— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 18- Opening Night Gifts by nicola71
"The office door is locked, and I seem to have misplaced my key. Oh merde!"
Asher frantically searched through the pockets of his black Armani suit. It was simple and elegant, with a cream colored silk shirt underneath, open collar, no tie. In his lapel was a gold and diamond stickpin bearing his family crest, and on his hand the gold and blue diamond ring that was seldom off his finger these days. In the pocket closest to his heart was the handkerchief he had anointed with Penelope's perfume.
"I have the key, ma mei." Penelope smiled and unlocked the door. She stepped aside and allowed Asher to enter first.
He hurried past her because he was affording himself the luxury of nervousness. He couldn't hide his excitement from her anyway, so he didn't try. He felt Penelope sending him waves of calmness and the feel of her enfolded his entire body in a warmth almost as satisfying as her blood.
He fumbled for the lights mumbling in French about his own stupidity when he suddenly stopped dead and went very still.
Penelope pulled back her calm control for a moment and could feel a slow build of emotion welling up from deep inside of him as he caught sight of something that had not been there before.
"One of your 'Opening Night' gifts, my love." She took his hand and led him to the desk.
"Penelope? Where? How?" His pale blue eyes were alive with questions, delight, and sorrow, all at once.
Behind the desk was a beautiful glass and inlaid wood cabinet with a single spotlight shining from the ceiling illuminating it's only contents. A lone bottle of wine. Asher recognized it immediately as the last vintage from his family's winery.
"A friend sent word to me many years ago that the last of your family's label was going up for auction at Christies."
"Requiem," He breathed. Asher knew that only the poet-vampire would have had the means, or the motive to preserve something from his past.
"Yes."
He walked slowly over to the case, turned and spoke with an uncharacteristically choked up chuckle.
"It is surely undrinkable." He approached the cabinet, afraid to even touch the glass for fear it may disintegrate before his eyes.
"Would you? Even if you could?" Penelope slipped behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist.
"To taste, just once more, the sweetness of my forefather's toil?" he sighed, "Perhaps." The toil that he had allowed to go to ruin.
Asher could not verbalize all the emotions flowing through him, so instead he let Penelope see a montage of images from his human memory. Racing through the deep green vines in summer, chasing his sisters as they screamed in delight. Watching his father inspect the underside of leaves for aphids and learning to identify different types of grapes simply from the leaves. Sitting on his grandfather's knee in the cellar as he tasted and combined different herbs and fruits to mix with the slowly fermenting juices in the enormous oak barrels that lined the cavernous room. The grand ballroom of their estate alive with candlelight and music as the new wines were debuted for the first time. Making love to a fair haired village girl under the oak tree at mid-day, drinking a bottle of Bordeaux he had made himself and eating homemade cheese from her uncle's shop. His father screaming that if he left the estate, he was never to return, as he rode away towards Paris, leaving behind his family and failing crops for the splendor of the city and hopes of even greater fortunes in the bed of a dark-haired, honey-eyed noblewoman.
Asher turned to her with tears brimming his eyes. He reached for his handkerchief to catch them before they could fall and stain the silk of his shirt.
"I have made you sad?" Penelope frowned, thinking that perhaps her gift had been ill timed and keenly feeling the emotional maelstrom that threatened to overtake him.
He caught her up tightly in his arms, "Non! Non! It is the most wonderful gift you could ever give. I never thought I would see it again, and now here, in this office I have so many of the things that I have loved." He motioned to the painting of his childhood home, the bottle in the case, "and you, Penelope. You have helped me banish so many of the phantoms of my past."
Asher felt calm come over him once again as he kissed her tenderly. Then there was a soft rap at the open door.
"Am I interrupting?" A flash of brilliant blue eyes entered the room tentatively.
"Requiem! I suppose I must thank you as well." Asher extended a hand to the tall dark vampire who was not always at ease with him.
"No thanks are necessary. At the time, my master was collecting rare wines, I saw the opportunity and took a chance on what the future might bring for you." He clasped Asher's outstretched hand and winked at Penelope.
Asher sensed that Requiem wanted a moment alone with her and graciously left in search of the chef to ensure all was prepared.
I will thank you properly, later, bien aimèe. You know what this means to me.
When Asher was gone, Requiem held out his hand to her and they sat on the couch.
"You look radiant! Love suits you." There was no pretentious poetry between them. Only friendship.
"Thank you, and despite your protests, you know I owe a great deal of my happiness to you."
"I only nudged you, dear Penelope, you are the one who took the leap."
"I have been waiting to hear from you for weeks, but you have avoided my company," she frowned with feigned scorn.
"You have been, how shall I say, otherwise engaged." He grinned.
"I would have made time for you."
"You would have had to get dressed." Requiem mused, taking a rare good natured stab at his friend.
Penelope hit him with her fist.
"Ow!"
"Seriously, Requiem, why nothing from you? With all that was going on with Asher and London, not one word?"
"You had to make your own choices. And you made the correct ones, as I knew you would. It feels good to love and be loved, does it not?"
"Yes." She blushed and Requiem held her chin up gently.
"London is happier than I have ever seen him. That is something. He has been my friend for a long time, and it does my heart good to see him so content. And I could say the same of Asher, although I never had the pleasure of his company before he was scarred. But he glows when he is around you, when he is thinking of you, and not from any vampire magic."
Requiem rose and kissed her hand. "I believe your time has come. May I escort you to the main floor, milady? Your public awaits, and I must say that I am planning to taste one or two of your delicious Italians."
"Oh! I had to use all my powers of persuasion for Asher to keep those wines on the list!"
Requiem chuckled, "I was referring to two of the exquisite sommeliers you hired, what are their names? Giovanna and Marcella?"
Penelope laughed, took his arm, and went to meet the public.
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Penelope left Requiem to join Asher, who stood very still staring at the entrance, clutching his handkerchief to his nose. His anxiety was still fluctuating although anyone who looked at him would never guess. Only Penelope felt the full force of it and she took all that she could and returned to him as much calm as she could muster.
All was ready, and the staff was poised and prepared. Asher had drilled them for hours over the last week on the proper way to serve and pour, and had personally inspected all of their crisp black uniforms. Black open collared shirts for both the men and women, black pants, even black towels. Nothing was to take away from the color and beauty of the decor or the wines. The wait staff was chosen for their knowledge of wine, and each had to pass a rigorous test given by the sommeliers.
For the opening tonight each table had a gold bucket icing a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne and engraved copies of the special menu including the wine flights, as well as large arrangements of deep red and gold Gerber daisies. Although the invited guests would not have a choice, Asher and Penelope, along with the chef, chose something for every palate.
To start there was butternut squash soup with chestnut & pumpkin seed, followed by an appetizer of lobster risotto infused with sauteed locally grown mushrooms. A light lemon-mint sorbet preceded the main course for the evening which was stuffed quail with apple & fennel, a request from Asher. A special course consisted of various French and Italian cheeses, a request from Penelope. But it was the desserts that were truly remarkable, if anyone in fact had room for them. Almond tart with brandied cherries, or blackberry tart, specially made for the Master of the City. Asher's particular dedication to his best friend did not go unnoticed. All of the courses were paired with wines from all over the world, but of course three of the five were French, as was the champagne.
Security was tight, but virtually invisible. London, in concert with the security company that had done all of the electronics, created a central security hub that monitored every inch of Veritas with cameras. Discreetly armed guards were strategically placed throughout the building, and on the roof were four military trained members of the Rodere. Inside were several Hyena guards, including Castor and Pollux who were always only steps away from Asher and Penelope.
The WickedTruth, dressed as guests, wandered the bar, casually chatting with other guards to hide their true purpose. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get Truth out of his boiled leather and into a Hugo Boss suit, but Jean-Claude promised that if anyone needed killing, Truth would have first dibs on their head. Wicked, of course, found no difficulty in custom made brown Gucci. He even carried a glass of Pinot Noir for show, bringing it to his nose from time to time. Damian served as official host for the evening, exuding charm that hid his very capable nature as protector. For him it was a welcome respite from the groping hands and bleating music of Danse Macabre.
Penelope slipped her hand into Asher's.
Are you ready?
There will be many photographers
Penelope had no trouble guessing what was at the heart of his anxiety.
You are the most beautiful being in the room, ma mei. On this I do not lie.
He kissed her hand. I know you think so, but I do not know if I am prepared for the world to see me as I am now.
Asher's hair was done so to hide the scarred side of his face. It was not unknown to the press that Jean-Claude's second was disfigured, but up until now they had managed to keep the details of the story behind his scars unknown. Asher knew that the modern journalism machine would not be content to hear that he had been the victim of an unfortunate accident. He had spoken to both Jean-Claude and Penelope about it, and they were all aware that Asher's story may indeed become public knowledge. Enough of their enemies knew their sad tale and would be more than happy to share with the press, which is why security had done rigorous background checks on all the journalists. They had done all they could to keep the tabloids out, but if there was one modern lesson Jean-Claude and Asher had learned, it was that nothing was fool proof.
Penelope squeezed his hand and sent a shimmer of her magic flowing through her and into him.
We will face the world together. Always.
The doors opened and in came the society of St. Louis, along with the press, local television celebrities, judges, politicians, and even lycanthrope royalty.
Donovan Reece strode in alone, choosing not to draw any more attention to himself than necessary. However, he was a connoisseur of fine wines and explained to Asher that he would not have missed this night for all the world.
Next came Rafael sans date, as usual. After greeting Asher and formally meeting Penelope, he excused himself to check with his people who he had hand picked for security detail. Penelope found him both charming and imposing, but sad. She wanted to ask Asher why, but held back her questions for another time. She felt more at ease with the Rat King after she saw him sipping a glass of Cabernet, smiling and chatting with Donovan.
Penelope felt Asher tense every time he heard the click of a camera shutter, but refrained from constantly reassuring him. He had to believe himself beautiful. It was the only way he would ever get over his self-consciousness.
Most of the rest of the VIPs were strictly human. Both Narcissus and Richard had sent their regrets. Narcissus was hosting a bash at the club that had been planned for months, and Richard was on a weekend camping trip with his Biology students. Micah was on a Coalition trip, but made sure that the leopards were well represented by Nathaniel who looked regal in winter white and lavender.
At last, the Master of the City and his human servant arrived, followed closely by Jason, in grand style of course. Flashbulbs popped from all around the vestibule.
