could not be he. Most likely he had already forgotten and dismissed her as nothing more than a silly tease. 

"A Lord Armel – he was very polite and unaffected, I must say. He and your father were talking about architecture over a spot of tea," the last was said with a bemused look from her mother, for it was difficult to gain her father's good opinion long enough to settle into a particular topic of conversation. 

"It must be Tim – or Tom - from Amelia's ball," Lara lifted her shoulders, a thread of disappointment creeping into her voice. After all, her Nicholas – she blushed at the propriety thought – did not appear to be the sort who would enjoy talking about something as staid as architecture. 

"Do I look presentable?" Lara closed the book then and stood to face her mother.

"Oh, he didn't request an audience – he simply asked your fathers permission to accompany you to the theatre this evening which I thought was very agreeable of him but it is that which troubles me for I do not fancy the task of accompanying you. You know how I hate dark, crowded spaces. You shall have to take Katie to chaperone you," she said, referring to Lara's surly maid.

Well, at least the theatre should be a diverting experience so that even if her male companion turned out to be dull she could always feign severe captivation with the performance on stage. On that positive thought, she determined to look forward to the unexpected change to her otherwise monotonous day. 

*

"I confess, I have always wanted to attend the theatre," Katie surprised Lara by announcing that evening on the carriage ride to the Lyceum theatre. "It shall certainly be a treat and then your mother informed me that this gentleman who is to accompany you is of a sober disposition and a very agreeable man. I think it should be a very pleasant evening."

And so they departed the carriage some minutes later as they approached Wellington Street and were met by their tall, dark host and Lara could hardly believe it was him; could hardly believe that this was the man who had chatted so robustly with her father about architecture. Though in truth, what did she know of the man to predict his likes and dislikes? She only knew that he was a passionate, beautiful, knee-weakening sort with a very skilful tongue. 

Grateful that Nicholas – Lord Armel – and Katie had turned their attention from her so that they could not speculate over her suddenly heated face, the three of them made their way to their seats and a tinkling giggle caught Lara's attention. She looked ahead to two girls being herded by a sour face older lady, their attention riveted on Nicholas. 

Joining the small queue near the entrance into the theatre hall, Lara couldn't help but shoot frowning looks at the obviously infatuated girls before her. She herself looked to her side then to gaze upon the object of their mutual affection and admitted that she was no better than they. 

Dressed in black save for his snowy white skirt and emerald green cravat, Nicholas bore the feminine notice with polite disinterest. He turned to catch Lara's gaze on him then, and his finely carved mouth moulded into a handsome, crooked smile. Under the lights of the theatre, his black hair had a blue tinge and Lara knew a strong desire to brush the soft strands between her fingers. 

Nicholas subjected the girl to an equally as evaluating analysis as he walked behind her and her maid up to his private box. The theatre was shrouded in low lightning and his gaze settled on her tempting nape plainly visible with her dark caught up in a high knot, much like it had been at the ball yesterday. Her profile, he noted impartially, was exquisite but in all truth her features were slightly off-canter with her bowed but slightly too wide lips and her almond shaped that flicked up slightly in a mildly feline way, their green irises once again reminding him of the emerald fires in his own world. 

Once in Nicholas' private box, the man ushered Katie into the seat to the left before settling Lara in middle with himself at her side, set a polite and respectable distance away. The lights soon dimmed as the show began and Lara looked around the shadowed theatre, perched high in the enclosed box, feeling quite cut off and secluded from the rest of its patrons. 

"Do you mind if I set myself forward?" Katie inquired then, her eyes still riveted on the stage. "The binoculars are splendid of course, but my eyesight had always been a little muzzy and I would surely benefit from the closeness."

She soon moved to within an inch of the edge of the box, her gloved hands clasped over the railing as she eagerly ate up the performance and Nicholas caused Lara to start as he leaned in and murmured into her ear; 

"You seemed surprised to see me when you arrived. You were expecting someone else, I think. I hope I didn't disappoint you," his voice was teasing.

"I had hoped it would be you," she whispered, blushing at her honesty but it was dark and almost secretive up here and the atmosphere made her feel bolder. 

With his close presence, Lara was sure she could feel Nicholas' body heat. And then there was his smell...she took a delicate inhalation and her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment. It was delicious: woody yet almost sweet but still thoroughly masculine, if a scent could be described as such. 

She glanced to her lower right then and gave into what had tempted her in her peripheral; Nicholas' large hand lay palm upwards between them and with no hesitancy but quite a bit of urgency, Lara placed her own within it and in the darkness and the shadows of the theatre they linked fingers. Lara felt her heart take on a sluggish pulse then to join the gentle throbbing between her legs. 

"Who are you?" she implored of this mysterious man.

Having tried and failed to concentrate on the performance, she turned to look at him and in the darkened box and low lighting of the theatre, his face was all shadows and dips and hollows. In a smooth movement, he leaned close toward her but as he was so much taller, his lips hovered scant inches above her forehead and he brushed them lightly over a tousled wave of hair and was sure she had felt the flick of a tongue. She shivered.

"It is drafty in here, is it not?" he noted conversationally, before moving away and loosing her hand and she felt bereft at the separation. 

Just then, Katie turned around with sheer reluctance and inquired over Lara. The woman's eyes barely settled on her before moving back to the stage and back again. 




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 02



Before Lara could reply, however, Nicholas interrupted to ask the older woman whether she was feeling the draft in the box as much as her charge. 

"Indeed I am quite content but the girl must not catch a chill. Perhaps there is a lap blanket in here?" 

Nicholas' private box seemed a touch more luxurious than the others and she could see that there was indeed a soft dark blanket as well as some intricately stitched cushions for ones comfort should the red velvet lined seats prove uncomfortable. 

With a flourish, Nicholas placed the blanket over Lara's lap, and satisfied and eager to get back to the entertainment, Katie turned her back on them, captivated once more. 

"Your chaperone seems quite in her own world," Nicholas murmured and they both considered the woman who sat a few feet from them. 

In response, Lara reached once more for his hand, her eyes never leaving the stage. At some point, his hand moved away from hers and now sat beneath the cover of the blanket, resting on her velvet seat, snugly close to her thigh but not quite touching. Once more, because she yearned for the contact, Lara moved her fingers to find him and placed them, boldly, around his wrist feeling the short hairs there.

The feeling of the coarse hairs, the warmth of his skin and his invading smell all induced a warm wetness to settle between her legs. Trying subtly to squeeze her thighs together in restlessness, Lara made to move her hand away from his to end the madness within her but before she could he reversed their positions so that he now held her. 

Clutching her hand, Nicholas manoeuvred it high onto her lap and placed his own over it. So bold a move but so easily accomplished in this darkened box with its veiling gold coloured curtains. Heart lurching, Lara squeezed her hand into a fist beneath his before quickly slipping it away so that now his large palm was left resting alone, perilously close to her mound under the protection of the lap blanket. 

Lara glanced at Nicholas from beneath her lashes, feeling shaky. His body was still settled a polite distance from her and if one were to look over it would all look quite innocent. And then his hand moved on her ever so slightly and tentatively and she could hardly think about anything else. She gave a slight nod before returning her hard eyes to the stage and fought to keep them from fluttering closed. 

Nicholas elicited slight pressure on her. His hand flattened on her lap and with his fingers pointing toward the floor, they cupped her over her dress. Beneath the secrecy of the dark blanket, he burrowed his two middle fingers between her cleft, moving them back and forth very slowly until he had created a crease in the skirts of her dress, a crease that outlined her mound as closely and snugly as it could. He kept up this rhythmic massage and was given greater access when Lara's legs parted ever so slightly under the blanket. There, he followed her mound all the way down, putting pressure against her opening and rubbing his fingers against the spot that, even through the layers of clothing, heated his digits.

"Close your legs," he dipped his head toward her ear for the briefest of seconds before turning his attention to the stage once more and heard Lara's breath catch as she obeyed and, with his fingers now trapped between her thighs, he circled and rubbed her with vigour. 

Seeing her lashes flutter, Nicholas tapped her clit. She gasped but in the noise of the theatre only he could hear the satisfying sound. Again, he massaged her and again, he tapped and he kept up this rhythm until her breaths began to match his movements and then all too quickly she was pushing him away, shaking her head.

Lara couldn't let go like she did when she rubbed herself at night – not here. She had felt the familiar sensation climbing, had felt she throbbing just by his scent and presence alone let alone his physical manipulation. She had felt her clitoris throbbing and tingling in need and had wanted so desperately to grab his large hand and pull it beneath her draws to her dewy heat but instead had removed the blanket and his hand and sat now, suffering through the rest of the performance and diligently trying to keep her glance on the stage. 

*

Bidding good evening to Nicholas after the show with a calmness she was far from feeling, Lara had sat in the carriage on the way to her house feeling frustrated and oddly depressed. She missed him. Which was simply absurd. But the separation between them as she sped off to Piccadilly and he to his own destination made her ache with disappointment. 

He had politely inquired as to her plans tomorrow before the performance had started that evening and she had mentioned her outing with her relations, dropping in her Aunt Cecilia's preference for shopping in Covent Garden in hopes of giving him a subtle, futile hint. But he had not said anything that suggested any reason for her to hope for a further encounter with him. 

Her family would depart for the country in a few days and the knowledge that she may never see him again filled her with sadness. There was something about him quite apart from his compelling nature... a kind of vulnerability that she was sure she spied but was never convinced of for all the quickness with which it disappeared. 

Once the carriage approached the townhouse, Katie and Lara entered to her parents questions about how it all went and whether Lord Armel had proved an accommodating companion but feeling almost like a miser with her gold, Lara hadn't wanted to divulge and had felt almost territorial over Nicholas and their evening – for Katie having been so captivated and inattentive had almost seemed to be in another building altogether - and so Lara had pleaded exhaustion and lay now on her side in bed, the curtains open half way so that the low light from the moon filtered into her bedroom.

Lara closed her eyes and moved quickly onto her back then, unable to deny herself any longer and tugged her nightdress up over knees before stroking her thighs lightly. In her mind she saw Nicholas' strange glittering blue eyes running over her and placed her lips on that flash of throat that could be seen beneath his cravat to taste his skin. 

Her body recalled his covered manhood on her naked skin on the night of Amelia's ball and the sensation of its heat and heaviness and throbbing demand was almost a tangible thing. Slipping her fingers over her naked mound, Lara rubbed the moisture around slowly while her other hand moved up her stomach until it covered a breast. There, she caught a nipple between thumb and forefinger and pulled at it lazily. She tugged at it quickly then before dipping her fingers into her hole at the same time, as far in as she dared, all the while concentrating on the memory of Nicholas' suckling lips on her breasts. She could almost feel the pull and tug and gnawing of his teeth on the puckered flesh and knew an overwhelming urge to thrust and plunge her fingers into her sheath, to satisfy the urge for fullness inside of her. 

Spreading her legs wide under the quilt, the soles of her feet flat on her mattress, Lara manipulated the tight bundle of nerves that gave her such intense pleasure. To tip her over the edge, she envisioned Nicholas above her now, his manhood eager and hard and naked against her skin, bathing itself in the wetness from the centre of her legs before thrusting into her wanting entrance with a hard determination. Crying out softly, she reached her goal with a jerk of her hips and a tightening of her thighs. 

Soon after, rather than stay away and stare into the darkness as usual, she found herself falling to an almost instant sleep. She felt content, languid though not completely satisfied. When she dreamt that night, it was of an imposing and demanding man who promised her things that she hardly thought possible. And in her dreams she consented to him fully, knowing that she would never be parted from him, that he would be with her forever and that she would be his. 



* 

The next day

The narrow London streets were hard to negotiate, and if you stopped for even a moment you were guaranteed a bruised toe...or nine. Still, Lara could find little reason to complain today as she tailed her Aunt Cecilia and cousin, popping into a milliner for ribbons, a beauty shop for perfumes and a bakery for éclairs. And if her mind were distracted even whilst surrounded by these fascinating sights, she was sure to put on a smiling face for her cousin, determined that she enjoy the day to her fullest without dwelling on Him. Her two relations soon spotted a strange shop selling all manner of things from jewellery to horse saddles and more eager to forage through the bookshop opposite, Lara pleaded leave. 

She entered the bookshop following her aunt's firm order that she was to remain and wait for them to collect her and must not wander off. This was the extent of her guardianship but it was quite comforting none the less to know that she was not completely carefree in her duty as protector.

Lara gave her reticule a little shake and despaired at the telling sound. A few coins, nothing more. Enough to buy a penny-dreadful novel perhaps, but she would have to hide it well lest her mother have another fit. The last one had caused a mini battle to ensue between the two of them, the book having been open on a particularly saucy page and her mother didn't sit will with such vulgar literature. The novel had told the tale of a weak-willed damsel and a roguish highwayman with few scruples and at the irony and heated memories she felt acute arousal hit her, right there in the middle of a musty old book shop. 

Hoping to distract herself, Lara trailed her fingers over some handsome hardbacks and stopped on an anthology of gothic poetry but finding no price approached the store clerk. After all, she may be able to haggle.

The clerk looked at her stubbornly in response and replied, "More than you've got."

Humiliated, Lara glanced away. True, in her unattractive clothes, she didn't quite resemble the fine ladies and gentleman who frequented the shop, but still, her garments were made of quality materials, even if a little on the grey and brown and larger side. 

"Answer the lady again."

With mutual looks of surprise, Lara and the shop clerk turned in the direction of the cool command. Clasping the book of poetry against her chest like a shield, Lara valiantly tried to maintain eye-contact with the tall man towering above her. A vision from the night of the ball assailed her of his looming presence on the balcony – like a regal King – whilst she had looked up ay him from her place at the bottom of the garden steps, the peasant. 

"No, really – it's quite alright. I wasn't even that interested in it anyway," she lied.

At her words, the clerk grabbed the book from her and dusted at it insultingly. 

"Wrap it up, I shall buy it. Come, come, I haven't all day," Nicholas instructed, staring at the bony clerk with narrowed eyes. 

He listened to mans confused thoughts; anger that the girl had fingered the pristine book, greed because of Nicholas' appearance which announced him as Gentleman. Yet he knew that Nicholas' meant to give the book to the girl and did not want to relinquish it to her out of principle.

The clerk quickly passed over the shoddily wrapped book, his greed overriding his principles – great surprise that, Nicholas mused sardonically - before accepting the funds from Nicholas with snatching fingers. Collecting the package, Nicholas sought Lara's forearm and directed them both toward the rear of the shop where they could talk unobserved, concealed as they were by the tall bookshelves in the darkened shop. 

"For you."

Lara looked at the proffered hands gloved in grey leather. Though covered, one could still appreciate the strength of those hands, and she herself swore she could almost feel their heat. 

"It's not right," she shook her head. 

"I think we've gone a little beyond propriety at this point, Lara."

She looked at him quickly at that. It was not proper that he should use her first name and in public too but the fact that he had made her feel weak. And that he had come...that he had travelled to where she had stated she would be and looked out for. But why? Why was such a beautiful, cultured man interested in someone as unremarkable as her? Perhaps he thought to pick up where he had left of yesterday – and the night before that - but if that were so she must stop putting it off and inform him now that she was no easy girl and that her virtue was for her husband alone. 

Seeing that he still held the book out for her, she at last moved her hands from beneath her cape and accepted the offering before thanking him politely. 

With this bookshop as a backdrop, the man standing centimetres from her made for a startling picture. Dressed in polished black boots, well tailored breeches and a jacket that moulded itself defiantly to his strong chest, she was sure even the book clerk had been taken with him. 

"No doubt you are most busy today and wish to get on," she nodded once and turned away, pretending to be ever so interested in the book about fly-fishing before her.

"Not yet – don't you know I came here to see you? Would you really send me on my merry way without even a smile?" his tones were teasing.

'Did you - did you really' her thoughts chimed but she must not give into his charm. This would lead nowhere, that much was clear. Besides she would be out of London by the end of week and the thought made her throat close. She looked away from Nicholas in withdrawal not before catching his frowning brow but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the cheerful bell at the door announcing new customers.

"Sorry we were so long," Amelia approached her breathlessly, her brows arched in enquiry.

Lara glanced from Nicholas to her relations, wondering about an explanation and praying to God that her face did not betray the origins of their...acquaintance to one another.

"Ah, my lord – I believe we met briefly at Amelia's come out the night before last." Her aunt, having trailed in behind her daughter, took the decision out her hands.

Nicholas murmured an appropriate response before bowing over her aunt's hand dutifully. He was so tall that he had to stoop quite a bit and Lara was given a clear view of the nape of his neck, covered partially by soft black curls. Her fingers moved involuntarily at the memory of them between her palms. 

"Oh, we cannot converse in this mouldy old shop," her aunt wrinkled her nose then and beckoned them all outside and Lara was sure she heard a wounded gasp from the clerk as they exited.

*

Congregated in the airy Day Room in her aunt's townhouse, Lara studied her teacup with concentration. It was a little past five now and following their exit from the bookshop, her aunt had jovially declared that they must all return to the townhouse for tea and cake. She had been most insistent that Lord Armel accompany them. From Aunt Cecilia's expression it was clear to see she had marked Lord Armel as a most eligible bachelor and promising contender for her daughter's hand for his face and manner hinted at fine breeding and his way of dress marked him as impossibly wealthy, all vital ingredients for a suitable husband in her opinion. 

The thought of Nicholas preferring Amelia over her– a very large possibility – made Lara's chest tighten. 

And so here the five of them sat now, Lord Hampton the fifth. 

*

Nicholas reclined farther in his seat, a picture of masculine carelessness. Beneath his lashes, he watched a bead of sweat trickle down Lord Hampton's temple before transferring his regard to the blonde, Amelia, giving her his fullest attention.

"What a wonderful coming out ball you had, my lady. It seemed you made quite an impression on society."

Amelia smiled politely. She had been studying Lara's man – the thought seemed to have stuck - since she had come upon him conversing with Lara in the bookshop and had concluded that he was indeed handsome, perhaps the handsomest man she had seen. But he lacked that special something that made her sing... mainly he lacked the fact that he was Lord Nicholas Armel and not Mr Cole Morely. 

She fingered her necklace then, a gift from Cole last night. It wasn't anything very much; just a simple chain with the tiniest of pearls but the fact that he had purchased it with his hard earned money meant that it could have been the largest diamond for all of the care she handled it with. 

"Your future certainly looks bright," Nicholas continued. "I have heard there have been many offers for your hand since the ball." 

At this, Nicholas noted the uncomfortable expression that entered Amelia's face. He also followed her hand as it moved to her neck again, and her mind was filled with the image of a blonde man, his face warm. 

"Yes, she was a huge success," Lady Cecilia contributed fondly. "Still, I can scarcely believe that my darling daughter will be married and a mother in no time at all, but it is time I relinquish her and let her live her own life."

Hampton shot a quick glance at the black haired devil opposite him at his wife's words. He detected the smallest of smiles on the bastards face. He was enjoying every bit of this. He felt his own throat contract. There his daughter sat without an inkling that her father had finally decided to follow through with his agreement to hand her over. 

Taking a steadying breath, the most potent of his life, Hampton said then, "Lord Armel - if I may, I would like to go over our business arrangement again," Hampton cleared his throat.

"Oh, not now, Arthur – let Lord Armel enjoy his tea-"

Smoothly cutting Lady Cecilia off, Nicholas rose with negligent grace and thanked the woman for her hospitality before turning to her husband. "Whenever you are ready, my lord," he looked at the ashen faced man opposite him with an unblinking stare.

*

Hampton had bidden Nicholas to wait a moment and so here he sat now, alone in the study. He closed his eyes for a moment. Lara. He could feel her now. He detected distress over something and restlessness. Since he had scant hours left in this world, he had accepted that this would only leave time enough to conclude matters with Hampton. The fact that he would even consider voluntarily extending his stay in this world in order to seduce and possess Lara grated on him. She was so well guarded and there were no distractions like at the ball; no opportunities for him to seduce her. 

Clearly, he could take her now in front of everyone if it was his will but the recriminations back in his own world were not worth it. His hands tightened on the arms of his chair as he considered that once he had sampled and drained Amelia's blood should Hampton agree to give her to him, the taunting thoughts of Lara would subside. Feeding on Amelia would replenish his body and mind and leave him sated for years. After all that was the sole purpose why – for him at least – he dabbled with humans in the first place; pure, pledged blood was precious indeed and not something to turns ones nose up at. 

However, this plan could be equally as thwarted if Hampton refused to hand Amelia over. One person's thoughts he could not hear were those of his bonded, Hampton's – as such, he had no way of knowing at this point what Hampton had determined to do. But if he refused to hand over his daughter, Nicholas would make him pay harshly. His limits had been tested to an unbearable degree on this journey and he would not let it go lightly.

* 

"Just do what I say, man. I need a witness. Ask no questions, do you understand?"

Cole met his employer's eyes steadily. "Of course, my lord. But why-"

Lord Hampton slashed his hand through the air. "You are my solicitor – so do your job and ask no questions! Come, we must not keep him waiting."




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 02



So saying, the two men left the secrecy of the library before heading to the study with Hampton wasting no time in pandering. He seated himself at his table, directly opposite Nicholas and gestured to Cole.

"This is my solicitor, Mr Morely. I have brought him here as witness-"

A short bark of laughter interrupted and Hampton's face flinched. Nicholas was sure the old man would start crying soon, and quietened down before the pathetic blubbering could begin. He nodded for the man to continue. 

"I wish to tell you here and now, with a witness, that I have agreed to fulfil my part in the bargain. I thereby..."

Nicholas nodded in encouragement. "You need only to say it aloud," he cajoled. 

Hampton swallowed, his stomach rolling. "I thereby hand over my daughter."

Nicholas exhaled deeply, leaning forward in the chair as he did so, his body rocking slightly. It had been done. His bones seemed to vibrate within him, the bond between himself and his slave finally forged. He could feel the attachment cementing and it was delicious. Curiously, it feel more potent that usual. Perhaps that was because his last successful bargain with a mortal had been some eight years ago and the sensation had dulled in his memory. 

After a few moments, Nicholas righted himself with effort and dampened his elation. He met the look of the grieving man squarely. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" 

Burying his face in his hands, Hampton wept. The solicitor looked utterly bemused and not a little wary and stared from his employer to the dark man. Not knowing what to do, he comforted Hampton as best he could, which was with a gruff pat on the back. 

"Now, go," Hampton looked up at Nicholas, his eyes red. "Go and never return. It is over. God, tell me it is over."

Nicholas eyed the man with mild pity and the transgression irritated him. But he collected himself and said in level tones, "God is of no use to you now. But I would not be so precipitate in your dismissal of me. For one, we shall surely meet again when the time comes. There is only one place for you now when you leave here, Hampton."

The older man's throat appeared to work hard, but no words emerged and Cole glanced at him uneasily. His employer seemed to accept the cryptic message from this visitor, but with difficultly. 

"My Lord, I shall call someone for you. Your valet perhaps or -" Cole said now but was interrupted when Hampton merely gasped a demand for brandy. 

"I need her," Nicholas said, "She needs to come to me; you need to be here. It needs to be now," Nicholas confirmed the next step quietly.

"What – I – but you can't, not here-" Hampton looked at the door quickly. His mind worked fast. Resignation set in as he glared at Nicolas with pleading eyes and received no reaction from the creature. He turned to his solicitor slowly, his actions those of a weary old man for he had expected this in his deepest fears and had planned ahead. 

"Tell Cecilia to visit my aunt in Hampstead to drop over the thank you gift for Amelia's debut. She will not question you but will hurry over happily and should be there for the rest of the day. Next, tell the servants to take the rest of the day off, with pay. I want them all out within the hour. And then – and then bring her in and tell her what I told you if she asks questions." He looked away as the boy disappeared, heartsore.

*

The silence in the room was painful. The creature appeared to be content to sit as still as stone and stare unwaveringly. Minutes past. Hampton rose from his chair on shaky legs, unable to bare the sight of Nicholas' face any longer and a feeling of unreality settled over him. After what felt like hours, the house at last quieted. There were no scurrying steps of footmen, no giggling from passing maids. A knock on the door caused Hampton's heart to spasm and he rubbed at his chest idly before settling into his chair with dismal acceptance, calling out a command.

"Uncle?" Lara stepped around Cole and into Lord Hampton's study, bemused. 

When she saw the other occupant, her heart sped up. Could it be that Nicholas – Lord Armel, she corrected properly - had asked for her uncle's permission for her hand? But then her uncle regarded her with an expression of such gravity that her fanciful thoughts vanished.

"Is - something the matter?" she asked warily, glancing from Nicholas to her uncle. Her eye paused on the younger man. His body appeared immobile, his face almost... almost stunned. 

"Sit down, Lara," the strained tones in her uncle's voice made her stomach flip in uneasiness.

Something terrible must have happened judging by her uncles manner. Something to her mother? Her father? She sent a silent prayer to God 

'I know I complain of them fiercely to you, but I love them in my own way. Mother has never been unkind in the way that truly matters and fathers only fault is that he is over-stern and unaffectionate. I can forgive these slights, but please let them be safe.'

But her uncle did not look at her again after she had seated herself. 

"You cursed fool, what game do you play with me?" Nicholas' command was so abrupt and violent, so disturbing to the prior ambience of the room that Lara flinched, Cole leaned farther against the wall he was standing by and Lord Hampton cowered. 

"I play no game," her uncle breathed. "None at all."

