— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
Внимание!
пятница, 09 декабря 2011
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
@темы: _James_Marsters, photo
четверг, 08 декабря 2011
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 39- Homecomings by nicola71
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Many thanks to all of my readers and reviewers! You make my days! Special thanks to Reka and Subbie for their great advice and constant support!
I forgot in the last smexy chapter, but there is smex warning on this one...enjoy!
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Penelope sat on Jean-Claude’s bed as demurely as possible, softly chewing her lower lip. She watched as both London and Jean-Claude fed, and had to consciously tell herself to sit still. Feeding was something she had witnessed many times, she’d even been the food on more occasions now than she could number, but tonight it seemed more sensual than usual.
Although she fought the good fight to stay on the bed and simply be the voyeur, her arousal was winning and tempting her to move in order to get a better view.
Both vampires had chosen their favorite positions, Jean-Claude was sitting the corner of the couch with Anthony cradled in his lap, one arm gently, but firmly, wrapped around the wolf’s waist and Anthony’s head resting on his shoulder. London was standing with Drew’s body tightly against his, one arm around the lion’s waist, the other hand on his forehead, stretching his neck out in a long line. Each was drinking slowly, allowing their thoroughly rolled donor to enjoy every delicious pull.
Penelope couldn’t help but notice that both shifters were clearly aroused as well, with their jeans straining and the soft moans of pleasure escaping their mouths. She wanted to, needed to be closer. She got up in one gracefully fluid motion and walked over to London first, allowing her robe to fall off of her shoulders to the floor. At first London didn’t look up at her, but the moment her hand slid along Drew’s muscled arm to his own silk clad shoulder, he pulled away from the lion’s neck, licked his lips, and shifted his stance slightly so to capture her mouth in a long sensuous kiss.
The lion’s blood was hot in his mouth, and Penelope tasted it’s coppery smoothness. Lost momentarily in the moment, she had a fleeting thought of how different it was from Hyena blood. Different and the same. Heat and spice surrounded her senses, she swore she smelled the tall grasses of the Serengeti just like when she was connected to Castor and Pollux. The lycanthropes, who’s animal counterparts roamed the plains of Africa, smelled and tasted as rich and dark as the continent of their origin. Their strength was imbued in every drop, and this lion was strong.
London released her mouth with a grin and went back to his lion. Penelope turned to Jean-Claude.
What does wolf taste like?
This time, as she walked languidly toward the Master of the City, she saw that his eyes were upon her and didn’t leave her even as he drank his last sip from his wolf. His mouth came off Anthony’s neck, and as he licked the wounds one last time, his eyes remained steadily on Penelope.
“I want to taste him.”
She saw the trickle of blood running out of the corner of Jean-Claude’s mouth as she climbed onto the couch and ran her hand up Anthony’s arm, in much the same manner she had Drew’s. Jean-Claude went very still, not knowing what Penelope was about to do. He had watched her kiss London, and was very glad that Anthony was in his lap to hide the fact that he had enjoyed the view very much.
The puncture marks were healing, but there was still some blood on Anthony’s neck. He was lost in the euphoric afterglow of the feeding, eyes half closed, softly moaning his pleasure. Penelope leaned over, all the while never leaving Jean-Claude’s gaze. It was the vivid memory of that gaze that had kept her company in her solitude for so many years. She could let him roll her if she wanted, and for a split second she considered it, wondering if he would take advantage of her in that way again.
She slid her tongue over the wolf’s wound. Warm and cool at the same time. Her thoughts went to Jason, and the cologne she had made for him. Still coppery, but magically this wolf tasted like a snowy night in the forest, refreshing and invigorating.
Again, caught in the moment, she stretched up towards Jean-Claude’s mouth close enough to take the kiss that had been threatening them since her arrival. The two times she had kissed him in the last months had brought rushes of memories, mostly pleasant. This time though, she used her thumb to wipe away the blood, taking it to her own mouth, and receding back onto the couch.
Jean-Claude appeared utterly unrattled. A total facade.
“And what did you prefer, ma belle etudiant? Lion or wolf?”
“I prefer hyena, Jean-Claude. But I must say that lion and wolf are tasty as well.”
Her eyes seemed to glow in that moment, their warm gold flecked brown shifting to black, then brown once again. Jean-Claude did not hide his huge grin.
He arose from the couch with Anthony in his arms, and he and London carried the shifters out to the living room where they carefully laid them on the couches to recover. Since they were both experienced blood donors there was little to worry about, but one of the guards would check in on them in about ten minutes anyway. After that, there had been strict orders given that no one was to enter Jean-Claude’s private suite unless there was an emergency.
Upon their return to the bedroom they stopped at the door, each leaning against a side. Similar in height, though not in build, both vampires stood with the light of the living room haloing their bodies. London had chosen a pair of black wool trousers and black silk shirt, Jean-Claude was clad in his still tightly tied robe.
Penelope stood at the foot of the bed, facing away from them. She stared at the turned down sheets, royal purple silk. Without looking behind her she crawled slowly on all fours until she reached the mountains of pillows that made the headboard. She turned slowly until she was laying crossways on the bed.
“Come on now,” she said as she patted the sheets. Her eyes were aglow with magic that she felt flowing freely. Tonight she would let her magic do as it wished. She only hoped that it would not be a repeat of the last time. She trusted that Jean-Claude would be in control, and she gave herself over to that trust.
London was the first to get on the bed with her. He crawled up next to her and on his knees unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it away, revealing the well muscled chest she loved to touch. Next he undid his belt and unbuttoned the top button of his trousers. It was as if Jean-Claude were not just five feet away watching everything. But someone was very aware of his presence.
“You as well,” Penelope waved him over. “What would you have us do?”
Jean-Claude laughed and it sent the most fabulous shivers through both London and Penelope. London had almost forgotten the power of that laugh. It was not often heard in that way at court, but he remembered hearing others talk about it once when Jean-Claude made a brief visit to England long ago. London had made a point to be scarce during his visit, something that Dracula had approved. But those who did entertain him during his visit spoke about the velvety goodness of that laugh for a very long time.
“Ma belle etudiant, we are here for mutual pleasure. What would you have me do?” His smile was genuinely wicked.
Penelope looked to London.
“Lady’s choice, my love.” He took her by the shoulders and drew her close to his body, arm around her waist but facing Jean-Claude.
Penelope leaned back onto her knight, “If it is my choice, I would have you lose your robe and that ridiculous pajama top! I know you prefer to be...more natural.”
Jean-Claude complied with the sensuousness of the stripper he once was. Robe was tossed causally on the couch, and he moved towards the bed, shedding his red silk top as he walked, letting it fall to the floor to rest with Penelope’s robe.
He stood for a moment looking at the pair. They were truly beautiful. There were only two people missing to make this fantasy complete. One was cursing his name a few miles away, and the other, he believed, would have gladly joined in. At least in the old days. Asher’s enjoyment of a good old fashioned orgy was well known when they first met. These days he was a bit more selective about who saw him naked. Something Jean-Claude hoped was waning with every bit of confidence he gained from his new servant.
Penelope.
Her openness was almost innocent, eyes wide with anticipation. In the candlelight Jean-Claude almost thought he saw the girl whose virginity he delighted in so many centuries ago. It had been the second most special night of his life with a woman. Only his first night with Anita surpassed it. As he stared into the face of one woman, he found himself wishing to see that look in another. But he pushed that from his mind, for he believed that it would never again happen.
“Come.” She beckoned. And so he came.
Jean-Claude lay back against the heavy headboard, moving the pillows and allowing his legs to fall open. London had some idea of what he wanted.
London turned and tipped Penelope’s head up to kiss her. While he nibbled at her lips, she eased his trousers down over his ass. He was not wearing anything underneath them, so as soon as her soft warm hands met his skin, she felt him stiffen against her body.
He ran his hands over the jacquard of her corset and over the ruffles of her panties. Before they came to Jean-Claude’s room he had discovered that they were crotchless. Another suggestion of Asher’s, of course, and one that the knight appreciated. It meant that he could enjoy her outfit and still have access to her most intimate parts.
“I miss old fashioned knickers,” he said as he played with the lace and ruffles of her ensemble while they lay on Penelope’s bed waiting for the clock to strike two.
“They are more old fashioned than you think,” Penny took his hand and guided his fingers between her legs.
“Oh my,” London’s grin told her all she needed to know.
Jean-Claude’s heavy voice broke the memory, “I certainly hope you intend to leave the boots on, ma cherie?”
Penelope looked over her shoulder, “of course I do!”
Jean-Claude reached out a hand, but not to her. London took it, with just a hint of caution. He felt the electric energy that flowed through his master and into his body. It made him shudder slightly, remembering that first time he had truly fed the arduer with Jean-Claude and Belle. But something Jean-Claude was doing had eased away all of his fears. Tonight the ardeur felt welcoming and warm and it recognized London right away, but it had gentled with him over the last seven months. That first feeding with Anita had been a ripping and a tearing down of his resolve. Tonight, that violence was gone and what was left felt like a warm velvety blanket wrapped around his metaphysical body.
Is it possible that my dark and beautiful master has in fact tamed this power even to the extent of our former mistress?
London knew that Anita’s ardeur did not feel like Belle’s in many ways, and only now did he realize that was because of the man beckoning him forward. Jean-Claude had truly become the master of his own power. London let Jean-Claude pull him down between his silk draped legs and he lay against him using his master as a couch, feeling every atom in his body respond to Jean-Claude’s light touch.
Two sets of hands reached for Penny. She took one of each.
“What’s going to happen? Will it be as I remember it, Jean?” She asked.
Jean-Claude had fed the ardeur with Penelope many times, but it wasn’t as strong back then as it was now, with the added power from Anita and all to whom they were attached. Penelope had also never seen what theardeur could really do. She had never seen the damage, or been present when it took control, although she had seen through Asher’s memories, and she was not a fool. Personally though, she had only experienced the pleasure of the ardeur, and in those days her connection to such a stoic master vampire had protected her from addiction. Although she had seen London’s memories as well, she certainly would have no first hand knowledge of what it was going to do to her chevalier.
“It may be different than you recall, but I want you to relax. Just make love to him, cherie.”
Make love to us.
Penelope touched London, and felt him shudder beneath her as his eyes closed and a soft moan escaped his lips. He was fully aroused, and she was eager to have him as always. But the researcher in her was very curious as to what was going to happen. She just hoped this went better than her last magical experiment.
London opened his eyes which were glowing with power and guided her body to where he wanted her, holding onto her hands, that were supporting her upper body on his chest, as she gently rode him. She leaned over to kiss him and he pulled her in tightly. This was something he wanted very much, but his hidden doubts made him hold on to her for his life. Penelope kept him attached to the world, even in the grasp of the most awesome power he had ever encountered. He became aware of Jean-Claude’s erection pressed into his back, but the master of the city curiously kept his hands to his sides.
London broke the kiss and turned slightly to look up at Jean-Claude.
“You may touch me, if you like.”
It was the invitation he was waiting for.
Penelope stretched her body upright to allow Jean-Claude access to London’s shoulders and chest. She watched has his long fingers caressed her knight’s skin, tracing around his scars, and she became almost mesmerized at the sight of their bodies in motion together. When she and Asher had been with London, there was never that much contact between the two men, which now disappointed her.
London gasped as Jean-Claude began to slowly release more of his power over them. The ardeur curled around them enveloping them in its warm inviting embrace.
Penelope felt a surge as London thrust his hips upwards pushing the pulsing power throughout her. It caused her to reach out for something to hold on to. That something was Jean-Claude’s bare arm.
When all three of them were connected, the ardeur burst through any remaining shields they had inadvertently put up.
Jean-Claude pushed London up into a sitting position with Penelope firmly seated in his lap, and with his cock grinding into the bare skin of the chevalier’s back. In the rush of power, his silk pajama bottoms disappeared giving his skin full access to his bedmates.
Penelope’s cries were muffled as London roughly kissed her so that blood from her nicked lips ran down her chin. The ardeur pushed them on.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Jean-Claude bit down hard on London’s shoulder, bringing a strangled cry from the knight. Vampires did not routinely feed from one another unless there was sex involved, but the ardeur had decided for them that this was what all parties involved wanted. Penelope’s eyes flew opened to reveal a sparkling blackness that captured Jean-Claude as he lifted his fangs from London’s skin. He momentarily thought how beautifully odd it was that her eyes reflected the magic that was around her. If his thoughts had been less fuzzy he may have wondered if the sparkling onyx reflected in them was from within her, or from her connection with London, but Penelope did something next that completely distracted him.
She saw the blood leaking from the twin puncture marks and without hesitation took her turn at the wound, licking it slowly as London moaned and dug his fingers into her body, continuing the steady rhythm of his hips.
“He tastes wonderful,” she whispered, looking up and drowning in midnight blue fire. “I want more.”
Jean-Claude still had enough sense to know that would be a bad idea, so instead he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, sharing with her the knight’s blood that still lingered in his mouth. His kiss roughened, nicking her lip with his fangs, until they could no longer tell whose blood filled their mouths.
It was enough to bring all three to orgasm. The ardeur roared around them in pleasure, satisfying itself with lust and semen and blood.
London clutched Penelope’s body as he continued to climax over and over inside of her. As Jean-Claude fed from his ecstasy, his own body and power grew and grew. The heat that filled every atom of his physical body exploded outwards and into Penelope and he felt her body glow with heat and power, too. An echo in his mind prayed that he wouldn’t burn her, but he couldn’t stop it now even if he tried. Her body spoke what words could not, and although he thought it might be a hallucination, he swore he heard her voice in his head, telling him how much she loved him and just how good all of this felt! More than she could have ever imagined.
As long as Jean-Claude held Penelope’s mouth in that kiss, their pleasure kept rollicking over them until he finally released her and the three collapsed to their sides, panting and clutched tightly to one another.
London buried his head in Penelope’s neck, breathing unevenly, just needing to feel her skin against him. He knew the power rush was imminent, but for the moment he was entirely spent, or he would have ripped her lingerie from her body. Skin. He needed her skin.
Jean-Claude shuddered against the back of London’s body where he had spilled his seed. His arms still wrapped around the pair, his lips pulled back into a large catlike grin. The power that flowed through him was every bit as wonderful as he had imagined, and he felt Jason, who was sitting in the break room at Guilty Pleasures, fall to the floor in a glorious release. He felt his wolf’s confusion, but also his enormous pleasure. The only shield he knew had held in place was the one with Anita. He funneled any extra power to that, because he had no desire to explain this, at least right now. Poor Richard had been woken from a deep sleep, but at least he was alone, and he hoped the Ulfric would be content to believe he had simply had a very wet dream. Jean-Claude couldn’t think of anyone else because his mind was clouded over, but soon, a sound from the doorway clued him in to just how far the power had traveled.
Clapping, in the doorway, was Asher, with beads of pink tinged sweat dripping down his face.
“Cest magnifique, mon amour, cest magnifique!” He continued to applaud as he walked slowly into the room.
Jean-Claude pulled himself up to a sitting position, poised to speak, because the other two in the bed were still spasming from their release.
“Non,” Asher waved, “later, my love, we will talk about your interpretation of ‘distance’, but for now I want to see how much of my servant the arduer has left for me.”
Asher spoke with a soft growl as he peeled off his clothes and came up onto the bed, feeling every bit the powerful vampire that he was.
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Chapter 40- Surprises and Reactions by nicola71
“Mon Dieu!” Asher gasped as he collapsed on top of Penelope pressing her body down into the mattress.
Although the ardeur was well fed before he entered the room, it always remembered the taste of Asher and wanted him even when satisfied by the lust of others. Jean-Claude felt his power awaken once again, and although he was physically unable to partake in the way he would most like, he held his body against the contours of Asher’s, moving with him as he took his servant in an unrestrained frenzy.
Somewhere in there Asher had managed to relieve Penelope of her lingerie, so she now lay naked and exhausted between Asher and London, with Jean-Claude nuzzled up against Asher’s back which was damp with sweat.
It was London who came around first, with a small chuckle that slowly built and erupted into hysterical laughter.
“God!” He exclaimed, turning to face Penelope, nuzzling as much of his body against her as possible, and twirling his fingers in her hair.
Jean-Claude leaned up on one elbow and grinned over Asher’s bare shoulder.
“I will take that exclamation, mon chevalier, as evidence that it was indeed, ‘good for you.’”
London rolled onto his back like a puppy, “Oh, Jean-Claude, It was...,” His sentence kept getting interrupted by joyous laughter. Finally he choked out, “wonderful!”
Penelope’s girlish giggle joined in as soon as she found enough energy, followed by Asher’s manly laugh, as he pulled her in tightly and placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, neck and cheeks. He spoke to her mind words not meant for the room.
I’m sorry if I was far too rough with you...I simply was taken in by the scene and the power and you laying there, breathless and beautiful. So delectably vulnerable.
Shhh... Penelope scolded, you are home with us now, that’s all that matters. Besides, you know I enjoy it sometimes! This was one of those times, ma mie*.
I will make it up to you, I promise, bien aimèe*, ma belle, ma tout belle...
I love you, too...
“And I LOVE you,” London said loudly as he returned to the pile, snuggling in with one leg wrapped around Penelope, and entwining with Asher’s.
“Did you hear that?” Penelope’s eyes went wide, as did Asher’s.
London chuckled, “you said ‘I love you’. Love. Love. Love. Love. I love all of you!” His voice was several octaves higher than usual, which drew more giggles out of Penelope.
“I think our chevalier is a bit power drunk, perhaps your servant as well, Asher!” Jean-Claude relaxed back into the pillows.
But Asher sat up.
“Jean, “ he said quietly, “London seems to have heard something that Penelope said mind to mind. Her mind to my mind.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
Jean-Claude smiled widely, “I see. Perhaps our Penelope’s power and connection to London is growing as well.” He reached a hand to Penelope, “Ma cherie, try to speak to him.”
Penelope sat up, still giggling, and composed herself. She looked London in the eyes, eyes that were still on fire and positively melting with power.
London, can you hear me?
“Of course I can hear you, silly girl! You’re talking to me!”
But my lips are not moving, darling, try to focus, please! Tee hee!
“Your lips are not moving! Ha! Ha!” he mocked, making a ridiculously funny face.
Penelope stifled the laughter that threatened to throw off all of her concentration.
London! Try and speak to me, my love, please! Just think it like you can with Jean-Claude.
Penny, Pen, Pen...this is very unusual. We are speaking without talking! London continued to chortle, even in his head.
Yes it is, love! Penelope knew she could contact other people mind to mind, but it required immense concentration on her part. I could contact you before, when I concentrated. But now it seems I can talk to you simply by thinking about you.
And I can talk to you. Very. Very. ‘Cooool’.
London! You need to snap out of it! You sound like Jason and not yourself at all...although for some reason I find it totally hysterical!
Even as she thought it, Penelope couldn’t stop his laughing, or stifle hers anymore and they both erupted once again.
“Penelope?” Asher questioned.
She composed herself one more time. “I think we can talk mind to mind, without me using any extraordinary power.”
Jean-Claude’s smile was ear to ear. “My, but this is a most interesting and extraordinary development! I imagine we will all be seeing some new powers in the next few days and weeks.”
Months and years if I can convince them to keep this up! Excellent! Jean-Claude thought to himself. For him, the evening was a total success.
Asher sighed, happily, “Well, whatever will be, will be, as I have come to accept these last years with you, mon ami. As for the vampires in bed, the dawn is soon to take us,” Asher swooped Penelope up in his arms and kissed her, “My love, take our chevalier into the shower where Jean and I will join you in a few moments.”
He set her on her feet and Jean-Claude led a wobbly and still giggling London to her.
“Come along, Sir Knight!” she laughed and pulled him into the bathroom.
When they were alone, Asher took Jean-Claude in his arms and kissed him as passionately as he had kissed Penelope.
“And what, may I ask, is that for? I was afraid you would be cross with me?” Jean-Claude pulled back with a skeptical look.
“Cross with you? After the weekend I have had, and what you welcomed me home with? Not to mention all this glorious power swirling around us? Mais non!* How could I be cross?” Asher kissed him again.
“And do we have time to go over the details?” Jean-Claude was secure in the good mood of his temoin, and would wait for the particulars until the next evening if need be.
“Narcissus will not be misbehaving again, on that you can be certain.”
“What did you promise her?”
“That she would be formally introduced to Penelope at the ball in three months time. The details of that need to be worked out between you and I, for I would prefer that you would accompany her as her escort, seeing as I will be Narcissus’ escort on that one evening.”
“And...”
“And she has given up all rights and expectations at becoming my Animal to Call.”
“Really? In exchange for?”
“My intermittent affections.”
Jean-Claude’s velvety laughter filled the room.
“Oh, mon ami! I see you can still negotiate better than anyone I have ever known. No wonder our former mistress entrusted so many of our wealthiest patrons to your tender mercies.”
Jean-Claude could not have been more pleased that Asher was still able to attain ‘something for nothing,’ as it were. The ‘something’ in this case left him open to pursue an even more powerful match for his Animal to Call. Jean-Claude was never very keen on that honor being given to one who had derived so much pleasure from his own personal pain. It was selfish, he knew, but as Asher seemed to be growing more generous, so he was growing more self-serving.
Asher grinned, “Vraiment*, I think you must admit that I still, as they say, ‘have it’”
“Oui! Oui, you do!” Jean-Claude took his hand and led him towards the bathroom door where they could hear uproarious laughter still exploding out of London and Penelope. If the ardeur resulted in a hangover, London would be cruising for the biggest one of his life.
“One thing I must ask of you, Jean-Claude, I want to tell Penelope what happened, tomorrow when I wake. I want her to hear the details from me.”
“All the details?”
“All the details. I have decided that hiding what I am serves no purpose. I must face her opinion of me, head on.”
“As you wish.” Jean-Claude did not want to press him, whatever was prompting this was true progress. “Was everything else to your satisfaction?”
Asher paused and raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what was being asked. “I enjoyed myself, if that is what you mean.”
“It is. But I sense something was not quite right.” Jean-Claude felt some residual conflict emanating from Asher that had nothing to do with Narcissus or Penelope.
Asher sighed, knowing he couldn’t hide it from him. “One of the participants was wearing a cheap Gardenia perfume. I had to scold her especially.”
“Gardenias.”
“Yes. The one scent I cannot bear. More sickening to me than the roses of Belle Morte, or even the Jasmine of the Dark Mother. Gardenias...gardenias are...”
“Julianna.”
“Thankfully she did not live to see what I became. What I was forced to embrace.”
If Asher was worried about sharing this part of his sexuality with Penelope, the thought of Julianna seeing it was beyond anything he wanted to imagine. Sex, yes. Passion, yes. But brutality? The infliction of pain in the pursuit of personal pleasure was not something he felt his petite fleur would have understood. If it existed in him to that degree before her death, it was something he closely guarded from her.
Jean-Claude shook his head wondering if Asher would ever stop underestimating the understanding of the people in his life.
“She never judged another creature in her life, mon ami. Do not imagine that she would have judged you. We have all done what we must to survive.” Jean-Claude drew him in for one quick kiss, “and unless you want to spend the day on the shower floor, I suggest we make haste.”
They disappeared into the steam of the bathroom to join the inviting laughter echoing from within.
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Asher let go of Penelope’s hands and waited for her reaction, even though he could already feel it. He wanted to smile in relief, but still had a hard time trusting what he was sensing from her, so he kept his visage and his body as still as he could.
“Well, that is a genuine relief!” She exclaimed. Penelope’s face held everything Asher’s stifled.
“What on Earth makes you happy about what I just shared with you?” Asher was seriously confused, especially since he was expecting revulsion.
“I now know that your feelings for Narcissus don’t go beyond that of a master and animal to call. In fact, your feelings for that man...uh...”
“Gerard.”
“Yes, Gerard. As surface as those feelings are, they are deeper than what you feel for her. Her? Right? I’m not quite sure I understand what Narcissus is, but I’m just glad that you aren’t in love with her!”
“It’s complicated, what she is, but non, I am most certainly not in love with her.” Asher didn’t want to go into the biology or the semantics of what Narcissus was at the moment.
“Complicated is a good word for what you just showed me. Complicated, but not repugnant, as you feared.”
Asher tried to look away, but Penelope would have none of that. She reached out and took his chin, forcing him to look at her.
“Don’t look away from me, Asher. I’m glad you showed me what happened and I don’t know what you were so afraid of.”
Asher picked up her hand again, gently, nervously, massaging her fingers. “I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t want you to think I was a freak,” he paused, “although by many standards I guess that is exactly what I am.”
“I don’t think you are a ‘freak’ at all. You embrace your desires, you like to feel good, and to make others feel good as well. I saw their faces, Asher, I saw that what you gave them was pleasure. I saw the look in Gerard’s eyes, and in that swanmane’s. You gave them something they wanted. Something they needed, and they gave something to you as well. I felt your needs satisfied, my dear. I felt how good it made you feel about yourself.”
At first Asher wasn’t sure this was the best idea, but Jean-Claude had persuaded him that showing Penelope, allowing her to feel his feelings when he was playing a scene, would be the best way to explain to her how much he needed it to be a part of his life. Since she had proven Jean-Claude to be right once again, Asher dared to go a little bit further.
“Do you think that it is something you would be interested in exploring with me?” This question had burned in the back of his mind for quite some time. Asher nurtured fantasies of initiating Penelope into his world, but in his heart he knew she was not truly submissive. Even though she often deferred to his or London’s or even Jean-Claude’s wishes, that was more a consequence of her upbringing than of her own true self and she certainly had no problems making it known when something didn’t suit her. And although she was pliant enough in the bedroom, there was a big difference in what played out at the club, and a few spanks and occasional rough sex between lovers.
Penelope’s mind was filled with images, some of which turned her on very much, and some of which turned her off. She wanted to be honest with him though, since she knew there was nothing to be gained by hiding her feelings, or trying to be something that she wasn’t. Asher loved her without restraint or conditions, as she loved him. Honesty was the way to go.
Penelope made sure to look straight into his ice blue eyes, penetrating them with her own gaze, “I think that I would be interested in learning more about it,” she replied, like the student she was. “But I don’t think I can ever be to you what Gerard is. Or the swanmane.” Penelope’s face softened thoughtfully, “that said, I must admit to feeling aroused at some of the images you showed me, so I do think that I would like to watch you sometime. I just don’t think I want to participate. At least not in the manner they do.”