Jean-Claude looked magnificent in black velvet pants and a deep red silk shirt. A black velvet opera coat embroidered with scarlet thread topped off his look. Anita matched him in style if not color. A strapless dark blue velvet dress, A-lined, with matching coat. Penelope knew there were weapons hidden underneath her finery, but couldn't tell where. The camouflage was perfect. She rushed to embrace Anita, completely forgetting that it was customary to greet the Master of the City first. Jean-Claude was so tickled that Anita actually had a friend who still talked to her that he did not mind in the least.
"Anita!" Penelope squeezed her so tightly that she figured out where at least one of her guns was hidden.
"Penny!" Anita smiled even with flash bulbs erupting all around her.
"I have missed you," Penelope whispered.
"I know, me too. That's the one thing that sucks about actually having friends. You miss them too much when you don't see them."
The two women started to chatter, but Jean-Claude gently reminded them that they were on display and perhaps should save the girl talk for later. They fake frowned at the scolding and joined hands with their respective masters.
A special table was set up for the four of them, and as soon as everyone was seated the toast was made by Jean-Claude himself.
"Peux j'avoir votre attention!" He clinked a spoon against the side of his crystal champagne flute.
Jean-Claude didn't need to use magic to garner the attention of the crowd. His charisma and the silkiness of his natural voice filled the room and embraced everyone in it.
"I would like to propose the first toast of many that I am certain will be given in these beautiful surroundings for many years to come."
He looked around at all the A-listers of St. Louis as they sat rapt with attention at his every word. He could not help but smile wickedly thinking that only a few years before most of the humans in the room would not have been seen walking in the Blood District let alone sitting in one of his clubs or socializing with vampires or lycanthropes. Now they paid top dollar to simply glide in the same social circle. How times change, he thought.
"To my Temoin, Asher and his brilliant servant Penelope, for bringing a bit of old world charm to my city. For providing us with the most cultivated selection of fine wine and champagne in the Midwest!"
The crowd applauded and stood, raising their glasses in Asher and Penelope's direction. The photographers snapped away, while one in particular lurked in the background, not taking nearly as many pictures as the rest.
Asher cautiously rose clutching Penelope's hand.
Do you think this is the last of the photographs, bien aimèe?
Asher, it is only the beginning. You are doing marvelously.
Ah, yes, but the interviews have not yet begun.
The journalists were asked to depart during the dinner, but a buffet was being provided for them in a separate banqueting hall. At eleven PM selected members of the press could re-enter to get their pictures and interviews, and at midnight they would respectfully be asked to depart so that the real party could begin. All had agreed to these terms. Or so Asher and Jean-Claude thought.
The dinner and tasting proceeded with perfection. The chef emerged from the kitchen to a round of applause and the sommeliers were hardly able to keep up with demand. Much to every one's surprise Anita had two servings of blackberry tart and two glasses of wine. Jean-Claude was looking decidedly catlike with an ear to ear smile as he sat back in his chair and casually stroked his servants thigh. She whispered something to him and all he replied was, "Anything you desire, ma petite, anything."
As eleven turned to eleven-thirty Asher and Penelope talked with reporters while their guests drank and marveled at the artwork and architecture of the space. A Jazz trio, the same one London had recommended, performed, and some of the guests took an opportunity to slow dance, or sit in front of the fireplaces chatting.
Jean-Claude worked the room while Anita got the security grand tour and set herself up in the HUB, watching the video feed for any abnormalities. She kept telling Jean-Claude that something was off, so he indulged her sixth sense by excusing her presence from socializing.
A tall dark man with journalist's credentials approached Penelope as Asher was finishing up an interview with Food and Wine.
"Penelope?"
"Yes?"
"Hello there! My name is Mark Fontaine, and I work for a new wine magazine called, Through a Wine Glass Darkly. I would love to talk with you a bit about Asher's ancestral vineyard. I understand that it was once one of France's most successful wineries."
"Yes, it was, how do you know?"
"I do my research, Penelope. I am sorry, but I arrived a bit late and missed the tour. Do you think it would be possible for me to at least see your allegedly magnificent cellar? My readers would be rabid to know what it contains."
Mr. Fontaine moved very close to Penelope, and she stepped back to give herself some space. He seemed harmless enough, although he smelled vaguely of tobacco. His credentials were in order, but something about him didn't feel quite right. She felt as though something was pressing all around her, wrapping her body in flannel or wool. She tried to shrug it off, as there were quite a few powerful people in the room, and it was difficult for her to pinpoint exactly where the feeling was coming from. She looked into his dark eyes, but could see nothing there but interest. If she knew what he was actually interested in she would have dropped him to the floor instead of inviting him to walk to the cellar with her to see to see their collection.
"Well I would not want to disappoint your readers, Mr. Fontaine."
Penelope looked at Asher who was finally looking and feeling at ease with the reporters, so instead of interrupting him, she offered to take Mr. Fontaine to the cellar herself. What harm could there be? Castor or Pollux was sure to follow her. She often had to remind them to stay outside the door of the Ladies room.
"Could I possibly meet you there, Penelope? I must use the Little Boy's room."
"Of course."
Penelope and Castor went downstairs to the state of the art cellar and waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally a very distressed looking London arrived in a blur in the corridor.
"Are you alright?" He grabbed her shoulders with a face that was drawn with worry.
"Of course we are all right. We were just waiting for this reporter who wanted a tour, but never showed up."
"The cameras in this hallway went dark."
"What?"
Just then, Anita and Wicked came around the corner guns drawn.
"Is everyone okay?" Anita checked the entire corridor, just as a voice came over London's radio that the cameras were once again up.
Penelope explained what had happened and about Mr. Fontaine. Anita and Wicked went to check up on the mysterious reporter, leaving London, Penelope and Castor alone.
"Castor," London spoke lowly, "do you think you could give us a minute? I think I am capable of protecting her for a short time."
Castor reluctantly retreated to the staircase, leaving them alone.
London rushed at her and crushed her in a tight embrace.
"God! Penelope! The cameras went dark, I couldn't reach Castor on his radio. I didn't know what had happened." He kissed her with relief.
"I'm fine, luv, fine." she stroked his damp curls away from his face, "you're sweating!"
"It does not matter, you are safe. I overreacted." London took a breath that he did not need, but that made him feel calmer.
They took their few stolen moments to kiss and caress one another, feeling the need in each other's bodies.
"I like the suit. It's very, black!" Penelope teased, after their little make-out session was over.
"Not everything I have on is black." He guided her hand to his belt buckle, then lower and she knew exactly what he meant.
Penelope looked away from his eyes which always seemed to bore right through her.
He sighed, "I will not see you tonight."
London's matter of fact statement shadowed his face with momentary sadness.
"No." Penelope had been very clear that tonight was Asher's night. All of it, and all of her, belonged to him.
"I know, I understand." London kissed the tip of her nose lightly and smiled. "I love you. Go back to the party."
Castor escorted Penelope back to Asher's side.
What happened?
Nothing to worry about. I got, as Jason would say, 'ditched' by a reporter. I guess he realized I was not as interesting as he thought I was!
Totally untrue, bien aimèe, totally untrue.
Do you see what time it is?
Asher sighed and said aloud with much amusement, "Midnight!"
The press left and Asher visibly relaxed, even taking time to sample a few wines until Penelope exclaimed that he would be carrying her home if she drank any more.
"That can easily be arranged, and then I can have my way with you," he teased.
"You have never needed wine for that, my love, " she hiccuped and covered her mouth in embarrassment.
"Okay, assez! Enough!" Asher laughed as he took her glass away, "no more wine tonight!"
The crowd began to thin at around one AM and by the time they closed at one-thirty the staff was so busy taking reservations that they had booked every table for the next month. Asher, Penelope, Jean-Claude and Anita gathered in the office with the women chattering on the couch with their heels scattered on the floor and Asher showing off his gift to Jean-Claude.
Jason peeked in the door to tell Jean-Claude that their limo was ready to take them home, and that Asher and Penelope's would be up shortly.
"Time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain, sweetheart," Anita grinned at the Master of the City. "You promised!"
"Ma petite, there is nothing I want more than to make good on my word."
They glided out the door as Jason made a number of lewd comments that were met with both Anita and Jean-Claude yelling in unison, "JASON!"
Penelope laughed as she reached down to put her shoes back on.
"Allow me." Asher was at her feet stroking his hand up her leg and pushing up her dress until he had a clear view of her ruffled panties. He leaned in to lay a kiss on the inside of each of her thighs.
Penelope moaned and tried to draw his head between her legs. Right here on the floor, or home at the Circus, she wanted him.
"Non, not yet. Let's go home."
For the second time tonight they were interrupted with a knock on the door. London cleared his throat.
"Pollux said you asked to see me?"
Penelope quickly rearranged her dress.
Asher sat up, "Yes, is everything squared away?"
"Yes. They are compiling the security tapes for review tomorrow night. Still no word back from the magazine about our mysterious Mr. Fontaine, but I have their assurance that by the time we awaken tomorrow we will know what happened to him. There was a Fontaine on the Press Kit list, but strangely his picture has gone missing."
"That is disturbing."
"I agree. But there is nothing more we can do tonight."
"And on that, we both agree." Asher looked at Penelope, and then back to London. "Are you ready to go home?"
London frowned. There was no where else he could go, even though it would be home to an empty bed tonight. He nodded.
"Good!" Asher got up and pulled Penelope with him, "Then you will ride with us."
"As you wish," London shrugged.
"As a matter of fact," Asher walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder, "We desire that you stay with us tonight, if you would like."
It was a formal invitation, as in the old days. Asher had made this decision, and tonight seemed to be the perfect occasion. London would understand that this was not an invitation into Asher's bed, it was an invitation into Penelope and Asher's bed. Their time had passed, but the future was starting to present many more pleasant opportunities than either vampire ever dreamt would come their way.
London couldn't help the wicked smile that crossed his face, and although he hesitated for a split second there was never any question to what his answer would be. He had imagined this invitation for some time and understood what it implied.
"I most definitely would like that, very much," he looked from Asher to his Scarlet Lady and smiled.
Asher turned to Penelope. "One of your 'Opening Night' gifts, bien aimèe."
Penelope felt her body ignite as they both gazed at her with lust. She had not realized how badly she wanted this until it was offered to her. Both of them, together, their naked bodies on either side of her, making love to her at once. She could scarcely breathe.
"Do you mean..."
"Yes, I do."
Asher took her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely leaving no question as to his arousal over the idea. When he released her lips he roughly turned her around, clasping her body to his, so London could see the aftereffect of his kiss.
Penelope's eyes were half closed and she softly gasped. Asher's kiss held all the potential of unbridled desire, and she wanted everything it promised. Everything.
"Shall we go home?" Asher's smile was as licentious as ever.