Before anyone could react, Nicholas had crossed to the other side of the table in a single stride and Hampton was bodily dragged from his chair with Nicholas' hands so tight around his neck that the older mans eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible. Calling out, Lara jerked into belated action, fleeing to the two men and wondering in anger why Cole stood there paralysed, useless.

At the touch of the tugging, warm hand on his arm, Nicholas' shrank back and dropped the man. He panted and took a step back from Lara. And another.

Lara murmured apprehensively as she knelt before her uncle, shaking his inert body. He didn't open his eyes but muttered quietly. 

"Call someone to help rouse him," she demanded of Cole.

"I wouldn't advise it," a quiet voice intoned. 

Lara looked at Nicholas with confused anger before turning back to Cole and cursing him aloud when he only shook his head and said:

"I am sorry." 

She dismissed the pathetic man from her mind. Her uncle appeared to have roused himself and sat blinking up at the ceiling before recognition came into his eyes. 

Nicholas looked at the scene before him as if from a great height. Finally, he collected himself enough to direct the situation. Turning to the solicitor, he ordered; "Haul him up, get a drink in him. I want to hear it all. Now."

*

Brimming with Brandy, Hampton sat propped on his chair. 

"Lara, you are my daughter. Child – it is so complicated-"

"Then edit," Nicholas snarled.

Hampton's eyes seemed to move quickly. "Shortly after my marriage to Cecilia I had a brief affair-" he stopped and looked at Nicholas like a guilty child, "a lingering affair. The woman fell pregnant and threatened all manner of things when I refused to submit to her demands to leave Cecilia – how could I?" he implored of his audience. 

Lara sat, stunned, as she listened to her uncle's shattering confession. Her mind felt sluggish, slow. 

"I had thought her gone from my life and the baby too," he looked away, ashamed. 

"But then she turned up again, presenting and abandoning a daughter and since Cecilia was in Bath visiting her fevered mother, she was never to know ...we were both living with David and Elizabeth at the time – my sister and brother in law - as we were hard up on funds. I had decided to have the baby - " he could not say her name, refused to look at her, "sent to a Home for the Unwated's but here David and Elizabeth intervened. They always wanted a daughter, they said and Elizabeth had been overjoyed at the news. She had become barren following the birth of her boys and felt that such a gift from God should not be abandoned, that the child must be raised by loving hands. So they left for the country with the child and when they returned, easily presented her as their own," he stopped and wept. 

Lara shook her head as tears trickled from her cheeks to her clasped hands. 

"Lara-" Hampton rose clumsily and skirted the table to her side. 

Crying out, Lara rose from the chair and held out her arms in rejection. 

"Then, you did not lie. She is mine," Nicholas' wondrous musing bled into Lara's misery. 

"What?" she asked, looking from the two men with confused pain. "What does he mean? What does he mean!" she demanded of the man who proclaimed himself as her father. 

A vicelike grip on her arm made her loose her footing as she was jerked close to a hard body. Lara glanced up at Nicholas' contorted face looming above her. She knew, then, that she had not imagined the stretched, cruel façade of his that she had thought she had glimpsed in the garden, the night of the ball. She had merely tried to ignore it.

She struggled violently then, knowing him not to be human but something fearful. "Let me go – you're hurting me-!"

Her arm was dropped like a hot coal and she rubbed it, tears blinding her vision.

"Not so fast!" Nicholas whipped round and pointed at the figure creeping to the door, Cole. "I am not finished with you."

"No, master," Cole hung his head. 

Nicholas turned once more to the girl by his side, answering her previous question.

"What your uncle – ah, your father – means is that he bargained with a demon with your life some twenty years ago. In exchange for money and power – not to mention a few other additions to get him out of his pathetic scrapes – you were the sacrifice. And I have come to collect. You belong to me now."

"I knew there was something about you," she looked at him with a hard mouth but her eyes were distraught. "But how can such a thing be true?" 

"You don't want to know," Cole murmured. 

Nicholas laughed sharply at that. "Right you are, man. Right you are." 

He moved close to the girl's side again then, brooking the small distance between them and cradled her stiff face in his hands before freeing her hair of its constraints and clips. As it fell to her shoulders, he buried his left hand between the glossy, wavy locks. "What I am to you, is master. Say it, let me hear it on your lips," suddenly, his hand was a claw. His lips were tight, his eyes flashing. 

She was his slave. Nicholas accepted the truth with difficulty. He glanced quickly at Cole. Had the boy known all along and not told him? With no way of knowing his thoughts as he was still bonded to him, Nicholas cursed internally. 

Cole had been dispatched to Hampton as spy some years ago. He had become Nicholas' property for life after he had refused to hand over his own offspring and Nicholas had been hard pressed to think of ways to punish him. This was mainly due to the fact that Cole had sought his services not for greed or personal interest but because of a deep devotion to another which was unusual for a human. And as the boy had already lost his love to childbirth that option of punishing him for failing to carry out his part of the agreement was out. It was not such an uncharacteristic show of mercy, for Nicholas derived little internal pleasure and contentment from needless spitefulness. It was also not the first time in all his years dealing with humans that had proven unselfish and sincere and Nicholas had always known a degree of reluctant respect for such humans.

Eager to return to his own world, Nicholas had therefore delayed Cole's punishment and incidentally – though not purposefully - allowed Cole a respite. Eventually, however, a purpose for the boy had arisen quite nicely and Nicholas had summoned him to keep tabs on Hampton. Nicholas had thought he had done the job well but now he was not so sure. 

"How long have you been fucking the blonde daughter?" he inquired of Cole now, his tones casual.

Cole shook his head, a vein throbbing near his temple as anger coursed through him. "I-"

"Do not lie."

"A year. Almost a year to this day."

"But how long have you wanted her for? Did you hear, Hampton," Nicholas paused and said in almost conversational tones, "Your solicitor has been rutting with your daughter right where we stand, I would imagine. Well? Did you enjoy her here?"

"Yes," Cole bit out. 

"Not on the old man's table!" Nicholas shook his head and chuckled with laughter at the sheer seediness of it all.

"You swine – you've been this creature's mole, you've been serving him-" Hampton charged up to Cole and swung at him. 

"This gets better and better," Nicholas muttered, turning around and leaning against the table to better view the show. 

But out of the corner of his eye, he surveyed Lara. Inside, he was not so self-assured. As his slave – as his possession – she was doomed. As rules dictated, the girl was to be sacrificed on earth - her blood consumed - before her soul rejoined him in his own world. Once there she would be useless. Hampton had certainly got one over on him. But there was something Nicholas could do about it; he could make her his mate and gift her with a life of immortality by his side instead.

But such a decision would be eternal and he could not come to it lightly. Yes, he desired her. To a perturbing degree that he still refused to fully consider. But was that enough for lifelong partnership? He had been alone forever; in all of his millennia of existing he had never once craved partnership. Some of his own kind argued that there was a single mate out there for every demon and that one could either relent and accept their fated mate or turn their backs on them. And thereby say goodbye to their only chance at an every-lasting bond - a kind of bond, the mated demons smugly claimed, that went beyond any mortal-demon bargain based satisfaction. 

Nicholas knew he desired her and also knew too well that she could very possibly sway him and led him around by the nose if he allowed his defences to weaken but what of her? Could the same be said for her when it came to him? Sexual compatibility aside, could she now pledge her devotion to him knowing what he was? For if there was thing he was firm about in a mate, it was that she would yield to him completely and submit to him without question – that she would accept him as master, owner, lord and lover. 

With a sense of purpose, determination and motivation he had not felt in centuries, Nicholas determined to present Lara with that single question: an eternity with him or an end to her life as would have been the case. Regardless, she belonged to him now as the unbreakable vow had been made by her father. But he would leave her fate in her own hands. 

His thoughts were suspended then as a thudding sound caught his attention. Glancing ahead, he saw that the two braying and scuffling men had both tumbled to the ground from the force of the study door opening and unsettling them. Entering on unsteady legs was Amelia, her face tear stained and pink and apparently, she had heard quite enough.



Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 03



I apologize for the delay for those who have been waiting; wrote pages and pages but scrapped it all as I didn't like the direction of the plot so starting over has been time consuming (and university starting up hasn't helped!). It hasn't been possible to complete the story in this part without causing further delay but it's not my intention for this to be a long, continuous story so it will be wrapped up soon.

Thanks for the patience and hope you enjoy.

****

On queue, Amelia burst into the room and Nicolas eyed her coolly. He had been waiting for her entrance, had heard her hurrying thoughts; thoughts of disbelief, of confusion, of denial...and heartbreak.

"Amelia," Cole staggered to his feet and stood scant inches from her but made no move to touch her. Instead, he watched in impotent misery as she charged into the centre of the room and seized Lara by the shoulders.

"I give you permission to stay for the festivities, but not to touch my possession. Let her go," Nicholas said calmly but Amelia only increased her hold, her expression defiant. Just as quickly she stumbled back with a cry, waving her hands before her and blowing on them urgently, feeling as though she had just plunged them into a piping hot oven.

Panting harshly, Amelia declared, "You will not -- you shall not have her," her look was direct though her bearing was of someone dazed and feverish.

"Anything else?" Nicholas asked in bored tones but went on without pause. "If you are to condemn anyone here, let it be the man who sired you -- the both of you -- for his hands were not tied. He was not forced to proceed with any of this; indeed, he could well have spared your sister's life. As it was, he proved too selfish and too cowardly to face the punishments of not complying with me. Now that he has given his word, it is done." His tones were delivered with authority and finality.

Lara looked across at the man who had sired her and in that moment knew she could not disbelieve Nicholas for the older man's hanging head, shrouded shoulders and inability to meet her eye marked him as guilty as clearly as any brand would.

She shook her head then and almost laughed as her eyes flickered and finally stopped on Nicholas. She had avoided glancing his way feeling, not fear, but something else. Betrayal, her mind suggested bitterly and she dismissed the emotion with feverish rejection. She must surely be mad not to be fearful and shocked about this disturbing turn events but instead, wounded!

"Do you know," she mused, pinning him with an unblinking stare, almost as if unconsciously speaking aloud, "I thought when I was summoned here that you were going to ask for my hand in marriage... I tell you, this I wouldn't ever have envisioned. But now it's almost as though...as though I knew but chose to remain in ignorance..." she frowned in wonder. "You had me from the start. You lured me in well-- the pastor always said in his sermons that evil beings seek gratification by playing with their victims."

"Not once did I use my lure on you," Nicholas shook his head, slowly. "You came to me of your own freewill each time. I myself do not understand it... for I lured you nowhere. You simply followed," by the end, his tone was almost marvelling.

"Liar!" launching her body across the small distance that separated them, Lara clawed her fingernails down the Demon's handsome face. He did not stop her, only held her but the embrace was light. Finally pushing out of his hands as awareness chased away the fog that had entered her mind, which he allowed her to do without demur, Lara panted hard as she looked upon her handiwork.

Yet rather than survey his face with the satisfaction she had hoped, she felt something twist inside her at the evidence of her violence. Digging her fingernails into her palms, she forced herself from giving into the compelling urge to run her palms over his face in an attempt to smooth the damage away.

Distantly, she heard Cole calling out to her, telling her -- begging her - not to dare more but the man was silenced when Nicholas held up a hand, his eyes still pinned on Lara.

"No one has ever dared," he uttered simply, handling his torn face in bemusement and then he laughed. "But I should have known. You have well and truly put your mark upon me, girl, have you not?" he looked at her with something close to fascination as if it were she who were the anomaly in the room.

 "Please," a hoarse voice broke into the tense silence. "Please -- I implore of you -- leave her be. I will give you anything you desire if you will just let her be and spare her life."

Nicholas turned to Lord Hampton, eyeing his pleading expression with disgust - and suddenly, he felt something snap within him as fury blinded all reason. His usually cool and tempered control was no more for he only felt a burning anger and unsteadiness within himself which had little to do with the old man; the anger was at himself...the unsteadiness about someone else entirely.

"Fool," Nicholas snarled then, his lip curling viciously, "Who are you to talk to me - to dictate to me? This is none of your concern -- be gone! You underestimated me when we first made our bargain with your overreaching arrogance thinking I would not come to collect -- and today you think you have bested me by sparing the child you prefer and offering me the bastard -- but now you will learn who holds the power here!" he started toward the cowering man with violence in every step.  

 "Nicholas-!" the feminine appeal was desperate. "This is between you and I, is it not?" Lara hurried in reasoning tones, sensing the taut violence within him and knowing it meant something terrible.

Though she knew her attempt to placate him was useless, she had to try; for all she knew, this unpredictable creature could turn on her but it was better to attempt it than to stand and watch and do nothing. Despise Lord Hampton she may well do but she did not wish violence on the man...and then, to Lara's dismay, Nicholas stopped short at the sound of her voice and paused. His lithe build appeared to tremble in barely confined fury and Lara was stunned at the result.

"Please," Lara murmured tentatively to his rigid back, "Please let him be."

"You think to manage me?" Nicholas whipped around and watched as the girl's face flinched at his contempt. "You seek to save the man who both fathered and abandoned you -- only to later sacrifice your life for his own ends?" the bitter, mocking words and their truth caused a burning pain within Lara.

Tears fell from her eyes and Nicholas felt his limbs becoming heavy and weighted in response and at that point, he knew. He knew what it was that he was trying to deny -- this internal battle within him that was making him so enraged. Something within him had battled and won against the greedy, selfish, animal side of him -- the side that demanded he snatch Lara to him and disappear into the night with her. He knew and accepted then that he would let her go.

The humans were all braying for attention now, each so noble and so willing to sacrifice his or her life for the sake of his possession it was nauseating. The dull pain that had started earlier in Nicholas's very core seemed to be intensifying. He had no clue what this ache was - had never experienced anything similar in his countless years of existence --and wished now only to return to his own world and to forget he had ever made a deal with Arthur Hampton so as to eliminate any chance of being exposed to Lara.

His mate she may well be but his hands were not tied. Indeed, he could turn and walk away right now and be free from her and her pull. The thought appeared to bring immediate yet momentary relief to his innards and it was this that he clung to as he made his decision. Be gone with them all, he thought harshly, almost desperate to escape now as a disorientating feeling made him dizzy. I need no woman forever tied at my side, no female who thinks she can lead me by the nose to do her bidding.

He had only ever fended for himself and the thought of there being another and one who disturbed his equilibrium so was daunting. The prospect of asking her to be his bride, here and now, now also seemed farcical. For Nicholas could not snatch her against her will and force her to submit...he had the power to do so, but it would be an empty victory. He wanted her to come freely to him and though he could not read her thoughts he was sure that by now what little attraction and pull to him she may have felt had been eradicated by her revulsion of who and what he was.

But neither, he knew, could he accept her as a sacrifice as was his right; to take her soul and thereby sentence her to a death sentence. She was too vital for that. She deserved to live amongst her own kind and indulge in their cloying rituals; to wed and rear children and live an uncomplicated life with a pale faced, limp cocked mortal mate. The thought caused a slash of pain to slice through his brain but he knew it had to be done. He would walk away. At least then, he would not feel this nagging guilt and pain that assailed him at the prospect of slaying her for his own ends or of snatching her and demanding -- forcing -- her to be his mate.

Decision met, he pinned each human with probing eyes. "I have stayed overlong in this sty of a world," he announced, his tones low and brusque, "and my patience is spent with your pandering and damned family theatrics. So I will make clear my intentions. As to you," he turned and faced Cole. "I release you of all further service. You are no longer my slave and your life and soul are now your own. Since I do not intend to return to your world, I no longer have use of your services."

Cole's breath caught harshly in his throat. His expression betrayed a plethora of emotions; he looked overwhelmed, staggered, infinitely grateful -- but also scared though Nicholas spared him little regard for he turned abruptly as he delivered his next dictate.

"You," he pinned Lord Hampton with a disgusted though mildly pitying look. "Well, your guilt will eat at you until you're sick with it," he lifted his shoulders, "and that is punishment enough, I'll warrant. We will meet again in the next life but as for the here and now, you may rest easy in the knowledge that I will not trouble you again with my presence. Your soul, too, is your own so consider our bargain met."

Just as stiffly Nicholas turned to Lara but his bearing was slower this time, almost weary. "And you," the silence following this was a long one for Nicholas struggled with that internal battle once more as he tried to school his roaring emotions. He pinned the girl with an unfaltering, narrow stare, chin lifted.

The shadows of the dying day attached themselves to the planes and hollows of his face until only his luminous eyes were visible as he uttered in clear, commanding tones, "I release you of all further claim; your life is once again your own."

"You mean -- you're letting her go?" it was Lord Hampton who spoke into the stunned silence some moments later and for a while the only reply with the hiss and flicker of the flames in the fireplace.

Nicholas arched a sardonic brow. "That is so -- as I do not wish to lay sight on any limb of your family tree again, I concluded that the easiest option was to be rid of you all. Call if a magnanimous gesture of good will on my part, if you will," a twisted smile moulded his handsome lips at that.

Nicholas looked about the darkened study then; at the gaping, pale faces and the unappealing furnishings, his face distasteful. "Indeed, I've been too long in this world and God willing," a brow arched sardonically, "I will never return again."

At that, he affected a stiff bow and exited the room on a swivel of his polished, booted feet displaying an arrogance and confidence at vast odds with his internal mood. He left behind him a silent, bemused silence as, for the first time in his existence he made the most selfless decision by relinquishing his only chance at a love hitherto of no importance to him.

*

One year later

"Yes, I think I shall do," Lara turned and Amelia started slightly as if she had been rudely awakened from a heavy dream. Her eyes widened somewhat as she became aware of her surroundings - and the sight before her.

Giving Lara a hesitant once over, she said in murmuring tones, "Don't you think - I mean, perhaps it would be more advisable if you wore a less risqué gown." She did not wish to rock the boat. But it seemed as though her life these days was confined to a rickety boat suspended on violent, angry seas with no sign of dry land in sight so the gesture was quite futile.

"Oh, don't be so stuffy," Lara complained and Amelia half expected the girl to wag a chiding finger in front of her nose. "You know, it wouldn't do you any harm to make an effort. You have so many lovely gowns that have yet to see the light of day -- what about the cerise pink with the seed pearls for tonight?" she suggested then, striding over to Amelia's large, ornate wardrobe.

It was late afternoon and the sun was still high up. It was July, it was London. And it was hectic. The season was in full swing and tonight, all of the upper classes' finest would be descending upon Almack's assembly hall in their silks and chiffons for a night of dancing and husband hunting.

Such an auspicious occasion required careful planning if one was to successfully snare said mate. Lara's form of planning was by way of a pale blue gown with a deep neckline indecently but fashionably displaying much of her bosom. The skirts of the gown were full and heavy and only a simple necklace with a single diamond decorated and completed the look. She frowned, however, as her eyes travelled up to and paused her coiffure.

"Do you think I should call your maid back to fashion a more eccentric style?" she inquired and Amelia paused in her task of clearing up the flood of discarded gowns Lara had absently strewn about her bedroom as she had dressed for tonight's soiree.

"No, you must leave it; the look becomes you," she replied truthfully, for Lara needed little adornment and intricacy to shine. With her hair swept from her face and fashioned high above her head, her nape was plainly visible and it leant her appearance a vulnerable look - which was ironic considering there was nothing remotely vulnerable about the girl with her shining confidence and ability to charm an armchair.

"Very well, I'll trust your judgment -- oh, did you hear? Samantha Haybrook is said to be attending Almack's tonight. At least that's what Gabby told me at the Winchester's Ball last week. What a farce! So much for an exclusive membership," Lara huffed distastefully.

"Samantha is very sweet," Amelia defended uselessly and listened in a total lack of surprise as Lara meticulously criticised the girl's appearance, demeanour and 'appallingly tragic lack of style.'

"I mean, really -- how does her mother expect her to catch a husband looking like that?" Lara lifted her shoulders in genuine appeal, before turning once more to the mirror. "One has to look one's best," she reasoned to her reflection, "if one wishes to catch and hold a man's eye."

"And I am sure you will catch and hold many this night," Amelia sighed wearily but Lara hardly allowed the girl to finish speaking long enough to notice -- or comment on -- her apathy.

And thus followed the rest of the afternoon and early evening until it came time to leave for the assembly rooms...another pointless, draining night with pointless conversation and pointless introductions, Amelia despaired. She was of half a mind to plead a headache and escape the charade but judging by Lara's determined mood, it would prove a pointless appeal. And so, Amelia exited her townhouse some hours later joined by her mother and Lara as they made their way to another evening of inspecting the current offers available on the marriage mart. A painful night indeed.

*

"May I get you another glass of punch?-"

"-May I be granted the honour of escorting you to the refreshment room?"

"Might I be permitted a dance this evening?"

Lara focused on one voice and glanced at the attractive face to her right. "Miles," she smiled, a little tautly. "I've already informed you that my dance card is full-"

"Yes, but you said that last week, too - and I was sure to inquire for a dance as soon as you arrived tonight so as to make it a reality."

Lara eyed the man with mild distaste. He was behaving with incredible desperation and she was far from impressed. Besides, he was only the son of a Baron -- and a second son, at that. Indeed, he may well be one of the handsomest men in the room but little good that would prove when he would inherit virtually nothing.

"Next time, perhaps," she allowed politely, before turning away and listening to the avowals of the attentive, dark haired man by her side. Simon or Stanley, she believed but her attention was once more caught but this time by firm, high -- feminine -- tones.

"Gentleman, do you mind if I have a word with my cousin? I promise I shall not keep her long," and with that announcement, Amelia thrust her hands between the barricade of suited men and pulled her cousin away from her throng of admirers.

"Finally you rescued me-- it was beginning to wear a bit thin," Lara shook her head as she accompanied Amelia to the refreshment room. "Well, how are you finding the evening? Has your dance card been filled yet?"

"Why are you ignoring Miles?"

Lara pressed her lips together, her light mood souring at Amelia's serious, unyielding expression. "I was hardly ignoring him-"

"You practically shooed him away -- I don't understand you, Lara; you're here for the season for a purpose - were those not your own words? That you wish to find a husband before you become too long in the tooth?"

"I'm four and twenty -- It's already too late for that as I'm practically a crone," Lara said bitterly. "I should have wed years ago," she pinned Amelia with an unrelenting look and the girl flinched.

"Your mother had her reasons for not wanting-"

Lara scoffed. "Mother?" she dropped her voice? "I dearly hope you are not referring to Elizabeth Castle, the staid and proper matron who is currently holed away in the suffocating countryside nursing her wounded pride and mortal shame at my paternity as we speak. For we all know she is not my mother. Indeed," she bit out, "my mother is nothing more than a dried up whore!"

Taking a steadying breath, Amelia looked both ways but they had gone quite unheard for though Lara was enraged, she had been sure to deliver her biting words in low tones, ever following decorum.

Her heart pounding in anxiety-- an ailment that had started a little over a year ago now and one which she mortally despised -- Amelia attempted to tone down the mood, hating confrontation of any sort and hating the bitter change that the past year had cast over Lara. For she did not know this stranger standing so brazenly dressed before her nor did she know this bitter cut of her tongue...nor the determined, vengeful light constantly reflected in her eyes.

"I just don't understand," Amelia murmured, "why you are being so inattentive and cool to the man considering he has courted you for weeks on end; he is genuine, good humoured and kind hearted. And handsome. Then there is the fact that he is deeply in love with you. Surely he would make a fine prospect for a husband?"

"In the first place it is lust, not love. I may be a fool in many ways but I know enough by now to judge that," Lara derided. "And in the second - do you know what his yearly allowance is?" she inquired with heavily arched brows. "A mere six hundred a year! I shall not settle, I tell you; there are rumours that the Duke of Hartford is attending tonight as well as the Marques of Westerham - you don't think I'd have wasted this gown on Miles Grantly, do you?"




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 03



Resisting the urge to shake her -- or slap her -- Amelia somehow managed to reply in calm tones albeit though gritted teeth, "Hartford is close to seventy and Westerham is a philandering widower with countless children -- and bastards. Be reasonable, Lara!"

A quirk moulded Lara's lips at the girl's appeal. "But don't you see? I am being reasonable for we'll be in good stead, Westerham and I, me being a bastard myself. Indeed, I'm sure he'll feel much empathy for my plight. Now, please, can't you even pretend to enjoy yourself tonight? Your sour mood is beginning to rub off. Oh, what a miserly maid you've become!"

The dart hit home and Amelia made to grab at Lara's arm. "Lara-" but the girl slipped away with a wide smile.

"Now, you've monopolized my time for long enough, cousin," Lara chided, before turning on her heeled slippers. "I have to mingle," she called over her shoulders before striding gracefully out of sight, leaving a heavy-hearted, defeated Amelia in her wake.

*

Too poor. That one had too many older brothers and he liked men...Lara frowned as she considered the elegantly suited men littering the grand ballroom, each one lacking in her eyes. She wanted very few things from a potential husband; he must be wealthy, preferably titled and must adore her beyond all reason and doubt. She wasn't particularly fussy as to physical appearance. Resisting the urge to escape the pace of the ballroom and find a comfortable seat set somewhere quiet and dark so as to shroud herself and become invisible, Lara plastered a smile upon her face as Aunt Cecilia approached her.

She brought with her two men; one, Amelia's older cousin who was no doubt there to make the introductions as an older male was bound to do, and the other...well, she wasn't sure about him though she had her speculations.

"My lady-- allow me to introduce the Duke of Hartford. My lord, Miss Lara Castle."

"It is a pleasure," Hartford smiled, his watery blue eyes becoming hidden beneath folds of skin at the gesture, "and an honour."