Asher’s freshly fed heart skipped a beat, “Do you mean you might want to participate in my place?”
Penelope laughed, “I said I would like to watch, my love, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves!”
Asher laughed then too, “Alright, then.” It was not a refusal, and for now, that was just fine with him. But there was a subject he had to bring up. “You know I must prepare you for the ball. I want you to be ready for what you will see, and for meeting the Oba. She will not make it easy for you, and she believes you to be a, what do they say, ‘hothouse flower’.”
“She does, does she?” Penelope considered that a challenge. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
She pulled herself up to her knees and threw her body on top of her vampire, straddling him and playfully pinning his wrists down to the bed.
“Penny!”
“Let’s get these lessons underway, shall we?”
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Later they lay in bed laughing over Penelope’s questions about BDSM.
“There are people who actually enjoy that?” Her eyes wide as saucers.
“Oh, you would be even more shocked at what some people enjoy, bien aimèe*!”
“Safe, sane and consensual!”
Asher pulled her in and kissed her on the nose, “Oui. Consider your first lesson learned!”
Penelope pulled the covers up over them, and reached for the remote to raise the heat from the gas fireplace.
“I was always a very good student.” She snuggled into his side.
“Penny?”
“Yes?”
“Where is London, tonight?”
Penelope was surprised at Asher’s question, “Jean-Claude wanted him here in case there were any residual effects from the ardeur, so I imagine he is in his room, or maybe in the rec room.” Or gym, she added to herself, now privy to that fact that the gym was London’s personal sanctuary when she was with Asher.
“Why don’t you call him? See if he should like to stay here for the day...”
Asher had a dual purpose in asking her to do this. First, he wanted to see how strong the connection between them was, and if in fact their ability to communicate mind to mind had become permanent. Second, he had grown used to the knight being a part of their life, and even if the emotion was coming from Penelope, he found that he missed him.
“Are you sure? I thought you wanted me all to yourself for at least a week!” Penelope was tickled at his generosity, but also very much enjoying simply being with her master. She hoped he didn’t think she needed more.
“I know that you are content, and so am I, but I admit that lately I have been wanting everyone around me to share in my happiness. Why shouldn’t we be happy together?”
“I think that’s wonderful,” she kissed him once again, and reached out to London.
London?
He spoke up immediately, the sternness back into his deep voice. Penelope? Are you alright?
Yes, love, fine. Where are you?
He laughed his normal masculine unintoxicated laugh, Just cashing in from skinning Requiem, Clay, and two Church of Eternal Life vamps in Texas Hold Em. Why?
Asher wants you to bed down here today. Would you like to?
The excitement and happiness in his voice could not be shielded by any power on earth.
I’ll be there soon. Tell him, ‘thank you.’
Tell him yourself, love!
Penelope opened her eyes, “He’s on his way.”
Asher pushed her down, “Excellent,” his gentle kisses tickling her skin.
Soon there was a soft knock and Asher bade him open the door.
“Come in, London. Get comfortable.” He motioned to Penelope’s side.
London shed his clothes and climbed in bed with Asher and Penelope, sandwiching her between them.
“The dawn is still a few minutes away,” he slid his body in spooning Penelope, kissing her shoulder lightly, and stroking Asher’s arm. “Thank you, Asher.”
“You are very welcome, mon chevalier. Kiss us quickly, bien aimèe, and sleep well. Your wine bar awaits you tomorrow, as well as your lessons.”
“Lessons?” London questioned.
“Later, mon chevalier, I will tell you about them later,” Asher grinned.
Penelope kissed them both and let them snuggle her tightly in the moments before they left her for the day. Their weight felt good against her, and in that moment she couldn’t think of anywhere she would rather be. As sleep and the dawn took over the very contended occupants of the bed, the same thought breezed through all of their minds.
Everything was going to be grand. They just knew it.
*************************************************************************
Thousands of miles away, in a palatial French Chateaux, the brilliant late spring sun was shining through the tall windows of an ornately decorated study.
“Be careful, Laurent! That one painting is very old, and very valuable to our mistress.”
“Je suis dèsolé,*” the human boy, who could not have been more than seventeen, bowed his head. His tanned and naked torso bore the fang marks of a blood slave, as well as the still pink welts he had sustained during the night’s revels.
“Do you have the addresses?”
“Oui, monsieur Cristos.”
“Bien. The truck with the larger crates has already left, but you must personally take these. Now, put some clothes on because the car is waiting to take you to town. These packages and letters must be sent certified mail, especially the ones to the American consulate. If the paperwork is not done correctly it will be your hide, and I care not how much you claim to enjoy it, I assure you that it will not be in the least pleasant. Now begone!”
The shivering boy grabbed a dark blue T-shirt from the desk chair, hastily put it on, carefully picked up the letters and packages and fled through the door to a waiting limousine.
Cristos sighed. For almost five hundred years he had served his master and his mistress without question, but this errand he felt was perhaps poorly thought out, although it would be his life to say otherwise. His master lay dead for the day in her arms, and had left him knowing that his presence would be required when they awoke.
He looked at the small golden clock at the corner of the gilded rococo desk. “About an hour,” he sighed aloud. “They awaken earlier and earlier, and one day I will get no rest at all.”
He stretched his lithe body out to his full 6’2 height and stared out the window into the sunlit garden. Soon he would be leaving France for only the third time in his long life. Off to the New World. He had wanted to see the sites of New York City, but St. Louis would have to do.
He turned and made his way down the long stone steps and into the labyrinthine depths of the only home he could now remember.
* ma mie- my dear
* bien aimèe- beloved
* mais non - of course not
* vraiment- true
* Je suis dèsolé
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Thus ends this part of the tale! I want to thank especially RekaStormborn and Submissively Asher’s for their beta duties, but most of all for their unfailing support in seeing this through with me. I must say that without them I may never have finished this story, and I most certainly would not have been able to envision the sequel! Hugs and cookies to them both!
I would also like to thank all of my faithful readers and reviewers! To name a few, smj21468, LaRoseNoir, evilynne, katie0422, Killer Bunny, and NorthernStar, among others who have sent such nice emails! You all brightened my days!
I know I am leaving you dangling off a precipice, but the sequel to Numquam Obliviscar is on it’s way! Stay tuned for The Master’s Privilege.
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Many thanks to all of my readers and reviewers! You make my days! Special thanks to Reka and Subbie for their great advice and constant support!
I forgot in the last smexy chapter, but there is smex warning on this one...enjoy!
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Penelope sat on Jean-Claude’s bed as demurely as possible, softly chewing her lower lip. She watched as both London and Jean-Claude fed, and had to consciously tell herself to sit still. Feeding was something she had witnessed many times, she’d even been the food on more occasions now than she could number, but tonight it seemed more sensual than usual.
Although she fought the good fight to stay on the bed and simply be the voyeur, her arousal was winning and tempting her to move in order to get a better view.
Both vampires had chosen their favorite positions, Jean-Claude was sitting the corner of the couch with Anthony cradled in his lap, one arm gently, but firmly, wrapped around the wolf’s waist and Anthony’s head resting on his shoulder. London was standing with Drew’s body tightly against his, one arm around the lion’s waist, the other hand on his forehead, stretching his neck out in a long line. Each was drinking slowly, allowing their thoroughly rolled donor to enjoy every delicious pull.
Penelope couldn’t help but notice that both shifters were clearly aroused as well, with their jeans straining and the soft moans of pleasure escaping their mouths. She wanted to, needed to be closer. She got up in one gracefully fluid motion and walked over to London first, allowing her robe to fall off of her shoulders to the floor. At first London didn’t look up at her, but the moment her hand slid along Drew’s muscled arm to his own silk clad shoulder, he pulled away from the lion’s neck, licked his lips, and shifted his stance slightly so to capture her mouth in a long sensuous kiss.
The lion’s blood was hot in his mouth, and Penelope tasted it’s coppery smoothness. Lost momentarily in the moment, she had a fleeting thought of how different it was from Hyena blood. Different and the same. Heat and spice surrounded her senses, she swore she smelled the tall grasses of the Serengeti just like when she was connected to Castor and Pollux. The lycanthropes, who’s animal counterparts roamed the plains of Africa, smelled and tasted as rich and dark as the continent of their origin. Their strength was imbued in every drop, and this lion was strong.
London released her mouth with a grin and went back to his lion. Penelope turned to Jean-Claude.
What does wolf taste like?
This time, as she walked languidly toward the Master of the City, she saw that his eyes were upon her and didn’t leave her even as he drank his last sip from his wolf. His mouth came off Anthony’s neck, and as he licked the wounds one last time, his eyes remained steadily on Penelope.
“I want to taste him.”
She saw the trickle of blood running out of the corner of Jean-Claude’s mouth as she climbed onto the couch and ran her hand up Anthony’s arm, in much the same manner she had Drew’s. Jean-Claude went very still, not knowing what Penelope was about to do. He had watched her kiss London, and was very glad that Anthony was in his lap to hide the fact that he had enjoyed the view very much.
The puncture marks were healing, but there was still some blood on Anthony’s neck. He was lost in the euphoric afterglow of the feeding, eyes half closed, softly moaning his pleasure. Penelope leaned over, all the while never leaving Jean-Claude’s gaze. It was the vivid memory of that gaze that had kept her company in her solitude for so many years. She could let him roll her if she wanted, and for a split second she considered it, wondering if he would take advantage of her in that way again.
She slid her tongue over the wolf’s wound. Warm and cool at the same time. Her thoughts went to Jason, and the cologne she had made for him. Still coppery, but magically this wolf tasted like a snowy night in the forest, refreshing and invigorating.
Again, caught in the moment, she stretched up towards Jean-Claude’s mouth close enough to take the kiss that had been threatening them since her arrival. The two times she had kissed him in the last months had brought rushes of memories, mostly pleasant. This time though, she used her thumb to wipe away the blood, taking it to her own mouth, and receding back onto the couch.
Jean-Claude appeared utterly unrattled. A total facade.
“And what did you prefer, ma belle etudiant? Lion or wolf?”
“I prefer hyena, Jean-Claude. But I must say that lion and wolf are tasty as well.”
Her eyes seemed to glow in that moment, their warm gold flecked brown shifting to black, then brown once again. Jean-Claude did not hide his huge grin.
He arose from the couch with Anthony in his arms, and he and London carried the shifters out to the living room where they carefully laid them on the couches to recover. Since they were both experienced blood donors there was little to worry about, but one of the guards would check in on them in about ten minutes anyway. After that, there had been strict orders given that no one was to enter Jean-Claude’s private suite unless there was an emergency.
Upon their return to the bedroom they stopped at the door, each leaning against a side. Similar in height, though not in build, both vampires stood with the light of the living room haloing their bodies. London had chosen a pair of black wool trousers and black silk shirt, Jean-Claude was clad in his still tightly tied robe.
Penelope stood at the foot of the bed, facing away from them. She stared at the turned down sheets, royal purple silk. Without looking behind her she crawled slowly on all fours until she reached the mountains of pillows that made the headboard. She turned slowly until she was laying crossways on the bed.
“Come on now,” she said as she patted the sheets. Her eyes were aglow with magic that she felt flowing freely. Tonight she would let her magic do as it wished. She only hoped that it would not be a repeat of the last time. She trusted that Jean-Claude would be in control, and she gave herself over to that trust.
London was the first to get on the bed with her. He crawled up next to her and on his knees unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it away, revealing the well muscled chest she loved to touch. Next he undid his belt and unbuttoned the top button of his trousers. It was as if Jean-Claude were not just five feet away watching everything. But someone was very aware of his presence.
“You as well,” Penelope waved him over. “What would you have us do?”
Jean-Claude laughed and it sent the most fabulous shivers through both London and Penelope. London had almost forgotten the power of that laugh. It was not often heard in that way at court, but he remembered hearing others talk about it once when Jean-Claude made a brief visit to England long ago. London had made a point to be scarce during his visit, something that Dracula had approved. But those who did entertain him during his visit spoke about the velvety goodness of that laugh for a very long time.
“Ma belle etudiant, we are here for mutual pleasure. What would you have me do?” His smile was genuinely wicked.
Penelope looked to London.
“Lady’s choice, my love.” He took her by the shoulders and drew her close to his body, arm around her waist but facing Jean-Claude.
Penelope leaned back onto her knight, “If it is my choice, I would have you lose your robe and that ridiculous pajama top! I know you prefer to be...more natural.”
Jean-Claude complied with the sensuousness of the stripper he once was. Robe was tossed causally on the couch, and he moved towards the bed, shedding his red silk top as he walked, letting it fall to the floor to rest with Penelope’s robe.
He stood for a moment looking at the pair. They were truly beautiful. There were only two people missing to make this fantasy complete. One was cursing his name a few miles away, and the other, he believed, would have gladly joined in. At least in the old days. Asher’s enjoyment of a good old fashioned orgy was well known when they first met. These days he was a bit more selective about who saw him naked. Something Jean-Claude hoped was waning with every bit of confidence he gained from his new servant.
Penelope.
Her openness was almost innocent, eyes wide with anticipation. In the candlelight Jean-Claude almost thought he saw the girl whose virginity he delighted in so many centuries ago. It had been the second most special night of his life with a woman. Only his first night with Anita surpassed it. As he stared into the face of one woman, he found himself wishing to see that look in another. But he pushed that from his mind, for he believed that it would never again happen.
“Come.” She beckoned. And so he came.
Jean-Claude lay back against the heavy headboard, moving the pillows and allowing his legs to fall open. London had some idea of what he wanted.
London turned and tipped Penelope’s head up to kiss her. While he nibbled at her lips, she eased his trousers down over his ass. He was not wearing anything underneath them, so as soon as her soft warm hands met his skin, she felt him stiffen against her body.
He ran his hands over the jacquard of her corset and over the ruffles of her panties. Before they came to Jean-Claude’s room he had discovered that they were crotchless. Another suggestion of Asher’s, of course, and one that the knight appreciated. It meant that he could enjoy her outfit and still have access to her most intimate parts.
“I miss old fashioned knickers,” he said as he played with the lace and ruffles of her ensemble while they lay on Penelope’s bed waiting for the clock to strike two.
“They are more old fashioned than you think,” Penny took his hand and guided his fingers between her legs.
“Oh my,” London’s grin told her all she needed to know.
Jean-Claude’s heavy voice broke the memory, “I certainly hope you intend to leave the boots on, ma cherie?”
Penelope looked over her shoulder, “of course I do!”
Jean-Claude reached out a hand, but not to her. London took it, with just a hint of caution. He felt the electric energy that flowed through his master and into his body. It made him shudder slightly, remembering that first time he had truly fed the arduer with Jean-Claude and Belle. But something Jean-Claude was doing had eased away all of his fears. Tonight the ardeur felt welcoming and warm and it recognized London right away, but it had gentled with him over the last seven months. That first feeding with Anita had been a ripping and a tearing down of his resolve. Tonight, that violence was gone and what was left felt like a warm velvety blanket wrapped around his metaphysical body.
Is it possible that my dark and beautiful master has in fact tamed this power even to the extent of our former mistress?
London knew that Anita’s ardeur did not feel like Belle’s in many ways, and only now did he realize that was because of the man beckoning him forward. Jean-Claude had truly become the master of his own power. London let Jean-Claude pull him down between his silk draped legs and he lay against him using his master as a couch, feeling every atom in his body respond to Jean-Claude’s light touch.
Two sets of hands reached for Penny. She took one of each.
“What’s going to happen? Will it be as I remember it, Jean?” She asked.
Jean-Claude had fed the ardeur with Penelope many times, but it wasn’t as strong back then as it was now, with the added power from Anita and all to whom they were attached. Penelope had also never seen what theardeur could really do. She had never seen the damage, or been present when it took control, although she had seen through Asher’s memories, and she was not a fool. Personally though, she had only experienced the pleasure of the ardeur, and in those days her connection to such a stoic master vampire had protected her from addiction. Although she had seen London’s memories as well, she certainly would have no first hand knowledge of what it was going to do to her chevalier.
“It may be different than you recall, but I want you to relax. Just make love to him, cherie.”
Make love to us.
Penelope touched London, and felt him shudder beneath her as his eyes closed and a soft moan escaped his lips. He was fully aroused, and she was eager to have him as always. But the researcher in her was very curious as to what was going to happen. She just hoped this went better than her last magical experiment.
London opened his eyes which were glowing with power and guided her body to where he wanted her, holding onto her hands, that were supporting her upper body on his chest, as she gently rode him. She leaned over to kiss him and he pulled her in tightly. This was something he wanted very much, but his hidden doubts made him hold on to her for his life. Penelope kept him attached to the world, even in the grasp of the most awesome power he had ever encountered. He became aware of Jean-Claude’s erection pressed into his back, but the master of the city curiously kept his hands to his sides.
London broke the kiss and turned slightly to look up at Jean-Claude.
“You may touch me, if you like.”
It was the invitation he was waiting for.
Penelope stretched her body upright to allow Jean-Claude access to London’s shoulders and chest. She watched has his long fingers caressed her knight’s skin, tracing around his scars, and she became almost mesmerized at the sight of their bodies in motion together. When she and Asher had been with London, there was never that much contact between the two men, which now disappointed her.
London gasped as Jean-Claude began to slowly release more of his power over them. The ardeur curled around them enveloping them in its warm inviting embrace.
Penelope felt a surge as London thrust his hips upwards pushing the pulsing power throughout her. It caused her to reach out for something to hold on to. That something was Jean-Claude’s bare arm.
When all three of them were connected, the ardeur burst through any remaining shields they had inadvertently put up.
Jean-Claude pushed London up into a sitting position with Penelope firmly seated in his lap, and with his cock grinding into the bare skin of the chevalier’s back. In the rush of power, his silk pajama bottoms disappeared giving his skin full access to his bedmates.
Penelope’s cries were muffled as London roughly kissed her so that blood from her nicked lips ran down her chin. The ardeur pushed them on.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Jean-Claude bit down hard on London’s shoulder, bringing a strangled cry from the knight. Vampires did not routinely feed from one another unless there was sex involved, but the ardeur had decided for them that this was what all parties involved wanted. Penelope’s eyes flew opened to reveal a sparkling blackness that captured Jean-Claude as he lifted his fangs from London’s skin. He momentarily thought how beautifully odd it was that her eyes reflected the magic that was around her. If his thoughts had been less fuzzy he may have wondered if the sparkling onyx reflected in them was from within her, or from her connection with London, but Penelope did something next that completely distracted him.
She saw the blood leaking from the twin puncture marks and without hesitation took her turn at the wound, licking it slowly as London moaned and dug his fingers into her body, continuing the steady rhythm of his hips.
“He tastes wonderful,” she whispered, looking up and drowning in midnight blue fire. “I want more.”
Jean-Claude still had enough sense to know that would be a bad idea, so instead he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, sharing with her the knight’s blood that still lingered in his mouth. His kiss roughened, nicking her lip with his fangs, until they could no longer tell whose blood filled their mouths.
It was enough to bring all three to orgasm. The ardeur roared around them in pleasure, satisfying itself with lust and semen and blood.
London clutched Penelope’s body as he continued to climax over and over inside of her. As Jean-Claude fed from his ecstasy, his own body and power grew and grew. The heat that filled every atom of his physical body exploded outwards and into Penelope and he felt her body glow with heat and power, too. An echo in his mind prayed that he wouldn’t burn her, but he couldn’t stop it now even if he tried. Her body spoke what words could not, and although he thought it might be a hallucination, he swore he heard her voice in his head, telling him how much she loved him and just how good all of this felt! More than she could have ever imagined.
As long as Jean-Claude held Penelope’s mouth in that kiss, their pleasure kept rollicking over them until he finally released her and the three collapsed to their sides, panting and clutched tightly to one another.
London buried his head in Penelope’s neck, breathing unevenly, just needing to feel her skin against him. He knew the power rush was imminent, but for the moment he was entirely spent, or he would have ripped her lingerie from her body. Skin. He needed her skin.
Jean-Claude shuddered against the back of London’s body where he had spilled his seed. His arms still wrapped around the pair, his lips pulled back into a large catlike grin. The power that flowed through him was every bit as wonderful as he had imagined, and he felt Jason, who was sitting in the break room at Guilty Pleasures, fall to the floor in a glorious release. He felt his wolf’s confusion, but also his enormous pleasure. The only shield he knew had held in place was the one with Anita. He funneled any extra power to that, because he had no desire to explain this, at least right now. Poor Richard had been woken from a deep sleep, but at least he was alone, and he hoped the Ulfric would be content to believe he had simply had a very wet dream. Jean-Claude couldn’t think of anyone else because his mind was clouded over, but soon, a sound from the doorway clued him in to just how far the power had traveled.
Clapping, in the doorway, was Asher, with beads of pink tinged sweat dripping down his face.
“Cest magnifique, mon amour, cest magnifique!” He continued to applaud as he walked slowly into the room.
Jean-Claude pulled himself up to a sitting position, poised to speak, because the other two in the bed were still spasming from their release.
“Non,” Asher waved, “later, my love, we will talk about your interpretation of ‘distance’, but for now I want to see how much of my servant the arduer has left for me.”
Asher spoke with a soft growl as he peeled off his clothes and came up onto the bed, feeling every bit the powerful vampire that he was.
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Chapter 40- Surprises and Reactions by nicola71
“Mon Dieu!” Asher gasped as he collapsed on top of Penelope pressing her body down into the mattress.
Although the ardeur was well fed before he entered the room, it always remembered the taste of Asher and wanted him even when satisfied by the lust of others. Jean-Claude felt his power awaken once again, and although he was physically unable to partake in the way he would most like, he held his body against the contours of Asher’s, moving with him as he took his servant in an unrestrained frenzy.
Somewhere in there Asher had managed to relieve Penelope of her lingerie, so she now lay naked and exhausted between Asher and London, with Jean-Claude nuzzled up against Asher’s back which was damp with sweat.
It was London who came around first, with a small chuckle that slowly built and erupted into hysterical laughter.
“God!” He exclaimed, turning to face Penelope, nuzzling as much of his body against her as possible, and twirling his fingers in her hair.
Jean-Claude leaned up on one elbow and grinned over Asher’s bare shoulder.
“I will take that exclamation, mon chevalier, as evidence that it was indeed, ‘good for you.’”
London rolled onto his back like a puppy, “Oh, Jean-Claude, It was...,” His sentence kept getting interrupted by joyous laughter. Finally he choked out, “wonderful!”
Penelope’s girlish giggle joined in as soon as she found enough energy, followed by Asher’s manly laugh, as he pulled her in tightly and placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, neck and cheeks. He spoke to her mind words not meant for the room.
I’m sorry if I was far too rough with you...I simply was taken in by the scene and the power and you laying there, breathless and beautiful. So delectably vulnerable.
Shhh... Penelope scolded, you are home with us now, that’s all that matters. Besides, you know I enjoy it sometimes! This was one of those times, ma mie*.
I will make it up to you, I promise, bien aimèe*, ma belle, ma tout belle...
I love you, too...
“And I LOVE you,” London said loudly as he returned to the pile, snuggling in with one leg wrapped around Penelope, and entwining with Asher’s.
“Did you hear that?” Penelope’s eyes went wide, as did Asher’s.
London chuckled, “you said ‘I love you’. Love. Love. Love. Love. I love all of you!” His voice was several octaves higher than usual, which drew more giggles out of Penelope.
“I think our chevalier is a bit power drunk, perhaps your servant as well, Asher!” Jean-Claude relaxed back into the pillows.
But Asher sat up.
“Jean, “ he said quietly, “London seems to have heard something that Penelope said mind to mind. Her mind to my mind.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
Jean-Claude smiled widely, “I see. Perhaps our Penelope’s power and connection to London is growing as well.” He reached a hand to Penelope, “Ma cherie, try to speak to him.”
Penelope sat up, still giggling, and composed herself. She looked London in the eyes, eyes that were still on fire and positively melting with power.
London, can you hear me?
“Of course I can hear you, silly girl! You’re talking to me!”
But my lips are not moving, darling, try to focus, please! Tee hee!
“Your lips are not moving! Ha! Ha!” he mocked, making a ridiculously funny face.
Penelope stifled the laughter that threatened to throw off all of her concentration.
London! Try and speak to me, my love, please! Just think it like you can with Jean-Claude.
Penny, Pen, Pen...this is very unusual. We are speaking without talking! London continued to chortle, even in his head.
Yes it is, love! Penelope knew she could contact other people mind to mind, but it required immense concentration on her part. I could contact you before, when I concentrated. But now it seems I can talk to you simply by thinking about you.
And I can talk to you. Very. Very. ‘Cooool’.
London! You need to snap out of it! You sound like Jason and not yourself at all...although for some reason I find it totally hysterical!
Even as she thought it, Penelope couldn’t stop his laughing, or stifle hers anymore and they both erupted once again.
“Penelope?” Asher questioned.
She composed herself one more time. “I think we can talk mind to mind, without me using any extraordinary power.”
Jean-Claude’s smile was ear to ear. “My, but this is a most interesting and extraordinary development! I imagine we will all be seeing some new powers in the next few days and weeks.”
Months and years if I can convince them to keep this up! Excellent! Jean-Claude thought to himself. For him, the evening was a total success.
Asher sighed, happily, “Well, whatever will be, will be, as I have come to accept these last years with you, mon ami. As for the vampires in bed, the dawn is soon to take us,” Asher swooped Penelope up in his arms and kissed her, “My love, take our chevalier into the shower where Jean and I will join you in a few moments.”
He set her on her feet and Jean-Claude led a wobbly and still giggling London to her.
“Come along, Sir Knight!” she laughed and pulled him into the bathroom.
When they were alone, Asher took Jean-Claude in his arms and kissed him as passionately as he had kissed Penelope.
“And what, may I ask, is that for? I was afraid you would be cross with me?” Jean-Claude pulled back with a skeptical look.
“Cross with you? After the weekend I have had, and what you welcomed me home with? Not to mention all this glorious power swirling around us? Mais non!* How could I be cross?” Asher kissed him again.
“And do we have time to go over the details?” Jean-Claude was secure in the good mood of his temoin, and would wait for the particulars until the next evening if need be.
“Narcissus will not be misbehaving again, on that you can be certain.”
“What did you promise her?”
“That she would be formally introduced to Penelope at the ball in three months time. The details of that need to be worked out between you and I, for I would prefer that you would accompany her as her escort, seeing as I will be Narcissus’ escort on that one evening.”
“And...”