London's own arousal was spiking so high that there was also no question about how exciting he found it to watch them kiss. It was surprising to him. Surprising, but not unwelcome. He felt himself tremble as he simply nodded his agreement.
The three of them went upstairs to the waiting limo.
Back to index
Chapter 19- Chance Encounters by nicola71
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Lots of hugs to Subbie who has taken over beta duties for me! A bit of a smex warning for this chapter...
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Penelope stood in front of the bathroom mirror momentarily entranced by the reflection that stared back at her. This was not the same woman she was used to seeing. This woman was flush with life and passion, and appetites. She was aroused and excited, and in love with two men who made her very happy. Which made her decision all the more insane.
The madness behind what she was about to do made no sense, but she knew it was do it now, or do it never. The love that welled inside her heart for the two men who awaited her in the other room, had driven her to this decision. This new love, and an old one that she had tried very hard to forget but which kept pecking at her heart, had finally forced her hand. This was the only way to ensure the future. Their future. She kept telling herself it would work. It had to work.
She washed her hands, dried them, turned out the light and closed the door.
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Asher lit several candles around their room, and turned down the bed to reveal dark chocolate silk sheets. He looked over to see Penelope leaning in the doorway, watching him.
"Quoi?" he smiled and lit the last candle on the bedside table.
"Nothing. I just never tire of watching you move."
He seductively peeled off his jacket and unbuttoned almost all the buttons of his shirt. Underneath the silk his muscles moved sinuously and with purpose as he stretched his body out across the bed. London was already seated on the corner with his own jacket folded neatly on the leather chair. Asher kicked off his shoes and let them fall to the floor.
"Penelope," He softly commanded, "come stand before London, please."
She walked slowly over until she stood right in front of her knight. She looked to Asher for direction, but it was not her that he planned on directing.
"I had the pleasure of dressing you earlier tonight, bien aimèe, now I would like to watch London undress you."
Asher had always been a voyeur, even before his scars relegated him to the darkest corners of Belle's court. For a time, watching was all he was allowed to do, but he found pleasure in it just the same. He would have made himself content with that if Belle had not decided that her own pleasure lay in making him suffer, not fulfilling his desires.
London rose from the bed and walked around Penelope until he stood right behind her. He swept her hair to the side leaving the back of her neck bare. He left just enough room between them so that their bodies did not touch, but he knew that she could feel his aura pressing against her own. He had, of course, played games such as these before, but never with someone he truly loved. And although London would not describe himself as a submissive in any way, his skin still prickled with excitement.
Asher breathed deeply of the sexual arousal that filled the room, and smiled at the thought of so much energy buffeting around the Circus tonight. He thought there would be more than a few satisfied denizens in the morning if they took advantage of it. It was about time!
"Unzip her dress. Slowly."
London did as he was commanded, with pleasure.
"Run your finger along her back. Feel the satin of her bustier with your skin. Is she trembling?"
"Yes, she is." London breathed the words with a low, sexy growl. His eyes had already bled to their onyx fire as desire pulsed through him.
Asher knew she was trembling already. With their marks wide open, he could feel every subtle shudder and every increasing beat of her heart. His own heart sped up in time with hers. It had been far too long since he had catered to his own desires and tastes. Even with Jean-Claude and Anita, he was at their whim. But not tonight. Tonight he would be selfish. Tonight he would have what he wanted, given to him freely and with love by his servant. His servant. His lover. Only one change of player would make it perfect. But he had recently learned that there was much more to his existence than the pursuit of perfection.
"Let the dress fall to the floor, London."
Penelope stood there before them both in the scarlet satin bustier and ruffled panties that Asher had chosen, and let her magic start to swell and flow through her. She had successfully shared her magic with both her lovers and was eager to see what would happen. Eager, excited and scared to death. She hoped that Asher would mistake any fear she had with arousal and excitement. She silently thought, please do not guess my darker purpose!
Asher was posed on the bed, leaning on his elbow, his long body slightly curled. His hair was away from his face. He need not hide from either of them.
"Reach around and unhook the top three hooks of the bustier, I want to see the creamy flesh of her breasts peeking out from between all that scarlet."
The only way London could accomplish this was by encircling her waist with his arms and leaning his face over her shoulder, not touching her cheek, but dangerously close. He delicately used his fingers to open the front of the bustier. Releasing only the top three hooks exposed the swell of her breasts, which were barely contained as it was. He stroked the crevice between them with his thumb, and moved his mouth to her neck.
"I did not tell you to kiss her neck, or any other part of her body, mon chevalier. You forget yourself."
Asher's voice was stern, but not in the least bit cold. In fact, it was full of warmth and amusement. He was enjoying every moment of his orchestrations.
London grinned at him with an impish flash of fang.
"As you wish." He blew a warm breeze of breath over the artery pulsing in Penelope's neck and squeezed her between his arms. He closed his eyes and let her scent wash over his senses, smiling at her barely audible moan and labored breathing.
"Take the last of the pins out of her hair, let it flow freely around her shoulders. I like it that way." Asher could feel Penelope's body aching to be touched. Touched by London and touched by her master. By him. How many years had he waited to be wanted with such ferocity as this? But he would not give her what she wanted so easily.
When her hair was unbound, Asher came up off the bed and stood in front of her for a brief moment. He smelled the air around her which was alive with her perfume, and under that, the smell of her. He raised his hand to stroke her hair, then teasingly pulled it back and went to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt all the way out of his pants and discarding it on the floor. He sat down and leaned back on his arms, flexing the muscles in his biceps and chest, the rippling washboard of his stomach. Even the scars that painted him could not hide the tight tone of his body, just the way the fine Italian wool could not hide the growing erection in his trousers.
Penelope's head was swirling. Maybe it was the wine, or what she planned to do, or maybe it was just that she wanted these two men so much. Was it wrong? It didn't feel wrong when their hands were on each other. It didn't look wrong when she gazed into their eyes and saw them burning for her. It didn't sound wrong when they said they loved her or when she said she loved them. It was not wrong. Not wrong in the least.
"London," Asher spoke with just a touch of force, digging down and finding that part of him that he often suppressed for the benefit of others. "Take off your shirt and stand in front of her. Turn her to the side so I may have a clear view of you both."
The knight led Penelope by the hand so that they were within touching distance of Asher, which was a bit closer than the blond vampire had planned, but he allowed it because right now it was what he wanted. He reminded himself that tonight was about his desires and he would deny himself nothing.
London's eyes seemed to erupt in flames as he looked at Penelope and slowly took his shirt off one button at a time.
The stark contrast of his pale hands against the ebony silk held her eyes spellbound as he revealed his muscular chest and tossed his shirt away.
"Kiss her."
Finally! London thought as he moved close to her, slid his arm around her waist and gently pulled her to him until her body was tight against his and her head tilted back just enough to give him complete access to her full kissable lips. It was almost always this way between them, gentle and easy. Almost always.
Asher watched as he had forced London to watch earlier, but he also felt. He had penetrated Penelope's mind completely, so as she drowned in pleasure and desire, so did he. It was warm and increasing in intensity like a newborn fire fed with fresh wood. Once it got going, there would be little to stop it.
Penelope melted into the kiss. London's kisses always swathed her in black velvet, and this kiss was no different even though they had an audience. Her mind was open, but even by allowing Asher to have full control, there was still plenty of room for London as well. She sighed in his mouth as she felt both vampires' power spread throughout her body and mind, and on many levels, begin to consume her. Just as I suspected, good. She sighed once more as this last lucid thought passed over her.
The two vampires were cautious of one another, but curious too, as their powers nudged against and ultimately mingled with one another. It was familiar to them both and new at the same time. They had never included a third when they were together so many centuries ago.
When London released her, he noticed a thin rivulet of blood easing down her chin. He had gotten carried away and nicked her lip or tongue. Asher was up in a blur.
"I definitely did not say you could bleed her, chevalier."
Asher put his hands on Penelope's shoulders and leaned in as if to kiss her. Instead, he licked the blood as it threatened to drip onto her chest. He licked up every drop and turned to London, and with the taste of both of them on his tongue said, "Her blood will be yours only when I say it will be yours."
London nodded, knowing full well the rules of this game.
Asher passed Penelope back to London and went back to the bed, resuming his previous position.
"Take the bustier off completely. I want to see her."
The scarlet satin was gone in an instant leaving her large taut breasts exposed.
Asher slid back on the bed until he was sitting against the headboard. He held his hands out to London.
"Bring her to me."
London lifted Penelope into his arms and carried her to Asher's waiting lap. Asher spread his legs, his pants still on but straining from the force of his arousal, and London lay Penelope between them. Asher became her very own 'living' couch.
"You may undress all the way, chevalier. We will watch." He turned Penelope's face to his. Her eyes were burning in brown and gold fire, as fiercely as his own burned an icy blue. He reached out to her mind.
Watch him, bien aimèe, watch him. Is he not beautiful?
Asher could not help but remember another occasion when he watched London disrobe. They needed each other so much at that time. Needed each other to try to quash the pain and humiliation of their existence. For a time, it worked. But like all things in Belle's sphere of influence, it came to an excruciating conclusion. Although neither vampire would elect to eliminate the memories of what they endured, tonight, in this room, they would replace those sad recollections with something else. Something beautiful.
As are you, mon adoreè, as are you.
Penelope reached up and drew Asher to her lips for a long sensuous kiss. After a few moments, a cough disrupted them.
"I am attempting a 'strip-tease' here, it would be nice to have your attention!" London had his arms folded across his chest, his belt half undone. He was tapping his foot, but the smirk on his face betrayed his true feelings.
Asher and Penelope laughed.
"Pardonnez-nous, mon chevalier! Continuez, s'il vous plaît!"
Their combined laughter lightened the mood a bit, and all three relaxed as the once morose vampire now playfully stripped for the couple.
London had not smiled or laughed so much in centuries, as he did now that Penelope was in his life. He thought what a shame it was, all those wasted years in sombre contemplation, when laughing and loving was worth so much more.
When he was down to his scarlet silk boxers, London crawled up on the bed to join them. He had some idea as to what Asher wanted, so he took a chance. He knelt to one side of Penelope and ran his hand up the length of her leg and under the edge of her ruffled panties. Asher had one hand on her stomach as the other hand cupped her breast, alternating between gently stroking his thumb across her nipple, which was hard and pink, and pinching it until it peaked and she moaned and squirmed.
"Take them," Asher's eyes motioned to Penelope's panties, "but leave her heels on."
Penelope shifted in Asher's arms to give London better access. She looked back up at her master and smiled at him. She let her hands rest on his thighs which cradled her, giving them a gentle squeeze. She felt through the wool of his pants that his penis was hard and pressed into her lower back.