"The honour is all mine, my lord," Lara supplied smilingly, resisting the urge to pull away as she accepted his hand just as the current dance ended and the couples filtered away and passed by them.

Her dance card was full to bursting tonight and she felt relief that whoever had requested the next dance had not yet returned to claim it, which was surely a good sign. It was unfortunate that etiquette dictated a lady should always politely accept all offers to dance regardless of how much it aggrieved her to do so.

However Lara had clearly taken comfort in the respite too soon for the man she had been introduced to some weeks ago at some soiree or another and who had earlier asked for a dance now approached with an easy smile. The Duke of Hartford gave him an inquiring look as he stopped before them and bowed in their general direction.

"I have come to claim the next dance, my lady," the man smiled at her, his name evading her, and Lara nodded and murmured an apology to the Duke but he shook his head.

"No matter, my dear; I shall await your return and take pleasure in watching your graceful movements," his eyes dropped and lingered at her breasts, the glint in the pale eyes appreciative and Lara was almost relieved when she was whisked away as the dance began.

*

Feeling mild guilt that she did not recall her dance partner's name, Lara thought on a suitable topic of polite conversation but was interrupted in her musings when her partner bent and uttered just above her ear;

"You know, you're not a bit what I'd imagined."

"And what did you expect, my lord?" she humoured his banter which she was all too familiar with now after dancing and conversing with countless such flirtatious men at countless such mundane balls.

The fair haired man looked thoughtful but she gave him the barest attention as she concentrated on her steps. "Something more...demure. But then I can only go by Nicholas's description and he was quite addled and nonsensical at the time."

Feeling a sharp impact within her -- as if something laying dormant was now frantically rising and awakening once more -- Lara stumbled in her steps and would have lost her footing had it not been for the firm arms holding her at a polite distance as they moved about the floor.

"I've flustered you," the musing tones sounded distant but Lara discerned a note of humour.

Forcing her eyes to rise and meet the face hitherto of little interest to her, Lara demanded in a quiet yet hard voice even as her heart lurched in painful increments, "Let me go." Her immediate reaction then was to run as far as she could from this bright, crowded room and to hide someplace dark.

"Don't be a fool; you'd cause a scene and the lady patronesses would be none to pleased with such undisciplined behaviour," the man advised in amusement, speaking of the matrons who oversaw the prestigious weekly ball but Lara hardly cared for their exalted opinions any longer.

Thirteen months of not hearing his name uttered aloud, thirteen months of those concerned acting like he had never existed and here it was, in a bland ballroom with bland occupants. Nicholas. Nicholas. Nicholas. Her mind rejoiced the name, savoured it. Many months it may well have been since his name had been mentioned but in her mind it was every day. And in her bed at night...his image haunted her. Sometimes to her delight -- but often to her despair.

But through the desperate urge to flee from this mysterious man came a shining ray that leant her hope that had been alien to her these many past months; it hardly mattered to her who -- or what -- this man was. All that mattered now that her mind had calmed and soared was what his presence may mean...had Nicholas returned?

At the thought, her eyes flickered up quickly just as the dance concluded but already the man was moving away and affecting a bow, getting ready to depart.

"Please-" Lara looked at her hands which were shaking and tried to disguise her desperation. "I must speak with you."

"Tomorrow."

At the easy and swift response, Lara murmured with relief that made her weak, "Where?"

"The Craven's Inn. Shoreditch. Festive little pub and inn it is," he supplied conversationally in the manner of one - to interested spectators - thanking a lady for the pleasure of the dance and bidding her a polite good evening, "and always my preferred port of call when I visit - allowing they have rooms," this a little sullenly. "Until midnight tomorrow, then."

The friendly, good humoured tones bemused her. She didn't know of the place but she would find and run to it no matter what. Suddenly, the thirteen months slipped away -- months of hardness and pain -- so that all that mattered in that moment was that she follow her demanding heart. And then, too quickly, the man was striding off - becoming lost and just another face in the streaming crowd of people before Lara had even thought to ask for his name.

*

When Lara had confronted her mother on the subject of her paternity -- and maternity - many months ago now, she had prayed desperately for the older woman to surprise her by denying such a crude allegation outright. At least that way, there would be a shred of normalcy remaining in her life after the other revelations she had been dealt. Instead, her mother had looked at her in horror at the bitter question.

"Where did you hear it? Who told?" had not been particularly encouraging words from the woman she had always known as her mother and it had taken much pleading and then anger on Lara's part before she had relented and told her the truth.  

Her mother was a whore who had gladly abandoned her when she had not been able to sway Lord Hampton to do her bidding. The rest was true; that Lord Hampton -- she refused to refer to him as her father both vocally and internally -- had been set to send her to an orphanage before his sister had intervened. He had been vehement that Lara should not be reared by close family as he had wanted the burden and mistake as far away from him as possible. This part of the bitter take hadn't caused Lara any further pain but her hatred and need for revenge for the man had increased a considerable notch.

After this, Lara had been forced to listen to a passionate lecture by the older woman on the vices in life and the paths of evil. All too quickly, Lara's suffocating and repressed youth and adulthood had become clear to her; her sheltered existence, her parent's disinterest in securing her a martial match or allowing her interest in prospective suitors and men to widen...

Wanton, Elizabeth had cried the word, becoming frantic. Sinful, unholy...all traits that you had to be saved from - running so deep in the blood from both parents, she had declared wildly. It was then and there that Lara had felt the previously hesitant urge within her to let her voice be heard finally break - for the first time in her life, she felt indignation push her into action.

She would become a wife by the next season no matter what, she had promised her mother in hard, bitter tones. It was no longer a want and a desire but a necessity - for she no longer belonged nor had a right to this family. She felt like an intruder in her family home from then on and a desperate urge to flee and find security had grown within her and become more potent as the months passed. An urge to prove herself -- to many different people.

Perhaps she was wanton like her mother - deceitful and greedy like her father - but if this were truly so then there was little point in delaying the evitable any longer. She would show Arthur Hampton; she would marry a man more powerful than he could ever dream to be and bring him down. And by doing so she would carve a name and place for herself and erase the fact that she had ever once desired someone so badly that even now she was sick for him and her need for him. For she must surely be her father's daughter with this incurable need she had within her. A need for a creature not of this earth but for a creature of darkness, a Demon.

*

"Will you receive callers today, my lady?"

Lara looked up, distracted, and shook her head at the waiting maid. "Not today, Agnes...please tell the gentlemen that I apologize for any inconvenience."

The maid stared at her in surprise, for usually Lara made an exhibition of receiving her male callers, dressing with utmost care and charming them with fluid ease. But the thought of having to entertain such visitors today filled Lara with a feeling of nausea and she kept to herself for the rest of the day, refusing her Aunt's offer of a shopping spree in Piccadilly. She was eager for the hour to approach midnight and felt a deep restlessness within her.

Evening soon arrived and Lara breathed a sigh of relief as the activity in the household died down. With Lord Hampton away at his country manor in Lancashire -- overseeing urgent matters that had arisen with the estate, he had gruffly explained to his indifferent wife, before disappearing post-haste some months ago -- the townhouse was far more serene.

Soaping her arms as she reclined in the bath now, Lara shivered as a mild breeze caused gooseflesh to pattern her skin and her nipples hardened in response to the coolness. Despite herself, she felt a warm, melting arousal in the region of her body settled below the gentle slapping of the water against the white bathtub. The candles flickered softly and cast shadows against the walls and Lara's eyelids fluttered closed as she gave into the tormenting images vying for her attention; Nicholas. His hands moulding her skin, his lips tasting and nipping at her, his eyes hot and bright with passion - glazed in lust. He was so handsome that she recalled how difficult she had sometimes found it to meet his direct regard and cursed herself for the girlish folly. Looking back, she could not quite believe how young she had appeared back then and wished now that she had keep her eyes as wide as humanly possible so as to confine his face to memory; his face in the moment had had suckled on her breasts and his face in the moment when he expertly massaged her labia. What had his eyes reflected, what had his mouth suggested?

If you were here...her mind mused, then I could satisfy this burning ache within me. Oh, if only you could be here. Nicholas. The constant, unrelenting ache that demanded he fill her assailed her now. Keeping her eyes shut and allowing herself to be swept away by the warm, drugging water, Lara cupped a breast but it was his large hand that held her, and his capable fingers that rubbed at a beaded nipple and when she allowed herself to really let go then she could almost swear that the memory of his lips upon her was no memory at all but a tangible thing; the trace of his tongue around her areola before the rhythmic flicking against her tightly bound nipple. His large, slightly roughened fingers smoothing down stomach, her abdomen, slipping beneath the water, the dark hairs of his wrist brushing against the inside of her thigh before he firmly clasped her mound and pressed into her, separating her slick folds with his hard fingers. And then he was circling her opening with the pad of his index finger as he gathered the moisture that flowed from his demanding caress, using it to enter her slowly. Beneath the water, as if in a daze, Lara spread her legs to accommodate the demand of the instant pressure as it entered her. Slowly, slickly the hard finger penetrated her but with considerable patience and tenderness...arching her back Lara cried out in alarm as recognition came to her from the burning sensation between her thighs. Touching her tender mound beneath the water, she lifted her hand to reveal a finger marred with a light red stain.

Lara sat up and clasped her knees to her chest feeling stunned as she sat in the tub of rapidly cooling water. After some time, she climbed from the bathtub, her legs weak, and feeling yet shaken she clumsily dried and dressed herself preparing for dinner, her body crying out for fulfilment but only from a certain man. I am hopeless, she thought. Utterly beyond all hope.

*

Fleeing Amelia's townhouse hours later had been easy enough for the loyal and secretive staff were no doubt used to the scandalous goings on of Lord Hampton and his promiscuous daughter -- and wife, Lara had come to learn of her aunt's preference for young and dashing and sexually eager lords fresh out of Oxford or Cambridge -- and so the maid who had been assigned to her for the duration of her stay had not questioned or raised brows when Lara had ordered a stealthy carriage to deliver her to her destination. Plus, with Amelia being more and more inclined to hole herself up in her room as soon as dinner was over every night, it meant that it was a doubly uncomplicated to her destination on the night following the ball.

At precisely eleven twenty, Lara slipped out of a servant's entrance and into the night, reciting the address of the inn to the coachman who met her instructions with a total lack of dismay at this young lady of good breeding asking to be whisked off to such a dubious location.

And dubious it was. Entering the over-stuffed pub a short time later had been a battle as Lara had sought to weave her way between the chortling and intoxicated men indulging in cheap ale and spirits. But when she had sought out a serving girl, she had been quite at a loss at what -- or who, to ask for -- and it wasn't long before the woman had lost patience and sauntered off, leaving Lara where she was now.

"Can I get you a drink, girl?" a gravely voice jerked her out of her hurrying thoughts.

Hovering by a wall, Lara cringed away from the sour breath and declined in firm tones.

"Eh? What's a fancy bit of fluff like you doing in here?" the man's ears pricked at the perfect diction.

"As a matter of fact, I am to meet someone who is boarding here," she said in cool tones, realising too late how telling that sounded and at the man's leer she sighed impatiently, though much of it was at herself.

A hefty serving woman thrust a mug of beer at the man then and Lara quickly sought her attention, futile a chance it may be.

"I was wondering if you could help me -- you see I'm looking for a gentleman who is currently boarding here; very tall, long blonde hair, brown eyes..." she trailed off uselessly but the matron nodded along as if she knew perfectly of whom it was she was referring, even if she was a little indifferent.

"Milord said if a posh bird was to come in looking lost, I was to tell her to go straight up -- and it ain't often we get many of your sort around here," she grinned, showing a set of teeth varying in colours. "Up you go, room seven."

*

The narrow hallway was lined with thick heavy doors and Lara peered down the darkened space warily. The noise from the pub was muted and with some dubiousness as to the intelligence of her decision in coming here and even entertaining this strange man, Lara gave a smart knock upon the door in front of her before she could change her mind.

"Come in, come in," a voice hollered, and when Lara tried the knob, the door swung open on a wide arc and she eyed the seated figure within cautionary, not moving an inc. "Well, come on in -- I don't bite."

The flash of white teeth that accompanied that laughing statement sent an icy shiver through Lara but she nodded determinedly and stepped across the threshold, closing the door behind her. She looked about hesitantly at the rumpled bed sheets and expensive clothes strewn over the floorboards.

"Forgive the state of the room," the man relayed, following her eyes. "I never have enough time in your world to sate my desires so I must indulge in my pleasures in a limited time frame. Mortal women," he said with relish, "are my addiction."

Lara ignored the crude words and strove for a calm and control she was far from feeling as the words she longed to blurt out danced on her tongue. "Nicholas -- is he here?"

Brown eyes narrowed at the appeal in her voice. "No."

A sinking feeling of disappointment and hopelessness weighed her down and Lara felt almost bereft when all these months she had felt nothing but hatred and contempt for the man. And desire. And desperation. But no fear, never that, strangely...

"You've been following me - why?"

"I was curious," and at Lara's inquiring look, he continued, almost reluctantly, "curious to see the female who had snared and destroyed my friend's heart -- and mind, by the looks of things," he muttered the last. "You appear stunned. At what part, might I ask?"

Lara shook her head wordlessly. "This must be a game - a trick by Nicholas!" she breathed, backing away one defensive step for his approaching.

"Calm down," the murmured voice soothed before becoming thoughtful. "Why did you come here? For what purpose?"

"You said-"

The man shook his head. "I merely mentioned the name that so stunned you -- you sought me out for a certain reason, no doubt...?"

"Because you've been following me," she reminded him stubbornly.

"Hmm. He said you were proud and spirited. Beneath the natural submissiveness."

Lara blushed. "He -- seems to have said quite a lot," and her tone questioned why that was.

"Didn't I say you'd addled his mind? You know," he walked away from her and fell onto the bed, crossing his bare feet at the ankles and resting his head in his hands. He fixed her with a musing look, "he really is in a state -- of course the loss of the human sacrifice will have played a part in weakening him but still - he's really no fun to be around at the moment and I blame you thoroughly."




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 03



"Weakening him? But what do you mean? He's not human, how can he suffer-"

"Were you not you his by right? His to own, to use as was his will?" he arched a brow.

 "I was promised to him," she affirmed. "But he let me go...he didn't want me. He was sickened by us all -- he couldn't have fled the room quicker."

"And you'd best believe he was punished heartily for that noble, selfless -- pathetic, mind -- act. Poor, lovesick fool that he is," he shook his head in disgust. "And now you know that we can all appreciate a measure of suffering -- it's not confined just to you mortals. Though it takes a foolish Demon to allow such frivolous emotions to rule him for the Council to punish us," this, a clear jibe at Nicholas.

Feeling weak and bewildered at these stunning words, Lara stumbled over to the straight-backed wooden chair by the window as his words penetrated her mind and gained clarity. In contrast to her feverish musings, her companion looked thoroughly unperturbed by her dismay as he rubbed at his belly casually.

"Listen -- I have a girl popping by soon. Lovely Leticia. Or was it Leonie?" he frowned at the ceiling but dismissed the uncertainty with a flick of his hand. "Anyway, It's been fun but..." his eyed strayed suggestively to the door.

"I can't leave," Lara looked at him urgently. "Not now -- not after what you've told me!"

At this, the man frowned and for the first time Lara was subjected to a hard face where before she had only seen this friend of Nicholas as light and easy and her skin prickled in awareness at the realisation of what exactly she was dealing with.

"I'll go," she promised him, rising, "but only after you explain."

The man rolled his eyes at her pleading expression and swiftly swung his feet to the floor, placing his palms on his knees as he leaned forward.

"Did he or did he not refuse the sacrifice owed to him?" at her nod, he explained, "when a bargain is initially made with a mortal, a Demon such as myself takes a risk and gives a little part of himself in exchange until the time comes to collect...non-fulfilment is an inconvenience but not a complete disaster. For one, we can punish the disobedient mortal and use him as the slave he then becomes to do our biding as we see fit. However -- where the bargain is fulfilled but the Demon refuses the sacrifice, it depletes him. I tell you, it is a rare thing for Demon to refuse a human sacrifice and I myself have only ever heard stories of such a vulgar thing. Why else do you think we even venture to your world?" he cocked a fair brow. "Well, I have my own reasons," he looked wistfully toward the door, "but it's necessary every hundred or so years in the very least to bargain with a mortal to keep one sated and filled. Energized, if you will."

"And now he's suffering -- because of me."

"And now he's suffering because of you," the man repeated her flat phrase quietly. "And now I'm suffering, too, for I swear my cock is as hard as a post and it's damnably uncomfortable. Come on," he nodded his head at the door. "Off with you." He rose then and made a shooing motion for good measure, now unconcerned with his friend's plight as other more pressing matters goaded him.

Lara turned toward the door and reluctantly allowed his hand on her back to guide her out but at the doorway she paused and turned, trembling slightly as varying emotions swarmed within her. She was wary yet ultimately uncaring of this creature's potentially cruel mood at her stubbornness to submit to his will.

"I must see him -- there must be a way," she uttered.

Far from greeting her continued presence -- and demand - icily, the Demon appeared initially bemused at her plea but then his eyes narrowed in hostility. "Haven't you caused enough damage?"

Her breath caught at the implication -- the implication that had taken root ever since she had set eyes on this creature and listened intently to his references to Nicholas and that she was now certain of; that Nicholas had let her go not to be rid of her as she had thought, but as an act of pure selflessness on his part.

And then there was the fact that the Demon had described Nicholas as lovesick...no, it cannot not be! Lara's heart cried in mutual fear and joy at the sheer possibility.

She summoned before her then, the clearest image she had of him; that of the veiled yet vulnerable light in his eyes she had glimpsed on few occasions in their too brief acquaintance; the unguarded expression that made her feel weak with something she had never before put a name to -- mostly due to shame and denial -- but which she now accepted. Such a thing was certainly true now that she had learned of Nicholas plight because of her -- of his selflessness of freeing her father; of freeing Cole. Of freeing herself... and all at his own cost and detriment.

She shook her head and despised herself for the tears that impaired her vision. "He was here and then he was gone - I hardly knew him and yet he consumed my very soul. I shall never forget him. I know now that he is not the evil, conscienceless beast your kind is claimed to be by my own," she looked searching at the face regarding her with careful eyes.

"Indeed," the Demon nodded, assessing her tears, "for we share many similarities with you mortals; your desires for the flesh, for one."

A cloying voice behind Lara gave evidence to this and the heavy scent of musk assailed her nose and she took the opportunity to swiftly dry her tears. She eyed the man before her reproachfully as a busty female pushed her aside and entered the room. Indeed, there were few differences for Demon males had just as much of a one track mind as humans. But how could he be intent on lust after he had delivered such wondrous, inconceivable tidings to her? Didn't he know how that right now her very core was soaring high and hovering in restlessness?

Lara was desperate to see Nicholas, to touch him, to hear his voice...but as she eyed the Demon, a softness settled within her at the confirmation to her thoughts. Demons...she knew nothing of their kind save for what was confined to religious texts and holy preachings but now she knew such teachings to be far off the mark for here was a Demon who was impatient, not to slay and torture her as was taught by holy men, but one who was instead desperate to be rid of her so as to plunge himself into the seductive female who was currently rubbing her heavy breasts against his arms, much to his delight.

He went to close the door in Lara's face then but with a fierce conviction she placed one small booted foot over the threshold into his room and prevented the movement, shaking her head defiantly.

 "I need to see him."

"Mica?" the shrill query from the black haired woman was accusing as she glanced at Lara then back to the Demon -- Mica.

Mica gave the wench a ceasing glance and though she glowered, she was cowed by the wordless, compelling command and said no more, only pouted and placed a proprietary palm on his shirt covered chest, eyeing Lara challengingly.

"Give me one good reason why I should help you -- why I should trouble myself?" his cool, slightly hostile tones said he would remain ever loyal to his friend and Lara met his look levelly, feeling a confidence grow within her as she replied with perfect truth,

"Because I love him."



Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 04



Next part will follow swiftly, hard to wrap it up in one go! Better late than never? (I hope.)

*****

'How curious – you always took such pride in your appearance.' Nicholas waited patiently, but not for a reply. 

Seated on a hard wooden chair next to the only window in the room, he eyed the thin figure standing in the doorway. The scent of stale body odour and alcohol hung in the air and large dust motes floated visibly. Not hiding his disgust for his surroundings, Nicholas curled his lip in distain, his derisive eyes not missing a thing.

'I knew you'd come. One day. Eventually,' the slightly slurred tones stated with a dismal finality after a brief silence.

'Did you now?' the words were said dispassionately as Nicholas eyed the man who at last closed the door behind him and walked the few shaky steps towards him in the narrow box room. Weak moonlight highlighted his guest's gaunt features. He wouldn't have known the man before him, so changed had he become. 'You amuse me, for paying you a visit was at the very end of my list of things to do.'

Sighing at the fidgety movements and the dazed look in the man's eyes, Nicholas relented a little and said, 'You needn't be so anxious for I'm not here to do you harm. I told you before your life was safe and I keep my word.'

Cole stared at the Demon in wariness. He had returned from the pub ready to fall into bed and forget the day and night that had just passed as he did every night, and as he did so every afternoon, curse the fact that today he woke. And even though a part of him had always feared the Demon's return, the reality was shattering. He wasn't ready to go just yet and the belated realization made him feel even more pathetic, if that was possible.

'Tell me, why are you killing yourself?'

Cole's mouth worked hard for an answer to the unexpected question. It was said with such flatness, such a lack of emotion, that the truth of the words was a physical pain in his chest. 

'Come, man,' Nicholas approached and landed a heavy hand on Cole's crumpled, linen clad shoulder. 'You had much to live for,' he said, finding the attempt at civility difficult. 

'Forgive me - master,' Cole lurched away with a violent action, his shoulder feeling as if tiny pins were scoring it from the Demon's hold. 'But why is it any concern of yours?'

'You're certainly not a concern,' Nicholas arched a black brow, taking a measured step back, the better to observe the mortal with. That and to avoid the rank stench of sour beer coming from his mouth. In truth, Nicholas was quite humoured by the change before him. From sober servant to belligerent drunk, the Cole Morely of mere years ago with his stiff upper lip and stoic façade was long gone. 

'You see, I've always been fond of the more loyal of my subjects and it must be said that you were the most diligent slaves. True, you let pleasure overrule you but you reined it in at the end.'

Cole stumbled past the well-spoken, well-dressed creature, feeling weak with fatigue and sickness of mind. Settling numbly onto the small bed in the equally as small room he rented, he closed his eyes tightly. 

'Do you truly wish to die?'

Refusing to open his eyes, Cole grabbed his head with hard fingers but found no relief in the self-inflicted pain of the grip and moaned slightly as the Demon continued, his words sounding vague and somewhat melodious and sleep-inducing to his ears,

'If so, I can offer you a better fate when the time comes - agree to my terms and-'

'No!' Cole jerked upright as the Demon's words registered to his sluggish mind. 'No! I'll accept my fate...I'll accept...what I deserve. I shall never bargain again....never.'

Nicholas sneered at that. So very noble. Here he offered the man a life of immortality – the same man whose life was coming to a short, self-inflicted end – and yet he refused. Shaking his head in wonderment at the ever bemusing stupidity of mortals, Nicholas decided to try a different tact.

'Your daughter appears well. In terms of health, that is. Otherwise, she's a little worse for wear. With your monthly cheques having ceased, the financial situation leaves much to be desired. Your brother tries, of course, but old habits are hard to break and he was always so weak when it came to-'

Cole wiped the sweat from his forehead and uttered, like a litany, 'Abbey...Abbey-'

'Come, now,' Nicholas cajoled, his eyes gleaming at the man's distress. It had worked far too smoothly. 'You didn't sacrifice yourself for your brother and child for nothing, surely? They rely on you. They always will. With you gone, why-'

'Stop it!' Cole cried, his voice wretched. 

'You'll die soon. You've abused your body too much,' Nicholas gestured carelessly at the empty bottles of spirits and beer littering the small space. 'And then they'll have nothing. And your efforts will have been for nothing. These are only facts I state.'

At the announcement, the finality and truth of the words, Cole felt hopeless desperation claw at him. So it would happen. He truly would sleep and never wake - and soon. Just as he had hoped without truly knowing what it would mean. Abbey. How could he have forgotten about Abbey? How could he have allowed guilt, shame and despair to cleanly obliterate everything else? 

'Facts,' he concentrated as he replied, trying to keep his mind clear, 'but you've not sought me out to tell me about the facts of my impending death. What do you want of me?' 

'Well, think of it as a favour, if you will...'

'Favour?' Cole gave a short bark of laughter at that and glanced up at the Demon who stood in exactly the same place with exactly the same expression. Cole shivered. 

'I want you to makes things right. With Hampton's youngest. And I want you to bring her to me.'

'A-Amelia?'

Nicholas grunted at that, looking repulsed at the suggestion. 'Fool. Not her.'

'But, you-' Cole shook his head sharply, 'if you always keep your word - you said that Lara was free, you gave-'

Eyes widening in feigned affront, Nicholas interrupted smoothly, 'And so I shall. But you see, it is she who has sent for me. I have merely answered a summons for my presence. You of all people should know all to well how that works.'

'Oh, God-'

Cutting into Cole's frantic muttering and flickering eyes in an attempt to bring the man to a sense of rationality, Nicholas said smoothly, 'I'm giving you a chance, man. Woo Hampton's youngest, do what you must. Word has it that she's turned into a miserly, unhappy sort since your cutting betrayal. In return, I'll give you life.'