“And she has given up all rights and expectations at becoming my Animal to Call.”
“Really? In exchange for?”
“My intermittent affections.”
Jean-Claude’s velvety laughter filled the room.
“Oh, mon ami! I see you can still negotiate better than anyone I have ever known. No wonder our former mistress entrusted so many of our wealthiest patrons to your tender mercies.”
Jean-Claude could not have been more pleased that Asher was still able to attain ‘something for nothing,’ as it were. The ‘something’ in this case left him open to pursue an even more powerful match for his Animal to Call. Jean-Claude was never very keen on that honor being given to one who had derived so much pleasure from his own personal pain. It was selfish, he knew, but as Asher seemed to be growing more generous, so he was growing more self-serving.
Asher grinned, “Vraiment*, I think you must admit that I still, as they say, ‘have it’”
“Oui! Oui, you do!” Jean-Claude took his hand and led him towards the bathroom door where they could hear uproarious laughter still exploding out of London and Penelope. If the ardeur resulted in a hangover, London would be cruising for the biggest one of his life.
“One thing I must ask of you, Jean-Claude, I want to tell Penelope what happened, tomorrow when I wake. I want her to hear the details from me.”
“All the details?”
“All the details. I have decided that hiding what I am serves no purpose. I must face her opinion of me, head on.”
“As you wish.” Jean-Claude did not want to press him, whatever was prompting this was true progress. “Was everything else to your satisfaction?”
Asher paused and raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what was being asked. “I enjoyed myself, if that is what you mean.”
“It is. But I sense something was not quite right.” Jean-Claude felt some residual conflict emanating from Asher that had nothing to do with Narcissus or Penelope.
Asher sighed, knowing he couldn’t hide it from him. “One of the participants was wearing a cheap Gardenia perfume. I had to scold her especially.”
“Gardenias.”
“Yes. The one scent I cannot bear. More sickening to me than the roses of Belle Morte, or even the Jasmine of the Dark Mother. Gardenias...gardenias are...”
“Julianna.”
“Thankfully she did not live to see what I became. What I was forced to embrace.”
If Asher was worried about sharing this part of his sexuality with Penelope, the thought of Julianna seeing it was beyond anything he wanted to imagine. Sex, yes. Passion, yes. But brutality? The infliction of pain in the pursuit of personal pleasure was not something he felt his petite fleur would have understood. If it existed in him to that degree before her death, it was something he closely guarded from her.
Jean-Claude shook his head wondering if Asher would ever stop underestimating the understanding of the people in his life.
“She never judged another creature in her life, mon ami. Do not imagine that she would have judged you. We have all done what we must to survive.” Jean-Claude drew him in for one quick kiss, “and unless you want to spend the day on the shower floor, I suggest we make haste.”
They disappeared into the steam of the bathroom to join the inviting laughter echoing from within.
***************************************************************************
Asher let go of Penelope’s hands and waited for her reaction, even though he could already feel it. He wanted to smile in relief, but still had a hard time trusting what he was sensing from her, so he kept his visage and his body as still as he could.
“Well, that is a genuine relief!” She exclaimed. Penelope’s face held everything Asher’s stifled.
“What on Earth makes you happy about what I just shared with you?” Asher was seriously confused, especially since he was expecting revulsion.
“I now know that your feelings for Narcissus don’t go beyond that of a master and animal to call. In fact, your feelings for that man...uh...”
“Gerard.”
“Yes, Gerard. As surface as those feelings are, they are deeper than what you feel for her. Her? Right? I’m not quite sure I understand what Narcissus is, but I’m just glad that you aren’t in love with her!”
“It’s complicated, what she is, but non, I am most certainly not in love with her.” Asher didn’t want to go into the biology or the semantics of what Narcissus was at the moment.
“Complicated is a good word for what you just showed me. Complicated, but not repugnant, as you feared.”
Asher tried to look away, but Penelope would have none of that. She reached out and took his chin, forcing him to look at her.
“Don’t look away from me, Asher. I’m glad you showed me what happened and I don’t know what you were so afraid of.”
Asher picked up her hand again, gently, nervously, massaging her fingers. “I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t want you to think I was a freak,” he paused, “although by many standards I guess that is exactly what I am.”
“I don’t think you are a ‘freak’ at all. You embrace your desires, you like to feel good, and to make others feel good as well. I saw their faces, Asher, I saw that what you gave them was pleasure. I saw the look in Gerard’s eyes, and in that swanmane’s. You gave them something they wanted. Something they needed, and they gave something to you as well. I felt your needs satisfied, my dear. I felt how good it made you feel about yourself.”
At first Asher wasn’t sure this was the best idea, but Jean-Claude had persuaded him that showing Penelope, allowing her to feel his feelings when he was playing a scene, would be the best way to explain to her how much he needed it to be a part of his life. Since she had proven Jean-Claude to be right once again, Asher dared to go a little bit further.
“Do you think that it is something you would be interested in exploring with me?” This question had burned in the back of his mind for quite some time. Asher nurtured fantasies of initiating Penelope into his world, but in his heart he knew she was not truly submissive. Even though she often deferred to his or London’s or even Jean-Claude’s wishes, that was more a consequence of her upbringing than of her own true self and she certainly had no problems making it known when something didn’t suit her. And although she was pliant enough in the bedroom, there was a big difference in what played out at the club, and a few spanks and occasional rough sex between lovers.
Penelope’s mind was filled with images, some of which turned her on very much, and some of which turned her off. She wanted to be honest with him though, since she knew there was nothing to be gained by hiding her feelings, or trying to be something that she wasn’t. Asher loved her without restraint or conditions, as she loved him. Honesty was the way to go.
Penelope made sure to look straight into his ice blue eyes, penetrating them with her own gaze, “I think that I would be interested in learning more about it,” she replied, like the student she was. “But I don’t think I can ever be to you what Gerard is. Or the swanmane.” Penelope’s face softened thoughtfully, “that said, I must admit to feeling aroused at some of the images you showed me, so I do think that I would like to watch you sometime. I just don’t think I want to participate. At least not in the manner they do.”
Asher’s freshly fed heart skipped a beat, “Do you mean you might want to participate in my place?”
Penelope laughed, “I said I would like to watch, my love, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves!”
Asher laughed then too, “Alright, then.” It was not a refusal, and for now, that was just fine with him. But there was a subject he had to bring up. “You know I must prepare you for the ball. I want you to be ready for what you will see, and for meeting the Oba. She will not make it easy for you, and she believes you to be a, what do they say, ‘hothouse flower’.”
“She does, does she?” Penelope considered that a challenge. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
She pulled herself up to her knees and threw her body on top of her vampire, straddling him and playfully pinning his wrists down to the bed.
“Penny!”
“Let’s get these lessons underway, shall we?”
****************************************************************************
Later they lay in bed laughing over Penelope’s questions about BDSM.
“There are people who actually enjoy that?” Her eyes wide as saucers.
“Oh, you would be even more shocked at what some people enjoy, bien aimèe*!”
“Safe, sane and consensual!”
Asher pulled her in and kissed her on the nose, “Oui. Consider your first lesson learned!”
Penelope pulled the covers up over them, and reached for the remote to raise the heat from the gas fireplace.
“I was always a very good student.” She snuggled into his side.
“Penny?”
“Yes?”
“Where is London, tonight?”
Penelope was surprised at Asher’s question, “Jean-Claude wanted him here in case there were any residual effects from the ardeur, so I imagine he is in his room, or maybe in the rec room.” Or gym, she added to herself, now privy to that fact that the gym was London’s personal sanctuary when she was with Asher.
“Why don’t you call him? See if he should like to stay here for the day...”
Asher had a dual purpose in asking her to do this. First, he wanted to see how strong the connection between them was, and if in fact their ability to communicate mind to mind had become permanent. Second, he had grown used to the knight being a part of their life, and even if the emotion was coming from Penelope, he found that he missed him.
“Are you sure? I thought you wanted me all to yourself for at least a week!” Penelope was tickled at his generosity, but also very much enjoying simply being with her master. She hoped he didn’t think she needed more.
“I know that you are content, and so am I, but I admit that lately I have been wanting everyone around me to share in my happiness. Why shouldn’t we be happy together?”
“I think that’s wonderful,” she kissed him once again, and reached out to London.
London?
He spoke up immediately, the sternness back into his deep voice. Penelope? Are you alright?
Yes, love, fine. Where are you?
He laughed his normal masculine unintoxicated laugh, Just cashing in from skinning Requiem, Clay, and two Church of Eternal Life vamps in Texas Hold Em. Why?
Asher wants you to bed down here today. Would you like to?
The excitement and happiness in his voice could not be shielded by any power on earth.
I’ll be there soon. Tell him, ‘thank you.’
Tell him yourself, love!
Penelope opened her eyes, “He’s on his way.”
Asher pushed her down, “Excellent,” his gentle kisses tickling her skin.
Soon there was a soft knock and Asher bade him open the door.
“Come in, London. Get comfortable.” He motioned to Penelope’s side.
London shed his clothes and climbed in bed with Asher and Penelope, sandwiching her between them.
“The dawn is still a few minutes away,” he slid his body in spooning Penelope, kissing her shoulder lightly, and stroking Asher’s arm. “Thank you, Asher.”
“You are very welcome, mon chevalier. Kiss us quickly, bien aimèe, and sleep well. Your wine bar awaits you tomorrow, as well as your lessons.”
“Lessons?” London questioned.
“Later, mon chevalier, I will tell you about them later,” Asher grinned.
Penelope kissed them both and let them snuggle her tightly in the moments before they left her for the day. Their weight felt good against her, and in that moment she couldn’t think of anywhere she would rather be. As sleep and the dawn took over the very contended occupants of the bed, the same thought breezed through all of their minds.
Everything was going to be grand. They just knew it.
*************************************************************************
Thousands of miles away, in a palatial French Chateaux, the brilliant late spring sun was shining through the tall windows of an ornately decorated study.
“Be careful, Laurent! That one painting is very old, and very valuable to our mistress.”
“Je suis dèsolé,*” the human boy, who could not have been more than seventeen, bowed his head. His tanned and naked torso bore the fang marks of a blood slave, as well as the still pink welts he had sustained during the night’s revels.
“Do you have the addresses?”
“Oui, monsieur Cristos.”
“Bien. The truck with the larger crates has already left, but you must personally take these. Now, put some clothes on because the car is waiting to take you to town. These packages and letters must be sent certified mail, especially the ones to the American consulate. If the paperwork is not done correctly it will be your hide, and I care not how much you claim to enjoy it, I assure you that it will not be in the least pleasant. Now begone!”
The shivering boy grabbed a dark blue T-shirt from the desk chair, hastily put it on, carefully picked up the letters and packages and fled through the door to a waiting limousine.
Cristos sighed. For almost five hundred years he had served his master and his mistress without question, but this errand he felt was perhaps poorly thought out, although it would be his life to say otherwise. His master lay dead for the day in her arms, and had left him knowing that his presence would be required when they awoke.
He looked at the small golden clock at the corner of the gilded rococo desk. “About an hour,” he sighed aloud. “They awaken earlier and earlier, and one day I will get no rest at all.”
He stretched his lithe body out to his full 6’2 height and stared out the window into the sunlit garden. Soon he would be leaving France for only the third time in his long life. Off to the New World. He had wanted to see the sites of New York City, but St. Louis would have to do.
He turned and made his way down the long stone steps and into the labyrinthine depths of the only home he could now remember.
* ma mie- my dear
* bien aimèe- beloved
* mais non - of course not
* vraiment- true
* Je suis dèsolé
*****************************************************************
Thus ends this part of the tale! I want to thank especially RekaStormborn and Submissively Asher’s for their beta duties, but most of all for their unfailing support in seeing this through with me. I must say that without them I may never have finished this story, and I most certainly would not have been able to envision the sequel! Hugs and cookies to them both!
I would also like to thank all of my faithful readers and reviewers! To name a few, smj21468, LaRoseNoir, evilynne, katie0422, Killer Bunny, and NorthernStar, among others who have sent such nice emails! You all brightened my days!
I know I am leaving you dangling off a precipice, but the sequel to Numquam Obliviscar is on it’s way! Stay tuned for The Master’s Privilege.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 37- Masters and Servant by nicola71
London was solid and still as he sat across the large obsidian desk from Jean-Claude. The Master of the City had his hands clasped together, forefingers supporting his chin. Midnight blue met onyx black, and neither seemed moved to speak.
Inside, however, each vampire’s mind was churning.
**************************************************************************
London awoke to find Penelope in exactly the same position that he remembered her from the previous night, snuggled tightly against his cold body. She was dressed which told him she’d been awake for hours already and returned to him to be there when he rose for the day.
Her good-morning kisses were very welcome and tender, and they shared more than a few laughs over their sexual adventure. London promised to go find the nameless tiger and apologize as well as offer a deeply deserved thank you.
Kisses turned into more, clothes were gone and although he had not yet fed, they made the most of what his body could accomplish. Afterwards they mused that they were in for another long night.
But things got very serious after about ten minutes.
“How do you feel?” Penelope leaned up on one elbow and gently brushed London’s dark curls from his face.
London thought it an odd question at first, but then things slowly began to fit together.
“I feel wonderful. More than wonderful. I feel…powerful.” His tone descended with each phrase from confident delight to just this side of abject terror.
He sprung out of bed with his vampire speed and into the bathroom. Penny followed him.
He was standing in front of the mirror staring down his reflection, looking into his own glowing eyes. Penelope slid her arms around his naked torso, rested her cheek against his back and pressed her warm skin against his. He was so incredibly closed off at the moment that she thought she wouldn’t be able gauge his true reaction. However, to her surprise she felt from him a mixture of revulsion and excitement. How she was able to discern this, she didn’t know.
“Jean-Claude?” was all he asked, with a somberness Penelope had hoped never to hear in his voice again.
“Yes. He came to see me this morning…”
But her words were barely out before London had grabbed his shirt and pants and was out the door. This time Penelope just let him go.
**************************************************************************
It was London who broke their silence.
“Why, Jean-Claude? Why not simply ask from the beginning?”
Jean-Claude’s Gallic shrug was accompanied by the lamest excuse anyone could give, human or vampire.
“I don’t know.”
“That answer is unworthy of you,” London charged.
“That unfortunately, I do know.”
“Then answer me truthfully. You are my master as well as Penelope’s through Asher, so to ask us would not have been out of the question. But to spy on us…to take without asking like a thief in the night? I have known you for many centuries, Jean-Claude, and that is not your style.”
Jean-Claude didn’t move, but his voice changed slightly, now infused with just a hint of frustrated anger.
“And many centuries separate the vampire you knew from the one who sits before you now. Many centuries of servitude, of not being able to feed my incubus in the way I should, in giving up what I wanted in favor of what I needed to survive to see the next evening’s sky. So when you speak of “my style” perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought, mon ami.”
London was stunned, not only at Jean-Claude’s response, but also at his own mixed bag of feelings. He was not angry with Jean-Claude for feeding from him because in truth he felt both physically energized and metaphysically powerful. He had spent so many centuries neglecting his own needs because he feared the one woman who could charge his power would end up destroying him. Now there were two people in close proximity, neither who wanted to use him for ill, who could feed that power, and he was shutting them down.
He didn’t want to be with Anita physically anymore, but not because he didn’t like her, because he truly did. She had been kind to him, especially when things were going no-where with Penelope, and he admired her gift for swift action and her ability in a fight, but he didn’t desire her anymore. The extra baggage that came with Anita was not something he wanted to bother with, but more than that, his love for Penelope had freed him from his addiction to Anita’s ardeur. He was also well aware that Anita had breathed a sigh of relief when he gave up her bed. The last thing she needed was another man, especially one she did not love.
As for Jean-Claude, London didn’t particularly desire men in general, although he long ago came to terms with the fact that he did very much enjoy his time with Asher. And if he was truly being honest with himself, he didn’t mind when Jean-Claude was allowed to feed on him at court either. Belle never gave up an opportunity to make a self-confessed heterosexual go against everything he believed about himself, so on the occasions Jean-Claude was involved with feeding on him it was never from a distance.
Besides Asher and Jean-Claude, every other time he had been with a man it was at the behest of his master, and taking a page from Jean-Claude’s well read book, he had learned to make a virtue of necessity. All that considered, London had never once imagined that he and Jean-Claude would become lovers when he came to St. Louis. In fact, Jean-Claude had promised he would not again become the ardeur’s plaything. A promise that was not kept.
“I know you did not invite me to St. Louis to become your toy as once I was our mistress’s. And It was not my intention to come here to feed your incubus in order to gain power for myself.”
Jean-Claude sighed and wished it were not always so difficult to get his people to see that what was good for them was good for the kiss, and subsequently good for him. If only he could persuade the powerful beings around him to actually embrace their power...
“I know you did not, and you also know that could I have prevented your re-addiction last November, I would have. But we both know that your addiction is under control if not entirely conquered, and you are now free to pursue your gift down its logical and beneficial path. If that is what you wish.”
Jean-Claude was hoping that by taking the direct approach London would be easily convinced. However convincing was not needed, and Jean-Claude was about to be surprised by his chevalier.
“It was the way you went about it this time, Jean-Claude, that bothered me. What happened in November was beyond even your control, and I have never held you responsible, but this time you had a choice. With that said, I do desire to grow more powerful. If that means allowing you to feed from me, then that is what I want to do.”
Jean-Claude didn’t bother to hide his feelings. A rarity for him, but he was caught off guard, and his voice echoed his surprise.
“Do you have aspirations beyond your place here?”
London didn’t move, he had anticipated that question.
“No, I do not.”
“You would grow your power simply to help me strengthen my position?”
“I would grow my power to protect the people I love, and yes, I have sworn fealty to you Jean-Claude. That was a vow I took very seriously. I believe in what you have done here and in what you are trying to do.”
“The people you love.”
“The woman I love.”
“And you believe in me.” Jean-Claude did not doubt London’s words, but he needed to hear them again.
“As I have said.”
“And what is it you think I am trying to do here other than create safety for the people who I in fact love?” Midnight blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and inquiry.
“Jean-Claude…”
“Non, I want to know what you are thinking. Even without the benefit of your growing powers, you were already a formidable vampire when you arrived here, London, one who I am well aware could be Master of a City, or at the very least challenge for a higher position within this kiss, so indulge me, sil vous plais.”
London remained as still as a statue. “In my opinion, you are creating an American Council.”
“Those are very dangerous words.”
“You asked me what I thought. You didn’t say that thought had to be safe.”
“And if this, American Council, as you say were a reality, where would your place be in it?”
London looked at him directly so there would be no doubt that his words were the absolute truth.
“As long as Asher is by your side, then my place will be one step away from him, beside my lady.”
“You love her that much? Enough to forego your own city, your own future?”
Penelope was his future and although London could think of many chivalric phrases that would emphasize just how much he loved her, there was really only one word that mattered.
“Yes.”
Jean-Claude rose and walked over to London, put his hands on his shoulders and raised him to stand, taking him in an embrace. It was the closest physical contact they had shared in many centuries, and even though Jean-Claude had total control over his powers now more than then, there was still the ghost of what once was and what could be that made them each shudder.
“I believe you, mon chevalier.” Jean pulled back until he could see London’s face. “But there is one thing I must get your word on before we proceed.”
“Ask.”
“Do not mention to anyone, not even Penelope, your theory about my plans. I am neither confirming nor denying them, but even a whisper in that direction could put all of us, including her, in serious danger.”
“You have my word.”
London, turned to go, but looked back over his shoulder with perhaps an unintentionally sensuous look, one inherent in Belle’s line, that was enhanced by his dark good looks. It reminded Jean-Claude of another time, another place.
“Jean-Claude?”
“Yes?”
“Penny and I will be in your room at two…if that’s alright. I want as much time with her alone as possible.”
“I’ll arrange a lite supper, for us all.”
“I’m fond of cats these days.”
“Really?” Jean-Claude cocked his head.
“Yes.”
“Then cats there will be.”
London left, and saved his grin for after the door closed behind him.
************************************************************************
Asher emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with a blood red towel wrapped loosely around his hips. He was struck for a moment by the scene before him.
Gerard was still asleep on his stomach with his head turned in the other direction. His black hair spread out so that it blended easily with the black silk sheets that were askew on the bed in contrast with his lightly tanned, muscular back.
Asher had more than indulged himself, and was feeling rather smug and powerful as he strode past the sleeping hyena to get to the bag of clothes Pollux had dropped off for him while he was down for the day.
He felt no need to let up the pressure from the previous night, but his wardrobe this evening was going in an entirely different direction, one that up until now had been a private matter between he and his Oba.
He pulled out and put on a pair of dark, though well worn, jeans that hung on his hips and hugged his ass and muscular thighs. He had always been a big man, even in life, and had prided himself on having a build that crossed the lines between aristocrat and artisan. Becoming a vampire only enhanced what was natural.
He thought about all that his body had done for him during his long life, as he ran his hand over the defined muscles of his abdomen, then higher to the scars of his mangled chest.
He sighed, but had no time for lamentation now. He would be barefoot, shirtless, with his hair tied in a loose ponytail. It was an image that Narcissus had begged him to adopt during some of their private times together. It reminded her of the handsome farm hands of her youth.
The ones I wanted to want me, she had said.
After he was dressed, he stretched on the bed and listened to Gerard softly breathe. There was more to this hyena than just rugged good looks and unmitigated, yielding submission. They talked about a great deal before the dawn crashed on them, mostly about some of the things Gerard would like to do at the club, but their conversation drifted to talk of hyena politics.
Asher knew that Narcissus talked a good game about wanting more of a say in the inter-workings of the Coalition, but her refusal to leave the confines of the club was stagnating the hyena presence.
After laying a gentle kiss on Gerard’s bare shoulder, Asher got up and went out to the darkened hallway. He thought about contacting Penelope. Right now he was missing her touch, her smile, her voice, her everything. If she had been a different person she might be with him right now walking towards the club’s main room. But she was not that person, and may never be that person. He shut his shields even tighter, and decided that a phone call was best. He ducked into the office that was his when he was at the club, sat on the corner of the mahogany desk and dialed Jean-Claude.
“Hello?” Jean-Claude’s voice purred over the line in English.
“Bonjour.”
“Bonjour, mon ami. How are things progressing?”
“Very well. How’s Penelope? Did the Knight survive the night?” Asher made light of it because he really didn’t want to think about London as the beneficiary of all of his lust.
“Very well, I imagine. She was up very early today.”
“And she is well?”
“I have already said. Wouldn’t you rather speak to her?”
“Non, not yet.”
Asher still wasn’t sure about how his control could hold out if he heard her voice. Up to now he had done an excellent job of keeping thoughts of her from bleeding over into what he was doing. When he finally unleashed his lust last night, Gerard was such a focused, willing and able recipient, Asher had no worry that Penelope would feel anything. He was also confident that her own exhaustion would protect her from seeing anything he didn’t want her to see. For centuries he had been able to masterfully control the powers he had because they were weak. Now between Anita and Penelope, his powers were growing faster and keeping up with them was proving to be very difficult.
“You still fear that she will see and feel something you are not ready to share?” Jean-Claude didn’t need to see his lover to read his expressions, but after he said it, he realized that this was not the time.
Indeed, Asher was not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed, “Actually, I just called to tell you that things were going well and that I should be home no later than tomorrow evening. Also, I wanted to know how Penny was and for you to tell her that I am alright. That I love her, I miss her, and I can’t wait to feel her once again in my arms.”
“I will pass along the message.”
“Does she seem...” Asher couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know, and he didn’t want to know.
“She is as happy now as you are when you are with me, mon chardonneret.”
“Then she is indeed, very happy.”
Jean-Claude wanted to change the subject before it turned to his incubus. He had already been given permission to feed on Penelope, so he felt no need to give up further details.
“Has Narcissus agreed to your terms?”
“She does not know them yet. But she will.”
“Bon. I will see you when you return? I would like to know what has transpired, in detail.”
“But of course. And Jean?”
“Yes?”
“Je t’adore.”
Asher closed his phone without waiting for a reply, stood up, stretched his long body and headed out towards the hallway. When he entered the main room, he saw Narcissus sit up suddenly from where she was balled up on the floor of her glass prison.
Castor and Pollux were sitting, sharing sections of the New York Times. Pollux doing the crossword in pen, Castor reading the financials. Asher nodded to them as he passed.
“Would you both retreat to the bar area? I would like to speak to Narcissus in private.”
The brothers silently complied. Other than them, the room was empty.
Asher walked slowly towards the box, every muscle in his body moving in a glorious concert of grace and ease. By the time he got to her, Narci had pulled her body to the wall closest to him. Her eye makeup ran in charcoal streaks down her cheeks, and she pressed her palm to the glass.
When he got to her, Asher placed his own hand on the glass and slid down until he was on his haunches.
“Good evening, Oba”
“Good evening, master.”
Off to an auspicious start, Asher thought.
“Are you ready to hear my terms, or would you like to see the second act of my power play, first?”
Narcissus closed her eyes, “You are going to make me fully submit to you, aren’t you? This is not one of our scenes...this is...this is...”
“This is how it has to be.”
“I would not have hurt her. Not physically.”
“I cannot take that chance.” Asher’s eyes bore into hers, and although her own power would have protected her, it was not bespellment that she saw there.
“What do you want?” She whispered.
“No, Narcissus, what is it that you want?”
The Oba looked up into his clear, pale blue eyes, now softened just a bit. “What?”
“What would make you happy? Really and truly happy.”
Narcissus was shoved off the delicate balancing board she had teetered on for most of her life. It was truly not that often when someone asked her what she really wanted.
“I want you.”
“Is that all?”
“I want my hyenas to be safe. To grow in power as they have grown in number.”
“And?”
“I want to be introduced to her, formally, as your Oba.”
“Penelope.”
“Yes.”
“Say her name.”
“Penelope.”
Asher’s grin was painted with victory.
“Done.”
Narcissus sat all the way up. “What!”
“I will give you what you’ve asked for.”
Narcissus began to realize that she had been tricked, but she was not sure how.
“I don’t understand.”
“You asked to be with me. I will be with you once a month, twelve times a year. On these occasions I will top you for one evening. I will also be your escort at your annual Bondage Ball, where we will show a united front for our Hyenas and the lycanthrope community.”
Asher could see the wheels turning in her mind. The thought of having him once a month was an attractive offer, but she also knew that in her haste, she had given up the big prize.