London knew he was now on his own. Asher would lay back and enjoy the show from this point on. He straddled Penelope's body with his boxers still in place, but betraying his excitement. He bent forward and kissed the space where her breasts parted. Asher had moved his hands to Penelope's shoulders so London took advantage of the opportunity to take her nipple as deeply into his mouth as he could with out nicking her. Asher's words about taking her blood still resonated with him.
Penelope moaned and pressed back further into Asher's body, digging her nails through the wool of his pants as his erection grew even harder. She wanted his pants off, to dig nails into his skin, to feel the velvety tip of him against her bare back.
London kissed and sucked each nipple in turn until they glistened. He raised his eyes to meet hers, appearing almost blind with fire and lust. He came up and claimed her lips exploring her mouth with his tongue as he ground his hips into hers. There was too much material between them, and that had to change.
Perhaps more quickly than Asher would have liked, London liberated Penelope of her panties, and then himself of his boxers. His control was not nearly what Asher's was, but up until this point he had tried his best. Trying was now over. He sat back on his heels, took her ankle in his hand and raised her leg, smoothing his hand down its length and placing it over his shoulder. As he lowered his head between her legs, her knee bent and the spiked heel of her shoe scraped down his back.
London supported her thigh with one hand, and with the other reached up to grasp the outstretched hand she offered to him. He kissed her belly and gradually moved lower until his tongue found her sex, which trembled below his touch. His tongue lightly flicked over her until her hips began to undulate in time with the soft moans escaping her mouth.
All the carefully orchestrated foreplay put Penelope on the razor's edge of orgasm, so Asher lent her some of his own practiced control to calm and ease her away from that edge. He wanted her to come, but not just yet. He whispered in her ear.
"What do you want, bien aimèe?" Asher squeezed her nipple hard between his fingers.
Penelope gasped, "I want him inside me."
"You heard your lady, chevalier."
London raised his head from between her thighs and moved his body forward, keeping her leg over his shoulder. As he entered her, he heard Asher groan. The master felt every touch, every caress, every spasm that the servant experienced.
The orgasm began to grow and intensify deep inside Penelope's body and she knew the only reason she had not come yet was because Asher was holding it off. She threw her head back.
"Kiss me, Asher, kiss me..."
London chose that moment to change his rhythm to something more animal, pounding himself into her and against Asher until she cried out. It was then that Asher turned her head to capture her cries of intense pleasure with his mouth. The force of her climax brought London as he let down all of his shields and allowed Penelope's magic to rip through him. Like before, it was as two powerful storm systems meeting and exploding all around them.
The only thing that kept Asher from climaxing himself was his sheer force of will. He had felt the power generated by London and Penelope before, but never in such proximity. The rush was incredible, and made his restraint over his own body fluctuate for just a moment before he gained control once more. He held his servant as she quivered with pleasure, and ran his fingers through London's damp curls after he collapsed on top of Penelope, spent, exhausted, and very satisfied.
London rolled off of them and lay on his back, panting.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," he said when he found the breath to form words. He was more than a little shamed that he could not hold out longer.
Penelope turned over and snuggled next to him, sandwiched between the two men.
"You were wonderful, luv, as always," she cooed. She was beginning to understand the elusive male ego, and whether vampire, lycanthrope or human, she knew now that it was as delicate as a fine porcelain vase.
She kissed him, to make sure he believed her. From behind she felt that Asher had removed his pants and nuzzled up against her, finally pressing his bare erection into her back.
Asher gently pressed Penelope's body over London's, essentially using him as leverage, and parted her thighs. He eased himself inside of her a little at a time until he was buried within her. London moved until he was in better position to kiss her lips while Asher slowly took her from behind.
The three found an easy rhythm, but it was not long before the same vision flashed in all of their minds. Something about their magic had formed a connection between them. Whether or not it was permanent was of no concern. Instead they simply went with it.
"I want you on top, bien aimèe." Asher pulled away and sat up against the headboard.
Penelope turned and straddled him. When he was fully inside her once again, she pulled his body to hers and kissed him, their arms wrapped around one another binding them as closely as possible.
Without prompt, London positioned himself behind Penelope, straddling Asher's legs and grasping Penelope's hips. He was not physically able to enter her in his present state, but he realized that this was what Asher had planned all along. They would both penetrate her at once, but this time London would get what he had long desired of her. Blood.
Asher caught London's gaze and instantly forged a connection with the dark vampire. London would know exactly when to strike. Until then he moved with Penelope as she rode Asher, kissing and caressing her back and neck, reaching around her body to hold and caress her breasts.
Penelope felt her magic grow along with the intensity within her body. The power and pleasure was building to an enormous crescendo and she suddenly knew it would be more than enough for her purpose. Perhaps even too much, but she let it build and build. Her body was on fire as her lovers' hands pushed her to the very edge of her pleasure threshold.
Asher let go the last of his own control and let his power bind them all. His hands slid easily over Penelope and London's bodies, damp with a thin layer of perspiration and trembling with desire. His lips found Penelope's once again and her blood filled his mouth when he deliberately bit her lower lip. He sucked, gently at first and then with more ferocity, until she moaned and cried out. He felt her body impossibly tighten around him. She was very close, and so was he.
"London..." Asher gasped.
The chevalier knew exactly what to do. He grasped Penelope's hair and pulled tightly until her head came back, extending her throat in a long line. He licked the creamy skin of her neck and took her mouth in a fervent kiss, lapping up the blood that decorated her lips. His eyes met Asher's. It was time.
The large artery in her neck pulsed, inviting him in to finally possess her totally, if only for a short time.
Asher roared, and London struck, locking his mouth to her flesh. As her blood hit the back of his throat he felt his body electrify with what felt like a thousand volts. It was more than he ever expected, and he never wanted it to end.
Penelope screamed with pleasure and almost drowned in power. The three of them together exploded in every direction, their bodies fused together and for the briefest of moments, became one. She drank in as much of the power as she could and pushed it forward towards the black void that gaped in front of her. The void she had kept carefully hidden from her lovers.
If only we could keep this all for ourselves, she thought. Next time. It was the most optimistic she had been since making this ultimate decision. There would be a next time.
Down the hall she felt Jean-Claude sit up in bed, cradling Anita in his arms, still dreamy from their lovemaking. Jason, who had been curled up next to them bolted and jumped from the bed. Elinore and Roderick clutched each other on the floor of her room where they had been dancing to an old fashioned tune when the power took her. Requiem raised his mouth from the thigh of the Italian sommelier he had seduced from Veritas, his eyes on fire. Everywhere in the Circus its inhabitants were reveling in the ecstasy the three of them provided. Penelope directed all of the power she could spare to them. Not simply for the pleasure it provided, but for the strength it would accord them should her plan go afoul.
When London could feed no more he threw his head back with a mighty growl. He felt powerful, then suddenly weak, but at the moment he was unconcerned.
Asher reached around Penelope and held London to them both. Her blood made London's heart beat fiercely, and her own heart brought Asher's pounding through his chest. Three beat as one, until Asher, spent beyond his limits, let London go, and fell back against the headboard with a thud.
Penelope fell forward into Asher’s chest as London rolled over to the side with her blood staining his lips and dripping down his chest, and the three of them lay touching and breathing heavily. The power they had unleashed was still swirling around them in an intricate dance of hot and cold. What should have brought exhaustion, particularly this close to dawn, exploded in energy throughout Penelope’s body. Both positive, and as she soon started to feel, negative as well.
Asher began to come back to his senses, so he rolled Penelope over and looked into her eyes. What he saw there was not the golden brown fire he had grown to expect, but inky blackness. Her eyes had gone black, pupil-less and as lifeless as a doll’s. Fear hit him and shocked him all the way back with an icy blast.
“Penelope?” he whispered.
I’m sorry, Asher, it was the only way.
Penelope did not have the energy to speak. She was using the last of what she had to swim once more through his mind. She had already used up the tremendous burst of power and she knew her plan was successful, at least in part, because she was already feeling the pull. If her ruse worked, she would have only moments to say what she had to say.
Asher felt her start to recede and roughly pulled her up into his arms.
What are you talking about? What has happened?
He taught me how to do it, you know, how to sever ties without hurting you. If it comes to that, I will not take you with me. But I think… I think, it might actually work. I have always tried to be optimistic…
Her voice laughed, drunk with the power she had just unleashed, and her words in his mind kept going in and out. She sounded confused and it was hard to decipher what she was saying. He dispensed with the mind to mind and yelled, trying to shake or shock her awake.
“Penelope! Penelope!”
London was suddenly alert, but feeling terribly drained, as if Penelope had taken a great deal of his power and redirected it. After a feeding like that he should have felt wonderful. He looked at them and thought, something is very wrong!
Penelope could see nothing. But somewhere deep inside she could still feel Asher pulling at her. Willing her to stay with him. But she could not. If she could do this one small thing, perhaps she could finally put behind her all her past mistakes.
I love you. I love you.
Blackness
*************************************************************
The door was there, like it had always been before. Closed. Locked. Cold. But this time something was different. This time the handle reached out towards her, beckoning her forward. Disembodied words echoed in her head, each syllable bringing fresh pain searing throughout her body.
Come. Come, little one. Come closer to the door. You need only touch it to enter the chamber. I have been waiting for you.
Penelope could see the door right in front of her, but it was distorted and grotesque. She was never meant to get this far. This door was not for her to enter. The voice came again, but this time without the gentleness of before. The pain grew exponentially.
Wait. Wait! You feel different to me little one. You do not feel the same as before, you are less. You are too hot. Yet the power felt like Jean-Claude’s. Yes? No. You are not she. You are an impostor! How dare you attempt to cheat me!
The door began to rattle and shake, but Penelope could not back away. Black smoke began to gather from around the frame, seeping out with long spindly fingers reaching for Penelope’s throat, choking her, constricting her, driving her to her knees.
I expected more from Jean-Claude than this pathetic attempt to fool me with a substitute who would never survive.
Penelope had no words. She thought she could feel her body breaking as the smoke enveloped her, squeezing like a vise. Her eyes were closing. Her thoughts came slogging like a shovel through wet cement. Will she not come to help me, even now?
Penelope feared her gamble had failed. She reached down for the last bit of power she had saved to cut her tie with Asher, when something or someone grabbed her shoulder and pulled her violently back into a hazy void.
Time was frozen.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the grass in a vaguely familiar and sunny meadow. Spring flowers surrounded her like a moat, and a warm breeze fanned through her hair. A long gone but familiar voice questioned her from behind.
“Bonjour, Penelope.”
She slowly turned, wincing in pain, to face her savior.