Standing up shakily, Cole pointed an accusing finger at himself. 'And in return I lead Lara to a certain death – she has a name, you know. She's loved by people, she's cared for, she's, she's-'

'Save your poetry for feminine ears,' Nicholas dismissed coolly, barely managing to hide his growing anger at the man's words. 'You'll need it. I'll not ask you again. Give me your answer.'

'But – but why must I attempt to appeal to Amelia? What good what it do for you?' Cole rubbed at his temple in distress.

'And here I always thought of you as an intelligent man.' Nicholas scoffed. 

'Lara,' he murmured. 'You want to – to appeal to her. Lure her to you. Show her you're not a monster,' the last was said with bitterness. 'Yes. I remember my lessons well.' He looked away as shameful memories goaded him. 

'In so many words,' Nicholas lifted his shoulders in mild agreement, unruffled and sardonic once more, his previous spurt of harshness tempered. 'This fettered room disgusts me, Morely, I'll not stay another moment. You have until Thursday. That gives you three days and you were always very efficient with time-keeping. Hyde Park, I think. I relish the idea of her coming to me so...so boldly,' Nicholas gave a quick, wide, smile at that. 'Until then. Friend.'

'What time?' Cole finally found himself asking in self-loathing after what seemed like an age. But as he looked up it was to find himself alone.

*

'Is it Miles? It's Miles, isn't it? That was so unlike him to talk to you so bitingly...but I suppose weeks of being snubbed-'

'Amelia, it's not Miles. It's the lack of sleep. The season can't end soon enough.'

Somewhat startled at the response, Amelia was silent for a moment. They were currently sitting in the day room, forced inside by the torrential rain. So far this morning, Lara had received three gentleman callers, Miles Grantly being the last. After that particular meeting, Amelia had instructed a maid to inform future callers that Lara would not be receiving them. She had anticipated a scathing comment from Lara for her high-handedness but rather, the girl had seemed relieved. 

And now here they sat, Lara so still and distant that it perturbed - usually it was she who offered half-hearted responses to an enthused and impatient Lara. 

'I know – why don't we go to Piccadilly when the rain lets up? We can go for lemon ices at-'

'Please, Amelia. If you don't mind, I think I'd rather be alone for the rest of the afternoon. Perhaps I'll have a little nap.'

'But you never nap.'

'Mmm. I find myself rather tired. Didn't I say so? Exhausted, even.'

'But-'

Rising slowly, Lara bestowed a vague smile on her seated companion before departing on an equally as slow dread. 

Amelia blinked as the door closed behind Lara in a whisper of pale yellow chiffon. Something wasn't right. Perhaps Miles really had hurt her feelings? That in itself would be a feat considering how biting and cool Lara could be. 

Roused from her thoughts by a patient scratching on the door indicating an inquiring maid, Amelia gave an appropriate response and listened to the approaching Margaret with half an ear.

'- shall I send him on in here or perhaps the-'

'Margaret,' Amelia frowned in mild chastisement. 'I thought I informed that there were to be no callers today?'

'But, miss,' Margaret's eyes were wide with slight insistence. 'He wishes to see you – and you said-'

Amelia groaned silently. 'Oh, bother. I bet it's Richard. I knew I shouldn't have danced with him last night but mother insisted...' she looked up as she realised the maid still lingered. 'Well, I've nothing else to occupy my time with. And I suppose he was mildly interesting.'

Margaret tittered in amusement at Amelia's teasing smile and left on a quick tread to do her bidding. 

Rising quickly, Amelia surveyed her appearance in the gilded mirror above the large fireplace and made a dissatisfied moue at her hair. Well, she would do for the purpose of pretending to be ever so interested whilst internally wishing she could die.

At the sound of the door opening behind her, she turned, smoothing her skirts with a subtle hand.

'Don't send me away.'

At the quick plea, Amelia darted a desperate eye towards the door Margaret had just closed behind her guest and took a steadying breath.

'Well,' she said after a short silence. 'I suppose you'll prove a mildly more interesting companion that Richard Hartley. But do get on with it.'

Cole frowned a little at the proud tilt of Amelia's head. She'd recovered her composure far too quickly for his liking. Perhaps after all...perhaps he really had meant little to her which would mean the demon had lied about her feelings for him. Not that he would ever be so fool enough to trust him.

'Can I – Can we sit?' he gestured vaguely, a cool sweat breaking out over his body at the withdrawal from his daily drink.

'If you wish,' Amelia nodded and approached the light pink chaise, seating herself opposite him. 

He cringed at the unguarded look of shock she threw over him as she gained closer inspection.

'You're lucky my father isn't in residence,' she said then in conversational tones. 'He may be mad as hatter these days but I assure you he'd be cognizant enough to ensure that you left a little less able-bodied.' At the man's silence, Amelia added, 'Are you ill, Cole?' 

'Yes,' he found himself answering automatically but when he looked up and saw the probing look in her eyes at his admission he added quickly, 'It's a prolonged ailment but it eases daily.'

'Why have you come?' Amelia returned briskly, her eyes slipping away to focus over his shoulder.

'To ask you – no, to explain-'

'And I informed you time and time again throughout your desperate appeals that I was not interested in an explanation.'

Cole nodded at that. 'But I've come again to chance it – you see, I'm going away soon. From London. I wanted to make things right before I left for good.'

'Things will never be right,' Amelia said with cold civility. 'You betrayed me – and my family. You disgust me, Cole. And now you return here to grovel for my time. It's truly pathetic.'

'I disgust myself,' Cole replied without hesitation. 'You will never know – but, I'm getting away from the subject. I must explain to you how I came to know Nicholas-'

'How dare you speak that filth's name in my house!' Amelia rose shakily and as Cole joined her she considered hitting him hard across that still handsome face with the gaudy heavy bronze ornament resting on the lamp table. 

'You must hear me out!' Cole chanced a hand on her slim, silk clad arm but cringed as Amelia threw a disgusted look at his transgression. 'I made a bargain with the demon. I bargained off her life to him.'

'Her?' Amelia said sharply, her attention moving from his grasp to his intense regard.

Looking her squarely in the eye for the first time since he had entered the room, Cole nodded and said firmly, 'My daughter.'

'Oh, God! You – you're married? Well, I don't know why I'm surprised but then there you have it! I always was a fool.' Amelia shook her head in self-loathing, sinking into her seat once more and staring hard at Cole's scuffed boots. 

'I'm not married,' Cole said quietly. 'Abbey – my daughter...I was young, barely out of university but her mother died in childbirth. I was so careless and when she told me she was with child I – well I sent her away.'

'My father said it was the life of the first born,' Amelia muttered. 'That's why it was Lara the demon wanted and not I – you swine, you bargained with your child's life!' Amelia panted.

'Yes,' Cole swallowed to ease his burning throat. 'Yes, I did. I was desperate,' he looked at her in appeal, desperate for her to see. 'I didn't consider what it would mean. The entire ordeal seems completely unreal as we talk about so casually in the here and now...my brother was dying, Amelia. He and I...we were all each other had. And it was my fault. I neglected him. I managed to gain sponsorship to study, to create a comfortable life for myself and in exchange I discarded Ethan, subjecting him to a life of certain deprivation and worse. When I came to learn he was dying I couldn't accept it ...and then Nicholas offered me a choice. When you're a child you believe so strongly about the creatures hiding in the alley, the evil's that lurk behind dark corners, waiting to demolish you. But then you grow older and you accept that there's nothing behind the corners, that the evil's the church ministers speak of are merely a tool of keeping naïve fools God fearing. How wrong we are to accept so blindly.'

'I – I didn't know you had a brother.'

Startled at that particular response, Cole ran quick eyes over Amelia's taut form and continued in cautious tones, wondering if there was a chance she still cared, cared enough to question instead of dismiss and send him away, at least. 'Yes – a twin at that.' 

'I had wondered. About you, when we were...' Amelia stopped abruptly, pain coming into her eyes and then his prior suspicions were confirmed and a thrill of pained pleasure ran through him. 'You never spoke of your family.'

'That's because I had no family – Ethan and I were raised in a home for the unfortunates. I was never the well to do man I presented myself as. My youth would sicken you. I did things I'm not proud of in order to survive.'

In strained tones, Amelia asked, 'Where is he now? Your brother? Is he alive?'

'Oh, yes. He's still in Birmingham.'

'And was it worth it, Cole? Your daughter's life for his?'

Breathing harshly at the condemnation on the pure profile presented to him, Cole said, 'I can't answer that. But she lives, Amelia – you see, I couldn't go through with it, not when the Demon came to collect. He waited five years. Five years in which an insignificant child in the womb became a person I had come to care for, who relied on me for her very life when her mother passed. In exchange for my refusal to hand her to him I became his slave. The punishment for breaking our bargain. Your father – well, you know about his transgressions. Except, Nicholas forgo exacting punishment on him as you well know. I was sent here in the guise of your father's lawyer and accountant to observe. To observe you. The commodity so easily bargained off by your father. I didn't know then what I know now, that it was Lara who was his first born. No one did. Your father hid his tracks very well until the very last.'

The truth of the words was a sickening pain in her gut. 'And observe you did all to well.' 

In frustration, Cole began, 'Yes, at first. But then I came to know you and-'

At the end of her frayed nerves, Amelia stopped him short. 'I've heard enough. I was nothing more than a convenient whore to you and we both know it! A whore until I could be slaughtered,' unmindful of who might hear what, she continued, inflamed beyond all reason, hurt and sick with it, 'Lord knows I didn't suffer for it in the end. You truly were the best lover I've yet to have and I'll not be so petty as to deny that.'

At her words, Cole's cheekbones developed a red tint and it was a sizable silence before he replied. 'I'm saddened that that's the way you view our time together.'

Amelia reddened somewhat in sympathy to Cole's flushed face but for an all too different reason. He sounded not unlike a stern governess giving her a good chastising and for the briefest moment he was Cole again, her Cole. A little stoic, forever proper and wonderful. But that had all just been an illusion, a fabricated persona to dupe her. As he spoke again, Amelia found she could not meet his eyes. 

'I'm saddened because I fell in love with you not long after we were acquainted. Well before we became lovers and before you stopped looking at me as though I was a lowly consideration, well beneath your pretty feet. You were right, of course, to have felt like that. You just never knew how low at that point. But this is the truth: I wouldn't have allowed him to harm you. I would have done anything in my power. I love you still.'

Patently ignoring the words that she would replay continually from this moment onwards, Amelia replied with rejection in her every movement, her very tone. 'So, you came to relieve me of your guilty conscience – so why do you linger? Leave and don't think to return. Next time you do, I'll have you escorted from here via the back entrance.'

Forcefully, Cole took her hand and said, 'No, Amelia. No, not yet. I came for that and to warn you.' he paused at the immediately guarded look that entered Amelia's eyes. 'Keep Lara safe. Take her away from London and – and for God's sake do whatever you have to do to ensure it. Come Thursday, he will be expecting her to meet him. Hyde Park, he said.'

Amelia shook her head slightly. 'You mean to say he - Oh, God, no...' Amelia uttered, her ears ringing so that whatever Cole said in reply, she missed. 

'You can't waste a moment; do you understand what I'm telling you? Create whatever sob story you can to win your mother round. Just get yourselves away from London!'

'But, Cole,' Amelia said in bemused tones, not feeling his firm grip and wondering why he was telling her this when the obvious lingered clear in the air. 'There's nowhere we can go where she will be safe.'




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 04



*

'You're late.'

'It wasn't my fault, milord – Master, I-' the high, anxious voice was sharply stifled. 

'No it never is, is it Margaret. Well come in. You have news for me, I hope.'

Hurrying into the low lit room, Margaret stopped a good few feet away from the seated figure and hesitated as she stood, cautious, as she always was, not to make eye contact. It made her light-headed with fear whenever she was around Him and she'd not tempt her luck by glancing the demon straight and boldly in the eye. 

'He warned her, milord. He warned her to flee as soon as possible with the young mistress, Lara.'

'Older mistress, I think you'll find.'

Margaret's brow furrowed at that but she wasn't inclined to ask for an explanation and incite any sort of unnecessary conversation with the demon. She shuddered at the thought. The sooner she could leave...

'Yes, my dear, soon. Soon enough you shall return and resume your mundane duties. I'm afraid you'll have to bear my attentions for just a few moments longer.'

Flushing and hastening to deny Him, Margaret started as the demon continued sharply, but not, it seemed, towards her,

'I am disappointed. Morely was always so dependable but there you have it. He will be moral to the very end. Where are they fleeing to?'

'One of their home's in the country. Northamptonshire.'

'Fools,' Nicholas commented without heat. 'Very well, you may go. You recall what you have to do now?'

'Yes, master.'

'Go then.'

*

'People will talk – we cannot simply depart with two weeks of the season left, Amelia. Lady Bellamy's yearly-'

'Mother, you don't understand how imperative it is that we leave, it's – we must – it's father!' Amelia shot her mother a triumphant look as the thought came to her. Surely that would be enough to convince the woman to forgo her ritual societal gatherings?

'Oh for heaven's sake, what has he done now? It's always something.'

For the briefest of moments, Lara felt a pang for the man who had fathered her, at how dismissive his wife was of his inner demons, his visible and mental decline. Surely she wasn't so unconcerned inside?

'I'm worried about us being here and leaving him alone. You want to avoid talk; well surely you can't be so unaware, mother! Everyday there's a new speculation about father-'

'He's not alone, Amelia - he's in a house full of people serving his every need. You are too dramatic by half. The real problem is that you father is an eccentric. When I was young, it was an alluring characteristic but such things become tiresome as they stale. My mother did warn me to keep my guard about me but there you have it. It is said it runs in the family. His side, of course. Luckily, you get most of your character traits from me, darling.' And thus relaying the biggest speech Lara could ever remember hearing from her aunt, the older woman began to finger her recently decorated coiffure, apparently setting Amelia's plea's far from her mind. 

'Very well, mother,' Amelia said coldly, feeling revulsion at the blasé woman she had once so admired, her mind working on another plan of action, her mother's consent be damned. 

*

'Where are you going?'

'To bed,' Lara said, surprised at the hard, almost suspicious look Amelia gave her. 'What's the matter with you?'

'I - think there's a mouse in my room. You should check your room carefully.' 

Lara cringed. 'Have you told a maid? You'd best sleep somewhere else tonight.'

'The unused rooms are too musty. They require at least a day to air, you know. Can't I bed with you tonight? I'll come by in a short time.'

'Very well,' Lara sighed. 'Wait-' she hesitated as Amelia made to depart the dinning room after their evening meal. 'Is your father alright?' She said, her tones daring Amelia to correct her choice of words. 

Amelia sighed heavily and gave Lara a weary look. 'Fine enough for another two weeks, I suppose.' 

Nodding, Lara left the room with her and the two climbed the curving central staircase in the hallway, going their separate ways at the first floor. Once in her room, a maid helped her perform her nightly ablutions and Lara chaffed at the fact that she wouldn't be alone tonight once Amelia arrived. Her nights alone she treasured. She would start by retrieving the hardback book of poetry she carried everywhere with her and read a few verses. It always seemed to soothe her, make her feel languid, when she did. And then, when the lights were off... 

'There was a man, miss. He was waiting outside, near the parkland opposite the townhouse as I came home from the market earlier today. I forgot to say.'

'Oh?' Lara responded politely as the maid, Margaret, helped her tug a stubborn tangle from her dark hair. 

'He wanted to relay a message, miss, but he was wary of coming in. He say's he wouldn't be welcome. That there were instructions to send him away earlier, to keep you from seeing him.'

'Amelia?' Lara questioned, frowning at the maid in he mirror. 

Nodding, Margaret continued, 'He introduced himself as Lord Armel. Must be foreign, I'm thinking. Well, anyway, he said I was to give you a message. I thought there's no harm in giving a message since he was respectful enough to stay a little way from the house owing to my Lady's dislike of him.'

'Margaret,' grabbing the brush from the startled maid's hand, Lara, her body shivering as she shook with excitement and disbelief and a strange cold fear, seated the maid where she had been mere moments ago and loomed over the older woman. 

'Was he – how did he look?'

'Miss?'

Shaking her head impatiently, Lara continued, 'It's not important. What did he say? What did he say!'

Her face paling, the maid said, 'That he had obeyed your command. That's it. Odd, really,' she have a high laugh at that. 'He isn't cracked, is he?'

Lara turned away to stare out of the window. 'But...that can't have been all. It just can't. He must have said something else?'

'Nothing else except...' Margaret trailed off, uncertainty written in every line of her face. 'It's above stairs, in my quarters. Shall I bring it down?'

'What is it? Lara blinked. 

The maid shook her head and left on a quick tred, returning speedily some moments later carrying a brown hardback book. 

'He left it with me. To give you...I wasn't sure that I should accept but...'

Lara whipped the book from the maid's shaking hands. 'This has been in your quarters? Since yesterday?'

The maid nodded uncertainly. 

Lara stared at her treasure, a simple book of poetry gifted to her some time ago now. It seemed like an age ago. Every night she would palm through the book, re-read lines now confined perfectly to memory. Poems of love and desperation. Tragedy, too. It seemed very fitting. Every night, that was, except last night. Closing her eyes tightly, she recalled how routine had been suspended with Amelia's presence in her bed.

Chilled, Lara walked to her bed and dropped to her knees, feeling underneath the wooden frame, her hands grabbing and finding nothing as she scoured her usual resting place for the book. A perfect act of futility but she'd had to check. Staying in her kneeled position, ignoring the maid's nervous questions, Lara opened the handsome book but paused as she focused on the very first, usually blank page and stared at the bold, clear script, the fresh ink;

'Come to me.'

'How? How do I...'

'Miss, please-'

Lara glanced up distractedly at the anxious face peering at her but returned her stare to the elegant scrawl once more. 

'I – I can take you to him. I know where he is...I'm so sorry, Miss. So sorry.' Face wet with tears, the maid bore a look of guilt and desperation. 'I had no choice, miss...I had no choice,' she begged of Lara. 'When he wants things, he gets them. One minute we was told that this houseful was not accepting new staff and then the next thing I know, I'm working right near you as I was instructed. I was to watch you, miss. Only you, mind. I didn't concern myself with it, just put my head down and did what I was told but, well, it's been almost a year with me working here and I've grown fond of you.'

'All this time, all along he never forgot...' Lara breathed. 

'Miss! You mustn't do it, you mustn't go! He's evil-'

Lara laughed at that. 'Indeed, he's evil personified. And what a handsome face evil has! Are his eyes just as potent as before?' Lara braced a hand on the polished wooden floors and stood up, the book of poetry clasped to her chest. 

Margaret blinked at her in bemusement. 'Miss...he won't let you go. If you go to him...'

'Just tell me where he is, Margaret,' Lara demanded, 'You work for him, you say?' 

'It's my punishment,' the maid admitted, her face taut. 'He wanted my baby, Miss. He wanted my Sam. I have five children, miss, but Sammy, my eldest, will always be my baby. I couldn't do it,' she sighed, tears streaking her round cheeks. 'I did it all for Justin, to save him. Damn his black soul,' she bit out. 

'And now you serve Nicholas.'

The maid crossed herself at that, fear making her eyes as wide as dinner plates. 

'Don't you see, Margaret?' Lara soothed, feeling an usual but empowering calm take over. 'You must take me to him. It's what he'd want, I am sure. And you wouldn't want to disobey him.'

'He will hurt me,' the maid nodded and Lara's breath caught hard at that. 

Repressed thoughts jeered at her, sense and rationality battled for attention. Self-preservation fought a hard battle. And lost.

'I – I can't allow that to happen,' Lara said, 'I can't allow you to be harmed. Please, take me to him.''

'But it's not that plan,' the maid argued fretfully, beginning to pace about the room. 'I was to tell you and hand you that book. Then the master was to give me further instruction.'

How very calculated, Lara mused. 'Let's surprise him.'

'Miss, please!'

'He won't hurt me, Margaret,' Lara hurried over to the maid and clasped her shoulder, 'He won't.' she added, believing it.

'He's killed men.'

The proclamation chilled Lara. 'I've no doubt,' she said quietly.

'He would have killed my Sammy, too.' 

'But he didn't,' Lara offered in desperate tones as she tried to convince herself of something flimsy.

Throwing her a dirty look, the maid said, 'Nor would he when he had me in exchange when I refused to give Sammy to him. Alright, miss, I'll take you. Might as well hear what he has to say about my disobedience. No doubt he'll find out what I've done just telling you as much.' She sighed fretfully. 

'Now?' Lara's heart leapt in excited desperation. 

The maid shook her head quickly. 'Later – once the upstairs maid's take their leave. Leaving by the back entrance is best. Miss, are you sure-'

'That will be all, thank you.'

So dismissed, the maid turned and left, but only after throwing a pitying glance towards an anxious Lara.

*

Well past midnight, six streets from Amelia's townhouse, Lara and Margaret stood before a sleek white house in an elegant square. At the sheer wonder of the fact that Nicholas has been residing – however long, she did not know – so close, Lara felt faint. 

She wasn't given much time to mull over it as a hard-faced man opened the door and eyed them with probing eyes. 

'What are you doing here, Margaret?' he looked the older woman over with hard eyes.

'Move to the side, Keith, move and let us in,' she replied wearily.

'Not on your life. He's not here but he won't be pleased – and he especially won't be pleased if he finds out I let you in without his say-so. I didn't get any instructions so you don't come in,' so saying, the man shut the door loudly.

'I can't believe it,' Lara stuttered, outrage overtaking nervousness. To think that she had waited all this time to be halted now by a fool of a man. Giving the maid a determined look, she turned back to the door once more and thumped hard on it, her second thump landing in the man Keith's face.

Before he could retaliate, Margaret said quickly, pleadingly, 'You'd best not. She's the girl – do you want to risk his mood if he finds out you marked her?'

Cupping his cheek, Keith looked from Lara to Margaret but although his expression showed belligerence, there was also unmistakable fear that hadn't been there before. Silently, he stepped aside.

*

Lara groaned as she attempted to lift her head from the floor. Once she had managed the feat, she blinked about the white walled, unfurnished room as she tried to come back to herself. Of course. She had decided to stay put in this room – one among the many other almost identical, abandoned rooms in this mammoth house – after nosing about the place. She hadn't remembered falling asleep, only seating herself on the polished floorboards, her back against a wall, as she tried to convince herself not to flee. 

She wondered at the time but a quick glance outside had revealed that it was still dark outside. Perhaps she should go and seek out Margaret...would the women still be here? Of course she would, Lara reasoned. She wouldn't abandon me, surely.

'Did you have pleasant dreams, my pet? Ah, she gazes with such wide eyed surprise. Surely, dear, you were expecting my arrival?' a pause. 'How beautiful you are,' the last was said with a lack of passion, almost with bitterness. 

'Margaret...'

'Yes. What of her?' Nicholas arched a brow, viewing the figure standing stiffly against the opposite wall from his vantage point by the doorway. His body was pulled taut, stunned, delighted and wary. 

The nervous reply floated over to him, the sweet, remembered voice a balm to his mood, 'I wondered where she was – I wanted to talk to her.'

'There's no need.'

At the dismissal, Lara said quickly, 'Don't be angry with her – it was I who forced her to bring me here.'

'You think to manage me?'

Shocked, Lara began to reply but was interrupted quickly by a sardonic Nicholas, 'You are fond of her, I see. Curious, considering you have her to thank for your fate now.'

Lifting her chin in false bravado, Lara countered, 'I choose my own fate. It was I who wanted to see you.'

A laugh met her. 'Still fiery, I see. A pleasing discovery. Tears, now? What for, pray tell?'

'You laugh at me heedlessly – I wish to see Margaret!' Lara scrubbed harshly at the betraying emotion over her face.

'Calm down,' Nicholas soothed, taking a calculated step into the room, closer to the girl but far enough away so as not to unduly threaten. Her scent, already clouding his senses, ignited them at the closer proximity. Feeling almost light-headed, he watched a lone tear streak a pathway down one cheek. Loath to be the cause of it, he found himself replying to reassure, quite brusquely, 'I've not harmed the woman, if that's what you worry for.'

'And can I trust that?'

The quiet words scored his very centre. 'Have I not proven so once before?' he seethed, his eyes never leaving the ones trained on his face, and when he saw those eyes soften at his words, the triumph, the victory he felt, was overwhelming. 

'Yes...oh, yes,' the girl responded breathlessly. 'But then you left, you left...me.'

At the hesitance in her voice, Nicholas let out a harsh breath. 'A necessary course of action, unless it would have thrilled you to see me struggle at your feet.'

'Then it was true...it...it hurt you to walk away from what was rightfully yours. Me, my father...what Mika said was true.'

'Ah, yes! The reason why I've found myself back here - the cursed fool, that he dared come here, seek you out...answer me now and do not lie – did he touch you?'

Startled at that particular question, Lara found her tongue clumsy in its haste to deny, 'Of – of course not.'

'But you shake now. With fear, shame? With remembered desire? What? What!'

The stunning burst of violence induced a cold sweat over Lara's body. Her memories of Nicholas painted him as cool and sardonic. But once could she recall a break of control so sharp...his reaction towards her father when the older man had revealed her paternity. 

Pressing her back closer to the wall, a small voice in her head reminded her that he would not hurt her. That no matter what else happened, he would not hurt her. It was such a confident voice, held such conviction, that she started to believe it fully. 

'Neither. I told you, he did not touch me. Perhaps – perhaps you should trust me, too?'