“What’s the catch?”
“The ‘catch’ as you say is that you have given up all hope of becoming my Animal to Call. I will never select you for that honor. It’s what you have exchanged for my attentions.”
The Oba began to cry, as Asher continued, “Would you rather me never touch you again? Because that is the only trade I would consider. I choose you, but never again would you feel my hand at the end of a whip, never again feel what I know I alone can give you.”
She shook her head and looked away, defeated. “What of my hyenas?” Her words came in a raspy whisper.
“I will appoint Gerard as the hyena representative in the Coalition.”
Her voice rose suddenly in disbelief and screeched dryly, “You are taking Gerard as your Animal to Call?”
“Non, I am appointing him to look after the well being of our hyenas. He will not be my Animal to Call.”
“Then who will be?”
“I have not yet decided, or rather, my power has not decided for me, but when it does I give my word that I will let you know.”
“And, her? Penelope?”
“I will bring her back in three months time, for the Ball.”
“I will meet her in three months?”
“Three months, in August.”
“But on that night you will be my escort?”
“As I have said.”
Narcissus smiled, “You will be mine, for that night?”
“For that night I will be your escort, and Penelope will be here as my servant. But yes, it will be the one night of the year where I will be with you in public. All this is providing you behave yourself, and offer a sincere and contrite apology to her when she arrives.”
“And if I don’t?” Narcissus’ expression was not nearly as bold as her words, which is why she got away with the question.
“Then the loneliness you’ve felt in this box is nothing compared to what you will feel when I invite the oba from Boston to relocate her pack. I understand she is looking for a warmer clime.”
The Boston oba had a reputation for brutality when vying for supremacy. It was rumored that she killed the former oba without even fully shifting. Narcissus was confident in her powers, but she had not been seriously challenged since Chimera, and she didn’t really handle that occasioin all that well. She liked St. Louis, she liked the mini empire she had built, and she liked Asher. She was not prepared to give any of that up.
“I will apologize.”
“Excellent.”
Meng Die, Faust, and the five submissives appeared on the stage, as Gerard crawled to Asher’s feet, eyes begging for more of what the vampire had to give. Narci licked her lips.
“Will you let me play, now, master?”
Asher rose slowly, “I think not.”
“But!?”
Asher pushed his power out and directed it all at Narcissus, knocking her across the box until her body slammed into the far wall, shaking it so that those watching thought it might shatter into a million shards of glass. The look on Narci’s face betrayed the fact that the pain she was feeling was actually a small reward, and a promise of later fulfillment. For now she would content herself with voyeurism.
Asher turned to his people.
“Shall we begin?”
Back to index
Chapter 38- Setting The Table by nicola71
“I guess that look means you like it.” Penelope smiled widely, absolutely tickled by the look on her knight’s face.
“I...I...” He was laying on his stomach in the middle of Penelope’s bed, in nothing but a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, surrounded by the pale blue silk of her comforter. He buried his head in his arms for a moment, then looked up at her again, his eyes sparkling and his mouth spread in a wide grin, showing his fangs, something he only did when he was caught off guard. Which was almost never.
“I. Love. It.”
Penelope had on something very special, something she had been saving, from the only lingerie shop in town where one could find European designs. Asher had taken her shopping a few weeks before to bolster her collection of frilly, lacy underthings. It had been a particularly fun night, as she recalled. Asher had the shop opened especially for them at midnight, and the clerk he requested was both discreet and conveniently scarce whilst Asher himself dressed her in outfit after outfit.
“Is that too tight, bien aimèe?” Asher, said devilishly as he pulled the cords of the pale blue corset tighter.
Penelope had both hands pressed against the mirror, bracing herself for every taut pull.
“No,” she gasped, “tighter.”
Asher tightened his grip again, this time pulling her off balance and into his arms...
Penelope jogged her mind from the memory. As good as it was, she always tried to focus on the man in front of her. This ensemble, though, owed much to Asher’s choice. It was he who suggested she take it for London’s pleasure, insisting that the Victorian style would be much to the knight’s taste. As usual, Asher’s knowledge of both fashion and people was on the mark.
It was a black and purple satin jacquard corset with purple ruffled panties and a matching Kimono style robe. She had paired it with black thigh high stockings held up with purple satin bows, and a pair of leather Victorian lace up boots. Impractical? Yes. Sexy? Absolutely.
She walked towards him and bent over suggestively as he rolled onto his back. As she bent low for an upside down kiss, he reached his arms over his head, one hand fisting her hair and the other gently caressing her thigh.
They had spent most of the day making love, with side trips to the gym and kitchen, where London was still steadfast in his command that she eat. Asher’s pull on her was far less than it had been the day before, which Penelope translated into the thought that things must indeed be going well for him. An idea that was confirmed by a note from Jean-Claude, delivered by Jason, saying that Asher missed her and sent his love, as well as a post sсript from the Master of the City that he would see her and the chevalier at 2 AM.
When her lips came up for air she spoke, “You are certain about this?”
London sighed and rolled over again as Penny sat down on the bed. He absently stroked her arm and looked into her eyes searching for the doubt he feared he would find. Doubt that he had decided to let go.
“Yes. I am certain that this is the right thing to do. Are you...do you not want to?” He braced himself for her answer.
Penelope had been thinking about this for most of the day. She wanted London to start increasing his power once again. If she knew anything at all from her long years as a servant, it was how important it was for a Master vampire to not allow his or her power to stagnate. She had joined Socrates long after he had been turned, but she could feel his growing weakness even then. Her master descended from a vampire of great potential, to one who needed legions of servants and centuries of clandestine secrets to protect him.
As for the sex...it was not as if Jean-Claude had not seen her, or been with her in that way before. Penelope was no prude, nor did she have the same sensibilities that Anita had to get over when her sex life went public. Asher had given his blessing, London wanted this, and Jean-Claude was wise enough to see the great potential of the situation. She trusted the men in her life implicitly. Maybe she trusted a bit too much, but it was all she had to go on.
She took London’s hand, kissed it and held it to her heart, smiling.
“Do you think I should wear a coat over this to get to Jean-Claude’s room?”
London smiled, took her in his arms and held her as tightly as he could.
****************************************************************************
Asher sat back hard against the velvet cushion of the chair that had been his throne for these games. He was done.
“Castor, would you please call Davis and tell him to get the car ready.”
“As you wish. What time? I was under the impression that you would be spending the day here.”
“No need. I will be showering and dressing though, as well as taking some time to chat with Gerard about club business. Tell him to be ready to transport us at 4 AM. That gives us plenty of time to get back to the circus before the sun rises.”
“Shall I call the circus and tell them we are coming?”
“We’ll call from the car. I’d like our return to be a surprise.”
Asher was planning on bedding down for the day with Jean-Claude. Penelope had been a great asset the last two days and he felt waves of power coming from her, energizing and invigorating him in the way a servant should. He wondered if Jean-Claude could claim the same. Anita made an art of shutting herself off from her master, and the master had made an art of finding power elsewhere. Sometimes Asher wondered how powerful Jean-Claude could really become if he had a servant and an Animal to Call who cooperated. As a reward he wanted to give Penelope one more full night with London before he snatched her away for awhile. He also knew London was in part responsible for this, and he was in a generous mood tonight.
Regardless, he needed to brief Jean-Claude about Narcissus’ compliance as well as what he had given for his part of the bargain. He smiled, smug in the knowledge that Jean-Claude would indeed be proud of him. Validation was something he had always needed from Jean-Claude, even during the years when they were Belle Morte’s pets. His approval meant the world to Asher, and proving that he had indeed been the right choice for his temoin, despite the doubts of so many, was something that was very important to him as well. Not to mention that his curiosity was brimming over how the ardeur enjoyed it’s feeding. It was time Jean-Claude started reaping the benefits of having so many powerful people around him.
Asher started to laugh out loud...so loudly that even the action on stage ceased and Castor and Pollux, Ixion and Ares turned from their duties.
“Sir?” Pollux questioned this odd behavior.
Asher waved him away, “Do not worry, mon cher, I am simply feeling extraordinarily unselfish at the moment. I find it amusing...”
**********************************************************************
It had been quite some time since Jean-Claude had been so anxious. He had lit, blown out and re-lit, every candle in his bedroom twice.
He had also changed a dozen times, which was not so unusual on a normal day except that he was well aware that there were only a few ways to make silk pajamas and a robe look different. He had finally settled on red silk pajamas. It was not his usual custom to wear the top, but he didn’t want to appear too eager. He also had his black sable trimmed robe on and tied tightly shut around his lean body. It really was his favorite, but tonight it served as a barrier between his skin and that of one he should not touch.
The strong knock on the door came as no surprise, but it was not quite two, so he knew it was not his guests.
Instead it was the serious face of Claudia staring at him when he opened the door.
“Boss? Just checking in.”
“Everything is as it should be?”
“The crew at Guilty Pleasures just called in, and all was well there. There was a fight at Danse Macabre, but that was taken care of swiftly by WickedTruth, and the police did not get involved. Requiem called in to say theVertias party went very well, and that there were several bookings made this evening. The humans are really digging that place.”
“Requiem said that?”
“Well, he didn’t say ‘digging’, I paraphrased as I always do with his flowery shit. We’d be here until sunrise if I repeated what he actually said”
“Indeed. And Asher?”
“No phone call.”
“Bien.”
“Will you be needing anything? Is Anita expected?”
He and Anita had been closed off to one another since the previous night. It was not unusual after a fight for them to do that, but it frustrated the vampire all the same. Micah, who had returned from a long diplomatic trip for the Coalition, had stopped by briefly to talk to Jean-Claude about business. He mentioned that Anita had been at the old house, and that the pard was staying there, as well as Damian, as long as she would. He imagined her anger would work itself out as it always did, but he told Jean-Claude not to expect to see her for a few days. Her pride was wounded, and that wound was going to need a lot of soothing before she realized that she was wrong.
Jean-Claude agreed that it would be best if she was calm when she saw him again, and especially Asher. But considering that it would be good news he was expecting from his temoin, that should go a long way to un-ruffling her feathers. Either way, things would right themselves. In Anita-time of course.
“Non, Anita will not be expected tonight.”
Claudia could see easily that Jean-Claude had prepared his room for company.
“Is Asher coming home tonight?”
“I don’t expect him until tomorrow’s sunset.”
“I see.”
“That is all, Claudia. You may go.”
With a sigh, Claudia slung her rifle over her shoulder and turned around to leave. She was pretty certain that whomever was expected, was not coming to talk business. But as she almost always did, she kept her thoughts to herself.
When she was gone, Jean-Claude looked over the room once more. He had secured one of the charms Penelope had made to each post of the bed. Although she maintained that their power was waning, there was no need to take a chance. If he was correct, then tonight would be an incredible release of power. It was his intention to drink that in, and subsequently have London benefit. But he also knew that Penelope’s power was growing, and she was not so skilled as one might think at controlling it. He would speak to her about consulting someone to at least assess her power. But not tonight. Tonight he would finally feed better than he had in almost two centuries, and that was something he wanted very much, just for himself.
Feeding on Asher and Anita together was wonderful, but London could alone provide a meal that was far and away better than that. What Penelope could now bring to the banquet was still a mystery.
The door knocked again, this time with less surety.
Jean-Claude opened to find two shapeshifters, a wolf and a lion. Both men were medium tall in stature, and reasonably new to the feeding pool. Both were dressed casually in jeans with no shirts. No strangers to feeding vampires, they knew better than to have shirts get in the way, and Jean-Claude’s reputation precluded that he preferred his blood-donors to be in some state of undress.
The wolf, who naturally felt more compelled and at ease around the vampire who called him, smiled and stepped forward.
“Good evening, master,” he bowed his head. Clearly he was new.
Jean-Claude raised his hand, “There is no need for such formality. Please call me ‘Jean-Claude’. What is your name?”
The wolf avoided direct eye contact, “My name is Anthony. I recently relocated from a pack near Baltimore to attend graduate school here in St. Louis. I am studying preternatural biology.”
Anthony had shaggy dark brown hair and eyes to match. His Italian descent showed clearly through his coloring and olive skin. He was very pleasing to the eye, Jean-Claude noted. Exactly the type of young man he might have chosen if he were choosing young men. Although careful not to fully look Jean-Claude in the eyes, the vampire could still see an air of good natured mischief in the wolf’s. A dark reflection of my Jason, perhaps. He wondered if the two were acquainted.
“Aha, Richard must have quite a bit to talk to you about?”
“Yes, mast...sir...Jean-Claude. He has been a great help to me with my studies. It is my hope to become a doctor in order to better serve my clan and my fellow shapeshifters. And vampires too!” He added as a politically correct afterthought. “Your physiology is fascinating.”
“A noble purpose, most certainly. You work in the clinic with Dr. Lilian?”
“Yes. When I can.” Anthony suddenly realized his manners. “This is Drew. A lion just arrived from Chicago.”
Drew was a fair haired young man of about 25 or 26. His build was that of a someone who spent a great deal of time in the gym. His dark brown eyes held something of secrecy, but in general he seemed warm and accepting, if a little in awe.
“Good evening, Jean-Claude.” Drew bowed his head in the same fashion as Anthony, careful not to meet the vampire’s eyes.
“You come from Augustine?”
“Yes. I have been with him since I was turned five years ago. I was a boxer, back then. Got infected during an illegal fight in one of his gambling dens. Master Augustine felt responsible for me ever since. You see, the fight was for shapeshifters only. I heard about the purse, and bribed my way in. The guy who infected me was pretty broke up about it, even though I broke his jaw first.”
“As a human, you broke the jaw of a werelion?” Jean-Claude didn’t know if he should be impressed by his bravado, or frightened by his stupidity.
“It was a lucky shot, sir. There was so much going on, and such a mix of humans and shapeshifters, he didn’t smell me clearly until I started bleeding. Then it was too late. My own fault really, but Auggie said he liked my ‘moxie’. Sent me here because he thinks I can be of some use to you, seeing you are collecting lions now.”
“Interesting.” Jean-Claude had not realized he was ‘collecting’ anything. Anita, on the other hand...
“Sorry if I spoke too much, sir. I tend to do that.”
“Not to worry.” Jean-Claude stepped back to look at them. “You have fed vampires before.”
“Yes.” Came the unison reply.
“Very well. My guests will be here shortly. There will be a lady, so please conduct yourselves accordingly. When we have fed, we will place you on the couches in the living room. When you feel well enough to stand, please help yourselves to a sports drink from the bar, and you will find sandwiches and snacks in the kitchen.”
Jean-Claude regarded them as they each found a place to sit on the bed. They certainly were comfortable enough, which made him happy. The last thing he wanted was novitiates. However he did take notice to the fact that Drew, the lion, seemed anxious, and he could smell the cat’s arousal.
“Drew, are you alright?”
“Fine, thanks. Just a little tingly. Like I used to feel around Auggie sometimes. I fed him regularly when his pomme was resting, or well, like tonight, when Auggie was entertaining.”
“I see. Did you often stay...during his entertainments?”
“Yes, sir. Sometimes. As a reward, I guess.”
Jean-Claude didn’t want to press him any further. If this lion was going to be part of his organization though, he’d want to know more, especially why he was ‘tingling.’
At that moment, the door to the bedroom, which had been left ajar, swung open to reveal what he had been waiting for.
“Welcome,” Jean-Claude said, as he reached and took each of their hands. As humans all over the city were stumbling home drunk, or sound asleep in their beds, his night was about to begin.
London was solid and still as he sat across the large obsidian desk from Jean-Claude. The Master of the City had his hands clasped together, forefingers supporting his chin. Midnight blue met onyx black, and neither seemed moved to speak.
Inside, however, each vampire’s mind was churning.
**************************************************************************
London awoke to find Penelope in exactly the same position that he remembered her from the previous night, snuggled tightly against his cold body. She was dressed which told him she’d been awake for hours already and returned to him to be there when he rose for the day.
Her good-morning kisses were very welcome and tender, and they shared more than a few laughs over their sexual adventure. London promised to go find the nameless tiger and apologize as well as offer a deeply deserved thank you.
Kisses turned into more, clothes were gone and although he had not yet fed, they made the most of what his body could accomplish. Afterwards they mused that they were in for another long night.
But things got very serious after about ten minutes.
“How do you feel?” Penelope leaned up on one elbow and gently brushed London’s dark curls from his face.
London thought it an odd question at first, but then things slowly began to fit together.
“I feel wonderful. More than wonderful. I feel…powerful.” His tone descended with each phrase from confident delight to just this side of abject terror.
He sprung out of bed with his vampire speed and into the bathroom. Penny followed him.
He was standing in front of the mirror staring down his reflection, looking into his own glowing eyes. Penelope slid her arms around his naked torso, rested her cheek against his back and pressed her warm skin against his. He was so incredibly closed off at the moment that she thought she wouldn’t be able gauge his true reaction. However, to her surprise she felt from him a mixture of revulsion and excitement. How she was able to discern this, she didn’t know.
“Jean-Claude?” was all he asked, with a somberness Penelope had hoped never to hear in his voice again.
“Yes. He came to see me this morning…”
But her words were barely out before London had grabbed his shirt and pants and was out the door. This time Penelope just let him go.
**************************************************************************
It was London who broke their silence.
“Why, Jean-Claude? Why not simply ask from the beginning?”
Jean-Claude’s Gallic shrug was accompanied by the lamest excuse anyone could give, human or vampire.
“I don’t know.”
“That answer is unworthy of you,” London charged.
“That unfortunately, I do know.”
“Then answer me truthfully. You are my master as well as Penelope’s through Asher, so to ask us would not have been out of the question. But to spy on us…to take without asking like a thief in the night? I have known you for many centuries, Jean-Claude, and that is not your style.”
Jean-Claude didn’t move, but his voice changed slightly, now infused with just a hint of frustrated anger.
“And many centuries separate the vampire you knew from the one who sits before you now. Many centuries of servitude, of not being able to feed my incubus in the way I should, in giving up what I wanted in favor of what I needed to survive to see the next evening’s sky. So when you speak of “my style” perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought, mon ami.”
London was stunned, not only at Jean-Claude’s response, but also at his own mixed bag of feelings. He was not angry with Jean-Claude for feeding from him because in truth he felt both physically energized and metaphysically powerful. He had spent so many centuries neglecting his own needs because he feared the one woman who could charge his power would end up destroying him. Now there were two people in close proximity, neither who wanted to use him for ill, who could feed that power, and he was shutting them down.
He didn’t want to be with Anita physically anymore, but not because he didn’t like her, because he truly did. She had been kind to him, especially when things were going no-where with Penelope, and he admired her gift for swift action and her ability in a fight, but he didn’t desire her anymore. The extra baggage that came with Anita was not something he wanted to bother with, but more than that, his love for Penelope had freed him from his addiction to Anita’s ardeur. He was also well aware that Anita had breathed a sigh of relief when he gave up her bed. The last thing she needed was another man, especially one she did not love.
As for Jean-Claude, London didn’t particularly desire men in general, although he long ago came to terms with the fact that he did very much enjoy his time with Asher. And if he was truly being honest with himself, he didn’t mind when Jean-Claude was allowed to feed on him at court either. Belle never gave up an opportunity to make a self-confessed heterosexual go against everything he believed about himself, so on the occasions Jean-Claude was involved with feeding on him it was never from a distance.
Besides Asher and Jean-Claude, every other time he had been with a man it was at the behest of his master, and taking a page from Jean-Claude’s well read book, he had learned to make a virtue of necessity. All that considered, London had never once imagined that he and Jean-Claude would become lovers when he came to St. Louis. In fact, Jean-Claude had promised he would not again become the ardeur’s plaything. A promise that was not kept.
“I know you did not invite me to St. Louis to become your toy as once I was our mistress’s. And It was not my intention to come here to feed your incubus in order to gain power for myself.”
Jean-Claude sighed and wished it were not always so difficult to get his people to see that what was good for them was good for the kiss, and subsequently good for him. If only he could persuade the powerful beings around him to actually embrace their power...
“I know you did not, and you also know that could I have prevented your re-addiction last November, I would have. But we both know that your addiction is under control if not entirely conquered, and you are now free to pursue your gift down its logical and beneficial path. If that is what you wish.”
Jean-Claude was hoping that by taking the direct approach London would be easily convinced. However convincing was not needed, and Jean-Claude was about to be surprised by his chevalier.
“It was the way you went about it this time, Jean-Claude, that bothered me. What happened in November was beyond even your control, and I have never held you responsible, but this time you had a choice. With that said, I do desire to grow more powerful. If that means allowing you to feed from me, then that is what I want to do.”
Jean-Claude didn’t bother to hide his feelings. A rarity for him, but he was caught off guard, and his voice echoed his surprise.
“Do you have aspirations beyond your place here?”
London didn’t move, he had anticipated that question.
“No, I do not.”
“You would grow your power simply to help me strengthen my position?”
“I would grow my power to protect the people I love, and yes, I have sworn fealty to you Jean-Claude. That was a vow I took very seriously. I believe in what you have done here and in what you are trying to do.”
“The people you love.”
“The woman I love.”
“And you believe in me.” Jean-Claude did not doubt London’s words, but he needed to hear them again.
“As I have said.”
“And what is it you think I am trying to do here other than create safety for the people who I in fact love?” Midnight blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and inquiry.
“Jean-Claude…”
“Non, I want to know what you are thinking. Even without the benefit of your growing powers, you were already a formidable vampire when you arrived here, London, one who I am well aware could be Master of a City, or at the very least challenge for a higher position within this kiss, so indulge me, sil vous plais.”
London remained as still as a statue. “In my opinion, you are creating an American Council.”
“Those are very dangerous words.”
“You asked me what I thought. You didn’t say that thought had to be safe.”
“And if this, American Council, as you say were a reality, where would your place be in it?”
London looked at him directly so there would be no doubt that his words were the absolute truth.
“As long as Asher is by your side, then my place will be one step away from him, beside my lady.”
“You love her that much? Enough to forego your own city, your own future?”
Penelope was his future and although London could think of many chivalric phrases that would emphasize just how much he loved her, there was really only one word that mattered.
“Yes.”
Jean-Claude rose and walked over to London, put his hands on his shoulders and raised him to stand, taking him in an embrace. It was the closest physical contact they had shared in many centuries, and even though Jean-Claude had total control over his powers now more than then, there was still the ghost of what once was and what could be that made them each shudder.
“I believe you, mon chevalier.” Jean pulled back until he could see London’s face. “But there is one thing I must get your word on before we proceed.”
“Ask.”
“Do not mention to anyone, not even Penelope, your theory about my plans. I am neither confirming nor denying them, but even a whisper in that direction could put all of us, including her, in serious danger.”
“You have my word.”
London, turned to go, but looked back over his shoulder with perhaps an unintentionally sensuous look, one inherent in Belle’s line, that was enhanced by his dark good looks. It reminded Jean-Claude of another time, another place.
“Jean-Claude?”
“Yes?”
“Penny and I will be in your room at two…if that’s alright. I want as much time with her alone as possible.”
“I’ll arrange a lite supper, for us all.”
“I’m fond of cats these days.”
“Really?” Jean-Claude cocked his head.
“Yes.”
“Then cats there will be.”
London left, and saved his grin for after the door closed behind him.
************************************************************************
Asher emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with a blood red towel wrapped loosely around his hips. He was struck for a moment by the scene before him.
Gerard was still asleep on his stomach with his head turned in the other direction. His black hair spread out so that it blended easily with the black silk sheets that were askew on the bed in contrast with his lightly tanned, muscular back.
Asher had more than indulged himself, and was feeling rather smug and powerful as he strode past the sleeping hyena to get to the bag of clothes Pollux had dropped off for him while he was down for the day.
He felt no need to let up the pressure from the previous night, but his wardrobe this evening was going in an entirely different direction, one that up until now had been a private matter between he and his Oba.
He pulled out and put on a pair of dark, though well worn, jeans that hung on his hips and hugged his ass and muscular thighs. He had always been a big man, even in life, and had prided himself on having a build that crossed the lines between aristocrat and artisan. Becoming a vampire only enhanced what was natural.
He thought about all that his body had done for him during his long life, as he ran his hand over the defined muscles of his abdomen, then higher to the scars of his mangled chest.
He sighed, but had no time for lamentation now. He would be barefoot, shirtless, with his hair tied in a loose ponytail. It was an image that Narcissus had begged him to adopt during some of their private times together. It reminded her of the handsome farm hands of her youth.
The ones I wanted to want me, she had said.
After he was dressed, he stretched on the bed and listened to Gerard softly breathe. There was more to this hyena than just rugged good looks and unmitigated, yielding submission. They talked about a great deal before the dawn crashed on them, mostly about some of the things Gerard would like to do at the club, but their conversation drifted to talk of hyena politics.
Asher knew that Narcissus talked a good game about wanting more of a say in the inter-workings of the Coalition, but her refusal to leave the confines of the club was stagnating the hyena presence.
After laying a gentle kiss on Gerard’s bare shoulder, Asher got up and went out to the darkened hallway. He thought about contacting Penelope. Right now he was missing her touch, her smile, her voice, her everything. If she had been a different person she might be with him right now walking towards the club’s main room. But she was not that person, and may never be that person. He shut his shields even tighter, and decided that a phone call was best. He ducked into the office that was his when he was at the club, sat on the corner of the mahogany desk and dialed Jean-Claude.
“Hello?” Jean-Claude’s voice purred over the line in English.
“Bonjour.”
“Bonjour, mon ami. How are things progressing?”
“Very well. How’s Penelope? Did the Knight survive the night?” Asher made light of it because he really didn’t want to think about London as the beneficiary of all of his lust.
“Very well, I imagine. She was up very early today.”
“And she is well?”
“I have already said. Wouldn’t you rather speak to her?”
“Non, not yet.”
Asher still wasn’t sure about how his control could hold out if he heard her voice. Up to now he had done an excellent job of keeping thoughts of her from bleeding over into what he was doing. When he finally unleashed his lust last night, Gerard was such a focused, willing and able recipient, Asher had no worry that Penelope would feel anything. He was also confident that her own exhaustion would protect her from seeing anything he didn’t want her to see. For centuries he had been able to masterfully control the powers he had because they were weak. Now between Anita and Penelope, his powers were growing faster and keeping up with them was proving to be very difficult.
“You still fear that she will see and feel something you are not ready to share?” Jean-Claude didn’t need to see his lover to read his expressions, but after he said it, he realized that this was not the time.