“Bonjour, Helene.”
"The office door is locked, and I seem to have misplaced my key. Oh merde!"
Asher frantically searched through the pockets of his black Armani suit. It was simple and elegant, with a cream colored silk shirt underneath, open collar, no tie. In his lapel was a gold and diamond stickpin bearing his family crest, and on his hand the gold and blue diamond ring that was seldom off his finger these days. In the pocket closest to his heart was the handkerchief he had anointed with Penelope's perfume.
"I have the key, ma mei." Penelope smiled and unlocked the door. She stepped aside and allowed Asher to enter first.
He hurried past her because he was affording himself the luxury of nervousness. He couldn't hide his excitement from her anyway, so he didn't try. He felt Penelope sending him waves of calmness and the feel of her enfolded his entire body in a warmth almost as satisfying as her blood.
He fumbled for the lights mumbling in French about his own stupidity when he suddenly stopped dead and went very still.
Penelope pulled back her calm control for a moment and could feel a slow build of emotion welling up from deep inside of him as he caught sight of something that had not been there before.
"One of your 'Opening Night' gifts, my love." She took his hand and led him to the desk.
"Penelope? Where? How?" His pale blue eyes were alive with questions, delight, and sorrow, all at once.
Behind the desk was a beautiful glass and inlaid wood cabinet with a single spotlight shining from the ceiling illuminating it's only contents. A lone bottle of wine. Asher recognized it immediately as the last vintage from his family's winery.
"A friend sent word to me many years ago that the last of your family's label was going up for auction at Christies."
"Requiem," He breathed. Asher knew that only the poet-vampire would have had the means, or the motive to preserve something from his past.
"Yes."
He walked slowly over to the case, turned and spoke with an uncharacteristically choked up chuckle.
"It is surely undrinkable." He approached the cabinet, afraid to even touch the glass for fear it may disintegrate before his eyes.
"Would you? Even if you could?" Penelope slipped behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist.
"To taste, just once more, the sweetness of my forefather's toil?" he sighed, "Perhaps." The toil that he had allowed to go to ruin.
Asher could not verbalize all the emotions flowing through him, so instead he let Penelope see a montage of images from his human memory. Racing through the deep green vines in summer, chasing his sisters as they screamed in delight. Watching his father inspect the underside of leaves for aphids and learning to identify different types of grapes simply from the leaves. Sitting on his grandfather's knee in the cellar as he tasted and combined different herbs and fruits to mix with the slowly fermenting juices in the enormous oak barrels that lined the cavernous room. The grand ballroom of their estate alive with candlelight and music as the new wines were debuted for the first time. Making love to a fair haired village girl under the oak tree at mid-day, drinking a bottle of Bordeaux he had made himself and eating homemade cheese from her uncle's shop. His father screaming that if he left the estate, he was never to return, as he rode away towards Paris, leaving behind his family and failing crops for the splendor of the city and hopes of even greater fortunes in the bed of a dark-haired, honey-eyed noblewoman.
Asher turned to her with tears brimming his eyes. He reached for his handkerchief to catch them before they could fall and stain the silk of his shirt.
"I have made you sad?" Penelope frowned, thinking that perhaps her gift had been ill timed and keenly feeling the emotional maelstrom that threatened to overtake him.
He caught her up tightly in his arms, "Non! Non! It is the most wonderful gift you could ever give. I never thought I would see it again, and now here, in this office I have so many of the things that I have loved." He motioned to the painting of his childhood home, the bottle in the case, "and you, Penelope. You have helped me banish so many of the phantoms of my past."
Asher felt calm come over him once again as he kissed her tenderly. Then there was a soft rap at the open door.
"Am I interrupting?" A flash of brilliant blue eyes entered the room tentatively.
"Requiem! I suppose I must thank you as well." Asher extended a hand to the tall dark vampire who was not always at ease with him.
"No thanks are necessary. At the time, my master was collecting rare wines, I saw the opportunity and took a chance on what the future might bring for you." He clasped Asher's outstretched hand and winked at Penelope.
Asher sensed that Requiem wanted a moment alone with her and graciously left in search of the chef to ensure all was prepared.
I will thank you properly, later, bien aimèe. You know what this means to me.
When Asher was gone, Requiem held out his hand to her and they sat on the couch.
"You look radiant! Love suits you." There was no pretentious poetry between them. Only friendship.
"Thank you, and despite your protests, you know I owe a great deal of my happiness to you."
"I only nudged you, dear Penelope, you are the one who took the leap."
"I have been waiting to hear from you for weeks, but you have avoided my company," she frowned with feigned scorn.
"You have been, how shall I say, otherwise engaged." He grinned.
"I would have made time for you."
"You would have had to get dressed." Requiem mused, taking a rare good natured stab at his friend.
Penelope hit him with her fist.
"Ow!"
"Seriously, Requiem, why nothing from you? With all that was going on with Asher and London, not one word?"
"You had to make your own choices. And you made the correct ones, as I knew you would. It feels good to love and be loved, does it not?"
"Yes." She blushed and Requiem held her chin up gently.
"London is happier than I have ever seen him. That is something. He has been my friend for a long time, and it does my heart good to see him so content. And I could say the same of Asher, although I never had the pleasure of his company before he was scarred. But he glows when he is around you, when he is thinking of you, and not from any vampire magic."
Requiem rose and kissed her hand. "I believe your time has come. May I escort you to the main floor, milady? Your public awaits, and I must say that I am planning to taste one or two of your delicious Italians."
"Oh! I had to use all my powers of persuasion for Asher to keep those wines on the list!"
Requiem chuckled, "I was referring to two of the exquisite sommeliers you hired, what are their names? Giovanna and Marcella?"
Penelope laughed, took his arm, and went to meet the public.
**************************************************************
Penelope left Requiem to join Asher, who stood very still staring at the entrance, clutching his handkerchief to his nose. His anxiety was still fluctuating although anyone who looked at him would never guess. Only Penelope felt the full force of it and she took all that she could and returned to him as much calm as she could muster.
All was ready, and the staff was poised and prepared. Asher had drilled them for hours over the last week on the proper way to serve and pour, and had personally inspected all of their crisp black uniforms. Black open collared shirts for both the men and women, black pants, even black towels. Nothing was to take away from the color and beauty of the decor or the wines. The wait staff was chosen for their knowledge of wine, and each had to pass a rigorous test given by the sommeliers.
For the opening tonight each table had a gold bucket icing a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne and engraved copies of the special menu including the wine flights, as well as large arrangements of deep red and gold Gerber daisies. Although the invited guests would not have a choice, Asher and Penelope, along with the chef, chose something for every palate.
To start there was butternut squash soup with chestnut & pumpkin seed, followed by an appetizer of lobster risotto infused with sauteed locally grown mushrooms. A light lemon-mint sorbet preceded the main course for the evening which was stuffed quail with apple & fennel, a request from Asher. A special course consisted of various French and Italian cheeses, a request from Penelope. But it was the desserts that were truly remarkable, if anyone in fact had room for them. Almond tart with brandied cherries, or blackberry tart, specially made for the Master of the City. Asher's particular dedication to his best friend did not go unnoticed. All of the courses were paired with wines from all over the world, but of course three of the five were French, as was the champagne.
Security was tight, but virtually invisible. London, in concert with the security company that had done all of the electronics, created a central security hub that monitored every inch of Veritas with cameras. Discreetly armed guards were strategically placed throughout the building, and on the roof were four military trained members of the Rodere. Inside were several Hyena guards, including Castor and Pollux who were always only steps away from Asher and Penelope.
The WickedTruth, dressed as guests, wandered the bar, casually chatting with other guards to hide their true purpose. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get Truth out of his boiled leather and into a Hugo Boss suit, but Jean-Claude promised that if anyone needed killing, Truth would have first dibs on their head. Wicked, of course, found no difficulty in custom made brown Gucci. He even carried a glass of Pinot Noir for show, bringing it to his nose from time to time. Damian served as official host for the evening, exuding charm that hid his very capable nature as protector. For him it was a welcome respite from the groping hands and bleating music of Danse Macabre.
Penelope slipped her hand into Asher's.
Are you ready?
There will be many photographers
Penelope had no trouble guessing what was at the heart of his anxiety.
You are the most beautiful being in the room, ma mei. On this I do not lie.
He kissed her hand. I know you think so, but I do not know if I am prepared for the world to see me as I am now.
Asher's hair was done so to hide the scarred side of his face. It was not unknown to the press that Jean-Claude's second was disfigured, but up until now they had managed to keep the details of the story behind his scars unknown. Asher knew that the modern journalism machine would not be content to hear that he had been the victim of an unfortunate accident. He had spoken to both Jean-Claude and Penelope about it, and they were all aware that Asher's story may indeed become public knowledge. Enough of their enemies knew their sad tale and would be more than happy to share with the press, which is why security had done rigorous background checks on all the journalists. They had done all they could to keep the tabloids out, but if there was one modern lesson Jean-Claude and Asher had learned, it was that nothing was fool proof.
Penelope squeezed his hand and sent a shimmer of her magic flowing through her and into him.
We will face the world together. Always.
The doors opened and in came the society of St. Louis, along with the press, local television celebrities, judges, politicians, and even lycanthrope royalty.
Donovan Reece strode in alone, choosing not to draw any more attention to himself than necessary. However, he was a connoisseur of fine wines and explained to Asher that he would not have missed this night for all the world.
Next came Rafael sans date, as usual. After greeting Asher and formally meeting Penelope, he excused himself to check with his people who he had hand picked for security detail. Penelope found him both charming and imposing, but sad. She wanted to ask Asher why, but held back her questions for another time. She felt more at ease with the Rat King after she saw him sipping a glass of Cabernet, smiling and chatting with Donovan.
Penelope felt Asher tense every time he heard the click of a camera shutter, but refrained from constantly reassuring him. He had to believe himself beautiful. It was the only way he would ever get over his self-consciousness.
Most of the rest of the VIPs were strictly human. Both Narcissus and Richard had sent their regrets. Narcissus was hosting a bash at the club that had been planned for months, and Richard was on a weekend camping trip with his Biology students. Micah was on a Coalition trip, but made sure that the leopards were well represented by Nathaniel who looked regal in winter white and lavender.
At last, the Master of the City and his human servant arrived, followed closely by Jason, in grand style of course. Flashbulbs popped from all around the vestibule.
Jean-Claude looked magnificent in black velvet pants and a deep red silk shirt. A black velvet opera coat embroidered with scarlet thread topped off his look. Anita matched him in style if not color. A strapless dark blue velvet dress, A-lined, with matching coat. Penelope knew there were weapons hidden underneath her finery, but couldn't tell where. The camouflage was perfect. She rushed to embrace Anita, completely forgetting that it was customary to greet the Master of the City first. Jean-Claude was so tickled that Anita actually had a friend who still talked to her that he did not mind in the least.