Appearing bemused at her reply, Nicholas said nothing and Lara took a breath of release as his taut shoulders loosened enough at her words. Not by much, mind. But it was certainly progress...a small level of strength and control followed the revelation that she had such an effect on him. In fact, she revelled in it.

His cool, ice blue eyes looked almost luminous as they pinned her and his devastating form was so potent in that moment that she felt her channel clench in helpless desire. Everything about him was made to stun and attract. His imposing height, his broad shoulders, strong legs encased in coal black trousers. And his face...chiselled and angled beyond mere perfection, it made staring at him for too long difficult. Intimidation at it's finest. Compared to him, she felt as plain and bland as day old milk.

He spoke and she tried valiantly to follow his words, to not relive a time when he had pleasured her so deeply with his tongue that she thought she would break into pieces. 'Perhaps I should trust you...but what have you done to earn my trust, I wonder? Through my stupidity and staying my hand when it came to your father's bargain, I have suffered the consequences. Forgive me, then, if I elect not to trust you when you have given me nothing in return.'

Lara observed the bitter expression on the handsome face musingly. Bitterness and jealous. Unlike Amelia, Margaret...everyone else he had no doubt revealed himself to, she had long since ceased to see him as a creature or monster - someone different from herself – and presently as she stood, she saw it all too clearly now that he was just like her in the ways that counted.

A strange desperation, a strange love and a great lust for him moved her to her next decision. 

In four long steps, she stood before him, far enough back so that she could see him without having to crane her neck too much but close enough to touch if she reached out a hand. Reaching out that hand, she let it fall and rest on his chest, covered in a snowy, crisp white shirt. His expression remained as arrested as it had since she had made her move towards him. At the contact, her fingers tingled. 

'You came to me, in some form – at night, while I bathed, I am sure of it...' she murmured.

'Yes, what of it?' Nicholas dismissed, trying to look offhand but revealing a small sheepishness at her words that made Lara smile. 

'It made me desperate – for you. But you never came for me. Not properly.'

Making no move, looking almost wary, Nicholas watched her face closely, his eyes quickly slipping to her hand now caressing his chest before returning to her eyes. 

'You never kissed me,' she added.

A slight grunt met her words as he dismissed, 'What need is there in it?'

Lara blinked a few times at the indifferent reply. 'Every,' she insisted. She had read enough novels in her life to have yearned for a sweet kiss or two in her youth. Despite the sexual awakening he had shown her, she yearned for the intimacy of a kiss, of pressing her lips to his ever stern ones. 

'I can find much more pleasing ways to use my lips upon you,' he replied, placing a hand over hers and Lara felt her already wet pantalets become soaked as she recalled his mouth between her legs again, a vision that would not now be denied. White-hot lust warmed her blood at the vivid images. 'Shall I prove it to you?'

'No,' she refused abruptly. 'I want to show you - that you can trust me. Will you let me or not?' she challenged, pulling her hand from beneath his. 




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 04



Nicholas frowned. There she is, trying to manage me again, he thought with incredulity. He had never given up control for or to anyone and he wasn't about to do so now but at the insistence in her eyes and her close proximity he found himself warming to the idea of yielding it to her and truly, there was little in that moment that he could deny her. 

'Very well.'

At his consent, Lara reached up a careful hand and let her fingers curl into the thick, black softness of his hair, shivering at the pleasure of it, all the while watching his face for a reaction. He seemed quite perplexed.

With the pressure of her hand, her arm aching at the stretch to accommodate his height, she urged his head down and he complied reluctantly. It took her standing high on her toes and he with is head bent amusingly low for her to reach her goal. There must be nothing to it, she considered nervously. People must kiss often enough. Buoyed at the thought, she pressed her lips against his and waited. When she pulled away a few seconds later, he looked bemused and she frowned at him. 

'Let's try it again.'

Raising a sarcastic brow, Nicholas said, 'For a woman of your experience, this doesn't seem quite right.'

Her one time lie to him of her lack of virginity made her face heat. Well, he'd discover the truth of that soon enough.

'You weren't trying,' Lara pointed out. 

Eyes narrowing, Nicholas murmured, 'I admit I'm no expert but these lips,' he pressed a thumb to her closed mouth, 'can't be much different under pressure than these,' he finished, his hand stopping at the top of her legs before moving further to cup between them.

'Nicholas,' Lara shook her head, her body shivering with need, her eyes feeling hot as she pushed herself shamelessly into his caressing hand. 

Eyes brightening with a white-hot heat, Nicholas muttered, 'Perhaps I am right, after all. It is worth a try, I suppose.' So saying, he bent low and pressed his lips to hers again with a hard determination. 

Startled at his swift change of mind to the task at hand, Lara gasped and felt the quick sweep of his tongue tasting her mouth. As she made to move away, he placed a coaxing hand behind her head, buried it beneath her thick, dark hair, and licked lightly against the now closed seam of her lips.

Slowly yielding, Lara closed her eyes tightly with a sense of delight as she tasted his own mouth, drugged by the intoxicating flavour. As he played carefully, calculatingly, with her mouth, his hand dropped from her hair to join the other at her waist, tightly, roughly caressing her curved hips through her rose pink chiffon gown and finally pulled away to peer musingly at her. 

Taking a deep breath before replying, he said, 'Interesting. I'll give you that. But now I hunger for a more potent taste.' With that said, his eyes dropped to the centre of her legs but the question seemed deeper, more vital than just that.

Without hesitation, Lara consented, her eyelids heavy.

Nodding once, Nicholas bent and slipped a capable arm beneath her already weak knees and carried her swiftly from the cold, empty room.

*



Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 05



I've finally completed the story...! I decided to split this final part in two to make the editing easier (part two to come very soon – you can take that as my oath!). I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading




Lara stared around the dark room. Though there was little light – a mere highlight from the moon outside – she could see enough. A large, canopied bed sat in the centre of the room, facing away from the tall windows looking out onto the handsome square of highly sought after townhouses. Except for this piece of furniture, the room was bare. Where did he keep his clothing? she wondered inanely. But a firm hand closing around her shoulder brought her to herself. Even through her dress, her cloak, she could feel the coldness of his touch.

Turning, she arched her neck to meet the luminous eyes assessing her steadily. 

'You didn't answer my question – about Martha. Not directly, at least,' she parried, feeling suddenly very shy after the passion she had exhibited earlier in his arms. 

As he had carried her here from the empty room he had discovered her in, he had been silent, his face set in an unreadable mask and Lara had used the reprieve to calm herself. Still, she ached to be touched by him now, the wetness between her thighs a hot reminder of her previous weakness. If only she could be bolder.

Nicholas cocked a black brow at her demanding tone, apparently amused. 'The crone is well, did I not tell you? Put your mind from her. She does not interest me,' he added, his eyes following the path of his hand as it now smoothed its way from her arm to her hip.

'But, Nicholas' Lara stepped away from his attentions, persistent, and didn't miss the black scowl passing over his face at the rejection. Needing to know the truth of the maid's fate, she hurriedly continued, 'She was terribly afraid that she had upset you – by disobeying you in bringing me here...'

Dryly, Nicholas stated, 'While it is true she went ahead of herself, in this instance I can't say I'm entirely displeased with the outcome.'

Lara searched his eyes and finally nodded, well pleased by his answer and disinterest in the matter. 'Oh, yes. I did tell her as much - I knew you wouldn't harm her,' she sighed, swaying towards him, but stumbled as Nicholas's face twisted into a mask of disbelieving fury. 

'How? How could you profess to know?' he bit out.

'I just meant...that you wouldn't be so needlessly cruel, so unjust so as to-'

A bark of laughter met her words and she cringed at the humourless, cold sound.

'Ah, then perhaps my instincts were correct to begin with – who are you, temptress?' he seethed, wrapping a hand in her loose hair, holding her still, holding her face up to him. Though the grip was painless, the intensity and suddenness of it stopped Lara's heart. 'Who are you really?'

'I don't know what you mean,' she gasped, snared by his direct, beseeching gaze.

'Do you not? In all my years I have never been thus unsettled by a mortal – or anyone, for that matter. There is something about you, there must be something...' he trailed of, his expression turning to one of puzzlement. 'Why did it have to be you who caught me so?' he whispered, as if to the room at large. 'Why you?'

'Do you need to think so deeply about it? I no longer fear you Nicholas. The fact of your very existence is unfathomable to me and yet I accept it. Can't you accept me? I know that for as long as I may live, there will never be another to move me so. You are all the things I dreamed of as a child but so much more that I never realised before now that I needed. You sacrificed the life and soul owed to you, pledged to you by my father's greed...you did so for me. There is no real evilness in you – at least, no more than mere man is capable of.'

Nicholas dropped his hand from her hair abruptly and said in flat tones, 'Do not think to extol me. I am not the prince you dreamed off as a child – and will not succeed in changing me to be so.'

The grim tone didn't faze her, for she saw him suddenly, saw him clearly, sensed his hesitance and fearful anxiety almost as if it was a physical thing, as if a hum emanated from him. He didn't want to believe in her, even after she had cleanly laid her soul open to him. Stubborn as always, she thought fondly.

'Oh, I'm not so sure about that.' Lara reached out a hand, searching out his face in the darkness. 'I'm not sure about that at all. You see, all I dreamed of was a man who would cherish and – love me. Indeed, he was always handsome in these dreams but blond, now that I think on it. Oh well, let us not dwell on the minutia,' she teased adoringly, cupping his sharply angled cheek.

Though he didn't move away from her caress, he circled an unyielding – though painless – hand around her raised wrist. 'I'm no fair haired knight. I will not profess these words of love to you that you so crave,' the word was said with mocking distaste, but his eyes, even in the darkness of the room, appeared fever-bright, almost gleaming with an ensnaring inner light, drawing her in as he himself unconsciously, it seemed, swayed toward her, unable to control his will.

'But you do care for me,' Lara shook her head at his stubborn, stoic expression.

His lips flattened into a thin line as he dismissed, 'In the way any master can for a vulnerable pet.'

'No!' Lara slapped his now searching hand away and with a filthy curse, he dragged the chastened hand through his dark hair, physically unnerved, and she was sure her heart pulsed at his inner turmoil. 'No, Nicholas,' she said, her voice steadier, 'I shall wait here for as long as it takes you to admit it – and if you refuse, I shall leave. I wish for there to be only plain speaking between us.'

'I could stop you,' Nicholas said after a pause. 

Lara lifted her chin. 'Yes, but you won't.'

It was a long, taut silence before he responded in any way. Stiff and completely unmoving, his very stillness would have once frightened her, though she admitted to being slightly disturbed by it.

'I'd not let you go,' he said at last and Lara stared at him, urging him to continue. 'I'd want you for my own.'

'Because you care for me,' her lips trembled in her insistence. Even separated from him by this small distance, it was a physical pain. A persistent twisting in her gut, not unlike the sensations she had experienced from their first meeting, during his long absence. She almost feared that she needed him like she needed the very air around her – and if she had beg to convince him of this fact, she would. But then, he cried,

'Curse you! If that's what this is, then yes,' his voice was violent in its passion and his face had contorted into the hideous visage she remembered from their very first encounter, when had pleasured her in Amelia's garden. A demon's face. 'I want you by my side. For the now and after. My mate...'

The deep meaning of his words was lost on her as a sense of security enveloped her at his words of devotion and her prior, wounded feelings from the news of her paternity seemed to disintegrate by small but powerful increments. 

'Yes,' she agreed, weak with want, willing to agree to anything to soften him to her.

'Then come to me, come to me now and let it be so,' he rasped commandingly, refusing to be the one to bend but she didn't care about pride. Moving quickly, she grabbed at his lapels, twisting on her toes to reach his great height – a largely impossible task – but he didn't allow her to struggle for long as a strong arm encircled her waist and hoisted her upwards with comical ease until her lips, her eyes, were parallel to his.

Allowing herself a few greedy seconds to simply observe him from such close quarters, to almost, it seemed, feel the power and vibrancy emanating from him, she slid a hand into his soft, black hair and pressed her lips against his with clumsy passion. Taking control swiftly, Nicholas slipped his free hand under her chin and coaxed her mouth apart, sliding his own over it sealing it, his tongue playing with tender violence with her own. Though a so-called novice at this task, he pleasured her well and it wasn't long before she was cradled in his arms once more as he moved the few paces towards the imposing bed and settled her onto it. 

Closing her eyes, Lara felt her clothes leaving her body as Nicholas dispensed with them with brisk efficiency. The cool chill in the room smoothed up her bare legs and thighs, then her abdomen and breasts as her chemise was removed last.

'Look at me.'

The command was calm and yet strong and when Lara obeyed, it was to find him studying her nude body with hot appreciation. But he made no move to touch her: instead, he turned away and walked towards the door, opened it and hollered for someone and Lara used the reprieve to slip under the fresh and unused, it seemed, quilt, pulling it over her modesty. When Nicholas returned to her a few minutes later, he came carrying with a thick, bright candle. 

Placing it on the window ledge behind the bed, he considered her objectively for a pause before pulling the covering veil from her body, baring her body to the flickering glow of the candle, with only her hair to hide her modesty.

'No, don't hide from me,' it was part warning, part command, but tenderly said, as Lara moved her hands over her breasts and crossed her legs. 'I have waited too long to claim you. Come, remove my shirt,' Nicholas demanded with ingrained arrogance, like a king to his adoring subject. 'I want to feel your skin against mine as I take you.'

Shaking, Lara did as bade, kneeling on the plush mattress, horribly aware of her exposed body. Her hands were tentative as they unbuttoned the garment, pausing before boldly slipping inside the material, smoothing over the hard, well-muscled expanse of skin and with a brisk shrug of his shoulders, Nicholas discarded the offensive material.

'Do not stop,' his voice was a demanding rasp. 

Too aware of his vital physicality to meet his eyes, Lara let her hands fall next to his trousers and fumbled clumsily for the ties and obstructions keeping him from her and a few moments later he stood before her, nude, strong, proud, the moonlight falling over his taut stomach and his high, jutting cock.

Before she could fully appreciate that particular part of him, he surprised her by pushing her flat onto the mattress before closing in on her, hoisting his powerful body over her, held up by his arms.

'Please,' Lara murmured on a catch of her breath as he continued to observe her thus, denying her the contact of his flesh against hers. At first, she did not think he would obey but slowly, he lowered himself onto her, his hard chest teasing her aroused nipples, the soft hair on his abdomen and groin pressed firm against her soft stomach.

Closing her eyes, despite his prior warning not to, she buried her head in his neck, scared by the desperation of her desire, his smoky smell a drug to already hazy senses. A hand trailed up her thigh, softly, and much to her surprise, she ached for him in that moment to use her hardly and cared nothing for soft caresses. 

Her hand curled around his shoulder in reaction to her desire, the nails no doubt biting into the skin and Nicholas, previously nuzzling at her ear, smelling deeply of her hair, grunted slightly.

He raised himself quickly and scanned her eyes.

'You are eager for me,' he breathed. 'I can smell you - do you want me badly, my sweet?'

Lara, her eyes hot with arousal, nodded - shame was now a forgotten thing.

A feral grin moulded Nicholas's usually mocking mouth and he quickly rolled with her until she lay atop him and a startled Lara watched wonderingly as he manoeuvred her limbs and body until she sat astride him, her buttocks cradling his stiff male part, her wetness rubbing against the hair at his groin.

'It only seems fitting that you be the one to master me – for this first time only, of course,' he added the last on a twisted smile. 'You have truly bent me to your will, have you not, my sweet?' the last was said in thready tones as he felt Lara's hips moving against his groin as she pleasured herself, her labia flattening against him as she rubbed herself over him. 

Raising a hand to cup a full breast, Nicholas reminded himself to be easy with her, certain that if he released his true lust upon her, he would cause her pain and hurt for their first coupling. And scare her. He did not want her to fear him. Allowing her to ride him in this way seemed the perfect solution though the position of submission was foreign to him and his natural dominance rebelled against it, his free hand flexing at his side as he determined not to lose himself in touching her as he fully desired. 

With hard won patience, he waited until she'd readied herself, until the point came in which her eyes rolled slightly as she increased her tempo, the assault from his hand at her dark nipple combined with the friction created by her movements on his hard body enough to bring her close to her release. He longed to roll her beneath him, suckle strongly on a pebbled nipple before thrusting harshly inside her, steadying her with his hands, controlling her pleasure. 

Instead, he had to content himself in watching her breasts shake as she bounced down on him and when the moment of her rapture built, he swiftly grabbed her by the hips, directing her to handle his aching cock, to push it slowly within her.

'Easy,' he said on a harsh breath as the thick stiffness slipped in her gasp. Lara looked down at him, her expression helpless, her eyes wide with uncertainty, and it was all he could do not to drag her down to him and fuck her hard until he spent his seed within her receptive body, using her until this unyielding craving for her no longer controlled him. 

Focusing his attention on remaining as still as possible, he listened as Lara moaned as she felt the smooth round head of his rod pushing against her entrance, her small hand wrapped as much as she could manage around it. He noted the embarrassed look crossing her face at the state of her arousal, so wet that she had left moisture on his trail of hair which glistened with it. 

'I can't,' she said then and stilled on top of him, the knees straddling his waist widening. 

'Yes, you can. You will,' Nicholas demanded, his hands by his side, and Lara wondered why he stayed so distant from her, frustrated by it. 'Do it slowly,' he soothed then, his tone gentling somewhat.

Biting her lip, Lara moved her hips fractionally until she felt him slip further into her and there, she used her weight to bear down onto him, gasping at the discomfort of the fit. She moved this way for a few moments, allowing no more of his length to enter him, her movements stiff and small and uttering a filthy curse, Nicholas suddenly grabbed her hips, his fingers biting into her, and pushed her down fully, thrusting up at the same time, his back lifting high from the mattress as he fully impaled himself until the soft hair of his head brushed her nipples, the back of his neck taut as he leaned into her.

Stroking the hair twisting at his nape as sat against her, slumped and cradled against her breast, Lara realised with some surprise that she was crying and upon hearing the sound, Nicholas raised his demon's head and looked up at her, his face a twisted mask.

'Virgin,' he whispered, his handsome face twisted into a gruesome and horrific - and accusing – face. 'Your virgin's blood burns me,' he added, almost dumbly, before pushing her off and away from him, swiftly escaping the bed whilst Lara, stunned by the suddenness of his rejection, pulled the sheet across her nudity and searched him out anxiously. 

He stood in a far corner of the room, peering across at her but she could only judge this by the eerie light eyes shining like a beacon in the darkness toward her.

'I only lied because – I wanted to impress you,' she explained unsteadily. 'When we first met...I didn't know...'

'You've never known another,' he uttered in some wonder.

'Never. Won't you come back, Nicholas?'

He hesitated. 'My face does not – frighten you?'

'I love you,' Lara said strongly, feeling strangely amused at the turn events, he uncertain, her assertive.

'I scared you – and hurt you,' he said, coming closer slowly. 'You wept,' he added gravely. 'It displeases me to see you weep.'

'It is said to hurt for a woman's first time,' she cajoled, patting the bed softly as if he were a frightened deer. 

Since he had entered her, she had felt a strange feeling settle and increase in intensity in her body. When he had left her, had moved away from her to the farthest corner of the room, she had felt the separation like a sharp kick in her chest. Now, as he stood near her, she felt calmer. She didn't doubt that this strange feeling had something to do with their coupling but focused, for now, on the present. 

She said, 'It was my own fault for trying to be brave. I'll be fine.'

'I didn't want to hurt you,' he insisted, and her heart throbbed at the pained sincerity of his words which seemed to come hard to him. He stopped as he reached the side of the bed, his face, though not as cruelly carved and grotesque as it had been in the moment he had discovered her virginity, still not the handsome façade she had come to know. But in that moment, she thought him the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

'Lay beside me,' she urged.

'Nay,' he said quickly. 'Later – I need time to compose myself...I would be too demanding in my lust. I do not wish to use you harshly. Not at first, anyway,' he added, before pulling the blanket further to her chin. 

Lara shivered at his words, her inner muscles contracting in need and moved away from his ministrations, kicking the white covering off. 'Not later,' she begged. 'Now.'

'Lara...' he trailed off uncertainly and she sighed as her name left his lips. Had he ever uttered her Christian name aloud, she wondered, thinking back? He made the simple name sound like sweetest of poetry. 

Knowing that she would have to take initiative, Lara reached out a hand and stroked his quickly hardening flesh and he closed his eyes, bowing his head at her touch. She continued petting him for a few minutes until finally he grabbed her hand and held it for a moment, looking pensively down at her. 

'How long I have waited for you,' he said then cryptically, his face poignant, before he lowered himself slowly to the bed. 

As he moved over her, he said, 'I give you a last chance to flee. After that, I will not let you go. Not ever – you will belong to me. If you run from me, I will find you. Do you understand?' his expression was unwavering.

In answer, Lara dragged him further into the cradle of her thighs, gasping a little at the pressure on her aching mound, still sore from his earlier entrance but she had little time to dwell on past pain as fresh pain was administered. Plunging into her with harsh intrusion, holding her hands suspended above her head, his movements were sharp and hard.

Gasping his name, Lara begged him to give her a moment, just a moment, but in answer, he simply lowered his head and sucked a stiff nipple into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he suckled at her, his eyes wide open, staring up into her pale face, unrelenting. You asked this of me, his expression said. Welcome me into your body, accept my ownership. In silent reply, she grabbed at his head, pressing him closer to her breast. She felt the suction right down to her womb and suddenly, she felt her inner muscles pulling at his cock, closing around it as it withdrew, only to enter again as he continued his merciless rhythm. Though her mind fought against the discomfort of the act, her body convulsed in urgency as she felt herself quickening, the pressure in her belly climbing as he continued to suck on her as fiercely as if he wished to draw milk and then she finally reached her goal, crying out his name, her back arching, her legs tightening around his hard buttocks which continued to flex as he fucked her, even after she finally lay back on a sigh of pleasure. 




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 05



As her breath left her in panting gasps, she watched in fascination as he threw back his head and shouted, his cock pushing so far into her that it hurt. She pushed at his chest as he continued but he shoved her hands aside and slipped one of his own between her thighs, grabbing at the hard bud between her thighs, rolling it between his fingers and she shook as he brought her to another peak, her voice drowned out as he joined her. 

*

With her head pressed close to his chest, his large hand cradling it, Lara pressed a shy kiss to the skin beneath her and felt Nicholas stiffen in response. 

'Do you hurt,' he said, breaking the silence following the urgent rutting of some moments ago.

'Not much,' she admitted, nuzzling her face against lazily into his silky chest. 

'You love me still?'

'What difference does it make,' Lara mused aloud, 'since you do not believe in the concept?'

'No, I do not,' he admitted at last. 'It is not a word or sentiment common to my lot.'

Twining an arm about his neck, his mate replied teasingly, 'Then I shall just have to convince you. I shall have you head over heels in love with me before you know it.'

He gave her a dubious look at her strange choice of phrasing and she laughed in response. 

What a fine creature she was, he mused. So beautiful, so innocent and yet despite all that, she possessed a boldness of spirit that stunned him. Before turning her, he would get a child off of her, he mused. He enjoyed the idea of having half-mortal offspring on the premise that they would have her innocent vibrancy in them. Pleased by the thought, he felt his already hard manhood throb in need and cupped her well-curved hip tightly. 

'No, wait-' Lara braced a hand on his chest. 'How many years do you have?'

'More than you have no doubt imagined. I have seen centuries pass,' he remarked dryly, his eyes unblinking as he watched for her reaction.

'How many,' Lara insisted, feeling the wet tip of his hardness probing at her stomach. Resisting the urge to yield to him as her heart demanded, she looked at him expectantly, suddenly desperate to know everything she could about him before mindless pleasure weakened her senses. 

'I do not know,' he admitted. 'I do not recall my birth,' he said shrugged then, his hand lazily caressing her thigh. 

'You mean you had a mother, a father?' she exclaimed over the thought. Where did demons hail from, from a Christian perception? The only things she had gleaned from pouring over the few texts she could find on the subject seemed only to speak of their depravity and sin.

'Not in the way you do, my dear. I had a sire and a vessel to birth me, that is all.'

'A vessel?'

He shrugged, clearly disinterested by the direction of conversation. 'A female. Or at least that is one possibility for my kind – not being able to recall my beginnings, I could just as well have been one of the Initiators – the first of the fallen who populated my world.'

'Fallen angels,' Lara murmured on a slow nod, recalling the Sunday School lectures of her youth. She looked up at him quickly then, her eyes having previously been fixed on his chest, unseeing. An angel, a fallen angel, a demon. Too fantastical to properly digest and yet here she lay with such a one. 

'Are there many of you? In your world?'

Nicholas frowned but upon seeing her eager, rapt expression, conceded, 'It is a world, my sweet – just as vast as your own, in some respects, and just as problematic, in many of the same. We, too, answer to a leader,' he muttered grimly.

'The Devil,' Lara whispered, shuddering and Nicholas laughed heartily in her ear.

'Nay,' he grinned. 'The name was fabricated by your people. But, let us just say, he shares many of the aforementioned fictional creature's attributes.'

'What is he like?' Lara asked, her head moving on his hard shoulder. 'Do you see him often?'

Nicholas asked arching a black brow, though his face was indulgent, 'Do you lunch with your pinch-faced Queen?' 

Lara stared at sheepishly, 'Well, no...I hadn't thought of it in that way. But,' she perked up again as a fresh thought occurred, 'if you are so ancient, why are you so fair and youthful?' she questioned, running a demonstrative hand over his taut, smooth forearm. 