Indeed, Asher was not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed, “Actually, I just called to tell you that things were going well and that I should be home no later than tomorrow evening. Also, I wanted to know how Penny was and for you to tell her that I am alright. That I love her, I miss her, and I can’t wait to feel her once again in my arms.”
“I will pass along the message.”
“Does she seem...” Asher couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know, and he didn’t want to know.
“She is as happy now as you are when you are with me, mon chardonneret.”
“Then she is indeed, very happy.”
Jean-Claude wanted to change the subject before it turned to his incubus. He had already been given permission to feed on Penelope, so he felt no need to give up further details.
“Has Narcissus agreed to your terms?”
“She does not know them yet. But she will.”
“Bon. I will see you when you return? I would like to know what has transpired, in detail.”
“But of course. And Jean?”
“Yes?”
“Je t’adore.”
Asher closed his phone without waiting for a reply, stood up, stretched his long body and headed out towards the hallway. When he entered the main room, he saw Narcissus sit up suddenly from where she was balled up on the floor of her glass prison.
Castor and Pollux were sitting, sharing sections of the New York Times. Pollux doing the crossword in pen, Castor reading the financials. Asher nodded to them as he passed.
“Would you both retreat to the bar area? I would like to speak to Narcissus in private.”
The brothers silently complied. Other than them, the room was empty.
Asher walked slowly towards the box, every muscle in his body moving in a glorious concert of grace and ease. By the time he got to her, Narci had pulled her body to the wall closest to him. Her eye makeup ran in charcoal streaks down her cheeks, and she pressed her palm to the glass.
When he got to her, Asher placed his own hand on the glass and slid down until he was on his haunches.
“Good evening, Oba”
“Good evening, master.”
Off to an auspicious start, Asher thought.
“Are you ready to hear my terms, or would you like to see the second act of my power play, first?”
Narcissus closed her eyes, “You are going to make me fully submit to you, aren’t you? This is not one of our scenes...this is...this is...”
“This is how it has to be.”
“I would not have hurt her. Not physically.”
“I cannot take that chance.” Asher’s eyes bore into hers, and although her own power would have protected her, it was not bespellment that she saw there.
“What do you want?” She whispered.
“No, Narcissus, what is it that you want?”
The Oba looked up into his clear, pale blue eyes, now softened just a bit. “What?”
“What would make you happy? Really and truly happy.”
Narcissus was shoved off the delicate balancing board she had teetered on for most of her life. It was truly not that often when someone asked her what she really wanted.
“I want you.”
“Is that all?”
“I want my hyenas to be safe. To grow in power as they have grown in number.”
“And?”
“I want to be introduced to her, formally, as your Oba.”
“Penelope.”
“Yes.”
“Say her name.”
“Penelope.”
Asher’s grin was painted with victory.
“Done.”
Narcissus sat all the way up. “What!”
“I will give you what you’ve asked for.”
Narcissus began to realize that she had been tricked, but she was not sure how.
“I don’t understand.”
“You asked to be with me. I will be with you once a month, twelve times a year. On these occasions I will top you for one evening. I will also be your escort at your annual Bondage Ball, where we will show a united front for our Hyenas and the lycanthrope community.”
Asher could see the wheels turning in her mind. The thought of having him once a month was an attractive offer, but she also knew that in her haste, she had given up the big prize.
“What’s the catch?”
“The ‘catch’ as you say is that you have given up all hope of becoming my Animal to Call. I will never select you for that honor. It’s what you have exchanged for my attentions.”
The Oba began to cry, as Asher continued, “Would you rather me never touch you again? Because that is the only trade I would consider. I choose you, but never again would you feel my hand at the end of a whip, never again feel what I know I alone can give you.”
She shook her head and looked away, defeated. “What of my hyenas?” Her words came in a raspy whisper.
“I will appoint Gerard as the hyena representative in the Coalition.”
Her voice rose suddenly in disbelief and screeched dryly, “You are taking Gerard as your Animal to Call?”
“Non, I am appointing him to look after the well being of our hyenas. He will not be my Animal to Call.”
“Then who will be?”
“I have not yet decided, or rather, my power has not decided for me, but when it does I give my word that I will let you know.”
“And, her? Penelope?”
“I will bring her back in three months time, for the Ball.”
“I will meet her in three months?”
“Three months, in August.”
“But on that night you will be my escort?”
“As I have said.”
Narcissus smiled, “You will be mine, for that night?”
“For that night I will be your escort, and Penelope will be here as my servant. But yes, it will be the one night of the year where I will be with you in public. All this is providing you behave yourself, and offer a sincere and contrite apology to her when she arrives.”
“And if I don’t?” Narcissus’ expression was not nearly as bold as her words, which is why she got away with the question.
“Then the loneliness you’ve felt in this box is nothing compared to what you will feel when I invite the oba from Boston to relocate her pack. I understand she is looking for a warmer clime.”
The Boston oba had a reputation for brutality when vying for supremacy. It was rumored that she killed the former oba without even fully shifting. Narcissus was confident in her powers, but she had not been seriously challenged since Chimera, and she didn’t really handle that occasioin all that well. She liked St. Louis, she liked the mini empire she had built, and she liked Asher. She was not prepared to give any of that up.
“I will apologize.”
“Excellent.”
Meng Die, Faust, and the five submissives appeared on the stage, as Gerard crawled to Asher’s feet, eyes begging for more of what the vampire had to give. Narci licked her lips.
“Will you let me play, now, master?”
Asher rose slowly, “I think not.”
“But!?”
Asher pushed his power out and directed it all at Narcissus, knocking her across the box until her body slammed into the far wall, shaking it so that those watching thought it might shatter into a million shards of glass. The look on Narci’s face betrayed the fact that the pain she was feeling was actually a small reward, and a promise of later fulfillment. For now she would content herself with voyeurism.
Asher turned to his people.
“Shall we begin?”
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Chapter 38- Setting The Table by nicola71
“I guess that look means you like it.” Penelope smiled widely, absolutely tickled by the look on her knight’s face.
“I...I...” He was laying on his stomach in the middle of Penelope’s bed, in nothing but a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, surrounded by the pale blue silk of her comforter. He buried his head in his arms for a moment, then looked up at her again, his eyes sparkling and his mouth spread in a wide grin, showing his fangs, something he only did when he was caught off guard. Which was almost never.
“I. Love. It.”
Penelope had on something very special, something she had been saving, from the only lingerie shop in town where one could find European designs. Asher had taken her shopping a few weeks before to bolster her collection of frilly, lacy underthings. It had been a particularly fun night, as she recalled. Asher had the shop opened especially for them at midnight, and the clerk he requested was both discreet and conveniently scarce whilst Asher himself dressed her in outfit after outfit.
“Is that too tight, bien aimèe?” Asher, said devilishly as he pulled the cords of the pale blue corset tighter.
Penelope had both hands pressed against the mirror, bracing herself for every taut pull.
“No,” she gasped, “tighter.”
Asher tightened his grip again, this time pulling her off balance and into his arms...
Penelope jogged her mind from the memory. As good as it was, she always tried to focus on the man in front of her. This ensemble, though, owed much to Asher’s choice. It was he who suggested she take it for London’s pleasure, insisting that the Victorian style would be much to the knight’s taste. As usual, Asher’s knowledge of both fashion and people was on the mark.
It was a black and purple satin jacquard corset with purple ruffled panties and a matching Kimono style robe. She had paired it with black thigh high stockings held up with purple satin bows, and a pair of leather Victorian lace up boots. Impractical? Yes. Sexy? Absolutely.
She walked towards him and bent over suggestively as he rolled onto his back. As she bent low for an upside down kiss, he reached his arms over his head, one hand fisting her hair and the other gently caressing her thigh.
They had spent most of the day making love, with side trips to the gym and kitchen, where London was still steadfast in his command that she eat. Asher’s pull on her was far less than it had been the day before, which Penelope translated into the thought that things must indeed be going well for him. An idea that was confirmed by a note from Jean-Claude, delivered by Jason, saying that Asher missed her and sent his love, as well as a post sсript from the Master of the City that he would see her and the chevalier at 2 AM.
When her lips came up for air she spoke, “You are certain about this?”
London sighed and rolled over again as Penny sat down on the bed. He absently stroked her arm and looked into her eyes searching for the doubt he feared he would find. Doubt that he had decided to let go.
“Yes. I am certain that this is the right thing to do. Are you...do you not want to?” He braced himself for her answer.
Penelope had been thinking about this for most of the day. She wanted London to start increasing his power once again. If she knew anything at all from her long years as a servant, it was how important it was for a Master vampire to not allow his or her power to stagnate. She had joined Socrates long after he had been turned, but she could feel his growing weakness even then. Her master descended from a vampire of great potential, to one who needed legions of servants and centuries of clandestine secrets to protect him.
As for the sex...it was not as if Jean-Claude had not seen her, or been with her in that way before. Penelope was no prude, nor did she have the same sensibilities that Anita had to get over when her sex life went public. Asher had given his blessing, London wanted this, and Jean-Claude was wise enough to see the great potential of the situation. She trusted the men in her life implicitly. Maybe she trusted a bit too much, but it was all she had to go on.
She took London’s hand, kissed it and held it to her heart, smiling.
“Do you think I should wear a coat over this to get to Jean-Claude’s room?”
London smiled, took her in his arms and held her as tightly as he could.
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Asher sat back hard against the velvet cushion of the chair that had been his throne for these games. He was done.
“Castor, would you please call Davis and tell him to get the car ready.”
“As you wish. What time? I was under the impression that you would be spending the day here.”
“No need. I will be showering and dressing though, as well as taking some time to chat with Gerard about club business. Tell him to be ready to transport us at 4 AM. That gives us plenty of time to get back to the circus before the sun rises.”
“Shall I call the circus and tell them we are coming?”
“We’ll call from the car. I’d like our return to be a surprise.”
Asher was planning on bedding down for the day with Jean-Claude. Penelope had been a great asset the last two days and he felt waves of power coming from her, energizing and invigorating him in the way a servant should. He wondered if Jean-Claude could claim the same. Anita made an art of shutting herself off from her master, and the master had made an art of finding power elsewhere. Sometimes Asher wondered how powerful Jean-Claude could really become if he had a servant and an Animal to Call who cooperated. As a reward he wanted to give Penelope one more full night with London before he snatched her away for awhile. He also knew London was in part responsible for this, and he was in a generous mood tonight.
Regardless, he needed to brief Jean-Claude about Narcissus’ compliance as well as what he had given for his part of the bargain. He smiled, smug in the knowledge that Jean-Claude would indeed be proud of him. Validation was something he had always needed from Jean-Claude, even during the years when they were Belle Morte’s pets. His approval meant the world to Asher, and proving that he had indeed been the right choice for his temoin, despite the doubts of so many, was something that was very important to him as well. Not to mention that his curiosity was brimming over how the ardeur enjoyed it’s feeding. It was time Jean-Claude started reaping the benefits of having so many powerful people around him.
Asher started to laugh out loud...so loudly that even the action on stage ceased and Castor and Pollux, Ixion and Ares turned from their duties.
“Sir?” Pollux questioned this odd behavior.
Asher waved him away, “Do not worry, mon cher, I am simply feeling extraordinarily unselfish at the moment. I find it amusing...”
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It had been quite some time since Jean-Claude had been so anxious. He had lit, blown out and re-lit, every candle in his bedroom twice.
He had also changed a dozen times, which was not so unusual on a normal day except that he was well aware that there were only a few ways to make silk pajamas and a robe look different. He had finally settled on red silk pajamas. It was not his usual custom to wear the top, but he didn’t want to appear too eager. He also had his black sable trimmed robe on and tied tightly shut around his lean body. It really was his favorite, but tonight it served as a barrier between his skin and that of one he should not touch.
The strong knock on the door came as no surprise, but it was not quite two, so he knew it was not his guests.
Instead it was the serious face of Claudia staring at him when he opened the door.
“Boss? Just checking in.”
“Everything is as it should be?”
“The crew at Guilty Pleasures just called in, and all was well there. There was a fight at Danse Macabre, but that was taken care of swiftly by WickedTruth, and the police did not get involved. Requiem called in to say theVertias party went very well, and that there were several bookings made this evening. The humans are really digging that place.”
“Requiem said that?”
“Well, he didn’t say ‘digging’, I paraphrased as I always do with his flowery shit. We’d be here until sunrise if I repeated what he actually said”
“Indeed. And Asher?”
“No phone call.”
“Bien.”
“Will you be needing anything? Is Anita expected?”
He and Anita had been closed off to one another since the previous night. It was not unusual after a fight for them to do that, but it frustrated the vampire all the same. Micah, who had returned from a long diplomatic trip for the Coalition, had stopped by briefly to talk to Jean-Claude about business. He mentioned that Anita had been at the old house, and that the pard was staying there, as well as Damian, as long as she would. He imagined her anger would work itself out as it always did, but he told Jean-Claude not to expect to see her for a few days. Her pride was wounded, and that wound was going to need a lot of soothing before she realized that she was wrong.
Jean-Claude agreed that it would be best if she was calm when she saw him again, and especially Asher. But considering that it would be good news he was expecting from his temoin, that should go a long way to un-ruffling her feathers. Either way, things would right themselves. In Anita-time of course.
“Non, Anita will not be expected tonight.”
Claudia could see easily that Jean-Claude had prepared his room for company.
“Is Asher coming home tonight?”
“I don’t expect him until tomorrow’s sunset.”
“I see.”
“That is all, Claudia. You may go.”
With a sigh, Claudia slung her rifle over her shoulder and turned around to leave. She was pretty certain that whomever was expected, was not coming to talk business. But as she almost always did, she kept her thoughts to herself.
When she was gone, Jean-Claude looked over the room once more. He had secured one of the charms Penelope had made to each post of the bed. Although she maintained that their power was waning, there was no need to take a chance. If he was correct, then tonight would be an incredible release of power. It was his intention to drink that in, and subsequently have London benefit. But he also knew that Penelope’s power was growing, and she was not so skilled as one might think at controlling it. He would speak to her about consulting someone to at least assess her power. But not tonight. Tonight he would finally feed better than he had in almost two centuries, and that was something he wanted very much, just for himself.
Feeding on Asher and Anita together was wonderful, but London could alone provide a meal that was far and away better than that. What Penelope could now bring to the banquet was still a mystery.
The door knocked again, this time with less surety.
Jean-Claude opened to find two shapeshifters, a wolf and a lion. Both men were medium tall in stature, and reasonably new to the feeding pool. Both were dressed casually in jeans with no shirts. No strangers to feeding vampires, they knew better than to have shirts get in the way, and Jean-Claude’s reputation precluded that he preferred his blood-donors to be in some state of undress.
The wolf, who naturally felt more compelled and at ease around the vampire who called him, smiled and stepped forward.
“Good evening, master,” he bowed his head. Clearly he was new.
Jean-Claude raised his hand, “There is no need for such formality. Please call me ‘Jean-Claude’. What is your name?”
The wolf avoided direct eye contact, “My name is Anthony. I recently relocated from a pack near Baltimore to attend graduate school here in St. Louis. I am studying preternatural biology.”
Anthony had shaggy dark brown hair and eyes to match. His Italian descent showed clearly through his coloring and olive skin. He was very pleasing to the eye, Jean-Claude noted. Exactly the type of young man he might have chosen if he were choosing young men. Although careful not to fully look Jean-Claude in the eyes, the vampire could still see an air of good natured mischief in the wolf’s. A dark reflection of my Jason, perhaps. He wondered if the two were acquainted.
“Aha, Richard must have quite a bit to talk to you about?”
“Yes, mast...sir...Jean-Claude. He has been a great help to me with my studies. It is my hope to become a doctor in order to better serve my clan and my fellow shapeshifters. And vampires too!” He added as a politically correct afterthought. “Your physiology is fascinating.”
“A noble purpose, most certainly. You work in the clinic with Dr. Lilian?”
“Yes. When I can.” Anthony suddenly realized his manners. “This is Drew. A lion just arrived from Chicago.”
Drew was a fair haired young man of about 25 or 26. His build was that of a someone who spent a great deal of time in the gym. His dark brown eyes held something of secrecy, but in general he seemed warm and accepting, if a little in awe.
“Good evening, Jean-Claude.” Drew bowed his head in the same fashion as Anthony, careful not to meet the vampire’s eyes.
“You come from Augustine?”
“Yes. I have been with him since I was turned five years ago. I was a boxer, back then. Got infected during an illegal fight in one of his gambling dens. Master Augustine felt responsible for me ever since. You see, the fight was for shapeshifters only. I heard about the purse, and bribed my way in. The guy who infected me was pretty broke up about it, even though I broke his jaw first.”
“As a human, you broke the jaw of a werelion?” Jean-Claude didn’t know if he should be impressed by his bravado, or frightened by his stupidity.
“It was a lucky shot, sir. There was so much going on, and such a mix of humans and shapeshifters, he didn’t smell me clearly until I started bleeding. Then it was too late. My own fault really, but Auggie said he liked my ‘moxie’. Sent me here because he thinks I can be of some use to you, seeing you are collecting lions now.”
“Interesting.” Jean-Claude had not realized he was ‘collecting’ anything. Anita, on the other hand...
“Sorry if I spoke too much, sir. I tend to do that.”
“Not to worry.” Jean-Claude stepped back to look at them. “You have fed vampires before.”
“Yes.” Came the unison reply.
“Very well. My guests will be here shortly. There will be a lady, so please conduct yourselves accordingly. When we have fed, we will place you on the couches in the living room. When you feel well enough to stand, please help yourselves to a sports drink from the bar, and you will find sandwiches and snacks in the kitchen.”
Jean-Claude regarded them as they each found a place to sit on the bed. They certainly were comfortable enough, which made him happy. The last thing he wanted was novitiates. However he did take notice to the fact that Drew, the lion, seemed anxious, and he could smell the cat’s arousal.
“Drew, are you alright?”
“Fine, thanks. Just a little tingly. Like I used to feel around Auggie sometimes. I fed him regularly when his pomme was resting, or well, like tonight, when Auggie was entertaining.”
“I see. Did you often stay...during his entertainments?”
“Yes, sir. Sometimes. As a reward, I guess.”
Jean-Claude didn’t want to press him any further. If this lion was going to be part of his organization though, he’d want to know more, especially why he was ‘tingling.’
At that moment, the door to the bedroom, which had been left ajar, swung open to reveal what he had been waiting for.
“Welcome,” Jean-Claude said, as he reached and took each of their hands. As humans all over the city were stumbling home drunk, or sound asleep in their beds, his night was about to begin.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 36- Senses Ensnared by nicola71
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As always, thank you to my readers! I am so glad you are enjoying the story! A very long chapter for you...thank you for all of your support!
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“Shouldn’t you be passed out in bed wrapped around a vampsicle?”
Jason leaned against the door to the kitchen, peeling a banana he must have had in his room, sporting a devilish grin.
“Jason, shush! I’m working!”
It was a little after 9AM and Penelope also wondered why she wasn’t still abed, but here she was, wide awake, energized, and determined to get some things done before her vampires rose for the day. She knew that as long as Asher was dead to the world she wouldn’t feel his overwhelming urges, so she was making use of the time. Jason couldn’t really disturb her, but she liked to tease him. Anyway, she had some idea where the conversation was going to go next.
“I heard that Caleb was needed as a donor for a particular vampire last night. And Travis. And that new tiger, what’s his name, who’s roaming around here now. An acrobat I think.”
Jason came in and gently moved Penelope’s hair to one side to see the fading scar of recent fang marks, “And you too, apparently! Damn, girl!”
Penelope blushed and looked earnestly down at what she was working on, but she couldn’t stop the huge grin that took over her face. Her mind instantly filled with images from the previous night. She and London eventually moved their party to her rooms after he had exhausted her as a blood supply. At one point she begged him to bleed her again, but he had enough sense to know that would defeat the purpose.
In what could only be described as London completely throwing caution to the wind, or totally losing his mind, he threw on his pants, without even fastening them, wrapped her in one of the silk throws and carried her down, back into the belly of the circus. He even called out to Graham who was working the door, and obviously stunned by what he saw, to call for Caleb to meet him at Penny’s room. Ever prepared, London had arranged Caleb and Travis ahead of time, but even they were not enough. Desperate, London practically abducted the nameless tiger from the break room near Center Ring. Thankfully whoever it was had fed vamps before and was totally cool with having the rest of the night off as consolation.
Their final exertion found them tangled in a knot of silk sheets on the floor of the bathroom. Penny never thought she would seriously be waving one of her lovers away, but her body was mostly human, and it was telling her “enough”. London’s last act was drawing a warm bath and using some of the healing and soothing flowers and oils Penny had in her room to soften the water as they bathed away the sweat and fluids that seemed to be everywhere. She fell asleep against him in the water, and she figured he must have dried her off and made the bed up fresh, because when she woke up this morning they were snuggled neatly between clean sheets.
Penelope carefully dressed in the most loose and comfortable cotton yoga pants and long-sleeved t-shirt she had, made her way to the deserted kitchen and concocted a special version of her usual brew of soothing mint tea. She was definitely feeling her body this morning, but also felt herself healing maybe a little faster than she should. This particular tea used a simple incantation to ward off pain and speed healing.
Thank goodness Helene taught me a few things that were actually useful!, she thought.
“Is there something I can do for you, Jason?” Penelope’s voice was tinged with faux annoyance.
He came around to sit next to her at the table and when he finally got a good view of her, he burst into a hysterical fit of laughter.
“What?!”
“Are you sitting on a pillow?” Jason managed to choke his question out without spattering banana all over her.
Penelope sighed hard.
“Jason, isn’t there somewhere you should be? Does no one else get up early in this place?”
When he finally calmed down he smiled sincerely, “I’m sorry, Penny, really I am. But try to see it from my point of view! A few months ago I was fully prepared to buy you a selection of vibrators to take the edge off, and now here you sit, smarting from too much sex. I’m so proud of you!”
He reached an arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
“Ow! Jason, I am working with sharp objects here!”
Penelope was indeed using a very sharp thin dagger to scribe symbols into what Jason assumed was copper.
“I see that. What exactly are you doing?”
“Scribing the charms, you know, the practically useless ones I almost killed myself to learn how to make,” she was still not quite over her stupidity during that little escapade.
“Useless?”
“First of all, they should be carved in silver, but hardly anyone around here can touch silver, so that’s not an option. However, I guess it’s really the symbols that offer the protection, so that part is not so bad. What is bad is that the protection has just about used up all it’s power in this realm.” She continued, her voice full of regret, “Regardless, I’ve made one for all of the guards that surround Anita and Jean-Claude, and all the pommes and tri members, but they really won’t have the same punch they may have had even a few decades ago, and without silver to repel her power... well the best I can hope for is some prior warning in case she tries to invade any of us.” She sighed loudly with frustration, “To add insult to injury I can’t even test that theory because I certainly don’t want the Dark Mother to show up again.”
Jason could sense her feelings of defeat. All that she endured and put Asher through was essentially for nothing.
“Yes, it was all for nothing,” she said softly.
“What?” Jason cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I was agreeing with you, although I wish you hadn’t said it out loud.”
“I didn’t say it out loud.”
They looked at each other with questioning eyes.
“Oh.” Penelope, said blankly and shook her head as if clearing the cobwebs.
“I didn’t think you could read thoughts in that way.” Jason wasn’t frightened, but he was confused.
“I can’t.”
“Oh. Boy.”
Penelope tried to appear unfazed, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just a fluke, I’m sure.”
Jason was not so sure. He’d been present for enough weird shit the last few years to never brush something off as simply a “fluke.”
“Penny, did you and London release a lot of magic last night?” Jason had felt something, but it was warm and almost undetectable, as if someone was shielding him from feeling it. But he remembered the subtle thrumming of magic. If it wasn’t big, he often disregarded it as Jean-Claude feeding the ardeur at the club, or Anita feeding from Micah or Nathaniel or someone. All normal and virtually nightly occurrences.
Penelope paused, hesitant to bring it up, but yes, a great deal of magic was expended between them. London feared it, but she had reassured him that it was as natural as any other part of their relationship. Once he quieted his fear, he let go a little, and their magic joined together in an intricate dance, like it did the first night they were together. It made her shiver to remember how it felt when he started to let go. There was something vaguely familiar in the sensations, but at the time she wasn’t thinking about it and in retrospect she couldn’t place it. What she did know was that if London ever really opened to her fully it would most likely be mind-blowing. But even with that implication she was resigned to not pushing him. Pushing people had never gotten her anywhere good. She also didn’t think it possible to gain power through London, since they didn’t have the same metaphysical connection that she and Asher had. But she had been wrong about a great many things lately, so she really didn’t know.
“There was some magic, yes.”
“Can you tell what I’m thinking about right now?” Jason asked with a curious look.
Penelope concentrated, but didn’t invade his mind as she knew she could. Always before when she entered someone’s head, she had to focus and have a purpose or a direction. She could never casually read thoughts or emotions. Even then, it was always her own thoughts she planted in another’s mind. It had to be deliberate. This was both a comfort and a curse for her because at least she knew that she couldn’t mess with someone by accident. Of course that also meant that every time she had done this it had been on purpose.
She didn’t want this conversation to continue.
Without looking up from her work she said, “You are thinking about my naked body covered in chocolate pudding. Either that or making a turkey sandwich from leftovers in the fridge. It’s really unclear at the moment.”
“Now look who’s the comedian.”
Penelope carefully put the dagger and copper piece she was working on down on the table.
“So, why are you up so early, Jason? Are you okay?” It was time to redirect.
“Actually, I followed my nose here, and I don’t know why.”
Penelope smiled. She’d hoped for this reaction. It meant she had not lost the one piece of her magic that she loved the most but had not had the occasion to use much in the last several hundred years.
She got up and went to the stove, where a small pot was cooling with several thick towels over the top.
“You could scent this, all the way from your room?” She lifted the towels, and watched as Jason’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he let the banana peel fall to the floor.
“God! YES! What is it?”
“You tell me what it is.”
Jason breathed in deeply.
“Pine needles, and dark rich dirt...freshly fallen autumn leaves, and...and...” he breathed in once again, “this is gonna to sound crazy, but crisp cold air, like the forest on a December night.”
Penelope’s smile was tinged with just a hint of arrogance. She had not lost her touch after all.
“It’s just missing one thing, Jason,” she said.
“What? I think it smells like heaven!”