"Anita!" Penelope squeezed her so tightly that she figured out where at least one of her guns was hidden.
"Penny!" Anita smiled even with flash bulbs erupting all around her.
"I have missed you," Penelope whispered.
"I know, me too. That's the one thing that sucks about actually having friends. You miss them too much when you don't see them."
The two women started to chatter, but Jean-Claude gently reminded them that they were on display and perhaps should save the girl talk for later. They fake frowned at the scolding and joined hands with their respective masters.
A special table was set up for the four of them, and as soon as everyone was seated the toast was made by Jean-Claude himself.
"Peux j'avoir votre attention!" He clinked a spoon against the side of his crystal champagne flute.
Jean-Claude didn't need to use magic to garner the attention of the crowd. His charisma and the silkiness of his natural voice filled the room and embraced everyone in it.
"I would like to propose the first toast of many that I am certain will be given in these beautiful surroundings for many years to come."
He looked around at all the A-listers of St. Louis as they sat rapt with attention at his every word. He could not help but smile wickedly thinking that only a few years before most of the humans in the room would not have been seen walking in the Blood District let alone sitting in one of his clubs or socializing with vampires or lycanthropes. Now they paid top dollar to simply glide in the same social circle. How times change, he thought.
"To my Temoin, Asher and his brilliant servant Penelope, for bringing a bit of old world charm to my city. For providing us with the most cultivated selection of fine wine and champagne in the Midwest!"
The crowd applauded and stood, raising their glasses in Asher and Penelope's direction. The photographers snapped away, while one in particular lurked in the background, not taking nearly as many pictures as the rest.
Asher cautiously rose clutching Penelope's hand.
Do you think this is the last of the photographs, bien aimèe?
Asher, it is only the beginning. You are doing marvelously.
Ah, yes, but the interviews have not yet begun.
The journalists were asked to depart during the dinner, but a buffet was being provided for them in a separate banqueting hall. At eleven PM selected members of the press could re-enter to get their pictures and interviews, and at midnight they would respectfully be asked to depart so that the real party could begin. All had agreed to these terms. Or so Asher and Jean-Claude thought.
The dinner and tasting proceeded with perfection. The chef emerged from the kitchen to a round of applause and the sommeliers were hardly able to keep up with demand. Much to every one's surprise Anita had two servings of blackberry tart and two glasses of wine. Jean-Claude was looking decidedly catlike with an ear to ear smile as he sat back in his chair and casually stroked his servants thigh. She whispered something to him and all he replied was, "Anything you desire, ma petite, anything."
As eleven turned to eleven-thirty Asher and Penelope talked with reporters while their guests drank and marveled at the artwork and architecture of the space. A Jazz trio, the same one London had recommended, performed, and some of the guests took an opportunity to slow dance, or sit in front of the fireplaces chatting.
Jean-Claude worked the room while Anita got the security grand tour and set herself up in the HUB, watching the video feed for any abnormalities. She kept telling Jean-Claude that something was off, so he indulged her sixth sense by excusing her presence from socializing.
A tall dark man with journalist's credentials approached Penelope as Asher was finishing up an interview with Food and Wine.
"Penelope?"
"Yes?"
"Hello there! My name is Mark Fontaine, and I work for a new wine magazine called, Through a Wine Glass Darkly. I would love to talk with you a bit about Asher's ancestral vineyard. I understand that it was once one of France's most successful wineries."
"Yes, it was, how do you know?"
"I do my research, Penelope. I am sorry, but I arrived a bit late and missed the tour. Do you think it would be possible for me to at least see your allegedly magnificent cellar? My readers would be rabid to know what it contains."
Mr. Fontaine moved very close to Penelope, and she stepped back to give herself some space. He seemed harmless enough, although he smelled vaguely of tobacco. His credentials were in order, but something about him didn't feel quite right. She felt as though something was pressing all around her, wrapping her body in flannel or wool. She tried to shrug it off, as there were quite a few powerful people in the room, and it was difficult for her to pinpoint exactly where the feeling was coming from. She looked into his dark eyes, but could see nothing there but interest. If she knew what he was actually interested in she would have dropped him to the floor instead of inviting him to walk to the cellar with her to see to see their collection.
"Well I would not want to disappoint your readers, Mr. Fontaine."
Penelope looked at Asher who was finally looking and feeling at ease with the reporters, so instead of interrupting him, she offered to take Mr. Fontaine to the cellar herself. What harm could there be? Castor or Pollux was sure to follow her. She often had to remind them to stay outside the door of the Ladies room.
"Could I possibly meet you there, Penelope? I must use the Little Boy's room."
"Of course."
Penelope and Castor went downstairs to the state of the art cellar and waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally a very distressed looking London arrived in a blur in the corridor.
"Are you alright?" He grabbed her shoulders with a face that was drawn with worry.
"Of course we are all right. We were just waiting for this reporter who wanted a tour, but never showed up."
"The cameras in this hallway went dark."
"What?"
Just then, Anita and Wicked came around the corner guns drawn.
"Is everyone okay?" Anita checked the entire corridor, just as a voice came over London's radio that the cameras were once again up.
Penelope explained what had happened and about Mr. Fontaine. Anita and Wicked went to check up on the mysterious reporter, leaving London, Penelope and Castor alone.
"Castor," London spoke lowly, "do you think you could give us a minute? I think I am capable of protecting her for a short time."
Castor reluctantly retreated to the staircase, leaving them alone.
London rushed at her and crushed her in a tight embrace.
"God! Penelope! The cameras went dark, I couldn't reach Castor on his radio. I didn't know what had happened." He kissed her with relief.
"I'm fine, luv, fine." she stroked his damp curls away from his face, "you're sweating!"
"It does not matter, you are safe. I overreacted." London took a breath that he did not need, but that made him feel calmer.
They took their few stolen moments to kiss and caress one another, feeling the need in each other's bodies.
"I like the suit. It's very, black!" Penelope teased, after their little make-out session was over.
"Not everything I have on is black." He guided her hand to his belt buckle, then lower and she knew exactly what he meant.
Penelope looked away from his eyes which always seemed to bore right through her.
He sighed, "I will not see you tonight."
London's matter of fact statement shadowed his face with momentary sadness.
"No." Penelope had been very clear that tonight was Asher's night. All of it, and all of her, belonged to him.
"I know, I understand." London kissed the tip of her nose lightly and smiled. "I love you. Go back to the party."
Castor escorted Penelope back to Asher's side.
What happened?
Nothing to worry about. I got, as Jason would say, 'ditched' by a reporter. I guess he realized I was not as interesting as he thought I was!
Totally untrue, bien aimèe, totally untrue.
Do you see what time it is?
Asher sighed and said aloud with much amusement, "Midnight!"
The press left and Asher visibly relaxed, even taking time to sample a few wines until Penelope exclaimed that he would be carrying her home if she drank any more.
"That can easily be arranged, and then I can have my way with you," he teased.
"You have never needed wine for that, my love, " she hiccuped and covered her mouth in embarrassment.
"Okay, assez! Enough!" Asher laughed as he took her glass away, "no more wine tonight!"
The crowd began to thin at around one AM and by the time they closed at one-thirty the staff was so busy taking reservations that they had booked every table for the next month. Asher, Penelope, Jean-Claude and Anita gathered in the office with the women chattering on the couch with their heels scattered on the floor and Asher showing off his gift to Jean-Claude.
Jason peeked in the door to tell Jean-Claude that their limo was ready to take them home, and that Asher and Penelope's would be up shortly.
"Time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain, sweetheart," Anita grinned at the Master of the City. "You promised!"
"Ma petite, there is nothing I want more than to make good on my word."
They glided out the door as Jason made a number of lewd comments that were met with both Anita and Jean-Claude yelling in unison, "JASON!"
Penelope laughed as she reached down to put her shoes back on.
"Allow me." Asher was at her feet stroking his hand up her leg and pushing up her dress until he had a clear view of her ruffled panties. He leaned in to lay a kiss on the inside of each of her thighs.
Penelope moaned and tried to draw his head between her legs. Right here on the floor, or home at the Circus, she wanted him.
"Non, not yet. Let's go home."
For the second time tonight they were interrupted with a knock on the door. London cleared his throat.
"Pollux said you asked to see me?"
Penelope quickly rearranged her dress.
Asher sat up, "Yes, is everything squared away?"
"Yes. They are compiling the security tapes for review tomorrow night. Still no word back from the magazine about our mysterious Mr. Fontaine, but I have their assurance that by the time we awaken tomorrow we will know what happened to him. There was a Fontaine on the Press Kit list, but strangely his picture has gone missing."
"That is disturbing."
"I agree. But there is nothing more we can do tonight."
"And on that, we both agree." Asher looked at Penelope, and then back to London. "Are you ready to go home?"
London frowned. There was no where else he could go, even though it would be home to an empty bed tonight. He nodded.
"Good!" Asher got up and pulled Penelope with him, "Then you will ride with us."
"As you wish," London shrugged.
"As a matter of fact," Asher walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder, "We desire that you stay with us tonight, if you would like."
It was a formal invitation, as in the old days. Asher had made this decision, and tonight seemed to be the perfect occasion. London would understand that this was not an invitation into Asher's bed, it was an invitation into Penelope and Asher's bed. Their time had passed, but the future was starting to present many more pleasant opportunities than either vampire ever dreamt would come their way.
London couldn't help the wicked smile that crossed his face, and although he hesitated for a split second there was never any question to what his answer would be. He had imagined this invitation for some time and understood what it implied.
"I most definitely would like that, very much," he looked from Asher to his Scarlet Lady and smiled.
Asher turned to Penelope. "One of your 'Opening Night' gifts, bien aimèe."
Penelope felt her body ignite as they both gazed at her with lust. She had not realized how badly she wanted this until it was offered to her. Both of them, together, their naked bodies on either side of her, making love to her at once. She could scarcely breathe.
"Do you mean..."
"Yes, I do."
Asher took her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely leaving no question as to his arousal over the idea. When he released her lips he roughly turned her around, clasping her body to his, so London could see the aftereffect of his kiss.
Penelope's eyes were half closed and she softly gasped. Asher's kiss held all the potential of unbridled desire, and she wanted everything it promised. Everything.
"Shall we go home?" Asher's smile was as licentious as ever.