He smiled at her eager, gleaming eyes and explained, like an elder explaining something of great interest to a receptive youth, 'Our shells cease degeneration once we achieve our mental maturity. We reflect the façade most relatable to mortals – the façade of our Iniators. All the better to entice you with,' he added dryly.

Giving his taut, contoured chest an appreciative once over, Lara said shyly, 'And what a fine time it was that you reached your maturity.'

Amused, Nicholas sought out her ear and whispered that she had not been so shy when she had shredded the skin of his buttocks as she wordlessly urged him to fill her deeper but before she could protest her shamelessness, Nicholas entered her on a swift thrust, her swollen, abused muscles protesting the invasion, even as her legs tightened high about his back in fierce welcome. 

*

Waking with a start, Lara stared at the ceiling in bemusement. Early morning light showed intricate cornicing and an ornate gold mirror on the opposite wall. It was enough to convince Lara, waking up in this foreign room, that she had not imagined the night that had passed. Quickly turning to her side, she gasped as she met the unblinking ice blue eyes regarding her. Nicholas looked wide awake, alert, as he considered her at his leisure. 

'You should have woken me,' Lara muttered, her tone laced with uncertainty, though not about her own inner thoughts. Rather, she feared Nicholas's reaction now that enough time had passed – his expression was unreadable, nothing flickered in those cool eyes of his.

'You were tired,' Nicholas returned after a moment, smoothing a hand over her tumbled hair, his expression softening in the light as she sighed and moved into his caress. 'I was demanding of you...'

'And I you,' Lara smiled. 'Did you not – do you not sleep?' she frowned up at him as he gathered her neatly within the cradle of his arms, her chin resting on his chest. 

'Sleep is possible,' he replied lazily. 'But rarely necessary-' his previously indulgent expression disappeared. 'You,' he said, staring above her head.

A gaunt face peered out at them from the doorway. 

'Cole?' Lara murmured, pulling the soft sheets over her shoulders.

'Morely,' Nicholas stated dispassionately above her head, his hand pushing her own head deeper into his chest, as if to shield her. 'You've disappointed me, I must say. You are also too late.'

Lara passed Nicholas a confused look. He looked utterly composed, his nude length stretched out across the bed as he met the wide eyes of their intruder. 

'It's never too late,' Cole said with force, though his voice trembled at the end. 'Lara, please-'

'You may not address her.'

Lara shivered at the cold warning and glanced at Nicholas. 

'Lara, please, you must listen – you have a choice. He cannot take you with your consent...please, Lara, I urge you, come to me. Amelia is sick with fear.'

'She lied to me,' Lara shook her head. 'She would have let me believe Nicholas was never here.'

Cole stared at her dumbly for a moment as if surprised at her answer. 'Don't you see?' he implored, seeming to struggle on the spot as if an invisible force prevented him from coming into the room. 'He is manipulating you.'

'No,' Lara said quietly. 'I had a choice – and I chose...' she met the intense eyes mere inches from her and something in her chest bloomed with warmth. 'I chose.' 

A large hand cupped her hair at that and brought her head back to the hard chest beside her with a gentle pressure. Too well-bred and inherently shy to not feel embarrassed by the situation, Lara allowed Nicholas to hold her to him, closing her eyes and breathing in his intoxicating scent as she waited for Nicholas to make Cole understand.

'Leave us,' the words rang with a clapping finality. 

'It is not over.'

Nicholas snorted at that. 'The fool has left.'

Lara cracked an eye open and looked around the room. 'Aunt Cecilia will be looking for me...and the maid's. I must return.'

'You are mine now,' Nicholas pointed out patiently and Lara threw him an arch look. 

'And does that also mean that you are mine?' she threw back in challenge, refusing to rise to his innate arrogance, secretly amused by it.

He was silent for a moment, his hand continuing to brush through her hair. 'It does.'

Lara beamed at the admission and Nicholas threw her a sheepish look. 

'But I must return,' she said, rubbing a shy hand over his chest in unconscious supplication. 'You can't just think to up and run with me. What about my clothes?' she said then, putting her practical hat on as the fully realisation of what she'd done – and their consequences – began to magnify. 

'What of them? They were poorly made and not fit to cover you.'

She gave him a narrow look and sat up straighter in the bed, doubling the blanket over her body so that she was covered closely from neck down.

'Most of my possessions...' were at a house in the country. 'I suppose they are of little use to me now,' she thought of her bedroom back at her old family home, of the childhood toys and memories. 'What is to happen now, then?' she asked. 'Am I – are we to live here? Because we must marry before that happens,' she chided him. 'I don't want people calling me a slattern behind my back.'

'No, we will not marry,' before Lara could argue, Nicholas continued easily, 'that is only a tradition for your people but to my people, our bond has already been sealed. You pledged yourself wholly to me and I you.' 

'Just like that...' Lara trailed off, bewildered. 

'Yes, just like that. And it is bigger – much bigger, than words spoken in a musty house of religion, I assure you. This is for eternity. We will leave this place,' he turned onto his side and stared intently into her eyes. 

Somehow, she didn't quite believe he meant this house of his. 

'And go where?' she murmured. 'Will – will you slay me?'

He frowned at her. 'It is the way it must be – you will join me in my own world and stay by my side for all time. It is our way. It is merely the path to pass from one world to the next. We will be together'

Lara shuddered. 'Why can we not just live – here? This house is so beautiful.'

With an indulgent smile, Nicholas said, 'It is nothing compared to my other residence, my pet. You will live like a queen there.'

'But what of my family?'

Nicholas grunted. 'Your father who cared so little for your life that he bartered it to me? The people who you believed to be your parents, who beat you should you blaspheme or show an ounce of spirit? Nay, do not cry...' Nicholas frowned and sat up swiftly, taking her by the arms. 'I only meant to speak the truth but I was cruel, I will learn-'

'You are right. My – parents, were not so terrible. They could have allowed him to have me sent to an orphanage, after all.'

'But you do not love them,' Nicholas pointed out, stroking her arms. 

'No,' Lara said quietly and looked up. 'But I love Amelia,' she stared at him insistently, willing him to understand. 'I – I love London in the summer – taking strolls about Hyde Park in the afternoons, watching people walk past in their finery...the British Museum! I – I would never again see another exhibition at the Museum,' she stopped, aware that her plea made little sense and Nicholas was silent, staring at her broodingly.

'Dress yourself,' he said after a moment, slipping from the bed and presenting her with the view of his hard buttocks. 

Lara watched him warily as he strode across the room and disappeared and waited in confusion in the bed, the warmth having seemingly left with his presence. A tentative knock on the door heralded the arrival of Martha, her expression fearful.

'I have water for you to wash by, my lady.'

'Martha!' Lara scurried from the bed, embarrassed as she tried to conceal her body with the luxurious sheets that still held Nicholas' smoky, drugging scent. 

'You are well?' the older lady asked nervously. 

'Yes – you need not look so scared. He did not hurt me,' she assured on a smile. 'Is – was he angry?'

'My lord is ever inscrutable,' the woman mumbled, bringing in a large bucket of water. 'You must wash and then dress yourself swiftly. It is best never to keep my lord waiting.'

So saying, Martha filled the slipper tub and hurried her along, practically pushing Lara down the ornately carved staircase once she was dressed and there at the foot of the stairs stood a handsomely dressed Nicholas.

He watched her progress unsmilingly and dismissed Martha with a jerk of his black head and as soon as the woman left, Lara gave his obstinate expression a quick look before pulling his head towards her, pressing her lips to his and giving him a quick, shy flick of the tongue when he opened his mouth in surprise. 

Setting him away, she watched his expression carefully. His light eyes appeared bright and hot.

'You appear happy.'

'Is that a crime, Nicholas?'

A look of acute relief passed over his features as he allowed his stoic guard to drop for once and he smiled slowly. 'Never. Come, a carriage awaits.'

Lara took his proffered arm slowly, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach as he led her outside. 

'Get in,' he said then, opening one of the sleek, carriage doors.

'Are you not coming?'

'Nay – go along to your aunt's house. I will return anon. Do not look so worried,' Nicholas said gently then, 'Do you truly believe I will leave you now? Do you not know me?'

Reaching up a hand, Lara caressed his smooth face. 'I know you – but I don't understand-'

Lifting her easily, Nicholas settled her in the carriage. 'I love you,' he said then, his expression quite fierce as he declared the sentiment. 'Await me,' he pressed a fleeting kiss to her furrowed brow and briskly shut the door in her face, turned and disappeared back into his townhouse.

*

'Oh, thank God, Lara!'

Aunt Cecilia's reddened eyes widened in relief as she pulled Lara into a tight hug. 

'Amelia said such- such things! That you had been abducted by Lord Armel! Lord Armel, she said! She would not let me call the police.'

Pulling out of the stifling grasp, Lara looked around the morning room. 'Where is Amelia?'

'In bed,' her aunt dismissed, petting at Lara's somewhat tangled hair. 'She was quite hysterical, you know, saying all sorts of things....' She paused, her expression disturbed. 'The physician gave her a draught; she will be fine but tell me, my dear: did Lord Armel compromise you?'

Meeting the intent eyes, Lara took a fortifying breath. 'I love him, aunt.'

'Good grief!' the woman threw up her arms, looking quite beside herself with excitement. 'You poor child! He has used you, no doubt, but do not fear...Miles-'

'Aunt,' Lara said gently. 'He loves me, too.'

The woman gave her a pitying look. 'You are overwrought – come, let's get you upstairs. I shall call for a bath to be drawn.'

'I have bathed,' Lara shook of the coaxing arm wrapping about her shoulder. 

'No doubt you have,' her aunt said dryly.

'My lady – there is a man here, wishing for an audience with you?' a maid said patiently from the door and Lara and her aunt exchanged looks. 

'Well,' Aunt Cecilia said after a moment. 'It is always the quiet ones, is it not, Lara? Do not worry dear – in the absence of my husband and your parents, I shall take charge. You leave it to me,' she soothed, her eyes bright with anticipation as she marched out of the room.

*

'My dear lord Armel – marriage? You are aware that Lara is only the daughter of a-'

'I am aware of her parentage,' Nicholas interrupted impatiently. 

Lady Cecilia bristled slightly. 'Her father must be approached, of course.'

'Nay – I will not wait.'

The woman seated before him exclaimed in surprise, 'But there will be talk, my lord!'

Nicholas inclined his head, not caring either way.

'I see. Is there a chance she may already be with child? Exactly how long has this being going on, my lord? Lara is a tender sort and I feel strongly that she should not be at the centre of ridicule. Surely you can wait at least until an announcement can be made in The Times?'

'Would that - please her?'

The woman blinked. 'Well, I – it is the proper way,' she nodded, watching him closely. 

Curse the endless and meaningless traditions, Nicholas thought bitterly. Still, he would rather do it properly than half-heartedly. He would please her, show her that he was worthy of being her mate. 

'Very well. I will arrange for it to be done for tomorrow's post.'

Lady Cecilia gave him a patronising smile at that. 'I am afraid it will take a few days yet for it to appear in print.'

'Not for me,' Nicholas said crisply, rising from his seat. 'I have shall we say... friends at the paper. Good day, my lady,' he dismissed, striding from the woman as she hurried to answer, her farewell dying on her lips.

*

'I will not let you leave the house – he will not win.'

Lara sighed at Amelia's stubborn expression as she struggled to sit upright in bed. 

Angry, Lara rose. 'Stop – your fear is baseless. I am back, am I not? By Nicholas' own hand, too. He has not hurt me, Amelia. Do not hate what you cannot understand. No,' Lara said sharply as the girl would interrupt. 'What harm has he done to you or I? The only one who has hurt us and caused us pain is the man who sired us, not Nicholas. You know this is true. He – he could have taken me as was his right but he did not.'

Lifting her chin in stubborn denial, Amelia began, 'But he will take you away-'

'I will not be taken if I do not wish it,' Lara said firmly. 'He has no control over my decisions. I love him. You know what that is like.'

'And look how that turned out!' the girl threw up her hands. 

'Cole was there – it was you who told him?'

Amelia looked at her hands, the knuckles white as she fisted them tightly. 'Yes. It was the only thing I could think of...he is sick, Lara.'

'He did look it,' Lara placed a hand over the girl's hunched shoulder but Amelia rejected the comfort as she sneered:

'The maids are all crowing about the wedding announcement in today's paper. He is really trying to fool us all.'

'He is trying to please me,' Lara murmured, still basking in the afterglow of Nicholas' surprise announcement in this morning's paper.

'So? You will stand in a church with him? Before God? Pledge yourself before God?'

'We have already pledged ourselves. I wish that you would accept it, Amelia but if you cannot...' Lara rose, wiping at a tear. Amelia looked away stubbornly. Lara had her answer.

*

In the four weeks preceding her wedding, Lara saw Nicholas but briefly and as the weeks passed, Lara knew a sense of unreality. Her parents arrived from the country and met with Nicholas – that in itself was horrifically awkward but the fact that Nicholas played the part of attentive bride-groom so well was the most perplexing of all. He did not linger over her when they met nor did he attempt to bed her again, which had become frustrating for Lara who craved the strong, pulsing thrusts of his body now that she had had a taste of the carnal pleasure of having him inside her. 

He arrived a four days before the wedding, a Thursday morning, to take her about Hyde Park. Now that a public announcement of their betrothal had been made, they were free to be seen about in public and the normality of it all, the nods of polite acknowledgement from passers-by as they strolled, amused Lara tremendously. 

'You look very handsome today, my lord,' Lara murmured as they walked along the freshly cut grass.




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 05



'I thank you,' Nicholas returned. It earned him a glare.

Seeing it, Nicholas said after a pause, 'And you look a delight. That colour favours you. I will have more gowns made in that hue.'

Smoothing a hand over the pale green silk, Lara said, 'You have been most generous already, my lord – I have more gowns than I have places to wear them.'

'It is rather tight about my bosom – did you notice, my lord?' Lara pushed her chest into his hard forearm in emphasis but Nicholas merely stiffened at the query and gesture, glancing about them to test whether she had been overheard.

'Oh, for goodness sake! Why are you acting so...so...careful?'

'I am doing right by you,' Nicholas said stiffly. 'I am courting you.'

Lara stopped mid-stride and urged him to face her. 'You are courting me as any man would – a proper, uptight one at that. That is now what or who you are. Court me how you truly wish to, Nicholas,' Lara whispered, rubbing at his chest.

Fever-bright eyes looked down at her, at the glossy dark waves of hair swept off the delicate neck, at the beseeching eyes, the generous lips. 

'It is not easy for me,' he said then, his tones hoarse. 'You try my vows to do good by you.'

'Doing good by me would be appeasing this ache I have had ever since I left your bed,' Lara pointed out.

Looking quite scandalised at the statement, Nicholas said huskily, 'You are becoming a saucy minx.'

'Do you disapprove?' Lara asked on a smile, curving a hand over his shoulder, uncaring they could be seen by all and sundry.

'Nay,' he muttered in low tones.

*

'What are you doing?'

'Courting you the only way I know,' Nicholas' grin was feral. 

Lara watched him warily as he dropped to his knees in the carriage, his head level with her lap. Sliding a hand under her dress, he snatched off her undergarments and shoes, leaving on her pale blue garters. Shoving the length of her skirt up, he demanded that she hold it and spread her legs wide, pushing insistently until her pink woman's flesh was exposed. 

Before thoughts of public decency could slip from her mouth, Nicholas was tonguing at her slit just as the carriage took off smoothly.

Pressing her lips together to stifle a moan, Lara watched Nicholas' black head between her thighs through hot eyes, the sight bringing forth a fresh surge of wetness and then she was dragging a hand through his soft hair, curving it around his head, pulling him hard into her mound as Nicholas closed his lips around her hungrily, suckling on the lips of her sex with a hard pressure, eating away at her.

Lara moaned as he moved her legs off the seat and onto his back. Arching on the seat, the soft velvet under her bare buttocks making her squirm, Lara pleaded with him to continue, to stop, to never stop, to lick her harder.

Closing his teeth around the tinging, hard bud jutting out and visible through the dark curls guarding her cunny, Nicholas nipped at her and Lara dug her fingers hard into his scalp, vaguely aware that she must be hurting him with the viciousness of the grip but uncaring either way – and she felt the tight, unbearable pressure in her stomach build and any shame she may have had at being so bold was an ancient thing as she circled her mound, forcing his mouth to follow the gyrations of her pelvis as she used him shamelessly to pleasure her. 

Crying out in frustration as he pulled his mouth away, Lara rose up on her elbows, her legs dangling over his shoulders, and looked down at him. His mouth and chin shining with his wetness, Nicholas held her eyes as he stroked her tender folds with massaging fingers before plunging first one and then two fingers into her tightness with an abruptness that stunned her, the forceful invasion at odds with his melting look.

'I want you well prepared for me when my tongue fucks you,' he told her as his two fingers stroked her inner walls before widening within her, holding her open. 

His eyes dropped then and softened as they admired the open, pulsing hole and with a final look up at her, her swopped down and thrust his tongue into her hole, pushing it in as far as he could, tasting her with greedy licks. Holding onto the head of the seat, Lara rode his face hard as she came in his mouth. 

*

Turning towards the boneless figure nestled under his chin, Nicholas stroked a soft curl. 'And now I must leave you here,' he complained as the carriage came to a stop. 

'It is the way of things,' Lara sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. 

Nicholas laughed. 'You ride my face like a shameless wench and then act the shy virgin. You ever bemuse me, my love. Leave now with the feel of me still between my thighs to remember me by before I forget my will and take you from here.' 

'Will you come again before the wedding?' Lara asked, reluctantly straightening herself before she left the conveyance. 

'Nay. I have things to attend to. Do not look so bereft,' he chided. 'I wish for things to be...perfect for you.'

Lara shook her head, reaching for his hand. 'I do not wish for anything grand.'

'This is the tradition of your people,' Nicholas paused and looked down at their clasped hands. 'Nothing will be too grand for you.'

'Suddenly it all seems foolish – I am already yours.'

Nicholas stared at her unblinkingly before uttering, 'If we are to live a while in this place...then appearances are necessary.'

'But you hate it here,' Lara said shakily.

'I do not stay for the scenery,' Nicholas quipped dryly. 'I have decided...you will birth my offspring – we shall stay. For as long as it pleases you.'

Nicholas felt the pleasure and happiness emanating from the warm body beside him like it was a physical thing and he felt the impact of it – he felt lighter, more energised at the knowledge of her elation.

'Go now,' he said softly and as she would speak he placed a ceasing finger to her soft lips. 'You are already my bride in my lord's eyes – on Monday, you shall be my bride in God's eyes.'

He watched her climb the stone steps to the townhouse she shared with her kin and when she paused and turned, the purity of her profile and the contented smile on her face gave him a measure of satisfaction and completeness he had never before known. It was a difficult thing to allow her to leave, to allow her to separate herself from him now that they were bonded and so, with hard won will, he bade his driver to leave.

*



Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 06



Seated at the foot of the stairs, Amelia watched the front door impatiently, her eyes slipping away briefly to consult the grandfather clock adjacent.

According to a maid, her mother had whisked Lara off a good two hours ago for a little pre-wedding sojourn with the demon. Tea at the Ritz, the maid had gushingly added, clearly half in love with 'the wonderful Lord Armel' herself. If only the silly twit knew. If Amelia wasn't so heartsick, she'd laugh at the utter civility and ordinariness of it all.

She'd arrived in London a few hours ago to be greeted by a quiet townhouse. It had perturbed her. She wasn't precisely sure what she'd expected on her arrival but the lack of activity that had met her only seemed to unsettle her all the more - but calmness and clarity of mind were the two things she desperately needed right now: should the next few hours go accordingly, the demon would be out of their lives for good.

Lord Nicholas Armel. Amelia considered his moniker with a sneer. From the frenetic research she'd carried out over the past few weeks, she'd discerned a few things about Lara's affianced: firstly that the name Armel roughly translated to 'prince' in French - how fitting, how arrogant of him she'd scorned in derision when her researcher had shown him her findings. Secondly, that there was indeed an aristocratic Armel family, an ancient one hailing from Rouen, to be exact, but there her researcher had shrugged with the disappointment of an enthusiastic scholar that there was currently no 'Nicholas' he could trace amongst them. Amelia rather thought that the demon had simply plucked the name out of the air to amuse himself. But other than these scant discoveries, she was little better off that she had been. Cole, too, knew little of the demon but he had given her an impressive list of the demon's social connections. Many people seemingly knew of Lord Armel but very few people knew him well. Lord Armel was acquainted with the highest peers of the realm: dukes, earls, and everyone in between. Since his grand appearance -- however long ago -- Mamas wanted him as a son; bachelors on the hunt for a wife saw him as competition. In all, her research told her nothing she'd not already known: Lord Nicholas Armel was admired and revered. He fascinated the ton with his close-lipped manner. He ensnared them.

A footman suddenly appeared from nowhere, bringing Amelia out of her bitter musings. He hurried to accommodate the three figures entering the marble floored foyer and when, at last, Lara came into view, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with the kind of secret gleam Amelia knew all too well, for a brief moment she considered conceding defeat - for that was what she had to battle against: that look in Lara's eyes which told of an undefinable something that she herself knew all too well. She had experienced the same dreamy state, of course, with Cole Morely. That look was more than simple lust but not quite love, although love Cole Amelia certainly had, and she was certain that Lara believed herself in love with the demon. But lust and love were commonplace enough. It was not lust or love Amelia had to contend with here but an emotion far more violent. In the grand scheme, what she'd had with Cole seemed to pale in significance for Cole Morely was a mere man. Oh, he had caused her an ocean of heartache but she'd survived, hadn't she? She was still here, still functioning. She still hurt but it was more a raw burn now that time had worked its magic. But Lord Armel was no mere man. He had the power to destroy Lara.

"Well, I'm certainly pleased you came to your senses and at the last minute, too -- but don't think for a moment I'm pleased with you," came her mother's surprised tones, and Amelia glanced across at the her with thinly veiled loathing but her mother either missed the distain or ignored it, turning back to her entourage, her tones now light and teasing.

"And my lord - whilst I'm warmed by your adoration for my niece, there is much to be done before tomorrow's union -- not to mention bad luck seeing her today! Not that I believe in such nonsense mind. Still, you'll be bound for all eternity in mere hours -- for heaven's sake, indulge us, if you please, by making yourself scarce!"

"Of course - a then moment to say farewell, if you permit?"

Amelia shuddered at the smoothly delivered reply, the compelling cadence of the voice, her eyes trained on the polished floorboards like an evasive child fearfully hiding from an imagined gremlin -- if I don't look at It, maybe It won't be real after all.

"You may use my husband's study for privacy. I was a young bride too, after all. Well, my lord -- until tomorrow. Now, you-"

Amelia blinked as her mother closed in on her, blocking Lara and her demon from sight. Ignoring the woman's critical eyes as they ran over her travel worn state, Amelia was set to make her excuses and put as much distance between herself and demon before she made a mess of herself and vomited over her mother's silk gown when she heard her mother admonish in low tones:

"I hope I'm correct in believing you're here to make things right - don't upset your cousin any more than you already have. I don't know the reason behind your fallout and quite frankly, I've no wish to know. Well?"

Murmuring a placating response, Amelia's gaze passed her mother and stopped on Lara as she moved across the hallway on the arm of her brooding beau.

"And you'll need to decide upon your gown for tomorrow, Amelia. I've had a few made up for you -- Emma can make alterations if needed. Amelia?"

Waving off her mother's words, Amelia stepped past her, still resolutely refusing to make eye-contact or acknowledge the demon in away, feeling her mother's disapproving eyes scoring her at her lack of greeting to the beast.

"Even though I desperately wanted you to be here, I didn't think..." Lara trailed off, her eyes filming with moisture.

"Well, I could hardly stay away for the society wedding of the year, could I?" Amelia lifted a shoulder and offered a small smile. "Anyway, I shall be in the library. When you've finished -- when you've a moment, I'd like for us to talk."

"I'd like that," Lara concurred on a swift nod, before glancing up at the spectre at her side.

What his reaction to her presence was, Amelia neither knew nor cared.

On a serene smile, she turned and made her way to the library, cursing the demon back to the hole he'd climbed from with each step. With any luck, that would be true enough if her plan succeeded.

*

"Nicholas -- was it you? Did you arrange this?"

Carefully watching the myriad of emotions washing over her face, Nicholas shook his head.

True, he'd not spared an expense for tomorrow's useless union, wanting to please her above all else, and whilst he had known that her sister's presence tomorrow would have pleased her above all of the other frivolities involved with the wedding, he'd been glad of the discord between the two for the sister was a toxic thing -- unpredictable and vengeful. It was in her eyes, the set of her shoulders. She loathed him with a violent bitterness that impressed him.

He sighed pensively at the thought, wondering at her presence here; what she hoped to achieve between now and tomorrow. Circling the room until he reached the handsome wooden desk engulfing the study, he slipped into the leather chair behind it.

"You know, of course, that she's here only to turn you against me," Nicholas stated then.

"That would be nothing new," Lara said after a moment, her tone careful. "She hasn't succeeded so far -- I'm afraid I know the darkest thing about you, my lord, and more fool me, I'm still clinging on for dear life."

"But you care about her good opinion," Nicholas pointed out, persistent, as she took a seat opposite.

"This room holds memories I'd always thought I'd rather forget. I dream about this study. When you left, I dreamed about it constantly. Of you."

"Touching, but you're avoiding the issue."