“You. It needs some of you, because it’s for you.”
“For me?”
“Jason, there is no one here who has been more of a friend to me when I needed one than you. I wanted to give you something that reflected that. I wanted to make you something distinctly for you.”
Jason was absolutely tickled, “You made a cologne for me?” Penelope had told Jason the stories of her childhood, of making perfumes with her grandmother and Lucien, as well as teasing him with her own special scent that she knew he loved, like all of the men in her life.
“Well, after a little piece of you, and some magic, no one else in the world will have it, that’s for certain.”
Everyone had their own particular scent, and that scent was often enhanced by whatever magic that being possessed, as well as the relationship to the one smelling them. When she was a girl, Helene and Lucien had made perfumes and colognes for vampires, who naturally had a somewhat reptilian scent to their bodies. For them, having a personalized scent, one that was tinged with magic, was highly prized, and subsequently very, very expensive. Penelope surmised that this perfume business, among other things, kept her and Julianna in nice clothes and expensive tutors, not to mention purchased the vast array of books and exotic oils that were regularly delivered to her grandmother’s cottage. She smiled a little thinking back on it. When you’re a child you never wonder where the food or horses or servants come from, as long as your day to day life is undisturbed.
Lucien had been an alchemist in life, so the move to perfumer was quite natural for him. Helene had abundant knowledge of flowers, exotic oils, and herbs, as well as the magical ability required to infuse them with whatever the purchaser wished. Aphrodisiacs, of course, were popular among vampires not of Belle’s line but even Belle herself enjoyed perfumes that were powerful and sensual. Scents that would be remembered, particularly by the humans she seduced. It was said that King Louis XIV slept with a scented handkerchief from Belle under his pillow until the day he died.
There were of course, more sinister uses for the perfumes, but not ones that Penelope wanted to admit to at the moment. Lucien and Helene had kept her insulated from that part of their work but by the time she was sent away Penelope had put the pieces together sufficiently enough to understand that the weaker beings on the planet could be completely ensnared by their sense of smell. Ensnared and sometimes destroyed. There was a fine line between court Perfumer, and court Poisoner.With the right combination of magic even a vampire or lycanthrope could be led to their destruction, and not only physically. Poison did not always affect only the well being of the body. The mind was sometimes more delicate, and much easier to ensnare.
“What do you need from me?” Jason was anxious, and thrilled that there would now be an Eau de Jason.
Penelope smiled mischievously. “Well...I admit that I already added a lock of your hair that I pinched from your room a few weeks ago.”
“Pervy, but go on!” He smiled, totally amused that she had been sneaking around his bedroom.
“A drop of blood would make it very powerful.”
“Powerful how?”
“Let’s just say that anyone who is lucky enough to smell this on you, won’t soon forget you.”
Jason’s eyes widened, “Hold on, I don’t need legions of love slaves!” As appealing as the thought was, Jason was too much reminded of what Anita’s ardeur had done to people. He wanted no part of that.
“NO! No, no! Nothing like that, I swear!” Penelope explained, “Jason, you make people smile, you put them at ease and you make them feel good about themselves. These are the traits I love most about you, and so that’s what people will remember. They’ll feel good. Warm. At ease. The effects never last that long because the magic isn’t that strong, but it’s good magic. It will simply enhance the natural power you already have.”
Jason thought about that for a moment. Making people feel good was never a bad thing, even if it was only temporary.
“I’m still not quite sure about what kind of magic you practice, Penny. You seem to have a patchwork of powers, which I know you think are useless, but some of them sure are cool.”
“That makes two of us, Jason,” Penny felt she owed him some sort of explanation, even though she wasn’t all that sure about things anymore. Magic had always been something else for her, something that flowed through her and embodied her, but that was never nurtured. She knew she had talent, and Master Socrates had employed a witch long ago to help her control the magic she possessed, but she never truly learned all that her grandmother could have taught her. Mostly it was guess work on her part, but that’s not something she really wanted everyone to know. As long as it was in control and her mind was clear and focused, her former master didn’t really care too much about fostering her gifts, although he certainly reaped the benefits of her mind control abilities. Where they came from she really didn’t know, only that that particular power seemed to manifest itself after she became his servant. It was most likely an inherited gift, enhanced by the natural magic that was hers. Either way, it didn’t recede with Socrates. After Asher, she never expected it to grow stronger, but now it seemed as though it was.
“My grandmother was a sorceress, of a sort, I guess. She never really taught me too much, although when I first arrived here I thought it was best not to advertise that. You could say that what magic I know was learned by accident. My main gift is the manipulation of thoughts and memories, although I’m not a psychic, if that makes sense. I can’t predict anything, but not to put too fine a point on it, if you told me you hated broccoli I could make you not only eat your way through a truckload of it, but I could make you believe you enjoyed every second of it and always have.”
She stopped herself from saying too much else. Or from adding that she could also bring back his revulsion for broccoli at anytime, thus making eating it the most abhorrent memory he might ever have. That she gave up that much information to him told her that she trusted him more than she thought, but she hoped that he wouldn’t read into it. To her relief, he didn’t, or at least he didn’t let on if he did.
Jason thought about what she said for a moment then he held out his finger.
“Okay. Prick me!”
Penelope smiled, took her dagger and pulled Jason’s hand over the pot. She closed her eyes and muttered a few soft phrases in a language Jason didn’t understand. Then he felt his own power rise to the surface, in a curious but non threatening way. His wolf nosed along the surface of his skin, playfully, and it reached out to Penelope as she drew magic from him.
“You tickle!” she said, as she felt his soft fur as it rubbed against her aura. Besides her small exchange of power with Castor and Pollux this was the first time she had been so metaphysically close with a lycanthrope. The sensations were very new, and very nice.
The magic was small but beautiful, and wolf and practitioner melded together as easily in the metaphysical realm as they did in the physical world. Jason was very good at keeping his wolf where he wanted him, and was being careful not to scare Penelope, knowing that she had very little experience with lycanthropes. Now he knew that his fears were unfounded. His wolf liked her as much as he did, and his wolf especially liked what was magically cooking in that pot.
A soft wind blew up around them, and then it was done. When he looked into the pot, the liquid had changed into a beautiful pale green color, and the scent was even more heavenly than before.
“Done!” Penelope let go of his hand.
“Wow, very cool, Penny. Very cool.”
“You can help me bottle it up, if you like. I made some labels on the computer for them.”
The scene on the label she had made was a snowy forest with the full moon in the background shining down on a silhouetted wolf, gazing up.
Jason’s face changed, “Ah...the master is awake. Can I come back and help you? Wait a minute...he’s coming here, wants to see you.”
“Okay, well, while we wait, grab that funnel and strainer, and let’s bottle this up. I’ll be interested to see what Jean-Claude thinks!”
Penelope and Julianna had spent a considerable amount of time trying to concoct special colognes for Asher and Jean-Claude when they lived together, but they never could find the proper combination for either vampire. Something was always missing, and so they gave up, opting instead for rather generic, although beautiful scents for their lovers. It was something that the sisters had planned to work on, but never had the chance.
Jean-Claude appeared at the doorway faster than either of them expected. He had on his usual black and sable robe, black silk pajama bottoms and bare feet. The robe was untied though, exposing his finely muscled and perfectly pale chest. It was as if he had bounded out of bed and not taken the time to put himself together before leaving his room. Something silently noted by both pomme and practitioner.
“What is that divine, scent? I almost expected to find Richard here.”
Penelope smiled again, “So you thought ‘wolf’ when you smelled it?”
“I thought ‘Jason’, at first, but it was so powerful that I wondered how many others from the pack may be gathered at this early hour.”
“So, you like it?”
“I am drawn to it, as I am drawn to my wolves. To my pomme. It is a very comforting scent for me.”
“Good,” Penelope said, “ I guess that means I haven’t lost my talent for it.”
“Certainly not, I would say. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here. I felt you both using magic as I awoke. In fact, I’m not certain that I was not actually awoken by that magic. It called to me. It reminded me of the night I first found that I could call wolves.”
An unexpected side effect, Penelope thought. I wonder if this is related to my little mind reading?
“Penny made me my own personal cologne. I hope it’s okay that I start using this rather than that French stuff you gave me?”
“But of course, mon lupe! I must admit, I like this much, much better anyway. But, if you could excuse us for a moment, and wait for me back in my rooms, I would like to speak with Penelope, alone.”
Jason shrugged, “Of course. Penny, I can come down and get the bottles later, if that’s okay?”
“Absolutely! I was going to whip up some soap for you as well, if you like?”
“Awesome! Did you write down the recipe? I mean, I’ll probably want more eventually.”
“I never forget a scent once it is made. They are committed to memory, so no worries,” she smiled.
After Jason was gone, Jean-Claude gracefully sat down and let Penny go about her work at the stove.
“I want you to know that my people who work for the media have made sure that today’s papers refute completely all that was reported about you and Asher and London.”
Penelope breathed in relief, “That’s good. Have you told Asher?”
“Not as yet, but I will when he checks in. I thought you would be relieved.”
“I am, thank you.”
Jean-Claude reached across the table.
“You’ve been making charms?” He carefully fingered one of the small copper squares that could easily be worn as a pendant, or attached to key chains.
“For all the good it will do.” Penny kept pouring Jason’s cologne into small clear bottles, and affixing the labels, without looking at the vampire at the table.
“Your efforts will not be forgotten, ma cherie, you risked a great deal and you did buy us some time.” It was a half lie on his part, one he knew she could detect, but just because she could didn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman.
“I read Jason’s thoughts this morning.”
She stated it, matter-of-factly, without looking up, as if Jean-Claude already knew.
“I see.”
“Is that all you see?” She turned to him, looking him directly in the eyes, which uncharacteristically forced him to look away.
“What is it you are insinuating, Penelope?”
“That sort of power spike can only happen around here in one of two ways for me, and the first way is across town, shielding himself so completely I can’t feel the slightest twinge.”
“And the other way?”
“Your power.”
“I feed the ardeur when I can. This is nothing unknown to you.”
“True, but from what I’ve heard nowadays everyone gains power when you and Anita feed together, when it spreads outside of your bedroom or when you feed on someone powerful. When you feed from a distance the power spikes are minimal and only you benefit, especially since the women you feed off of at the club are merely human.”
“Someone has been doing her research.”
“You’re surprised?” Penelope folded her arms.
“Continue. I’m interested in your theory.”
“You fed last night, but not at the club.”
“Oui.”
“You fed on London and me.”
“Oui.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“First tell me how you knew.”
The trust she had for him allowed him to get away with asking a question before answering one. Jean-Claude had carved a soft spot out of her heart a long time ago, and she decided not to fight something that would always be a part of her, like it or not.
“I didn’t know until this morning, with Jason. My powers had a growth spurt after Asher and I allowed our magic to run freely throughout each other. I gained the power to create more vivid living memories, and to create dream worlds, which you have also gained the power to enter as our master. I’m sure there are many more things that I could do, that I won’t do. That you have yet to inquire about them is why I am indulging you now instead of being really pissed off that you invaded a very private moment.”
“For that, I apologize. I am not the voyeur...”
“...that Asher is. Yes, I know.”
“I only meant to taste you both.”
“If it’s of interest to you, neither of us noticed, although I can’t speak for when London wakes up. He may have seen a growth in power, however slight.”
“He has not been feeding Anita for many months, so I’m sure you are correct, that he will indeed notice something.” Jean-Claude’s face was blank. He was trying very hard not to sound accusatory.
“I have never forbidden him from feeding the ardeur. I know very well that it’s his gift, and the way his power can grow.”
“But you have not encouraged him either.”
Penelope’s mouth dropped slightly, “are you accusing me of stunting his growth? Of keeping him from gaining power?”
“Non, just saying that he no longer seems to want to pursue his path. His addiction appears to be completely cured because of your love, therefore he sees no reason to pursue the source of his own power.”
Penelope knew this was true. London’s addiction was gone, but his fear of addiction still lingered. The apprehension of magic in general was still gnawing at him everytime they were together, but especially after she had used the sexual energy from him and Asher to reach out to Helene.
That had been a mistake in more ways than one, she thought silently.
But she also knew that London’s potential was great, and that without using his gift that potential may never be realized. The last thing she wanted was to hold him back.
“I have no desire to stop his growth, Jean-Claude.”
For his part, Jean-Claude thought it wise not to tell her that Asher had suggested the feeding. It might put her off of his next suggestion.
“Then help me... help him.” His voice purred with persuasion, even though he knew she could resist most of his powers.
“How?”
“Tonight, let me feed from you both. Let me have a proper feeding, like we used to do. Let me give London what he needs.”
Penelope remembered what that was like. The feeling of being enveloped in warm soft sable, of Jean-Claude’s power weaving it’s way throughout body and mind. Of letting go of everything and denying him nothing. She had been protected from addiction by her ties to her master at the time, but even with that protection it was difficult to not lose herself completely. When London told her of not caring if he died the true death when Belle fed from him, Penelope understood at least part of what he meant.
“You want to be with us both.”
Jean-Claude stilled himself and said softly, “I do not have to fully participate, but I would like to touch London when I feed.”
It was not the whole truth, not by half, but it wasn’t a lie either.
“Would Asher approve?” Penny asked, but she thought she already knew the answer.
Asher was an old vampire, like London, who still retained many of the old traditions and ways of the European courts and so what belonged to them belonged to their master. It was not something that Jean-Claude strictly adhered to, but it was the old way. If the Master of the City wanted to take her to his bed, he could. He would ask Asher because he loved him, and Asher would never deny him anything. But Jean-Claude didn’t run his kiss in that manner. That he was asking their permission at all displayed just how modern he had become.
Besides these facts, Penny had seen glimpses of Asher’s fantasies. Fantasies that included her and Jean-Claude, the two people he loved most in the world. They were fantasies that, although she would love to make real for him, had one too many obstacles in its path. The main obstacle being a short-tempered brunette who carried way too many firearms.
“You know better than I.” Jean-Claude said, flatly.
It was an enigmatic reply, one that made certain he did not give away the fact that Asher had indeed given his blessing already, more or less. Just because he had not specified the actual distance during the distance feed was a negotiable variable to Jean-Claude.
“In that case, ask London. I know that Asher would deny you nothing, but London’s body belongs to him and him alone.”
Jean-Claude was surprised but his face certainly didn’t show it. It also didn’t show the nearly obscene glee that filled his body. Had he fed already this morning he was most certain he would have felt his cock twitch with anticipation. Feeding from London would be wonderful enough, if memory served him correctly, but being close once again to Penelope, was a delectable fringe benefit.
Penelope brought up the inevitable complication, “Will Anita be alright with this?”
“We are not having sex. I am not having sex with London.”
“But I thought you and she had an arrangement.”
Jean-Claude couldn’t help but smile. Yes, an arrangement. One that consisted of him enduring a never ending stream of lovers for Anita, while he made due with touching only those men she invited into their bed. The recent addition of Asher as his lover once again was a delight, but it certainly didn’t make up the difference. He loved Anita more than he had ever loved any woman, but that didn’t mean he liked her all of the time. As far as he was concerned, tonight would be an indulgence that he deserved. She was angry at him anyway, and had made it perfectly clear that she would not be coming to his bed again any time soon. At least not until she cooled off. She had shut him out completely, and he had warned Asher that she may show up at Narcissus in Chains. She gave her word that she would not interfere, even though she was mad as hell that they had made a plan for Narcissus without her. In Jean-Claude’s opinion it was time for Anita to learn that sometimes he simply knew better than she did how to handle a situation.
Perhaps it was this anger at her that prompted him to suggest what he was suggesting. Either way, he didn’t care. He wanted this.
“What we will do tonight will not violate that arrangement. She has already seen me kiss you, and she knows of our past. I will adhere to my end of it nonetheless. Just touching, nothing more.”
Penelope sighed, “Okay.” It was a simple reply that had the same affect on him as a nuclear blast.
“I’ll speak to London when he wakes. Shall I take those to Jason?”
“Please,” Penelope handed him several bottles.
“It really is a most intoxicating scent you have created for him. I won’t be surprised if you don’t get some requests for similar elixirs.”
“I never quite could get yours right.”
“Time, ma belle etudiant, there is time for that.”
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As always, thank you to my readers! I am so glad you are enjoying the story! A very long chapter for you...thank you for all of your support!
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“Shouldn’t you be passed out in bed wrapped around a vampsicle?”
Jason leaned against the door to the kitchen, peeling a banana he must have had in his room, sporting a devilish grin.
“Jason, shush! I’m working!”
It was a little after 9AM and Penelope also wondered why she wasn’t still abed, but here she was, wide awake, energized, and determined to get some things done before her vampires rose for the day. She knew that as long as Asher was dead to the world she wouldn’t feel his overwhelming urges, so she was making use of the time. Jason couldn’t really disturb her, but she liked to tease him. Anyway, she had some idea where the conversation was going to go next.
“I heard that Caleb was needed as a donor for a particular vampire last night. And Travis. And that new tiger, what’s his name, who’s roaming around here now. An acrobat I think.”
Jason came in and gently moved Penelope’s hair to one side to see the fading scar of recent fang marks, “And you too, apparently! Damn, girl!”
Penelope blushed and looked earnestly down at what she was working on, but she couldn’t stop the huge grin that took over her face. Her mind instantly filled with images from the previous night. She and London eventually moved their party to her rooms after he had exhausted her as a blood supply. At one point she begged him to bleed her again, but he had enough sense to know that would defeat the purpose.
In what could only be described as London completely throwing caution to the wind, or totally losing his mind, he threw on his pants, without even fastening them, wrapped her in one of the silk throws and carried her down, back into the belly of the circus. He even called out to Graham who was working the door, and obviously stunned by what he saw, to call for Caleb to meet him at Penny’s room. Ever prepared, London had arranged Caleb and Travis ahead of time, but even they were not enough. Desperate, London practically abducted the nameless tiger from the break room near Center Ring. Thankfully whoever it was had fed vamps before and was totally cool with having the rest of the night off as consolation.
Their final exertion found them tangled in a knot of silk sheets on the floor of the bathroom. Penny never thought she would seriously be waving one of her lovers away, but her body was mostly human, and it was telling her “enough”. London’s last act was drawing a warm bath and using some of the healing and soothing flowers and oils Penny had in her room to soften the water as they bathed away the sweat and fluids that seemed to be everywhere. She fell asleep against him in the water, and she figured he must have dried her off and made the bed up fresh, because when she woke up this morning they were snuggled neatly between clean sheets.
Penelope carefully dressed in the most loose and comfortable cotton yoga pants and long-sleeved t-shirt she had, made her way to the deserted kitchen and concocted a special version of her usual brew of soothing mint tea. She was definitely feeling her body this morning, but also felt herself healing maybe a little faster than she should. This particular tea used a simple incantation to ward off pain and speed healing.
Thank goodness Helene taught me a few things that were actually useful!, she thought.
“Is there something I can do for you, Jason?” Penelope’s voice was tinged with faux annoyance.
He came around to sit next to her at the table and when he finally got a good view of her, he burst into a hysterical fit of laughter.
“What?!”
“Are you sitting on a pillow?” Jason managed to choke his question out without spattering banana all over her.
Penelope sighed hard.
“Jason, isn’t there somewhere you should be? Does no one else get up early in this place?”
When he finally calmed down he smiled sincerely, “I’m sorry, Penny, really I am. But try to see it from my point of view! A few months ago I was fully prepared to buy you a selection of vibrators to take the edge off, and now here you sit, smarting from too much sex. I’m so proud of you!”
He reached an arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
“Ow! Jason, I am working with sharp objects here!”
Penelope was indeed using a very sharp thin dagger to scribe symbols into what Jason assumed was copper.
“I see that. What exactly are you doing?”
“Scribing the charms, you know, the practically useless ones I almost killed myself to learn how to make,” she was still not quite over her stupidity during that little escapade.
“Useless?”
“First of all, they should be carved in silver, but hardly anyone around here can touch silver, so that’s not an option. However, I guess it’s really the symbols that offer the protection, so that part is not so bad. What is bad is that the protection has just about used up all it’s power in this realm.” She continued, her voice full of regret, “Regardless, I’ve made one for all of the guards that surround Anita and Jean-Claude, and all the pommes and tri members, but they really won’t have the same punch they may have had even a few decades ago, and without silver to repel her power... well the best I can hope for is some prior warning in case she tries to invade any of us.” She sighed loudly with frustration, “To add insult to injury I can’t even test that theory because I certainly don’t want the Dark Mother to show up again.”
Jason could sense her feelings of defeat. All that she endured and put Asher through was essentially for nothing.
“Yes, it was all for nothing,” she said softly.
“What?” Jason cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I was agreeing with you, although I wish you hadn’t said it out loud.”
“I didn’t say it out loud.”
They looked at each other with questioning eyes.
“Oh.” Penelope, said blankly and shook her head as if clearing the cobwebs.
“I didn’t think you could read thoughts in that way.” Jason wasn’t frightened, but he was confused.
“I can’t.”
“Oh. Boy.”
Penelope tried to appear unfazed, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just a fluke, I’m sure.”
Jason was not so sure. He’d been present for enough weird shit the last few years to never brush something off as simply a “fluke.”
“Penny, did you and London release a lot of magic last night?” Jason had felt something, but it was warm and almost undetectable, as if someone was shielding him from feeling it. But he remembered the subtle thrumming of magic. If it wasn’t big, he often disregarded it as Jean-Claude feeding the ardeur at the club, or Anita feeding from Micah or Nathaniel or someone. All normal and virtually nightly occurrences.
Penelope paused, hesitant to bring it up, but yes, a great deal of magic was expended between them. London feared it, but she had reassured him that it was as natural as any other part of their relationship. Once he quieted his fear, he let go a little, and their magic joined together in an intricate dance, like it did the first night they were together. It made her shiver to remember how it felt when he started to let go. There was something vaguely familiar in the sensations, but at the time she wasn’t thinking about it and in retrospect she couldn’t place it. What she did know was that if London ever really opened to her fully it would most likely be mind-blowing. But even with that implication she was resigned to not pushing him. Pushing people had never gotten her anywhere good. She also didn’t think it possible to gain power through London, since they didn’t have the same metaphysical connection that she and Asher had. But she had been wrong about a great many things lately, so she really didn’t know.
“There was some magic, yes.”
“Can you tell what I’m thinking about right now?” Jason asked with a curious look.
Penelope concentrated, but didn’t invade his mind as she knew she could. Always before when she entered someone’s head, she had to focus and have a purpose or a direction. She could never casually read thoughts or emotions. Even then, it was always her own thoughts she planted in another’s mind. It had to be deliberate. This was both a comfort and a curse for her because at least she knew that she couldn’t mess with someone by accident. Of course that also meant that every time she had done this it had been on purpose.
She didn’t want this conversation to continue.
Without looking up from her work she said, “You are thinking about my naked body covered in chocolate pudding. Either that or making a turkey sandwich from leftovers in the fridge. It’s really unclear at the moment.”
“Now look who’s the comedian.”
Penelope carefully put the dagger and copper piece she was working on down on the table.
“So, why are you up so early, Jason? Are you okay?” It was time to redirect.
“Actually, I followed my nose here, and I don’t know why.”
Penelope smiled. She’d hoped for this reaction. It meant she had not lost the one piece of her magic that she loved the most but had not had the occasion to use much in the last several hundred years.
She got up and went to the stove, where a small pot was cooling with several thick towels over the top.
“You could scent this, all the way from your room?” She lifted the towels, and watched as Jason’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he let the banana peel fall to the floor.
“God! YES! What is it?”
“You tell me what it is.”
Jason breathed in deeply.
“Pine needles, and dark rich dirt...freshly fallen autumn leaves, and...and...” he breathed in once again, “this is gonna to sound crazy, but crisp cold air, like the forest on a December night.”
Penelope’s smile was tinged with just a hint of arrogance. She had not lost her touch after all.
“It’s just missing one thing, Jason,” she said.
“What? I think it smells like heaven!”
“You. It needs some of you, because it’s for you.”
“For me?”
“Jason, there is no one here who has been more of a friend to me when I needed one than you. I wanted to give you something that reflected that. I wanted to make you something distinctly for you.”
Jason was absolutely tickled, “You made a cologne for me?” Penelope had told Jason the stories of her childhood, of making perfumes with her grandmother and Lucien, as well as teasing him with her own special scent that she knew he loved, like all of the men in her life.
“Well, after a little piece of you, and some magic, no one else in the world will have it, that’s for certain.”
Everyone had their own particular scent, and that scent was often enhanced by whatever magic that being possessed, as well as the relationship to the one smelling them. When she was a girl, Helene and Lucien had made perfumes and colognes for vampires, who naturally had a somewhat reptilian scent to their bodies. For them, having a personalized scent, one that was tinged with magic, was highly prized, and subsequently very, very expensive. Penelope surmised that this perfume business, among other things, kept her and Julianna in nice clothes and expensive tutors, not to mention purchased the vast array of books and exotic oils that were regularly delivered to her grandmother’s cottage. She smiled a little thinking back on it. When you’re a child you never wonder where the food or horses or servants come from, as long as your day to day life is undisturbed.
Lucien had been an alchemist in life, so the move to perfumer was quite natural for him. Helene had abundant knowledge of flowers, exotic oils, and herbs, as well as the magical ability required to infuse them with whatever the purchaser wished. Aphrodisiacs, of course, were popular among vampires not of Belle’s line but even Belle herself enjoyed perfumes that were powerful and sensual. Scents that would be remembered, particularly by the humans she seduced. It was said that King Louis XIV slept with a scented handkerchief from Belle under his pillow until the day he died.
There were of course, more sinister uses for the perfumes, but not ones that Penelope wanted to admit to at the moment. Lucien and Helene had kept her insulated from that part of their work but by the time she was sent away Penelope had put the pieces together sufficiently enough to understand that the weaker beings on the planet could be completely ensnared by their sense of smell. Ensnared and sometimes destroyed. There was a fine line between court Perfumer, and court Poisoner.With the right combination of magic even a vampire or lycanthrope could be led to their destruction, and not only physically. Poison did not always affect only the well being of the body. The mind was sometimes more delicate, and much easier to ensnare.
“What do you need from me?” Jason was anxious, and thrilled that there would now be an Eau de Jason.
Penelope smiled mischievously. “Well...I admit that I already added a lock of your hair that I pinched from your room a few weeks ago.”
“Pervy, but go on!” He smiled, totally amused that she had been sneaking around his bedroom.