London's own arousal was spiking so high that there was also no question about how exciting he found it to watch them kiss. It was surprising to him. Surprising, but not unwelcome. He felt himself tremble as he simply nodded his agreement.
The three of them went upstairs to the waiting limo.
Back to index
Chapter 19- Chance Encounters by nicola71
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Lots of hugs to Subbie who has taken over beta duties for me! A bit of a smex warning for this chapter...
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Penelope stood in front of the bathroom mirror momentarily entranced by the reflection that stared back at her. This was not the same woman she was used to seeing. This woman was flush with life and passion, and appetites. She was aroused and excited, and in love with two men who made her very happy. Which made her decision all the more insane.
The madness behind what she was about to do made no sense, but she knew it was do it now, or do it never. The love that welled inside her heart for the two men who awaited her in the other room, had driven her to this decision. This new love, and an old one that she had tried very hard to forget but which kept pecking at her heart, had finally forced her hand. This was the only way to ensure the future. Their future. She kept telling herself it would work. It had to work.
She washed her hands, dried them, turned out the light and closed the door.
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Asher lit several candles around their room, and turned down the bed to reveal dark chocolate silk sheets. He looked over to see Penelope leaning in the doorway, watching him.
"Quoi?" he smiled and lit the last candle on the bedside table.
"Nothing. I just never tire of watching you move."
He seductively peeled off his jacket and unbuttoned almost all the buttons of his shirt. Underneath the silk his muscles moved sinuously and with purpose as he stretched his body out across the bed. London was already seated on the corner with his own jacket folded neatly on the leather chair. Asher kicked off his shoes and let them fall to the floor.
"Penelope," He softly commanded, "come stand before London, please."
She walked slowly over until she stood right in front of her knight. She looked to Asher for direction, but it was not her that he planned on directing.
"I had the pleasure of dressing you earlier tonight, bien aimèe, now I would like to watch London undress you."
Asher had always been a voyeur, even before his scars relegated him to the darkest corners of Belle's court. For a time, watching was all he was allowed to do, but he found pleasure in it just the same. He would have made himself content with that if Belle had not decided that her own pleasure lay in making him suffer, not fulfilling his desires.
London rose from the bed and walked around Penelope until he stood right behind her. He swept her hair to the side leaving the back of her neck bare. He left just enough room between them so that their bodies did not touch, but he knew that she could feel his aura pressing against her own. He had, of course, played games such as these before, but never with someone he truly loved. And although London would not describe himself as a submissive in any way, his skin still prickled with excitement.
Asher breathed deeply of the sexual arousal that filled the room, and smiled at the thought of so much energy buffeting around the Circus tonight. He thought there would be more than a few satisfied denizens in the morning if they took advantage of it. It was about time!
"Unzip her dress. Slowly."
London did as he was commanded, with pleasure.
"Run your finger along her back. Feel the satin of her bustier with your skin. Is she trembling?"
"Yes, she is." London breathed the words with a low, sexy growl. His eyes had already bled to their onyx fire as desire pulsed through him.
Asher knew she was trembling already. With their marks wide open, he could feel every subtle shudder and every increasing beat of her heart. His own heart sped up in time with hers. It had been far too long since he had catered to his own desires and tastes. Even with Jean-Claude and Anita, he was at their whim. But not tonight. Tonight he would be selfish. Tonight he would have what he wanted, given to him freely and with love by his servant. His servant. His lover. Only one change of player would make it perfect. But he had recently learned that there was much more to his existence than the pursuit of perfection.
"Let the dress fall to the floor, London."
Penelope stood there before them both in the scarlet satin bustier and ruffled panties that Asher had chosen, and let her magic start to swell and flow through her. She had successfully shared her magic with both her lovers and was eager to see what would happen. Eager, excited and scared to death. She hoped that Asher would mistake any fear she had with arousal and excitement. She silently thought, please do not guess my darker purpose!
Asher was posed on the bed, leaning on his elbow, his long body slightly curled. His hair was away from his face. He need not hide from either of them.
"Reach around and unhook the top three hooks of the bustier, I want to see the creamy flesh of her breasts peeking out from between all that scarlet."
The only way London could accomplish this was by encircling her waist with his arms and leaning his face over her shoulder, not touching her cheek, but dangerously close. He delicately used his fingers to open the front of the bustier. Releasing only the top three hooks exposed the swell of her breasts, which were barely contained as it was. He stroked the crevice between them with his thumb, and moved his mouth to her neck.
"I did not tell you to kiss her neck, or any other part of her body, mon chevalier. You forget yourself."
Asher's voice was stern, but not in the least bit cold. In fact, it was full of warmth and amusement. He was enjoying every moment of his orchestrations.
London grinned at him with an impish flash of fang.
"As you wish." He blew a warm breeze of breath over the artery pulsing in Penelope's neck and squeezed her between his arms. He closed his eyes and let her scent wash over his senses, smiling at her barely audible moan and labored breathing.
"Take the last of the pins out of her hair, let it flow freely around her shoulders. I like it that way." Asher could feel Penelope's body aching to be touched. Touched by London and touched by her master. By him. How many years had he waited to be wanted with such ferocity as this? But he would not give her what she wanted so easily.
When her hair was unbound, Asher came up off the bed and stood in front of her for a brief moment. He smelled the air around her which was alive with her perfume, and under that, the smell of her. He raised his hand to stroke her hair, then teasingly pulled it back and went to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt all the way out of his pants and discarding it on the floor. He sat down and leaned back on his arms, flexing the muscles in his biceps and chest, the rippling washboard of his stomach. Even the scars that painted him could not hide the tight tone of his body, just the way the fine Italian wool could not hide the growing erection in his trousers.
Penelope's head was swirling. Maybe it was the wine, or what she planned to do, or maybe it was just that she wanted these two men so much. Was it wrong? It didn't feel wrong when their hands were on each other. It didn't look wrong when she gazed into their eyes and saw them burning for her. It didn't sound wrong when they said they loved her or when she said she loved them. It was not wrong. Not wrong in the least.
"London," Asher spoke with just a touch of force, digging down and finding that part of him that he often suppressed for the benefit of others. "Take off your shirt and stand in front of her. Turn her to the side so I may have a clear view of you both."
The knight led Penelope by the hand so that they were within touching distance of Asher, which was a bit closer than the blond vampire had planned, but he allowed it because right now it was what he wanted. He reminded himself that tonight was about his desires and he would deny himself nothing.
London's eyes seemed to erupt in flames as he looked at Penelope and slowly took his shirt off one button at a time.
The stark contrast of his pale hands against the ebony silk held her eyes spellbound as he revealed his muscular chest and tossed his shirt away.
"Kiss her."
Finally! London thought as he moved close to her, slid his arm around her waist and gently pulled her to him until her body was tight against his and her head tilted back just enough to give him complete access to her full kissable lips. It was almost always this way between them, gentle and easy. Almost always.
Asher watched as he had forced London to watch earlier, but he also felt. He had penetrated Penelope's mind completely, so as she drowned in pleasure and desire, so did he. It was warm and increasing in intensity like a newborn fire fed with fresh wood. Once it got going, there would be little to stop it.
Penelope melted into the kiss. London's kisses always swathed her in black velvet, and this kiss was no different even though they had an audience. Her mind was open, but even by allowing Asher to have full control, there was still plenty of room for London as well. She sighed in his mouth as she felt both vampires' power spread throughout her body and mind, and on many levels, begin to consume her. Just as I suspected, good. She sighed once more as this last lucid thought passed over her.
The two vampires were cautious of one another, but curious too, as their powers nudged against and ultimately mingled with one another. It was familiar to them both and new at the same time. They had never included a third when they were together so many centuries ago.
When London released her, he noticed a thin rivulet of blood easing down her chin. He had gotten carried away and nicked her lip or tongue. Asher was up in a blur.
"I definitely did not say you could bleed her, chevalier."
Asher put his hands on Penelope's shoulders and leaned in as if to kiss her. Instead, he licked the blood as it threatened to drip onto her chest. He licked up every drop and turned to London, and with the taste of both of them on his tongue said, "Her blood will be yours only when I say it will be yours."
London nodded, knowing full well the rules of this game.
Asher passed Penelope back to London and went back to the bed, resuming his previous position.
"Take the bustier off completely. I want to see her."
The scarlet satin was gone in an instant leaving her large taut breasts exposed.
Asher slid back on the bed until he was sitting against the headboard. He held his hands out to London.
"Bring her to me."
London lifted Penelope into his arms and carried her to Asher's waiting lap. Asher spread his legs, his pants still on but straining from the force of his arousal, and London lay Penelope between them. Asher became her very own 'living' couch.
"You may undress all the way, chevalier. We will watch." He turned Penelope's face to his. Her eyes were burning in brown and gold fire, as fiercely as his own burned an icy blue. He reached out to her mind.
Watch him, bien aimèe, watch him. Is he not beautiful?
Asher could not help but remember another occasion when he watched London disrobe. They needed each other so much at that time. Needed each other to try to quash the pain and humiliation of their existence. For a time, it worked. But like all things in Belle's sphere of influence, it came to an excruciating conclusion. Although neither vampire would elect to eliminate the memories of what they endured, tonight, in this room, they would replace those sad recollections with something else. Something beautiful.
As are you, mon adoreè, as are you.
Penelope reached up and drew Asher to her lips for a long sensuous kiss. After a few moments, a cough disrupted them.
"I am attempting a 'strip-tease' here, it would be nice to have your attention!" London had his arms folded across his chest, his belt half undone. He was tapping his foot, but the smirk on his face betrayed his true feelings.
Asher and Penelope laughed.
"Pardonnez-nous, mon chevalier! Continuez, s'il vous plaît!"
Their combined laughter lightened the mood a bit, and all three relaxed as the once morose vampire now playfully stripped for the couple.
London had not smiled or laughed so much in centuries, as he did now that Penelope was in his life. He thought what a shame it was, all those wasted years in sombre contemplation, when laughing and loving was worth so much more.
When he was down to his scarlet silk boxers, London crawled up on the bed to join them. He had some idea as to what Asher wanted, so he took a chance. He knelt to one side of Penelope and ran his hand up the length of her leg and under the edge of her ruffled panties. Asher had one hand on her stomach as the other hand cupped her breast, alternating between gently stroking his thumb across her nipple, which was hard and pink, and pinching it until it peaked and she moaned and squirmed.
"Take them," Asher's eyes motioned to Penelope's panties, "but leave her heels on."
Penelope shifted in Asher's arms to give London better access. She looked back up at her master and smiled at him. She let her hands rest on his thighs which cradled her, giving them a gentle squeeze. She felt through the wool of his pants that his penis was hard and pressed into her lower back.