"Well I didn't say they were overly fond memories," Lara smiled widely, and rising from the chair, hurried around the table and placed herself firmly on his lap, tugging at the hair at his nape, pressing kisses across his jaw whilst she laughingly complained of his surliness.

Everything within him loosening at her nearness, he buried his face into her neck and sighed wistfully, his prior thoughts easing slightly. "Would that we could leave your world this very moment and return to my own -- I want you all to myself and tomorrow I must share you with half of England."

"A rather exaggerated fraction. And didn't you hear my aunt out there? Eternity, Nicholas. From now until the end of days! Let's discuss this in a few years and see if you're still singing the same tune -- most couples can't even bear the sight of one another after a few years and yet you're saddled with me for-"

Silencing her saucy mouth with a thorough kiss, Nicholas pulled away reluctantly, lifting the slight burden in his arms as he stood before depositing her to the carpet and laughing at the displeased look upon his mate's face on ending the kiss. "I do believe I've made a minx of you."

Imprisoning the fingers that tiptoed across his chest towards his shoulders, Nicholas brought them to his lips and kissed them briefly, laughingly admonishing, "Would you have me take you right here for one of those insipid maids to chance upon?"

Throwing him a look of challenge, Lara marched across the study towards the table, her stride determined, before returning to him, a key in her hands, and she made short work of locking them securely into the room.

"You were saying?" she arched a dark brow before pulling him forcibly towards her, her clutching hands full of his jacket, her mouth an eager pout as she unsuccessfully attempted to meet his great height and bring his lips to hers.

On a groan of supplication, Nicholas gave in, despite his prior avowal to leave her untouched until tomorrow, wanting to do everything by the book, but he was once again surprised as she stayed his right hand as it moved to her hips.

"There's something I've been wondering about...for a while now," Lara said, smiling into Nicholas' sceptical face, and without further ado, she dropped to her knees and attempted to loosen his trousers, frowning at the cumbersome fastenings.

Sounding rather stunned, Nicholas uttered above her, "This -- this is madness...your aunt-"

"You sound like an outraged duenna! Aunt Cecilia would be the last person to judge - didn't you hear her? She knows exactly what has passed between us," Lara glanced up meaningfully as Nicholas ran a quick hand through his hair, his expression showing hesitation that turned sharply to lust as she finally freed the clasp of his trousers, taking him in her hand.

Biting her lip, she held him tentatively before moving her hand up the full length of his hardness, shivering in anticipation as he jerked in response. She laughed as she noted his tightened fists hanging awkwardly at his sides, at his tight expression, his eyes looking straight ahead. Always the picture of negligent calm -- that is, when he wasn't completely stoic -- she found his frustrated reaction to her thrilling.

Still, although Amelia had regaled her with countless stories of this particular intimacy over the years, being faced -- literally -- with the reality was somewhat...daunting. But despite her uncertainty, Lara felt wetness gather between her thighs at having Nicholas so still and acquiescent before her, not to mention the evidence of his desire for her.

As she ran an explorative finger over a vein, Nicholas swore above her, and one of his hands settled in her hair, gentle despite his crude blasphemy. Following her finger with her tongue, she tasted him leisurely, becoming bolder as she continued pressing kisses and licks onto his hot flesh. The hand fingering hanks of her hair soon settled, bringing her closer, guiding her, and Lara slowly took the tip of him into her mouth, tasting the drop of fluid that beaded there -- but as she made to repeat the movement, eager to taste him properly, Nicholas pulled away from her harshly and held out a hand for her, helping her unsteadily to her feet.

"What is it?" Lara murmured, her voice slurred with passion. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Nicholas' voice was hoarse, his eyes over-bright as they roamed over her. "Damn it all," he cursed then, bending low to press his face into her neck whilst pressing his hardness into the cradle of her thighs, and Lara reacted shamelessly, her channel clenching in need.

In less time than it had taken her, his hand was under the skirts of her dress, roaming up her legs, slipping into her draws until he touched bare skin and hot wetness.

He walked her back until she came up against the door of the study, his hand still resting between her legs.

"Undo your bodice," he ordered then, the command low and arrogant, and Lara blindly obeyed, her hands clumsy as she freed herself.

Without any of her prior hesitation, he bend and sucked at her nipples, the sensation almost painful in its pressure, and Lara felt that wonderful quickness building within her. As he moved to her other breast, he thrust his fingers inside her, and she only just managed to withhold the scream of pleasure he wrought in her.

Getting closer and closer to falling apart in his arms, she pressed him to her, needing more contact, more pressure, her hands grabbing his hair, caressing his scalp, urging him to take her even deeper into his working mouth and he complied readily, increasing the tempo of his thrusting fingers until the only sounds in the room were her gasping breaths and his hand pleasuring her below, his mouth above.

She came swiftly on a soundless scream, her body limp and held upright only by the support of Nicholas' hand. He smiled a cat's smile as he watched her, lifting his other hand towards his mouth, the fingers glistening with her wetness before they disappeared between his lips.

"But you -- you haven't-" Lara said as he buttoned her up again, staring meaningfully at his hardness.

Nicholas righted himself swiftly, the slight look of dishevelment to his person making him even more devastating were it possible.

Opening the study door, he escorted her out, and murmured in parting, "And I don't intend to -- not until tomorrow when you're mine in the eyes of your lord as well as my own. You had best enjoy a long night's sleep tonight for you'll not get one hereafter."

And with that, he left.

*

"Have -- well, is everything prepared for tomorrow? Your dress and all the other fripperies?" Amelia began once Lara had taken a seat beside her in the musty library.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, your mother has taken charge, organising almost everything. We've both missed you...would you like to see it? The dress?"

Inwardly cringing at the invitation, Amelia shook her head. "I want to be surprised. Seeing as how you're already attired for an outing, what's say we head over to Claridges for some lunch? Lucinda tells me you had tea at the Ritz but if you've already lunched..."

Lara shook her head. "I'm starved."

"Perhaps we can traipse about the Burlington Arcade, after? Like...like-"

"Just like we used to, bribing a coachman to take us unchaperoned all over London? Well, I say we when it was always you," Lara smiled uncertainly, proffering her olive branch.

Amelia grabbed at it swiftly. "Well, if I'd left it down to you, we'd never have left the townhouse. We had fun, didn't we?"

"I was too concerned at the prospect of discovery and the thrashing that would result should we be caught by my duenna to have fun," Lara shook her head.

"Well, we're no longer younglings...you'll be a married woman, come tomorrow. You'll be permitted to do...whatever you choose. Well?" Amelia pressed, nodding towards the door.

Lara smiled. "Very well - only this time, let me to the bribing."

*

It was all going to be well, now that Amelia was here. It would have cut deeply had it been otherwise, but Lara had come to accept Amelia's objections, however painful. As per Nicholas' dictates, their wedding tomorrow would be a large, frivolous affair. The guest list consisted of a reel of noble families Lara had never even heard of, let alone met, although she was sure her aunt had connections, however brief, to most of them. Lara didn't care one whit for any of them but now that Amelia would be there, she felt calmer, felt she could handle the pressure of tomorrow's charade. The society wedding of the year! The Times had labelled it.

When she objected to the ostentatiousness of it all, Nicholas had been stubborn, insisting that if it were to be done at all, it would be done properly. In fact, the theatrics and sheer scale of the wedding seemed to amuse him. To him, the ceremony meant absolutely nothing - a silly ritual prized by her people- and Lara, too, found it rather ridiculous considering everything that has passed between them. But it was necessary were they to live together before society. Ha, if the ton only knew the truth of it all! Still, the very fact that Nicholas was indulging her pleased her immeasurably. He was trying his very best to be proper, to do right by her, as much as it must rankle him.

The journey to Mayfair was short and Amelia managed to nab a well-appointed table despite the queue of waiting patrons.

"You know, I've been a little lonely lately as Nicholas-" Lara paused, Amelia's suddenly stiffened form at his name a terrible start to their afternoon, "that is to say, he's been a little busy. And your mother is lovely, of course, but she can be a little tiring. What I mean to say is, I've missed this. Your company."

"I suppose it's something we'll both have to accept - after all when you marry-"

"Oh, but we'll only be streets apart!"

Amelia cringed but said nothing. Her perturbed eyes, however, soon moved past Lara and she rose.

"Abigail -- won't you join us?"

Casting a curious glance over her shoulder, Lara took in the slim woman standing hesitantly behind her. Amelia waved down a passing server who quickly procured an additional chair for Amelia's acquaintance and gestured at the large plate of sandwiches before them. "Do help yourself-"

"No -- no, please, I'm quite alright. I had a big lunch, you see, and I feel I over did it a bit."

Lara frowned, trying to place her accent, and waited for Amelia to introduce her. Her rather loose and slightly careworn dress suggested that she'd be out of place amongst Amelia's usual friendship set.

"Lara, this is Abigail. A friend," Amelia said after a leisurely sip of her tea.

"I see. How lovely to meet you...you're staying here at Claridges?"

The girl nodded before looking towards Amelia, almost in expectation for further instruction, Lara thought on a frown.

"May I ask where you know one another from?" Lara probed, stirring listlessly at her own tea, an uneasy feeling settling low in her belly but why, she hardly knew. The girl was completely inoffensive and Amelia had always been a social butterfly with an eclectic range of acquaintances.

"I knew her father," Amelia dismissed. "You did, too, as it so happens."

Lara arched an encouraging brow but Amelia merely presented her with her profile, looking toward her friend who nodded once before saying,

"Yes, papa - he died when I was small...I know so little about him. But Uncle Ethan often tells me stories of when they were lads. Miss Amelia contacted me recently," she said after a pause, before turning to 'Miss Amelia' with eyes shining with gratitude, "I must thank you again for all that you've done."




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 06



Amelia laughed her praise away.

"Well, heavens, will one of you fill me in? I'm quite interested," Lara smiled, motioning for Abigail to proceed.

"You see, my father had put some money in a trust for me but the solicitor hadn't been able to locate me," she flashed another look at Amelia who inclined her head for her to go on. "Truth be told, it's more money than I'd ever imagined. Than we'd ever imagined," she amended on a sigh, her eyes misting over. "Everything will be better now. For me and uncle. Everything. I'm so grateful to Miss Amelia for persisting, for seeing that we were made aware of the money."

"Your father wished for it -- it was only right that the money went to its rightful beneficiary," Amelia said kindly.

"Who was your father?" Lara asked when she was able to get a word in, both bemused and curious.

"Oh," the girl smiled in embarrassment, suddenly looking far younger than Lara had initially thought. "Morely. Cole Morely. Perhaps you know my uncle, too? Ethan Morely?" she said hopefully.

Lara shook her head, dumbfounded, her eyes jumping to Amelia, taking in her placid, almost bored countenance.

"Oh, well...I suppose you'd not," Abigail continued, "uncle always told me papa was clever, that he'd worked hard to establish himself, and that that meant he'd lived a different sort of life to uncle when I was born. What was he like? Did you know him well? Uncle tells me plenty of stories, as I say, but only of when they were young..." her eyes took on an eager sheen as she looked between Amelia and Lara.

"How old were you when your father died, Abigail?" Amelia frowned contemplatively then. "I'm afraid I've forgotten."

"I'd just passed five years," the girl said with the vague sadness of one who mourned a distantly remembered figure rather than a well-remembered, well loved one.

"Well now, Abigail, you look ready to drop. Been tiring yourself running about London all morning I suspect."

"There's just so much to see, Miss! Thank you again for providing for our journey down to London -- and the rest," she said shyly.

"Please, it was the least I could do. Well, your meeting with the solicitor is set for five o'clock, I believe. We'll leave you to prepare yourself. I shall call in on here soon. If you need anything, you've only to have a message sent to my London address. You have it?"

The girl nodded, gratitude plain in every inch of her beaming smile.

Lara said her own farewell a little numbly and followed Amelia from the hotel's dining hall some moments later towards their waiting carriage outside.

"What was that about?" she said quietly as their driver readied the horses for departure.

"That?" Amelia arched a musing brow from the opposite bench. "Oh, well, that -- or more specifically Amelia Morley -- is the reason why Cole came to be in your fiancés...employ, shall we say. You see, Abigail Morely was the result of a liaison Cole had in his youth. His brother -- the man Abigail mentioned -- Ethan Morely, they're twins, Cole and he. They were brought up in a poor house with neither family nor wealth. You'd not think it to look at Cole, would you? That the serious, upstanding Mr Morely was born in the gutters, destitute? Well, I'll not bore you with the minutiae, since we know how it ended, which is the most interesting part," Amelia quipped in breezy dismissal as the carriage trundled out of Mayfair. "Ethan Morely became gravely sick, and Cole sought to assuage his guilt, believing is brother's demise was his fault. And then your fiancé offered him what he so desperately craved. In exchange for Ethan's mortality, Cole offered Abigail. That young lady there? More a girl, really. She was five years when Lord Nicholas Armel came a-knocking again. Five years old, Lara."

By the end of her speech, Amelia was no longer cool or indifferent. Her cheeks were flushed, her fists tight, her voice strained.

"She said her father died, Cole-"

"It's the way it must be, so Cold informed me. When he...when he gave himself over to Lord Armel in exchange for Abigail, to save her life, his life was no longer his own. He became Lord Armel's eternal servant. You know how it works, I am sure," Amelia turned away from Lara, her lips twisting in bitterness. "To Ethan and Abigail Morely, he was dead. He is dead. They will never now, can never know. Part of the bargain's small print, I suppose you can say," and then, in blasé tones, Amelia said, "So, to the Burlington Arcade we go?"

Lara stared at her, perturbed. "No, not the Burlington Arcade. I'd rather return to the townhouse."

"As you wish," Amelia shrugged.

Lara watched her face for a moment before uttering, "You brought her here as an example-"

"Accept the fact that he's a monster, Lara? And that you'll by going to him tomorrow, by pledging yourself to him in a place of worship, you'll be little better? A man who takes the lives of innocent children! He'd have taken Abigail with no compunction had Cole not offered himself but how many of the fools who bargain with the lives of their children do you believe would be so selfless when it comes time to pay the piper? How can you defend that? How many young children, innocent boys and girls, do you think he's slain-"

"Enough," and though pleased her tone was firm and cool, Lara's stomach clenched in ominous protest.

As the carriage finally slowed and pulled up outside the townhouse, Lara said, her body taut, "What am I to expect when I step through those doors? A rescue? To be spirited away from London, from tomorrow's affair, for my own good?"

Amelia shook her head sadly. "I've spoken my peace, it's all I have. I can't control your desires, I can't make decisions for you, much as I'd like. Don't hate me, Lara. I won't be there tomorrow. I came here today for you. Tonight I return to the country -- to our father, who each day declines further and further into the blackness of insanity. He knows, of course. The newspapers are sent to up to the estate as usual, even if everything else in the house is disordered. I may have lost the affection I once held for him, but I'm all he has now."

As the coachman helped them to dismount, Lara eyed Amelia's back numbly, hardly daring to believe that this would be the extent of her attempts to stop her from going to Nicholas tomorrow.

But once they were indoors, Amelia climbed the grand central staircase, her steps slow, and one couldn't help recall the memories of past balls and soirees held in this very townhouse in which her father was king, well known for holding the more extravagant affairs with his beautiful wife the ever the duteous host, his darling daughter ever the effervescent belle gliding down that very staircase for all to admire and envy. A terrible feeling of guilt ate at Lara. Amelia was no longer the carefree -- though too often, reckless -- young woman she had been before Him. Before Nicholas. And then there was her father.

Making her way towards the study -- her father's once permanently occupied domain -- Lara sought out a sheaf of paper and scribbled a quick note, before seeking out a footman.

"Alec -- please, I'd like a message conveyed. It's quite urgent."

On a smart nod, the footman hurried to do her bidding

*

Lara cast another quick glance towards the mantle clock. If Amelia could only see her now, getting worked up at Nicholas' bad time keeping as if he were the same as any other tardy beau. Though they had only been together mere hours ago, it somehow felt like it had before -- those years in which he had stayed away, in which she had thought she would never again see him.

But she shook herself of the unsettling feeling, knowing it was a result of Amelia's words of earlier. She considered the planned meeting with Cole Morely's daughter again. Had she simply refused to acknowledge the truth of Amelia's words all along or had she truly never given consideration to the fact that, ultimately, Nicholas' bargain's consisted of possessing and ultimately taking the lives of others?

But when he had come for Amelia, he had waited until she was a woman fully grown - Lara had assumed that this was simply how it always was but it was a naïve assumption. She knew very little about Nicholas' business, if it could be called that. He was a product of evil but she didn't believe he was, in fact, evil. Amelia was wrong -- Lara was not drawn to him for the thrill of his supposed monstrosity. To her, he was anything but.

This morning despite her previous whispered assurances to him that, seeing as how they now knew each other in the carnal sense, his sense of stiff proprietary was wholly unnecessary, he had been the picture of a gallant, attentive fiancé: courteous toward her aunt, accommodating toward her -- and most perturbing off all, open towards the many members of the ton who'd nosily approached with words of congratulations

I could know him for a thousand years but he'd still baffle me, she mused on an impatient frown, rising from the setee and pacing about the receiving room anxiously, but a light scratching at the door announced an enquiring servant who slipped in at Lara's call.

"There's a gentleman here to see you." Her expression was reproving, cheeks flushed a light pink, lips pinched.

Lara shook her head, guessing that Lucinda didn't approve of Nicholas' frequency in visiting on the day before their wedding, "Well, then, please send him in."

The maid hesitated for a moment, looking ready to reply, but nodded once before exiting, and Lara faced the door, bracing herself.

"You," she uttered in dumb surprise as a further presence filled the room a few moments later.

"Women rarely look so aghast at our reunions -- you'll bruise my vanity. Here, aren't you pleased to see me at all?"

"But what are you doing here?"

Her guest flashed her a winning grin before striding across the room. Pressing a hearty kiss to both cheeks, he held Lara away from him, his eyes running over her person consideringly.

"I still don't see it -- certainly pretty, I'll grant him that, but," critical eyes scanned her face and bosom once more, "well...forgive my boldness, hardly worth all the trouble. Are you going to slap me, then?"

"Once you release me," Lara agreed indignantly.

"Then I'll not release you," came the cheeky retort.

Lara laughed despite herself. "Just get off, will you, and I'll keep my hands away from your despicable face."

"Touché."

Lara eyed at the demon -- Mika -- warily as he stepped away from her and fell onto the brocade settee at the centre of the room on a lusty sigh.

"Did Nicholas send you in his stead?" she turned, observing him in bafflement.

Tilting his head, a considering expression passing over his handsome face, Mika said archly, "I answer to no one save my master. No, Nicholas did not 'send for me' -- I was at his residence and happened to see your missive to him and decided to drop by. For old time's sake -- and also to relay the news that I'll doubt he'll be joining us. He's off on...business, shall we say?"

Lara shivered at his choice of words, and took a seat opposite him, disheartened at the revelation.

"What's with the urgency, chicken? Having second thoughts?"

"Of course not. So he told you about tomorrow."

"He didn't need to -- news of his leave of sanity has spread amongst my kind. We're all as perturbed as we are amused by it."

Ignoring his mockery, Lara said thoughtfully, as she considered her guest's words, "And your...maker: will he disapprove? Of Nicholas and I? Marrying...?"

Mika arched a blond brow, "Well why the devil should he care? If you'll pardon the pun. Nicholas wouldn't be the first of my kind to do such a thing. Myself, I've tied the knot six or so times. Indeed, he wouldn't be the first of my kind to marry a mortal but he would be the first that I know of to do it with sincerity," he said the word distastefully. "You know, given how he believes himself in love with you and all."

Lara warmed at his words but said primly, "Marriage is a holy contract," she rose and made a shooing motion with her hand, deciding she'd journey to Nicholas' townhouse and await his return. "Surely there would be, well, ramifications for your kind to enter it dishonestly? Or at all?"

"Why, do your own kind not enter dishonest marriages every day?" Mika mocked, stretching his legs and placing them on top of the polished table before him, bluntly refusing her invitation to leave. "Fidelity, love: your lot like to preach a lot but appear to have difficulty abiding by your tenants."

Lara shrugged. He was right of course; still his admission calmed her a little. She'd endured a few nightmares involving Nicholas, a church, and lightening striking him down as soon as he entered over the past weeks but had felt too foolish mentioning it to him.

Lucinda soon entered, shooting Mika a disapproving look before settling a tea tray beside his booted feet.

"That's quite alright, Lucinda -- my guest was just leaving."

"But-" the pretty maid looked from Lara to Mika uncertainly, her cheeks flushing as Mika winked at her, saying,

"Thank you, my dear," and then to Lara: "I'm afraid I over-stepped myself and ordered the tea tray. You don't mind, do you?" he asked Lara, helping himself to a healthy slab of vanilla cake before she could indicate her dissent.

"That will be all, Lucinda," Lara sighed and said, as soon as the maid disappeared, "You leave her alone, do you hear? She's lovely and I'll not have her hurt or mixed up with -- with-"

"My kind? Ah, but our assumptions wound me," Mika said around a mouthful of cake, "My motives when it comes to women are entirely-"

"I don't want to know," Lara shook her head as wiped an arm over his mouth. "I don't know how you've ever convinced a woman to marry you; you're positively uncouth."

"I can be very convincing given the right impetus -- money," Mika added at Lara's mildly enquiring look. "Money holds power in your world. You'd best believe I'd not take up residence in grubby taverns and public houses if I had the income to afford a grand townhouse like your fiancé. Unfortunately, we enter this world as penniless as a new born babe," Mika said, correctly interpreting Lara's surprised look.

"Nicholas always was the sensible sort - a bit of a miser with his money, in fact - but then I suppose you bring out the extravagance in him, if his new residence is anything to go by," Mika whistled impressively. "But sadly, I enjoy my little indulgences far too much to be a spendthrift and it has left me close to destitute this century. There's a Miss Wyndam I've currently got my eye on, however, who may soon change that. Here, you may know her: plain little thing, all teeth and eyes but with a handsome dowry that'll prove compensation enough for having an ugly thing tethered to me for-"

"Absolutely not. Isabelle Wyndam has always been kind to me at times when many others ignored me. Set your sights elsewhere," Lara ordered, feeling sick at the thought. At least she knew what Nicholas was -- poor Isabelle! But Mika merely laughed away her indignance.

"I'll not - but her good characters traits are dully noted. I'll not flaunt my paramours before her nor treat her badly otherwise. Don't work yourself into a lather over it," Mika dismissed uncaringly.

Lara asked then, as casually as she could manage, "So Nicholas has been married before also?"

"A few times -- no need to look like that, the last one was years ago. He married a baroness during the second crusade. I think. Or possibly the fourth -- the middle ages dragged by, you know? Anyway, she was richer than the king himself and Nicholas was wise with his investment over the years. Some fools have all the luck -- I could have had her, too. She had a thing for the dark brooding type rather than...well, me," he grinned in all his blond light heartedness.

"Crusades?" Lara uttered. "Years was a tad of an understatement." Goodness.

"It'll be different this time, pet," Mika said kindly, reaching over to pat her hand in patronising comfort, leaving a greasy film of crumbs on her. "Like I said, he's besotted with you. For now."

Ignoring the barb, Lara said shortly, glancing pointedly at the door, "Why are you back, Mika? Back in my world? To...collect on your past bargains?"

"Back?" Mika said in surprise. "Why, I haven't left. Unlike Nicholas, I prefer to stay here for as long as permitted."

"Well, now that you're here...it makes little sense going to Nicholas. I may as well make use of you."

"Happy to help," Mika cut himself another slice of cake and sat back to enjoy it, watching her unblinkingly as he chewed.

On a bracing breath, Lara nodded, "I'm sure you won't be surprised to know that my close kin aren't exactly thrilled with my upcoming nuptials -- amongst their many objections as to Nicholas is his...business activities. Specifically the closing of the bargain, I suppose you could class it. Taking the life of the first born child-"

Mika nodded, bored.

"Well, I merely wondered...is it practice to wait until the child is a certain age before you complete the bargain?"

"We take the offspring, yes. Or if their childless, the first born niece of nephew and so forth. The status quo is their life, their soul, but oftentimes the human is so guilt ridden that we take them instead if they sacrifice themselves," Mika explained on a shrug.

Lara waved a hand impatiently, "What about the age of the child?"

"Spit out what you really want to know."

"Do you slay children?"

"Slay?" Mika scoffed, arching an annoyed brow, seemingly affronted by her choice of words. "Nay, I do not slay children. Neither does Nicholas, if you were wondering. By your God, it was, wasn't it?" he laughed in outraged humour. "You don't think much if your affianced, do you? A murderer of babes, bah! I shall tell him so with gusto."

"If I truly believed it, he wouldn't be the man-" Lara paused, "uh --I thought he was."

"Well, I didn't say all of my kind were so inclined," Mika pointed out mildly. "After all, we haven't garnered our reputation in your world by playing nice all the time. I gather by your question that you've never spoken of the minutia with Nicholas but I suppose there's plenty of time for that. I mean, once he gets tired of fucking you -- forgive my boldness -- you'll need something to fill your time with it," he shivered in distaste.

Lara reddened and broke off a piece of cake in the guise of occupying herself, embarrassed and annoyed at his prophesied version of their life together.

"What is the minutia?"

"It would take longer than this slice of cake to explain," Mika shrugged.

"Then be brief."