“A drop of blood would make it very powerful.”
“Powerful how?”
“Let’s just say that anyone who is lucky enough to smell this on you, won’t soon forget you.”
Jason’s eyes widened, “Hold on, I don’t need legions of love slaves!” As appealing as the thought was, Jason was too much reminded of what Anita’s ardeur had done to people. He wanted no part of that.
“NO! No, no! Nothing like that, I swear!” Penelope explained, “Jason, you make people smile, you put them at ease and you make them feel good about themselves. These are the traits I love most about you, and so that’s what people will remember. They’ll feel good. Warm. At ease. The effects never last that long because the magic isn’t that strong, but it’s good magic. It will simply enhance the natural power you already have.”
Jason thought about that for a moment. Making people feel good was never a bad thing, even if it was only temporary.
“I’m still not quite sure about what kind of magic you practice, Penny. You seem to have a patchwork of powers, which I know you think are useless, but some of them sure are cool.”
“That makes two of us, Jason,” Penny felt she owed him some sort of explanation, even though she wasn’t all that sure about things anymore. Magic had always been something else for her, something that flowed through her and embodied her, but that was never nurtured. She knew she had talent, and Master Socrates had employed a witch long ago to help her control the magic she possessed, but she never truly learned all that her grandmother could have taught her. Mostly it was guess work on her part, but that’s not something she really wanted everyone to know. As long as it was in control and her mind was clear and focused, her former master didn’t really care too much about fostering her gifts, although he certainly reaped the benefits of her mind control abilities. Where they came from she really didn’t know, only that that particular power seemed to manifest itself after she became his servant. It was most likely an inherited gift, enhanced by the natural magic that was hers. Either way, it didn’t recede with Socrates. After Asher, she never expected it to grow stronger, but now it seemed as though it was.
“My grandmother was a sorceress, of a sort, I guess. She never really taught me too much, although when I first arrived here I thought it was best not to advertise that. You could say that what magic I know was learned by accident. My main gift is the manipulation of thoughts and memories, although I’m not a psychic, if that makes sense. I can’t predict anything, but not to put too fine a point on it, if you told me you hated broccoli I could make you not only eat your way through a truckload of it, but I could make you believe you enjoyed every second of it and always have.”
She stopped herself from saying too much else. Or from adding that she could also bring back his revulsion for broccoli at anytime, thus making eating it the most abhorrent memory he might ever have. That she gave up that much information to him told her that she trusted him more than she thought, but she hoped that he wouldn’t read into it. To her relief, he didn’t, or at least he didn’t let on if he did.
Jason thought about what she said for a moment then he held out his finger.
“Okay. Prick me!”
Penelope smiled, took her dagger and pulled Jason’s hand over the pot. She closed her eyes and muttered a few soft phrases in a language Jason didn’t understand. Then he felt his own power rise to the surface, in a curious but non threatening way. His wolf nosed along the surface of his skin, playfully, and it reached out to Penelope as she drew magic from him.
“You tickle!” she said, as she felt his soft fur as it rubbed against her aura. Besides her small exchange of power with Castor and Pollux this was the first time she had been so metaphysically close with a lycanthrope. The sensations were very new, and very nice.
The magic was small but beautiful, and wolf and practitioner melded together as easily in the metaphysical realm as they did in the physical world. Jason was very good at keeping his wolf where he wanted him, and was being careful not to scare Penelope, knowing that she had very little experience with lycanthropes. Now he knew that his fears were unfounded. His wolf liked her as much as he did, and his wolf especially liked what was magically cooking in that pot.
A soft wind blew up around them, and then it was done. When he looked into the pot, the liquid had changed into a beautiful pale green color, and the scent was even more heavenly than before.
“Done!” Penelope let go of his hand.
“Wow, very cool, Penny. Very cool.”
“You can help me bottle it up, if you like. I made some labels on the computer for them.”
The scene on the label she had made was a snowy forest with the full moon in the background shining down on a silhouetted wolf, gazing up.
Jason’s face changed, “Ah...the master is awake. Can I come back and help you? Wait a minute...he’s coming here, wants to see you.”
“Okay, well, while we wait, grab that funnel and strainer, and let’s bottle this up. I’ll be interested to see what Jean-Claude thinks!”
Penelope and Julianna had spent a considerable amount of time trying to concoct special colognes for Asher and Jean-Claude when they lived together, but they never could find the proper combination for either vampire. Something was always missing, and so they gave up, opting instead for rather generic, although beautiful scents for their lovers. It was something that the sisters had planned to work on, but never had the chance.
Jean-Claude appeared at the doorway faster than either of them expected. He had on his usual black and sable robe, black silk pajama bottoms and bare feet. The robe was untied though, exposing his finely muscled and perfectly pale chest. It was as if he had bounded out of bed and not taken the time to put himself together before leaving his room. Something silently noted by both pomme and practitioner.
“What is that divine, scent? I almost expected to find Richard here.”
Penelope smiled again, “So you thought ‘wolf’ when you smelled it?”
“I thought ‘Jason’, at first, but it was so powerful that I wondered how many others from the pack may be gathered at this early hour.”
“So, you like it?”
“I am drawn to it, as I am drawn to my wolves. To my pomme. It is a very comforting scent for me.”
“Good,” Penelope said, “ I guess that means I haven’t lost my talent for it.”
“Certainly not, I would say. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here. I felt you both using magic as I awoke. In fact, I’m not certain that I was not actually awoken by that magic. It called to me. It reminded me of the night I first found that I could call wolves.”
An unexpected side effect, Penelope thought. I wonder if this is related to my little mind reading?
“Penny made me my own personal cologne. I hope it’s okay that I start using this rather than that French stuff you gave me?”
“But of course, mon lupe! I must admit, I like this much, much better anyway. But, if you could excuse us for a moment, and wait for me back in my rooms, I would like to speak with Penelope, alone.”
Jason shrugged, “Of course. Penny, I can come down and get the bottles later, if that’s okay?”
“Absolutely! I was going to whip up some soap for you as well, if you like?”
“Awesome! Did you write down the recipe? I mean, I’ll probably want more eventually.”
“I never forget a scent once it is made. They are committed to memory, so no worries,” she smiled.
After Jason was gone, Jean-Claude gracefully sat down and let Penny go about her work at the stove.
“I want you to know that my people who work for the media have made sure that today’s papers refute completely all that was reported about you and Asher and London.”
Penelope breathed in relief, “That’s good. Have you told Asher?”
“Not as yet, but I will when he checks in. I thought you would be relieved.”
“I am, thank you.”
Jean-Claude reached across the table.
“You’ve been making charms?” He carefully fingered one of the small copper squares that could easily be worn as a pendant, or attached to key chains.
“For all the good it will do.” Penny kept pouring Jason’s cologne into small clear bottles, and affixing the labels, without looking at the vampire at the table.
“Your efforts will not be forgotten, ma cherie, you risked a great deal and you did buy us some time.” It was a half lie on his part, one he knew she could detect, but just because she could didn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman.
“I read Jason’s thoughts this morning.”
She stated it, matter-of-factly, without looking up, as if Jean-Claude already knew.
“I see.”
“Is that all you see?” She turned to him, looking him directly in the eyes, which uncharacteristically forced him to look away.
“What is it you are insinuating, Penelope?”
“That sort of power spike can only happen around here in one of two ways for me, and the first way is across town, shielding himself so completely I can’t feel the slightest twinge.”
“And the other way?”
“Your power.”
“I feed the ardeur when I can. This is nothing unknown to you.”
“True, but from what I’ve heard nowadays everyone gains power when you and Anita feed together, when it spreads outside of your bedroom or when you feed on someone powerful. When you feed from a distance the power spikes are minimal and only you benefit, especially since the women you feed off of at the club are merely human.”
“Someone has been doing her research.”
“You’re surprised?” Penelope folded her arms.
“Continue. I’m interested in your theory.”
“You fed last night, but not at the club.”
“Oui.”
“You fed on London and me.”
“Oui.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“First tell me how you knew.”
The trust she had for him allowed him to get away with asking a question before answering one. Jean-Claude had carved a soft spot out of her heart a long time ago, and she decided not to fight something that would always be a part of her, like it or not.
“I didn’t know until this morning, with Jason. My powers had a growth spurt after Asher and I allowed our magic to run freely throughout each other. I gained the power to create more vivid living memories, and to create dream worlds, which you have also gained the power to enter as our master. I’m sure there are many more things that I could do, that I won’t do. That you have yet to inquire about them is why I am indulging you now instead of being really pissed off that you invaded a very private moment.”
“For that, I apologize. I am not the voyeur...”
“...that Asher is. Yes, I know.”
“I only meant to taste you both.”
“If it’s of interest to you, neither of us noticed, although I can’t speak for when London wakes up. He may have seen a growth in power, however slight.”
“He has not been feeding Anita for many months, so I’m sure you are correct, that he will indeed notice something.” Jean-Claude’s face was blank. He was trying very hard not to sound accusatory.
“I have never forbidden him from feeding the ardeur. I know very well that it’s his gift, and the way his power can grow.”
“But you have not encouraged him either.”
Penelope’s mouth dropped slightly, “are you accusing me of stunting his growth? Of keeping him from gaining power?”
“Non, just saying that he no longer seems to want to pursue his path. His addiction appears to be completely cured because of your love, therefore he sees no reason to pursue the source of his own power.”
Penelope knew this was true. London’s addiction was gone, but his fear of addiction still lingered. The apprehension of magic in general was still gnawing at him everytime they were together, but especially after she had used the sexual energy from him and Asher to reach out to Helene.
That had been a mistake in more ways than one, she thought silently.
But she also knew that London’s potential was great, and that without using his gift that potential may never be realized. The last thing she wanted was to hold him back.
“I have no desire to stop his growth, Jean-Claude.”
For his part, Jean-Claude thought it wise not to tell her that Asher had suggested the feeding. It might put her off of his next suggestion.
“Then help me... help him.” His voice purred with persuasion, even though he knew she could resist most of his powers.
“How?”
“Tonight, let me feed from you both. Let me have a proper feeding, like we used to do. Let me give London what he needs.”
Penelope remembered what that was like. The feeling of being enveloped in warm soft sable, of Jean-Claude’s power weaving it’s way throughout body and mind. Of letting go of everything and denying him nothing. She had been protected from addiction by her ties to her master at the time, but even with that protection it was difficult to not lose herself completely. When London told her of not caring if he died the true death when Belle fed from him, Penelope understood at least part of what he meant.
“You want to be with us both.”
Jean-Claude stilled himself and said softly, “I do not have to fully participate, but I would like to touch London when I feed.”
It was not the whole truth, not by half, but it wasn’t a lie either.
“Would Asher approve?” Penny asked, but she thought she already knew the answer.
Asher was an old vampire, like London, who still retained many of the old traditions and ways of the European courts and so what belonged to them belonged to their master. It was not something that Jean-Claude strictly adhered to, but it was the old way. If the Master of the City wanted to take her to his bed, he could. He would ask Asher because he loved him, and Asher would never deny him anything. But Jean-Claude didn’t run his kiss in that manner. That he was asking their permission at all displayed just how modern he had become.
Besides these facts, Penny had seen glimpses of Asher’s fantasies. Fantasies that included her and Jean-Claude, the two people he loved most in the world. They were fantasies that, although she would love to make real for him, had one too many obstacles in its path. The main obstacle being a short-tempered brunette who carried way too many firearms.
“You know better than I.” Jean-Claude said, flatly.
It was an enigmatic reply, one that made certain he did not give away the fact that Asher had indeed given his blessing already, more or less. Just because he had not specified the actual distance during the distance feed was a negotiable variable to Jean-Claude.
“In that case, ask London. I know that Asher would deny you nothing, but London’s body belongs to him and him alone.”
Jean-Claude was surprised but his face certainly didn’t show it. It also didn’t show the nearly obscene glee that filled his body. Had he fed already this morning he was most certain he would have felt his cock twitch with anticipation. Feeding from London would be wonderful enough, if memory served him correctly, but being close once again to Penelope, was a delectable fringe benefit.
Penelope brought up the inevitable complication, “Will Anita be alright with this?”
“We are not having sex. I am not having sex with London.”
“But I thought you and she had an arrangement.”
Jean-Claude couldn’t help but smile. Yes, an arrangement. One that consisted of him enduring a never ending stream of lovers for Anita, while he made due with touching only those men she invited into their bed. The recent addition of Asher as his lover once again was a delight, but it certainly didn’t make up the difference. He loved Anita more than he had ever loved any woman, but that didn’t mean he liked her all of the time. As far as he was concerned, tonight would be an indulgence that he deserved. She was angry at him anyway, and had made it perfectly clear that she would not be coming to his bed again any time soon. At least not until she cooled off. She had shut him out completely, and he had warned Asher that she may show up at Narcissus in Chains. She gave her word that she would not interfere, even though she was mad as hell that they had made a plan for Narcissus without her. In Jean-Claude’s opinion it was time for Anita to learn that sometimes he simply knew better than she did how to handle a situation.
Perhaps it was this anger at her that prompted him to suggest what he was suggesting. Either way, he didn’t care. He wanted this.
“What we will do tonight will not violate that arrangement. She has already seen me kiss you, and she knows of our past. I will adhere to my end of it nonetheless. Just touching, nothing more.”
Penelope sighed, “Okay.” It was a simple reply that had the same affect on him as a nuclear blast.
“I’ll speak to London when he wakes. Shall I take those to Jason?”
“Please,” Penelope handed him several bottles.
“It really is a most intoxicating scent you have created for him. I won’t be surprised if you don’t get some requests for similar elixirs.”
“I never quite could get yours right.”
“Time, ma belle etudiant, there is time for that.”
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 34- Under A Starry Sky by nicola71
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As always, very special thanks to Rekastormborn and Submissively Asher's for all of their help and support as my betas! They are truly gifted writers and I am lucky to have them! Also, thank you to all of my readers...you totally make my day!
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London and Penny emerged from the heavy steel door on the rooftop of the circus. The late spring night was beautiful, if a bit chilly. The thermometer read just over 57 degrees and there was a very light breeze.
London gave a nod to the security guard who was covering that section, and squeezed Penny’s hand slightly as he led her past. The guard was a trusted Rodere, but one who’s detail was guarding the perimeter of the circus rather than the inside. London knew only enough about him that his name was Calo, and that Claudia had deemed him a “stand up guy”, which was high praise from her.
Penelope breathed in deeply. She had not been outside since the opening night of Veritas, and so even the scents of the urbanized atmosphere of St. Louis was as a freshly mowed meadow to her senses. The circus was pleasant enough, but she had recently found herself thinking about her island home, in particular. The little metaphysical trip she had been on with Helene a few nights ago probably was to blame. She had awoken to find herself in the grassy meadows of her childhood, drenched in sunshine and smelling of the herbs and flowers that she and Julianna had picked there as girls. That sylvan serenity seemed hard to find here, with the exception of the cottage Asher had shared with her.
But tonight, London was giving her something she needed, and she loved him for it.
“It’s this way,” he led her through a jungle of metal and cables that seemed ready to devour the surroundings. They walked into the center of the rooftop where there was what looked like a small building.
“Are we going inside?” Penelope wondered if her brief sojourn in the open was over.
“It’s more than it appears,” London smiled and opened the door.
What was revealed was beyond her wildest expectations.
The room was indeed that, a room. But a room with no roof, completely open to the night sky while at once shielding the occupants from the majority of the noise of the outside world.
It was as if Scheherazade herself had sprung to life from the pages of the Arabian Nights and transformed what started life as a storage dump for broken HVAC equipment into a romantic Persian oasis.
Dozens of sheer swathes of gossamer chiffon fabric in golds, reds, greens, and ambers hung from wrought iron hooks that had been pounded into the cement of the walls. The floor had been covered in several antique Persian carpets with piles of cushions and pillows making it seem to be one giant luxurious couch. The open roof was swathed in delicate netting, embroidered with tiny crystals that turned the artificial urban sky into one full of sparkling stars.
In the center was a low table set with a golden place setting. An elaborately jeweled goblet finished the look, which was enhanced by two large oil lamps that provided soft light, and small pots of subtle, yet intoxicating fragrance.
Exotic flower petals were strewn around on the table, floor and cushions, and the soft sounds of Middle Eastern instruments filled the air. Penelope completely forgot that not 100 feet away were men with guns patrolling the rooftop. They may well have been 100 miles away for all she cared.
Penelope looked up at London, still clasping his hand.
“You did this all, for me?”
“Jason helped quite a bit, but I designed it. I wanted to show you a bit of the romance of what I lived...that it was not all violence and death. There was great beauty in that land where I became a man. Almost as much as is here before me at this moment.” He graced her cheek with his fingers until he held her chin and her gaze.
London realized that by modern standards he was being a little sappy, but both he and Penelope had not had nearly enough sappiness in their lives, and he thought they deserved it.
They looked at each other for a long moment before London led her once again, this time to the large cushions. He motioned for her to sit, which she did in her own very ladylike way reminiscent of Anderson’s mermaid, while he set the basket on the table and carefully unpacked it.
She saw her favorite Italian Chianti, as well as fresh pineapple, raspberries, pomegranates, and figs.
“You brought me dinner, too?”
“Of course,” he laughed, “all cold dishes, I hope you don’t mind. It was.... practical.” London turned and knelt in front of her, carefully untying her tennis shoes and setting them aside. He took a small container and opened the lid.
“Shrimp!” Penelope loved seafood, and it was not something Asher particular enjoyed.
London carefully dipped each piece in a spicy sauce and teased her lips before allowing her to take a bite.
“Mmmmm...” She licked her lips, and then so did London.
“Do you like?” He had Jason pick up different foods from all sorts of markets that afternoon after he delivered Penny to the gym.
London was eager to have his night with her begin and to have her naked and writhing underneath his touch, but he would not forget his vow to Asher. She was going to be well-fed and strong, just in case. It was not a coincidence that his dinner choices for her were all very high in protein.
“Oh yes! What a wonderful surprise!”
The shrimp was followed by some cold, rare fillet Mignon on toast, with a delicate horseradish sauce. The food seemed to be temporizing her sexual desire for the moment. She had learned from listening to Anita that sometimes one hunger could be replaced with another. The problem was that if Asher was drawing as much off of her as he was pouring into her, it would probably be moot, no matter how much food she consumed. But for now, at least, she was in control.
Sips of wine, for both of them, and soft kisses followed each course. London shared a rare story from his human life about the first time he and his brothers had got into their father’s stock of port, which was being saved for some important visiting baron.
“My eldest brother took the whipping for that escapade,” he mused, his eyes far away. “But he made certain that the rest of us paid in other ways!”
They both laughed as Penny ate, reclined on the comfy cushions. When she could eat no more, Penelope reached to set the empty goblet back on the table and looked down at her jeans, suddenly feeling a bit under-dressed for her rich surroundings.
“I feel I should have dressed the part of the harem girl,” she teased.
He didn’t answer right away, but instead leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then with a growing fever as if he was also feeling the onslaught of sexual need that was pressing so hard against all of her control. He felt her magic start to seep into him. Cool and comforting, but tonight tinged with a strange heat he had not felt before. Although he was a little wary of the role that magic was playing in their relationship, it still felt very good and it was extremely hard for him when he pulled back and finally spoke.
“It didn’t matter what you wore. I wasn’t planning on you being in it for long.” He suddenly moved and pulled her t-shirts over her head, throwing them aside, then deftly removed her jeans, leaving her in her bra and panties.
“These are beautiful,” he said fingering the pale pink satin strap of her bra. He ran his finger underneath caressing her skin and making her shudder with excitement, “but not for tonight.”
When she was naked he commanded, “Lay back, against the pillows. I want to look at you.”
Penelope stretched her nude body out on the shimmering fabrics of the cushions beneath her. There was heat coming from somewhere because she was not in the least cold anymore, but whether that heat was emanating from somewhere in the room or from within her own body, was a mystery.
She leaned up on one elbow and with her free hand traced a line down the contours of her body, around the curve of her breast, across her hip finally resting in the nest of brown curls between her legs. Penelope had been highly aroused for the last hour or so anyway, so watching London’s eyes follow her hand was near to unbearable. Despite all of her careful control, she was shaking softly as if it were their first time all over again.
London, however, was very experienced in such situations. Besides, there was something he wanted to do before the sexual heat that was licking at their heels consumed them both.
“I have something for you.” His pale fingers disappeared into the right front pocket of his pants and emerged with a small black velvet bag.
Penelope leaned forward, “something for me?”
Despite her past, she had somehow retained a girlishness when it came to presents and pretty things. It pleased Asher to no end how accepting she was of his presents, and since he and London were cut from similar courtier’s cloth, the knight also smiled widely at her excitement.
“Ah,” he teased and hid the bag behind his back, “but do you deserve it?”
Penelope pouted playfully, “I think you should give it to me on credit...for future performance.”
They both laughed.
“I think you are spending too much time with our whimsical wolf, Penny, my love.” London opened his palm to reveal the bag once again. “Open it.”
Penelope took the bag and carefully undid the strings holding it shut. She reached inside and drew out a sparkling gold chain. But the chain was not the most spectacular part of the present. Suspended from it hung what, on closer inspection, was a family crest.
London closed his eyes and recited, “A scarlet shield, an armored helm, the ragged lion in gold. Numquam Obliviscar.”
“Never forget,” she whispered.
“It was, it is, my family’s motto, and crest. The irony is not lost on me that scarlet...your color, was always my color.”
A large ruby represented the scarlet shield of the crest; the helm at the top was solid gold, the Latin inscribed in gold in a semi circle surrounding the ragged lion, which was comprised of several small diamonds.
“It’s beautiful,” Penelope was struck by the craftsmanship, so delicate and yet it had a heft that she suddenly wanted to feel against her skin.
“May I?” London held out his hands.
“Yes!” Penelope handed him the necklace so he could put it on her.
“It can be worn as a pendant, or a broach, if you wish.”
He reached around her neck to fasten the clasp, brushing her cheek with his lips as he leaned back to admire her.
The crest nestled between her breasts and seemed to radiate against her creamy skin.
“Oh London, you’ve once again given me a piece of you and I am without words strong enough to convey what I’m feeling. Many years ago you first graced me with the gift of your intellect and insight. Then, after we met in the flesh, you gave me a song you wrote out of love just for me, the music of which still echoes in my memory as the most beautiful tune I have ever heard. When next you gifted me your heart and your body, I never expected or needed anything more. Now you’ve given me your past.” Penelope had studied enough medieval literature to know the significance of his gift.
“You are my lady and I want you to wear my colors.” He paused and looked down, “Of course, I don’t expect you to wear it always.” London was still very conscious of his place in Penelope’s life.
“I will wear it, proudly!” She threw herself into his arms and kissed him. She knew what he was thinking, and for now wanted it out of his mind. She hoped her body could bring him back to the moment.
London gently pushed her down until she was once again leaning against the cushions.
“Are you ready for desert?”
Penelope smiled and looked away coquettishly. She was ready, yes she was.
London, still fully clothed, picked up the bowl of fruit and knelt before her, sitting on his heels. He lifted a piece of pineapple to her lips, squeezing it gently so the juice of it ran down his fingers and her lips.
“Open.”
She opened her mouth and let him place the piece on her tongue. The pieces were small enough that she could suck on them while London’s fingers still held them. When he let go, she chewed and swallowed slowly, savoring the taste of each of the fleshy fruits as he gave them to her.
Between bites, London lapped up the juices that were on her lips and chin.
“Careful, my love,” Penelope cautioned. She knew he could manage small sips of wine and spirits, and the occasional liquids, but she didn’t want him to become sick.
“I know my limits, darling,” he smirked, “do you?”
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Everything was beautiful, in his opinion.
Asher surveyed his handiwork.
The five submissives, three of who were women, hung by leather cuffs from chains that were secured to the rafters. Each was attired differently, according to the directions Asher had relayed through Gerard. The host himself was at Asher’s feet, following him on hands and knees as he walked around checking everyone’s bindings.
He chose to invite more women than men simply because Narcissus preferred to play with men and because she fancied herself as the only “woman” for Asher, she would be ripped by jealousy at his attention to other women. Since he felt no need to placate her in any way tonight, each woman was more beautiful than the next, and nothing like the Oba. When she saw who they were, Asher was certain that the significance would not be lost.
Narcissus finally appeared, emerging from the double doors that led to the private playrooms, and her own personal quarters. She was dressed in her usual fare, stiletto heels, and black fishnet stockings with the garters peeking out of the hem of a black lace slip. She had elbow length black satin gloves on, and several strands of pearls of various lengths around her neck. Her dark hair was closely cropped, and her make-up expertly done. Her lips shiny and red seemed begging for a kiss. She had chosen her ensemble with as much care and purpose as Asher.
She had been informed that Asher was having a private party, and that she was the guest of honor, of course. The Oba was powerful, so if she was feeling any fear, she was shielding it very well. Many who knew her may perceive her as mad, but she was not stupid, except, it seemed, where Asher was concerned. And now she knew she had made a grave mistake in how she played her last hand.
Asher stood with the grace and silence of a vampire his age. He knew the effect his scars had on the Oba, which was the reason they were so visible tonight. He could smell her arousal from across the room, and although he was deft at hiding his true feelings, it sickened him. Any desire for this creature he had once secreted away in his inner sanctum was gone. All that remained was the desire to teach her to never again forget who her master was.
Narcissus had a few choices about to how to handle the scene that lay before her as she walked slowly towards the stage with her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. Her two hyena guards stuck close behind her, but not even they would dare to defy Asher. As per vampire custom, the hyenas belonged to him as much as they belonged to her.
It was a custom that Jean-Claude, perhaps out of respect and love for Richard, had not often adhered to, but that was ever present in a master vampire and animal-to-call relationship. He did not make a habit of lording his mastery over the wolves. But that was Jean-Claude. Asher didn’t have the same modern sensibilities, nor the affection for the Oba that Jean-Claude held for the Ulfric. Narcissus had lived her life in fear, for the most part, so it was something she understood. Asher planned to use that fear, at least in the beginning, to strengthen his control. It would be only after her total submission that they could perhaps actually talk, and move forward. At least that was his grand hope.
As she moved towards the stage, the lights shut off behind her leaving her wake in darkness. Castor and Pollux were standing by the short stair that led to where Asher was standing with Ixion and Ares, while Faust and Meng Die stood on either side of the suspended subs. Gerard was still at Asher’s feet, but now with the added benefit of a leash attached to his leather collar. The vampire held it taught so that Gerard’s head was at a strained angle. The look of euphoria on his face was undeniable.