London knew he was now on his own. Asher would lay back and enjoy the show from this point on. He straddled Penelope's body with his boxers still in place, but betraying his excitement. He bent forward and kissed the space where her breasts parted. Asher had moved his hands to Penelope's shoulders so London took advantage of the opportunity to take her nipple as deeply into his mouth as he could with out nicking her. Asher's words about taking her blood still resonated with him.
Penelope moaned and pressed back further into Asher's body, digging her nails through the wool of his pants as his erection grew even harder. She wanted his pants off, to dig nails into his skin, to feel the velvety tip of him against her bare back.
London kissed and sucked each nipple in turn until they glistened. He raised his eyes to meet hers, appearing almost blind with fire and lust. He came up and claimed her lips exploring her mouth with his tongue as he ground his hips into hers. There was too much material between them, and that had to change.
Perhaps more quickly than Asher would have liked, London liberated Penelope of her panties, and then himself of his boxers. His control was not nearly what Asher's was, but up until this point he had tried his best. Trying was now over. He sat back on his heels, took her ankle in his hand and raised her leg, smoothing his hand down its length and placing it over his shoulder. As he lowered his head between her legs, her knee bent and the spiked heel of her shoe scraped down his back.
London supported her thigh with one hand, and with the other reached up to grasp the outstretched hand she offered to him. He kissed her belly and gradually moved lower until his tongue found her sex, which trembled below his touch. His tongue lightly flicked over her until her hips began to undulate in time with the soft moans escaping her mouth.
All the carefully orchestrated foreplay put Penelope on the razor's edge of orgasm, so Asher lent her some of his own practiced control to calm and ease her away from that edge. He wanted her to come, but not just yet. He whispered in her ear.
"What do you want, bien aimèe?" Asher squeezed her nipple hard between his fingers.
Penelope gasped, "I want him inside me."
"You heard your lady, chevalier."
London raised his head from between her thighs and moved his body forward, keeping her leg over his shoulder. As he entered her, he heard Asher groan. The master felt every touch, every caress, every spasm that the servant experienced.
The orgasm began to grow and intensify deep inside Penelope's body and she knew the only reason she had not come yet was because Asher was holding it off. She threw her head back.
"Kiss me, Asher, kiss me..."
London chose that moment to change his rhythm to something more animal, pounding himself into her and against Asher until she cried out. It was then that Asher turned her head to capture her cries of intense pleasure with his mouth. The force of her climax brought London as he let down all of his shields and allowed Penelope's magic to rip through him. Like before, it was as two powerful storm systems meeting and exploding all around them.
The only thing that kept Asher from climaxing himself was his sheer force of will. He had felt the power generated by London and Penelope before, but never in such proximity. The rush was incredible, and made his restraint over his own body fluctuate for just a moment before he gained control once more. He held his servant as she quivered with pleasure, and ran his fingers through London's damp curls after he collapsed on top of Penelope, spent, exhausted, and very satisfied.
London rolled off of them and lay on his back, panting.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," he said when he found the breath to form words. He was more than a little shamed that he could not hold out longer.
Penelope turned over and snuggled next to him, sandwiched between the two men.
"You were wonderful, luv, as always," she cooed. She was beginning to understand the elusive male ego, and whether vampire, lycanthrope or human, she knew now that it was as delicate as a fine porcelain vase.
She kissed him, to make sure he believed her. From behind she felt that Asher had removed his pants and nuzzled up against her, finally pressing his bare erection into her back.
Asher gently pressed Penelope's body over London's, essentially using him as leverage, and parted her thighs. He eased himself inside of her a little at a time until he was buried within her. London moved until he was in better position to kiss her lips while Asher slowly took her from behind.
The three found an easy rhythm, but it was not long before the same vision flashed in all of their minds. Something about their magic had formed a connection between them. Whether or not it was permanent was of no concern. Instead they simply went with it.
"I want you on top, bien aimèe." Asher pulled away and sat up against the headboard.
Penelope turned and straddled him. When he was fully inside her once again, she pulled his body to hers and kissed him, their arms wrapped around one another binding them as closely as possible.
Without prompt, London positioned himself behind Penelope, straddling Asher's legs and grasping Penelope's hips. He was not physically able to enter her in his present state, but he realized that this was what Asher had planned all along. They would both penetrate her at once, but this time London would get what he had long desired of her. Blood.
Asher caught London's gaze and instantly forged a connection with the dark vampire. London would know exactly when to strike. Until then he moved with Penelope as she rode Asher, kissing and caressing her back and neck, reaching around her body to hold and caress her breasts.
Penelope felt her magic grow along with the intensity within her body. The power and pleasure was building to an enormous crescendo and she suddenly knew it would be more than enough for her purpose. Perhaps even too much, but she let it build and build. Her body was on fire as her lovers' hands pushed her to the very edge of her pleasure threshold.
Asher let go the last of his own control and let his power bind them all. His hands slid easily over Penelope and London's bodies, damp with a thin layer of perspiration and trembling with desire. His lips found Penelope's once again and her blood filled his mouth when he deliberately bit her lower lip. He sucked, gently at first and then with more ferocity, until she moaned and cried out. He felt her body impossibly tighten around him. She was very close, and so was he.
"London..." Asher gasped.
The chevalier knew exactly what to do. He grasped Penelope's hair and pulled tightly until her head came back, extending her throat in a long line. He licked the creamy skin of her neck and took her mouth in a fervent kiss, lapping up the blood that decorated her lips. His eyes met Asher's. It was time.
The large artery in her neck pulsed, inviting him in to finally possess her totally, if only for a short time.
Asher roared, and London struck, locking his mouth to her flesh. As her blood hit the back of his throat he felt his body electrify with what felt like a thousand volts. It was more than he ever expected, and he never wanted it to end.
Penelope screamed with pleasure and almost drowned in power. The three of them together exploded in every direction, their bodies fused together and for the briefest of moments, became one. She drank in as much of the power as she could and pushed it forward towards the black void that gaped in front of her. The void she had kept carefully hidden from her lovers.
If only we could keep this all for ourselves, she thought. Next time. It was the most optimistic she had been since making this ultimate decision. There would be a next time.
Down the hall she felt Jean-Claude sit up in bed, cradling Anita in his arms, still dreamy from their lovemaking. Jason, who had been curled up next to them bolted and jumped from the bed. Elinore and Roderick clutched each other on the floor of her room where they had been dancing to an old fashioned tune when the power took her. Requiem raised his mouth from the thigh of the Italian sommelier he had seduced from Veritas, his eyes on fire. Everywhere in the Circus its inhabitants were reveling in the ecstasy the three of them provided. Penelope directed all of the power she could spare to them. Not simply for the pleasure it provided, but for the strength it would accord them should her plan go afoul.
When London could feed no more he threw his head back with a mighty growl. He felt powerful, then suddenly weak, but at the moment he was unconcerned.
Asher reached around Penelope and held London to them both. Her blood made London's heart beat fiercely, and her own heart brought Asher's pounding through his chest. Three beat as one, until Asher, spent beyond his limits, let London go, and fell back against the headboard with a thud.
Penelope fell forward into Asher’s chest as London rolled over to the side with her blood staining his lips and dripping down his chest, and the three of them lay touching and breathing heavily. The power they had unleashed was still swirling around them in an intricate dance of hot and cold. What should have brought exhaustion, particularly this close to dawn, exploded in energy throughout Penelope’s body. Both positive, and as she soon started to feel, negative as well.
Asher began to come back to his senses, so he rolled Penelope over and looked into her eyes. What he saw there was not the golden brown fire he had grown to expect, but inky blackness. Her eyes had gone black, pupil-less and as lifeless as a doll’s. Fear hit him and shocked him all the way back with an icy blast.
“Penelope?” he whispered.
I’m sorry, Asher, it was the only way.
Penelope did not have the energy to speak. She was using the last of what she had to swim once more through his mind. She had already used up the tremendous burst of power and she knew her plan was successful, at least in part, because she was already feeling the pull. If her ruse worked, she would have only moments to say what she had to say.
Asher felt her start to recede and roughly pulled her up into his arms.
What are you talking about? What has happened?
He taught me how to do it, you know, how to sever ties without hurting you. If it comes to that, I will not take you with me. But I think… I think, it might actually work. I have always tried to be optimistic…
Her voice laughed, drunk with the power she had just unleashed, and her words in his mind kept going in and out. She sounded confused and it was hard to decipher what she was saying. He dispensed with the mind to mind and yelled, trying to shake or shock her awake.
“Penelope! Penelope!”
London was suddenly alert, but feeling terribly drained, as if Penelope had taken a great deal of his power and redirected it. After a feeding like that he should have felt wonderful. He looked at them and thought, something is very wrong!
Penelope could see nothing. But somewhere deep inside she could still feel Asher pulling at her. Willing her to stay with him. But she could not. If she could do this one small thing, perhaps she could finally put behind her all her past mistakes.
I love you. I love you.
Blackness
*************************************************************
The door was there, like it had always been before. Closed. Locked. Cold. But this time something was different. This time the handle reached out towards her, beckoning her forward. Disembodied words echoed in her head, each syllable bringing fresh pain searing throughout her body.
Come. Come, little one. Come closer to the door. You need only touch it to enter the chamber. I have been waiting for you.
Penelope could see the door right in front of her, but it was distorted and grotesque. She was never meant to get this far. This door was not for her to enter. The voice came again, but this time without the gentleness of before. The pain grew exponentially.
Wait. Wait! You feel different to me little one. You do not feel the same as before, you are less. You are too hot. Yet the power felt like Jean-Claude’s. Yes? No. You are not she. You are an impostor! How dare you attempt to cheat me!
The door began to rattle and shake, but Penelope could not back away. Black smoke began to gather from around the frame, seeping out with long spindly fingers reaching for Penelope’s throat, choking her, constricting her, driving her to her knees.
I expected more from Jean-Claude than this pathetic attempt to fool me with a substitute who would never survive.
Penelope had no words. She thought she could feel her body breaking as the smoke enveloped her, squeezing like a vise. Her eyes were closing. Her thoughts came slogging like a shovel through wet cement. Will she not come to help me, even now?
Penelope feared her gamble had failed. She reached down for the last bit of power she had saved to cut her tie with Asher, when something or someone grabbed her shoulder and pulled her violently back into a hazy void.
Time was frozen.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the grass in a vaguely familiar and sunny meadow. Spring flowers surrounded her like a moat, and a warm breeze fanned through her hair. A long gone but familiar voice questioned her from behind.
“Bonjour, Penelope.”
She slowly turned, wincing in pain, to face her savior.
“Bonjour, Helene.”
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