"How domineering," Mika smiled appreciatively. "I've always enjoyed the role of tutor, especially when it comes to comely brunettes. Well, then, my dear inquisitive vixen, in answer to your prior question, what we do with our human acquisition is subjective to the particular demon -- either way we own the soul of the human, be it the one who originally made the bargain and scarified him or herself in their off-spring's stead or the offspring itself, absolutely, eternally, both in your world and ours, at the bargain's completion. Their death on your world isn't necessary for that. Nicholas prefers to keep the innocent or truly repentant ones in your world until their time of natural expiry, to act as agents of his and our master in your world. I am of a similar philosophy since it becomes quite cumbersome performing the necessary rights to take them to our world involuntarily."

"Involuntarily - you mean by killing them," Lara clarified bluntly.




Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 06



"Indeed," Mika agreed, thoroughly unperturbed. "Depending on how difficult they prove or how immoral they are. Personally, I abhor getting blood on my hands. Particular humans require the humbling of involuntary death, however- if you believe I'm evilness personified then you'd be aghast to know of the evil's your kind inflict or hold deep within them."

Yes, people were capable of horrors, Lara agreed, thinking of the stories of murder or molestation the newspapers would report on daily. In comparison, Nicholas and Mika seemed like princes.

"It's not as tragic as you think, death and dying. I am sure Nicholas will tire of your world soon enough and to leave this world and enter ours, it's the way it must be -- for both my kind and yours. I'm sure he'll give you the death elixir, makes for a quick and painless death, then you'll simply reunite in our world. It's the only way, you see. That's part of the reason I prefer staying in your world for as long as I can. I loathe this backward and forward malarkey --dying and regenerating gets old very fast," he sighed wearily, licking his fingers. "Don't worry, your beau will explain soon enough."

"Later rather than sooner, I hope," Lara said darkly, rising with him and accompanying him to the door. "Perhaps Nicholas is back by now?" she mused then, missing him.

"Mind if I hitch a ride back?" Mika asked.

"You're staying with Nicholas?"

"No," Mika said glumly. "I'm letting rooms in Shoreditch but I'll make use of his residence until he shows up and sends me packing."

Lara shrugged, declining a worried Lucinda's insistence that she take a chaperone along on her 'outing'.

"Mr..." she glanced at Mika enquiringly.

"Michelson," he supplied helpfully and Lara gave him a surprised look before turning back to the maid, saying,

"Mr Michelson is Lord Armel's cousin, Lucinda. It's perfectly alright. You can go and tell my aunt, if it you like."

"Mika Michelson?" Lara asked dubiously once he'd helped her into a carriage.

"Has a certain ring to it, wouldn't you say? Truth be told, I've grown a little bored of my name of late, but I can't exactly go and change it now that I'm known to the ton. Think I'll try Philip next. Very regal sounding."

Lara laughed, feeling a great sense of ease settling over her at his frivolity, such a contrast to Nicholas' usual stoniness. "Well why on earth did you decide on Mika of all names? I can't say I've heard anyone called such before."

"I once had a lover -- Finnish, I believe. Anyway, I think I was calling myself Michael at the time and apparently, the diminution of it in Finland is what I am today. She called my name with such passion, such violence, when we came together, that I decided to adopt it for myself. Ah, Adele. Now she was a lovely little thing," he said wistfully staring out of the window with a dreamy smile playing over his lips.

"I'm sorry I asked," Lara sighed, before frowning at the passing scenery. "Why, he's passed Nicholas' street," she said, annoyed, tapping on the roof to gain the drivers attention.

"I wouldn't bother, were I you -- he'll never hear you."

"But he's confused-"

"No, my dear. No, I'm afraid he's not."

Though calm voiced, something in Mika's suddenly sober expression perturbed Lara more so than his bewildering words but before she could question him, he spoke once more, the cadence of his voice oddly lyrical and compelling.

"Dormite."

Her eyelids were suddenly weighted, her tongue slow and clumsy, her limbs uncooperative. Lara stared at Mika, stunned.

"I am sorry," she heard distantly as drowsiness fogged her mind. The last thing she saw before unconsciousness claimed her was Mika's pinched, and distorted -- and almost troubled -- face.

*



Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 07



I hope this is a satisfying ending for those who've stuck with story :)

I've also spent the past few months re-going the whole story as long absences in posting meant it was inconsistent and clumsy in many places - it's up on Amazon if anyone is interested under the same title by Amanda Rieu 





Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 07



He turned the hardback over in his hands slowly, opening it to first page to see she had marked today's date, signing it with love. 'There was no need.'

A hurt look passed over his mate's pretty face. 

'That is – I did not expect anything,' he continued, feeling bewildered at the thought she had put into it.'

'It was silly idea-'

'No,' he said slowly. 'It was...' he was at a loss to articulate himself and so he showed her the only way he knew how, with touch. He returned to her silk wrapper, pulling it from her silently to reveal a flimsy, semi-transparent night-dress, all lace and ribbons.

'It was a little tricky to get on without the help of a maid – and I wanted you to be surprised.'

He ran a hand over the soft fabric and said roughly, 'You succeeded.'

With a tug of his hand, he jerked on the strap which broke in his clumsy grasp. He looked at her sheepishly but she merely smiled. 'I will have a hundred more stitched,' he promised her, not bothering to remove it.

Instead, he reached inside the bodice and lifted a breast out, thumbing the crest for a moment before bending to it.

He tasted her eagerly, the nub hardening under his tongue, and murmured in protest as she pushed him to his back, pulling his shift from his trousers, unbuttoning him, pulling his garments down and his cock sprang free. 

With clumsy enthusiasm, she climbed atop him. 'We never did get to finish this way,' she said shyly, rubbing against him until her wetness coated his groin. 

An objection flirted on his tongue before slipping away. He had been set to dominate her, to ride her hard and well, but there was something about her sitting above him, breasts spilling out of her frothy little night-gown, small hands braced on his chest for leverage, that devastated him.

'Take me inside you,' he rasped, grabbing her hips.

Slowly, she lowered herself over him and, with his harshly toned words of approval and lust, worked until she had accepted his whole length within her channel.

Nicholas groaned. 'No-' he said then. 'Stay still a moment, love – let me feel you for a moment,' he begged. Her cunning fluttered and pulsed around him, squeezing him tight. 

When he could bear the exquisite torture no longer, he guided her into long, slow movements, thrusting into her cautiously. 

'Faster – please-'

'Let me love you gently tonight,' he appealed, 'I can be tender-let me show you that I can be-'

He broke off on a gasp as, in answer, his mate leaned down and bit his chin, her brilliant eyes glazed, and his balls tightened in jubilant response.

She righted herself once and started to ride him with abandon, her expression urgent, her hair trailing over body wildly, and he was utterly at her mercy. She milked him hard, pulling his seed from him greedily, crying her release moments later. 

She fell onto his chest on a satisfied murmur, patting at his shoulder approvingly.

'Wonderful,' she sighed. 

He clasped her languid body to him tightly, moving his hand down to her abdomen, a slight cloud drawing over his bliss. It would not be long before they were joined by a mewling babe for he knew his seed taken route. 

Jealously, he wanted to keep her to himself and yet the prospect of her bearing him offspring filled him with fierce joy. 

'Why are you scowling, my lord – is it because I wouldn't let you be atop?'

He laughed incredulously. 'Let me, my love?' 

'Mmm...' she closed her eyes, fidgeting in his arms until she'd sought a comfortable position on his chest.

I lie only to myself, he acknowledged then on a reluctant smile. She had mastered him quite cleanly. She had him in her palm. 

A light hand smoothed its way over his forehead. 

'You're scowling again.'

'Forgive me,' he murmured. 

'Oh, very well.'

The hand moved to his own hand, tugged, pulled, until she lay under him, her legs locked snugly around his hips. 

'Dominate me as you wish, my lord – do your worst.'

He licked the teasing smile off her face. 

'I think,' he whispered into her mouth, 'you will come to regret that order, my love. But an order is an order and I am nothing but your humble servant.'

That said, he dragged her legs over his shoulders and proceeded to show prove his point.

Epilogue 

1928

"Stop!"

The crunch of the footbrake followed the order and Nicholas received an annoyed look in its wake. 

"Oh – I was doing perfectly well, you-"

"You were about to drive straight into a brick wall, my love," Nicholas said between tight lips, his fingers unclenching from the leather seat slowly as calmness returned now that imminent damage to his vehicle had passed.

"Such an exaggeration," the beauty beside him muttered under her breath. "I'm sorry we can't all be wonderful motorcar drivers like you-"

"Sweetheart," Nicholas soothed, placing a hand on the exposed knee beside him. "You just need to exhibit a little more...control-"

"You didn't seem adverse to my lack of control this morning."

And at the dark brow his mate arched at him in challenge, Nicholas felt himself harden as he recalled their earlier bed play. "Your recklessness in bed is poetry in motion," he concurred a little roughly, "however-"

"Oh, for heaven's sake - if you're going to be domineering about it all the way to Oxford, you can drive," she interrupted him, sighing as she slipped out of the ruby red car before settling herself into the passenger seat.

"You didn't seem to mind my domineering you-"

A cool little hand pressed over his mouth, halting further speech, and Nicholas bit the soft flesh of his mate's palm, laughing low.

"Yes, well – that's different," she dismissed, running prim hands over the skirts of her green silk dress, and Nicholas marvelled again as he often did at the pleasant direction fashion had taken over the years – that was, when he wasn't spitting like a jealous hen, as his mate put it, when a male of her kind ogled her. Then, he almost wished for the good old days of neck to ankle kirtles from earth's earlier centuries. 

Sometime later, they parked in a narrow side road and walked the small distance towards Oxford university, Nicholas with his arm securely his mate's slim waist as she struggled slightly with the cobbled streets in her narrow heels. 

"Oh, but he shall be so surprised to see us!" Lara's voice gushed in his ear, and Nicholas threw her a doubtful look. 

"Surprised, certainly," he allowed, not adding that perhaps it would have been wiser to call first with news of their visit.

As they neared the university's dormitories, Lara fled from his side and raced up to the one of the many doors lining the sterile smelling corridors, and Nicholas scowled slightly. 

For the past week or so since they'd decided to leave France it had been Frederic this, Frederic that...of course he was not displeased to see his son after so long an absence, but he couldn't help but feel that automatic swell of jealousy at his mate's cooing adoration. He may well have lived on earth for a good few decades without reprieve but he was still a demon through and through, possessive and jealous of his mate's affections even as he knew such a thought process asinine. 

A blonde, slightly dishevelled woman opened the door to Frederic's cell sized room, and the look on his mate's face was priceless. Nicholas shook his head slightly, pulling Lara into his arms as the fair-haired woman made her stuttering introductions. 

"Mot – I mean, er, cousin Lara?" Frederic's muffled voice corrected quickly. He sounded alarmed, and it wasn't long before he appeared, his dark hair mussed, his cheeks slightly flushed.

"Er – Annabelle, my cousin and her husband," Frederic said then, terribly awkward, gesturing jerkily towards his parents. 





Nicholas' Bargain



Nicholas glared hungrily at the girls smooth shoulders. Her hair was strange -- dark brown now, but then a true crimson under certain lighting. It was pulled up and exposed her arched neck but tendrils danced about her shoulders and the effect of her on the eyes was mouth-watering. He had been watching her silently since she had arrived, knowing when she had entered by her scent, that same girl who had walked up the spiral staircase a day ago like a queen and he had been plagued by her ever since. By her scent especially -- not acrid or putrid as other humans, but smooth and layered. It had confused and tormented him. He had wanted to claim her as she sat submissively with the other wallflowers and had been perturbed by the depth of his desires. Then she had disappeared and he had felt a feeling very similar to -- and foreign -- panic and when she had returned...

"Who are you?" he heard now. 

Lara looked up into icy blue eyes, took in black hair, slightly tousled and long enough to cling onto and then a sharply contoured mouth...'Kiss me, touch me everywhere', she begged silently. 

"Meet me on the balcony in five minutes," the dance finished with no more conversation and he yielded her to the crowd before she had a chance to confine his beautiful yet hard face to memory, a memory she would relish for many years for all its excitement and unreality. She looked away from the sight of his disappearing back, feeling suddenly uneasy. 

"Who was that man you danced with?" Amelia walked over and asked in interest.

"I- I don't know."

"Well what did you talk about? You both looked intent. I saw him yesterday - and this morning on my daily walk in Hyde Park, come to think of it. I believe he is acquainted with my father. Handsome, but I've always fancied blonde men."

"Yes..." Lara trailed off, feeling suddenly scared. 

Now that he was no longer there, she felt normal again and unsettled. Strange, but being with him had made her feel almost...entranced.

"You see, didn't I say you would dance with the most handsome of men? He is surely the pick of the lot. I wonder if he is on the marriage mart?"

Lara barely listened to her cousin's speculations. "I think I shall sit down for a while. I'm feeling rather unwell."

*

Nicholas waited. And waited. He knew she wanted him just as much as he...fuck! What was she doing to him? The blonde daughter who belonged to him, whose blood belonged to him, was dancing about without a care in the world inside and all he could think of was snatching the brunette and pulling up skirts, pounding into her hard, using her fiercely and then dismissing her from his mind whatever her condition. With the way he felt now, he did not think he would be able to spare her life. He felt on edge, restless. 

No doubt Hampton had eyed him by now but he was a docile lamb and knew not to set his human army on him. Yet. His thoughts wandered uncharacteristically once more... perhaps the brunette was playing with his mind? No, but she was mortal, he knew that. He felt a wave of violence as he tried to deny the truth. As well as reluctant empathy for his select acquaintance's and what they had suffered. He needed to posses her. Needed to. But he couldn't. With any other woman, mortal or not, he would woo and then fuck them hard until he reached satisfaction. But with her, once would be one time too many. He would not be able to let her go because his mate, he knew, was some fifty feet away in a room full of sweaty, putrid mortals, terrified and trying to avoid him. Canny woman, she, he thought almost proudly. She scents the danger and has gone into self-preservation mode. Sadly, he knew she would not win.

Decision made, he did not feel regretful that he would hurt her body in his violence by taking away the virginity humans were so cursed obsessed with. He did not feel remorse that she would be ruined in this high society that looked down on fallen women. He felt nothing very much except for how best to accommodate his own self-interest. He wanted and he would get. And that was that.

*

Lara stole a second glass of champagne from a distracted lady and finished the tall glass in two mouthfuls. What she was about to do was madness but for once she would not be the scared mouse she always was. In any event, her limbs were refusing to still; she was restless, eager and frustrated but about what, she hardly knew. She headed to the balcony determinedly. 

*

Cole pounded into Amelia with quick, sharp thrusts in the library. Though she could feel her climax building she refused to fall over the edge just yet and asked him to stop in a breathless command. She knew by his tight face that he was close but she also knew that he would do whatever she said. He withdrew and panted hard. 

"Do that thing, Cole. Make me come that way again."

Cole's mind was foggy at first before he got her meaning. If he wasn't so hard he would laugh at her sudden timidity. He carried Amelia in his arms and set her on the floor from their previous place on her father's desk. Lying down on the carpet, he told her to turn away from him and hover over his face.

She looked utterly confused, and not a little skeptical. 

"Trust me and if I have it my way you'll be coming thrice."

She did as he said quickly. 

With her nice, plump ass hovering above his face and her body turned away from him, Cole bent Amelia exactly how he wanted her and directed her to take him into her mouth and with understanding she lowered and shoved his cock into her mouth greedily. He bucked once before bringing her down on top of his face and smothering his face in her pussy. Opening her with two fingers, he thrust his tongue inside and then took her clit between two fingers, manipulating the hard piece of flesh with rhythmic squeezes. 

Amelia thought she would die; it was more a pain than a pleasure at this point. It was too much. She cupped Cole's sac in her hands and massaged in a way she knew made him grunt all the while feeling herself clamp around the stiff invading tongue inside her. She rubbed his throbbing cock head against her lips, coating them in his liquid before taking him fully into her mouth. Just then, he forced three fingers inside her slick hole before sucking on her clit the way he did on her nipples. She cried out and worked faster on his cock, taking all eight inches inside her mouth and nearly choked before his hot, thick cum exploded in her mouth. At the same time, her cream shot from her pussy and she felt him eagerly swallowing it all like the good boy that he was. 

After, as she lay in his arms, she knew that she would never find a man who would satisfy her like Cole. Climaxing was easy enough with any man she knew by now, but Cole...with Cole it went beyond that. She would have him somehow, she didn't care how, but she would. She thought vaguely of the Marquess who had been trying to woo her for months. Should she accept him, she would be a Marchioness, the mistress of his palatial Surrey mansion and one of the most socially powerful women in England. But her heart had already been caught, and seemed to have little desire for riches and gold. 

*

It was a moonless, starless night yet the candles scattered about the gardens offered enough light to see by and created a languid atmosphere. 

"I don't know who you are, and I don't want to know," Nicholas heard behind him and turned sharply. 

He stood in exactly the same place, the same position since he had arrived outside some time ago. From the very edge of the balcony, he looked down at the steps that led to the gardens and there she stood. She was a fool. A beautiful fool. Well, she was human, after all. She was also doomed.

Lara shifted from foot to foot, the dew from the grass dampening her slippers. She stared at the black haired, blue eyed man as he silently inspected her. He was not like any man she had seen before. He seemed to be one and above everyone else, literally now as he lorded over her on the balcony. His manner was almost as if he were silently laughing at everyone. And there was something...something about him that made her feel weak and unsure, the way she often felt when she was rubbing herself between her legs when she first got started, that pleasant and tinging light pressure that always soaked her fingers.

Nicholas took the steps slowly, in no great hurry, and stopped just before her, his boots almost touching her hem. 

"You can still walk away," he said

The girl looked at him confusion. "Don't you want me?"

She stared in fascination as his jaw flexed. "Oh, yes. I want you." Nicholas' face was unsmiling, his jaw hard and his square chin stubborn. 

"Then -- then take me."

"Do not condemn me later in that pretty head of yours for not giving you a chance," he grinned suddenly and the smile was so overpowering that her breath caught. 

The man was beautiful with a serious expression. Smiling, he was devastating. 

"Are you a maid?" 

"What?" she asked dazedly.

Now it was his turn to stare in confusion. He was not using his lure over her, so there was no reason for her to look so misty eyed. 

"Are you a virgin?" 

Her chin seemed to lift then as some of the dreaminess faded. "No."

A slash of half pain and half anger -- relatively untested feelings due to his control and reign on his emotions - burned through him at her simple word. It mattered to him that she wasn't when he always distained of inexperienced girls. It mattered because the thought of another man -- of an unworthy, pathetic mortal - panting over her made him feel violent when he had decided to be tender and pleasure giving and relatively unselfish with her. One decision he would stick to, however, was that even though he had accepted - despite its illogic -- that there was a very large chance that she was His - his intended, his mate, his chosen - he would not pursue it after this night.

He had never wanted a mate, had never desired the pairings that his acquaintances had; lifelong partners who were devoted and faithful to one another. The thought amused him for all its impracticality. He needed no woman to latch onto him for all of existence even if she had eyes like the green fires of the underworld or skin that made him feel weak.

Nicholas pulled the brunette toward him then, his face harsh and although his hands were hard they caused no pain. He swung her into his arms before striding in quick, long steps to a deserted area, deeper into the house gardens. They were far enough from the house now where her cries would be unnoticed. Before her feet had touched the ground, he was pushing and up her skirts and pulling off her drawers, feeling for her garters, revealing her skin layer by layer. 

The champagne was working its way into Lara's system and while she felt shaky and nervous, she also felt bold. She took a deep breath and pulled away from the man's snatching hands. She could not see his expression, only his beautiful, soft back hair as he knelt before her, his wide back strong.

It was now or never. 

"I want you to eat my pussy," she ordered.

Nicholas stopped in his task and looked up. How could he have originally thought she was untouched? Never had a woman demanded of him. Never. But the lady would get what she wanted; he wasn't in a mind to be stubborn over the opportunity to taste her cunt. 

Feeling mortified at his silence and his direct, unblinking stare, Lara tried to tug her skirts down and flee but before she could even try he had lifted her down onto the dewy grass and flipped her skirts to her head. She had a moment of indecision before a hard, wet tongue slipped between her labia and her breath caught in sheer disbelief that this was all happening to her, disbelief that this beautiful, severe looking man was doing this-- and that she had taken leave of her senses enough to allow it. But Amelia had told her how to be safe, how to avoid the unfortunate consequences of fornication. She had just never believed she possessed the boldness to give into her hidden desires. But here she was now, feeling the drag of his tongue on the area she played with at night when she lay in bed or in the bath, an area she knew to be her clit from Amelia. 

"Fuck, you're wet," she heard and wanted to die of shame. 

She could feel her wetness coating her thighs, and wished it would stop. What felt like a nose buried itself in her mound and all shame was forgotten. The pressure of it nudged her clit and she moaned. When she next felt that nose, it was resting on her soft bush and the stiff tongue was trying desperately to thrust inside her untouched hole making her cry out in confusion over the warring sensations. 

"Oh, God."

Nicholas barely heard the call to her maker and wanted to laugh. In the next moment, there was little reason to laugh. Now that he had tasted her on his tongue, he knew was addicted. 

"What -- what is your name," he heard distantly. 

He didn't honour her with an answer but tongued her clit. 

"What, Oh-" Lara panted, "Is your name?"

She started hard when his beautiful hard face appeared before her. He looked cruel. Could one be cruel yet beautiful? How had she missed it before? Suddenly, though her pussy was throbbing and tingling, a small fear dampened her arousal. 

He must have seen something on her face for he tried to relax his features but it didn't work. He looked almost, almost...grotesque. She closed her eyes tight and opened them to rid herself of the image. Before she could shakily raise herself from her back in confusion and rejection, she felt his fingers toying with her slit. Sliding up, then down, wet and slippery. She -- she must tell him to stop. She bit her lip at the pleasure and tried to concentrate on her thoughts but all she wanted to do was grab his hand and push against it hard, to rub his large palm and his hard knuckles -- anything -- over her mound again and again until she exploded.

"Nicholas," she watched his beautifully carved, hard lips form the word. His lips were damp, his chin damp, his nose...her eyes rolled back as he massaged her.

"Nick -- Nicholas," she murmured 

"May I continue, my lady?" she heard that gravely voice ask. 

She didn't know if she replied but she must have done for in no time at all, he was bent over her again, his hands cupping her thighs hurtfully, before his lips opened once more over her pussy. This time, she didn't have time to ask questions because her clit was clamped between his lips with a sharp pressure until he was drawing upon her like a babe drawing fiercely for milk. 

"Nicholas," she screamed, her back arching from the hard ground as a hard orgasm slammed through her body. 

When she opened her eyes again, it was to find his fixed features studying her face. His firm hands slipped the sleeves of her dress down bearing her breasts to the cool air. He watched for her expression as he, almost clinically, pulled at her left nipple. Lara felt lazy, content, but at the pulling on her nipple moaned slightly. He rubbed the piece of hard flesh between his thumb and forefinger for a few moments, sending a pleasant sensation right to her mound before once again pulling hard on it, so hard this time that her back lifted to follow the movement. Before she could clasp a hold of his shoulders, he was bending his head and slipping the stiff flesh into his mouth, sampling the taste lightly.

Lara sighed. He went on like this, sipping, a light pressure and she ran her fingers into his hair wondering if it would be as soft as it looked. Her fingers were buried between the cool locks now, massaging his skull unconsciously before falling to his ears, rubbing them in pleasure. In the next moment, her fingers were talons on his ears, his temples, his head as he clamped his teeth around the areola, the suction of his mouth so hard and deep that it was painful. Her womb contracted and she cried out, trying to push him away whilst her legs had other ideas and were climbing, clamping around his hard thighs. 

"Lara! Lara, where are you? Emily Davenport said she saw you by the double doors, I-"

The distant call vied for attention, but so did the hard, rough pressure pushing into her stomach. 

"Amelia," she murmured.

Nicholas' muscles tautened as the brunette called out that name. He lifted his head slightly and glanced down at the girl with a closed expression. She wanted it badly, he could see. He reached under her skirts again. Soaking wet. He pulled his fingers down to her hole and felt the lips gaping open slightly in blatant invitation. Thankfully she could not see his inhuman expression, her eyes closed in pleasure. He would be finished quickly, he calculated in a detached manor. He needed only to hold her down and then he could get back to the task he was damned well here for. Amelia was his for the taking and he would consume every part, every element of her as was his right. His body knew it was she and the name coursed through him, leaving a warming, satisfied sensation in its wake, like a man who had searched and searched and finally found his lost dog. His little pet was scant inches from him and now had a name.

But there wasn't time. He smelled the other human getting closer. Despair -- he did not know the name for it, however -- filtered through him and he rose from the brunette -- Lara. The name echoed through his mind and he closed his eyes.

Lara opened her eyes heavily. Nicholas was looming before her, his face expressionless. The scary, detached facade jarred her into moving her sluggish body. He had not taken her virginity yet, but she was sure he had been close by the pressure of his cock; sure she had felt its heat burning through his trousers and onto her naked stomach. 

He said nothing nor helped as she shakily struggled to her feet. She looked around as she heard shuffling footsteps in their direction. Rubbing her arms briskly over her naked arms, Lara looked searchingly at his face.

"Go," he said monotonously, and it was as if his previous presence in the ballroom, his seducing personality had evaporated leaving nothing very much behind and the strange thought chilled her. 

Go she certainly would. She would have run and put as much distance as she could between them had her legs not been so weightless. She felt only sheer relief that Amelia had interrupted. God love her! She nodded once, jerkily, and hurried away with the feeling of burning eyes trailing her. 

To be continued...