“It would seem,” Narcissus said casually as she approached the stage, “that you have taken over my club this evening. I certainly hope you have good reason for hindering our pack from making their living.”
Asher didn’t move, “Is it all about money for you, Narcissus? Whatever happened to love?” His voice was threatening and filled with hundreds of years of practiced sarcasm.
Narcissus stopped in her tracks, about ten feet from the stairs. The entire room was dark now, save the pinpoints of light that came down from the ceiling. The effect was supposed to mirror the night of the new moon, when one could see a million stars. The lone spotlight shone down on Asher, making him appear ethereal and terrifying at once.
“You dare to speak to me of love?” Her disturbingly hysterical laughter echoed throughout the club. “I don’t think that love has anything to do with this. If you loved me, you would never have taken that girl into your bed, or whatever it is you have that passes for a heart.” The rage that Narcissus had been holding on to exploded throughout the room, searing the hyenas.
Even Castor and Pollux felt the smack of her rage, but they had given their word to Asher that no matter what, they would not do anything they were not commanded by him to do. So they stood stoically, watching the scene. Whatever was going on beneath the surface with the brothers was completely hidden. They were entirely in control, something that Asher took note of and filed in his brain for later.
Asher spoke with the coldness that had protected him for almost three hundred years.
“I never loved you.”
The words did their damage, because at that moment, Narcissus’ face showed that she understood that those words were the truest she had ever heard.
“But I loved you,” she pouted, and either she was an accomplished actor, or she truly did believe her words because her face fell with the kind of disappointment only one who has been ravaged by unrequited love could understand.
“You are obsessed with me, that is not love. I know love once again, and although you will not believe me, I do hope that one day you will learn the difference.” He held out Gerard’s leash to Meng Die, who took it with a strong jerk that elicited a cry of intense pleasure from her captive, and then he held his hand out to the Oba.
“Will you accept the punishment I have deemed appropriate for you?”
Narcissus looked at the stage. The empty glass box’s door was open, and she knew the chair inside was meant for her. Whatever Asher had planned would end one of two ways, and although Narcissus was usually confident that the ultimate outcome of her and Asher’s relationship would be mutual pleasure, this time she wasn’t so sure this wouldn’t end in her total submission.
Without looking at anyone but her master, she ascended the stage, and took his hand.
Back to index
Chapter 35- Control by nicola71
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As always, special thanks to Rekastormborn and Subbie for their invaluable advice! A SMEX warning for this chapter!
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He explored her each time as if it were the first time, and tonight was no different as they lay touching and kissing in the soft golden glow of scented oils under the starry sky he had made for her.
London had Penelope cuddled against his still clothed body, nibbling softly at her lips as his hands clasped her possessively. He drew out their pleasure with each caress and he felt her earnest yearning for him through every feathery kiss. His own fiery desires danced throughout his body, pushing his excitement higher and higher because at this moment Penelope appeared to be utterly defenseless, deliciously naked, and entirely his.
When he pulled away from her mouth a small trickle of blood ran down her chin. He licked it carefully, savoring yet another part of her that for this window in time belonged solely to him.
“Your clothes are still on,” she panted in a whisper. Her body was on fire in a million different ways. It was at once both invigorating and infuriating.
“I know.”
He smiled with a lasciviousness that she was used to seeing from Asher, not her knight. The thrill of that look lanced her with such lust that she could barely speak. But her lust had not overrode her wit, as yet, and she tried her best to seem in control when in fact she was more out of control than she had ever felt.
“You are exhibiting an enormous amount of control tonight.” Her words came laboured, partly from unquenched thirst for him and partly because most of London’s weight was pressing her into the silk cushions.
“I know.”
He started kissing her again, moving from lips to cheeks to chin, then lower to her neck, shoulders and chest. All the while his hands kept a firm grip on her. She wasn’t moving anywhere his tender yet firm embrace wouldn’t allow.
Without words he flipped her over onto her stomach, pinning her down with his body. He gently moved her hair out of the way, and lavished the back of her neck and shoulders with small flicks of his tongue and kisses that devoured with increasing intensity. Her moans told him he had made the right decision.
Content that she would allow him to do as he wished, he raised himself off of her body and straddled her thighs. He was running his fingers lightly over her backside and along the lines of her torso when he felt her shudder and quake. Her body was so warm tonight, and the cool smoothness of his own skin drank in that warmth. London fought an internal battle with his baser needs. Part of him wanted to shed his clothes, spread her open and sink inside her warmth; surround himself in it, drown in it. Instead, he leaned over and kissed a line from the base of her neck, down her spine, to her plump rear.
Penelope only managed a whimper when his kisses moved from her ass down the backs of her thighs and legs. When she felt his body next, his shirt was gone and once again he pressed his full weight on top of her. She could feel the roughness of his scars against her back, and when he came to rest, her breaths were ragged and uncontrolled. The tears that threatened to fall from her eyes were from overwhelming desire and need, because the surging heat between her legs was near to painful. She needed release and hoped that he was not about to make her wait any longer.
Between the kisses, she felt her legs pushed apart as London rolled to her left side. He pulled her back to rest against him, coaxing her leg over his hip to allow him full access. His fingers found her wet and trembling, and within seconds had her squirming with delight.
Since her desire was riding her so close to the surface tonight, it didn’t take long for her to feel the heat that had settled deeply inside her womb explode throughout the rest of her body. Her cries were captured by London’s mouth when he pulled her face toward his and he drank her passion through their kiss. He held her shaking body against his chest and chuckled softly.
“What?” she gasped between recovering breaths, the tears she fought falling freely down her cheeks.
“Nothing, my love, nothing...it’s just that you are so easy to tease tonight. So...” he licked his fingers and then offered them to Penelope, who sucked them into her mouth slowly, “so deliciously pliant, so easily quickened,” he tasted the salt of her tears, “you are crying?”
London could feel every electric pulse that was whirring throughout her body, and knew the tears were from the intense feelings of sensual delight, not from true physical pain, although he was all too familiar with how closely intense pleasure and pain were related. He reached once again between her legs and stroked her quickly, eliciting another series of cries that rode that familiar edge of sweet agony.
“London!” Her body arched back and turned in his arms until he was once again holding her close, her leg solidly wrapped around his hip.
He looked into her eyes, knowing his own were now fully aglow, and wished for a moment that they could be together without magic always riding alongside of their passion. Her eyes were still only sparkling with love, not magic, which reassured him. Another of his fears somewhat if not totally allayed. Although magic would always be there hovering over them, his, hers, whoever’s, it was not what would keep them together. He kept telling himself that it was not what bound them to each other. He had to believe that in order to keep his happiness from turning to despair. After centuries of expecting despair, he was struggling with this new bliss, and he desperately wanted to keep that struggle to himself.
Penelope took a deep breath and moved until she was on top pushing him down beneath her.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, then moved her body down where she could easily undo his belt buckle, and relieve him of his pants.
“And I love you. Are you sure you’re ready?” London knew he had been a little aggressive with his fingers, and didn’t want her to pay the price in pain later, for what she thought she wanted now.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m more than ready,” she guided his hand to her swollen folds which were silky and wet.
“I guess you are!” London was pleasantly surprised, but also aware that her lust was Asher’s lust tonight, and Asher had an appetite that was rumored to be only rivaled by Belle’s. His inheritance from his maker.
She looked up at him from her position between his legs where his erection was bobbing. Penelope knew what she wanted, and kissed the inside of his muscular thighs.
It was his turn to gasp. While Penelope’s lips kissed and caressed their way upward, her hair tickled his skin. He sat up against the cushions so he could have a better view of her, and reached down to twist his fingers in the chocolaty richness of her tresses. London watched his cock disappear inside her mouth, and swallowed hard as she alternated flicking and licking with her tongue with sinking her mouth over his shaft. He wouldn’t last long enough to be inside of her if she continued to take him with her mouth. He was just too excited at the moment, and with her he never wanted to hold back. It just felt too good to let go.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her up until she laid on top of him with his cock pressed between their bodies.
He closed his eyes and kissed her.
“Open,” she said, “open your eyes, look at me.”
A moment of hesitation passed until his eyes opened to find sable fire speckled with gold gazing back at him.
Penelope sensed his sudden unease and knew right away, “Our magic is part of us, London,” she held his face, “I love when you allow your magic to consume me, don’t think it makes our love any less.”
She had guessed one of his secret fears, and it made him wonder if she would discover and put to rest all of them. He was old enough to know that relying on another to wash away your dread was never a good idea, but fear itself was diminished by the comfort of someone you loved. Penelope was that person for him, for all time, and it was more than he could hope for.
“Did you reach into my mind for that piece of me that I was trying so hard to hide from you?”
“I don’t need my magic to know you, love. I don’t need to invade your thoughts and memories to know your fears. We are a part of each other. Magic enhances what we have, it does not diminish us. But if all my magic failed me in this moment I would know the deepest parts of you not because of that magic, but because of your words on the page, your eyes when you allow yourself to really look at me, and the tenor of your voice when you say my name.”
“Penelope.”
London sat up and cradled Penelope in his lap. He lifted her gently and guided himself into her warmth, slowly settling her onto his body. They rocked themselves into an easy rhythm, tightening their embrace with every subtle motion, kissing, and watching each other as their magic joined together and they rode into oblivion.
They were lost so deeply inside one another that neither could feel the pull from above. Perched high on one of the communication towers, a lithe, raven haired vampire watched the sweethearts, feeding on their love and wondering how he could be so close to such beauty and not reach out and touch it.
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Narcissus paced in the glass box as the scenes erupted around her in 360 degrees of pleasure and pain.
Asher’s plan had been masterful. Meng Die and Faust played their parts beautifully, as well. He wondered, briefly, why Meng was being so cooperative with his designs until he realized that perhaps this was something she too enjoyed, but was reluctant to share with anyone around her. Before tonight she seemed content in letting everyone think she was simply a raving bitch. But Asher wondered what she might be like to work with if some of that “bitch” was channeled into something more productive.
Faust was pure magnificence to behold. His copper eyes sparkled with absolute glee, for Faust was one who truly embraced who he was and what made him happy. He was a regular at the club, and was a respected and popular Dom. Asher and he had enjoyed many conversations and shared many submissives over the last few years. Asher could not have been more proud of him if he’d been his own child, or if he’d trained Faust himself.
Each submissive had been moved to a station and was being attended to in turn. Asher was sitting on a red velvet bench, with a tall blonde bent across his lap. Her bottom was red and bore the marks of his palm. He was giving her a thorough spanking, and from the muffled cries from her gagged mouth, she was very much enjoying it. He had paused only for a moment to caress her throbbing bottom, all the while never looking at the Oba who had long since abandoned her chair and was practically licking the glass of her transparent prison.
Gerard was at his master’s feet, attentive and ready to do his bidding. Ixion and Ares had not moved from their posts, and Castor and Pollux were sitting in front of the stage, casually enjoying a beer and the show. Neither brother’s expression betrayed their thoughts, but Asher had caught Pollux grinning more than once. On which end of the flogger he wished to be, remained a mystery. A mystery that would save itself for some future date, but one that Asher felt would prove amusing to pluck out. Castor watched with the intent of a voyeur. His mouth did not betray his thoughts as his brother’s did, but his eyes were sparkling. Asher had taken a chance including them in this enterprise and had breathed a theoretical sigh of relief that they were not in the least uncomfortable. Penelope had let him know that Castor had a fear of the ardeur. In Asher’s opinion that made him wise, not prudish. Clearly they would fit in well.
Asher pulled the blonde up until she was sitting in his lap, legs opened wide. Her nipples were clamped with small steel clips making them large and hard and dark pink. He flicked her right one roughly causing her to screech through the silk. She was covered in a thin layer of sweat, the red marks of the flogger and nothing else, save the gag and a pair of black patent stiletto heels. She smelled vaguely of gardenia, not his favorite flower. Her initial flogging of the night had been because of this, and he made her swear that she would never again wear that scent in his presence. A promise she made willingly through well earned tears.
Her long white blonde hair was natural and silky and feminine as he liked it. He made a great deal of the female subs’ hair. A blonde, a brunette and a curly red-head. Narcissus kept her hair cropped because she could never quite achieve the long thick feminine locks she desired, and so she publicly decried the look on women. In truth she was jealous, and far too proud to admit it by resorting to wigs.
Asher motioned for Gerard to crawl over between his legs and ordered him to begin pleasuring the blonde. Asher held her as she started to squirm, fisted her long hair in his hand and pulled back hard on her head until the long line of her neck was completely exposed. He had, of course, received the subs’ permission to use his powers on them, and feed from them, before the session commenced, so when he looked into her pale blue eyes all he saw there was pleading submission.
Take me, please.
Asher had not played with this particular woman before, but she had long inquired about being on the menu. In fact, each and every one of the subs present had all been Narcissus’ at some point, but she had cleverly kept them clear of the club on nights when Asher was expected to be there. These five were special. These five Narci kept all to herself. She was so possessive of them that she had actually banned one of the men and the blonde in Asher’s lap, from coming to the club without her express invitation. She had no idea that Asher even knew of their existence. Obviously she had underestimated him in more ways than one.
Narcissus couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes and forget how badly she wanted to be the blonde.
Asher’s power spread through the blonde into Gerard, who was expertly using his tongue and only his tongue, as directed. His hands remained dutifully at his sides, which displayed his experienced obedience. Asher was very pleased.
Around them Faust and Meng were finishing up with their charges as sounds of release echoed throughout the room. Nothing was lost on Asher as he glanced from station to station, and finally settled his eyes on his guards, none of whom even twitched.
Such control! he thought. Wonderful!
The blonde’s orgasm was brimming when he pulled her hair back roughly and struck at her throat. Her swanmane blood was hot and tasty, but more than that, taking it had an even more desired effect.
As Asher drank, his eyes set finally on his Oba, who he had artfully ignored looking at for the past several hours. The look in her eyes was one of utter hopelessness and defeat. He enjoyed it so much he almost forgot about the woman spasming in his lap.
He pulled up and licked the blood away from her neck, loosened the gag, and kissed her gently on the forehead before lifting her and handing her off to Ares, who along with Ixion had arranged comfortable beds in the back rooms for the subs to sleep and recover. They would be well fed and rested and healed before Asher would need them again the following evening. However, from the look on Narcissus’ face, he didn’t think much more convincing was going to be required.
Gerard was still sitting at Asher’s feet, not having had the fringe benefit of Asher’s bite since his cock and balls were still tied up tight. Asher reached down and gently lifted Gerard’s face.
“You have been a most obedient and worthy assistant to me tonight, mon garçon doux*,” he stroked the hyena’s wavy hair. “Will you retire to my chamber with me? There is some darkness yet left to us.”
Gerard smiled, “yes, master, yes!”
Asher grabbed Gerard’s leash, jerked it tightly, and headed in the direction of the room he used when he stayed at the club. Before disappearing with his pet, he spoke to his people.
“When everyone is settled for the day there are accommodations for you as well as a detail of daytime guards I have arranged. Please get some rest, and when you wake make certain our guests are fed, bathed and ready for me when I arise. Faust, Meng, take your pleasures as you wish.”
Asher noted that each of the vampires had a sub who was practically licking their heels for some private attention. Whatever they did on their own time was their business. As for himself, he planned to indulge his own desires, and perhaps take the edge off of Penelope who had been doing a wonderful job of keeping him full of energy. Whatever London was feeding her, be it lust or food, he was doing a marvellous job.
I wonder how Jean-Claude has fared so far?
He wasn’t in the mood to check in, and as for Penny, he still wasn’t sure he wanted her feeling what he was feeling at the moment.
“Sir?” Ixion questioned.
“Oui?”
“What about our Oba?”
Asher continued on his way without looking back at Narcissus who was pressed against the glass looking longingly in his direction.
“Leave her.”
Asher disappeared with Gerard behind a black velvet curtain.
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*My sweet boy
Back to index
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As always, very special thanks to Rekastormborn and Submissively Asher's for all of their help and support as my betas! They are truly gifted writers and I am lucky to have them! Also, thank you to all of my readers...you totally make my day!
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London and Penny emerged from the heavy steel door on the rooftop of the circus. The late spring night was beautiful, if a bit chilly. The thermometer read just over 57 degrees and there was a very light breeze.
London gave a nod to the security guard who was covering that section, and squeezed Penny’s hand slightly as he led her past. The guard was a trusted Rodere, but one who’s detail was guarding the perimeter of the circus rather than the inside. London knew only enough about him that his name was Calo, and that Claudia had deemed him a “stand up guy”, which was high praise from her.
Penelope breathed in deeply. She had not been outside since the opening night of Veritas, and so even the scents of the urbanized atmosphere of St. Louis was as a freshly mowed meadow to her senses. The circus was pleasant enough, but she had recently found herself thinking about her island home, in particular. The little metaphysical trip she had been on with Helene a few nights ago probably was to blame. She had awoken to find herself in the grassy meadows of her childhood, drenched in sunshine and smelling of the herbs and flowers that she and Julianna had picked there as girls. That sylvan serenity seemed hard to find here, with the exception of the cottage Asher had shared with her.
But tonight, London was giving her something she needed, and she loved him for it.
“It’s this way,” he led her through a jungle of metal and cables that seemed ready to devour the surroundings. They walked into the center of the rooftop where there was what looked like a small building.
“Are we going inside?” Penelope wondered if her brief sojourn in the open was over.
“It’s more than it appears,” London smiled and opened the door.
What was revealed was beyond her wildest expectations.
The room was indeed that, a room. But a room with no roof, completely open to the night sky while at once shielding the occupants from the majority of the noise of the outside world.
It was as if Scheherazade herself had sprung to life from the pages of the Arabian Nights and transformed what started life as a storage dump for broken HVAC equipment into a romantic Persian oasis.
Dozens of sheer swathes of gossamer chiffon fabric in golds, reds, greens, and ambers hung from wrought iron hooks that had been pounded into the cement of the walls. The floor had been covered in several antique Persian carpets with piles of cushions and pillows making it seem to be one giant luxurious couch. The open roof was swathed in delicate netting, embroidered with tiny crystals that turned the artificial urban sky into one full of sparkling stars.
In the center was a low table set with a golden place setting. An elaborately jeweled goblet finished the look, which was enhanced by two large oil lamps that provided soft light, and small pots of subtle, yet intoxicating fragrance.
Exotic flower petals were strewn around on the table, floor and cushions, and the soft sounds of Middle Eastern instruments filled the air. Penelope completely forgot that not 100 feet away were men with guns patrolling the rooftop. They may well have been 100 miles away for all she cared.
Penelope looked up at London, still clasping his hand.
“You did this all, for me?”
“Jason helped quite a bit, but I designed it. I wanted to show you a bit of the romance of what I lived...that it was not all violence and death. There was great beauty in that land where I became a man. Almost as much as is here before me at this moment.” He graced her cheek with his fingers until he held her chin and her gaze.
London realized that by modern standards he was being a little sappy, but both he and Penelope had not had nearly enough sappiness in their lives, and he thought they deserved it.
They looked at each other for a long moment before London led her once again, this time to the large cushions. He motioned for her to sit, which she did in her own very ladylike way reminiscent of Anderson’s mermaid, while he set the basket on the table and carefully unpacked it.
She saw her favorite Italian Chianti, as well as fresh pineapple, raspberries, pomegranates, and figs.
“You brought me dinner, too?”
“Of course,” he laughed, “all cold dishes, I hope you don’t mind. It was.... practical.” London turned and knelt in front of her, carefully untying her tennis shoes and setting them aside. He took a small container and opened the lid.
“Shrimp!” Penelope loved seafood, and it was not something Asher particular enjoyed.
London carefully dipped each piece in a spicy sauce and teased her lips before allowing her to take a bite.
“Mmmmm...” She licked her lips, and then so did London.
“Do you like?” He had Jason pick up different foods from all sorts of markets that afternoon after he delivered Penny to the gym.
London was eager to have his night with her begin and to have her naked and writhing underneath his touch, but he would not forget his vow to Asher. She was going to be well-fed and strong, just in case. It was not a coincidence that his dinner choices for her were all very high in protein.
“Oh yes! What a wonderful surprise!”
The shrimp was followed by some cold, rare fillet Mignon on toast, with a delicate horseradish sauce. The food seemed to be temporizing her sexual desire for the moment. She had learned from listening to Anita that sometimes one hunger could be replaced with another. The problem was that if Asher was drawing as much off of her as he was pouring into her, it would probably be moot, no matter how much food she consumed. But for now, at least, she was in control.
Sips of wine, for both of them, and soft kisses followed each course. London shared a rare story from his human life about the first time he and his brothers had got into their father’s stock of port, which was being saved for some important visiting baron.
“My eldest brother took the whipping for that escapade,” he mused, his eyes far away. “But he made certain that the rest of us paid in other ways!”
They both laughed as Penny ate, reclined on the comfy cushions. When she could eat no more, Penelope reached to set the empty goblet back on the table and looked down at her jeans, suddenly feeling a bit under-dressed for her rich surroundings.
“I feel I should have dressed the part of the harem girl,” she teased.
He didn’t answer right away, but instead leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then with a growing fever as if he was also feeling the onslaught of sexual need that was pressing so hard against all of her control. He felt her magic start to seep into him. Cool and comforting, but tonight tinged with a strange heat he had not felt before. Although he was a little wary of the role that magic was playing in their relationship, it still felt very good and it was extremely hard for him when he pulled back and finally spoke.
“It didn’t matter what you wore. I wasn’t planning on you being in it for long.” He suddenly moved and pulled her t-shirts over her head, throwing them aside, then deftly removed her jeans, leaving her in her bra and panties.
“These are beautiful,” he said fingering the pale pink satin strap of her bra. He ran his finger underneath caressing her skin and making her shudder with excitement, “but not for tonight.”
When she was naked he commanded, “Lay back, against the pillows. I want to look at you.”
Penelope stretched her nude body out on the shimmering fabrics of the cushions beneath her. There was heat coming from somewhere because she was not in the least cold anymore, but whether that heat was emanating from somewhere in the room or from within her own body, was a mystery.
She leaned up on one elbow and with her free hand traced a line down the contours of her body, around the curve of her breast, across her hip finally resting in the nest of brown curls between her legs. Penelope had been highly aroused for the last hour or so anyway, so watching London’s eyes follow her hand was near to unbearable. Despite all of her careful control, she was shaking softly as if it were their first time all over again.
London, however, was very experienced in such situations. Besides, there was something he wanted to do before the sexual heat that was licking at their heels consumed them both.
“I have something for you.” His pale fingers disappeared into the right front pocket of his pants and emerged with a small black velvet bag.
Penelope leaned forward, “something for me?”
Despite her past, she had somehow retained a girlishness when it came to presents and pretty things. It pleased Asher to no end how accepting she was of his presents, and since he and London were cut from similar courtier’s cloth, the knight also smiled widely at her excitement.
“Ah,” he teased and hid the bag behind his back, “but do you deserve it?”
Penelope pouted playfully, “I think you should give it to me on credit...for future performance.”
They both laughed.
“I think you are spending too much time with our whimsical wolf, Penny, my love.” London opened his palm to reveal the bag once again. “Open it.”
Penelope took the bag and carefully undid the strings holding it shut. She reached inside and drew out a sparkling gold chain. But the chain was not the most spectacular part of the present. Suspended from it hung what, on closer inspection, was a family crest.
London closed his eyes and recited, “A scarlet shield, an armored helm, the ragged lion in gold. Numquam Obliviscar.”
“Never forget,” she whispered.
“It was, it is, my family’s motto, and crest. The irony is not lost on me that scarlet...your color, was always my color.”
A large ruby represented the scarlet shield of the crest; the helm at the top was solid gold, the Latin inscribed in gold in a semi circle surrounding the ragged lion, which was comprised of several small diamonds.
“It’s beautiful,” Penelope was struck by the craftsmanship, so delicate and yet it had a heft that she suddenly wanted to feel against her skin.
“May I?” London held out his hands.
“Yes!” Penelope handed him the necklace so he could put it on her.
“It can be worn as a pendant, or a broach, if you wish.”
He reached around her neck to fasten the clasp, brushing her cheek with his lips as he leaned back to admire her.
The crest nestled between her breasts and seemed to radiate against her creamy skin.
“Oh London, you’ve once again given me a piece of you and I am without words strong enough to convey what I’m feeling. Many years ago you first graced me with the gift of your intellect and insight. Then, after we met in the flesh, you gave me a song you wrote out of love just for me, the music of which still echoes in my memory as the most beautiful tune I have ever heard. When next you gifted me your heart and your body, I never expected or needed anything more. Now you’ve given me your past.” Penelope had studied enough medieval literature to know the significance of his gift.
“You are my lady and I want you to wear my colors.” He paused and looked down, “Of course, I don’t expect you to wear it always.” London was still very conscious of his place in Penelope’s life.
“I will wear it, proudly!” She threw herself into his arms and kissed him. She knew what he was thinking, and for now wanted it out of his mind. She hoped her body could bring him back to the moment.
London gently pushed her down until she was once again leaning against the cushions.
“Are you ready for desert?”
Penelope smiled and looked away coquettishly. She was ready, yes she was.
London, still fully clothed, picked up the bowl of fruit and knelt before her, sitting on his heels. He lifted a piece of pineapple to her lips, squeezing it gently so the juice of it ran down his fingers and her lips.
“Open.”
She opened her mouth and let him place the piece on her tongue. The pieces were small enough that she could suck on them while London’s fingers still held them. When he let go, she chewed and swallowed slowly, savoring the taste of each of the fleshy fruits as he gave them to her.
Between bites, London lapped up the juices that were on her lips and chin.
“Careful, my love,” Penelope cautioned. She knew he could manage small sips of wine and spirits, and the occasional liquids, but she didn’t want him to become sick.
“I know my limits, darling,” he smirked, “do you?”
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Everything was beautiful, in his opinion.
Asher surveyed his handiwork.
The five submissives, three of who were women, hung by leather cuffs from chains that were secured to the rafters. Each was attired differently, according to the directions Asher had relayed through Gerard. The host himself was at Asher’s feet, following him on hands and knees as he walked around checking everyone’s bindings.
He chose to invite more women than men simply because Narcissus preferred to play with men and because she fancied herself as the only “woman” for Asher, she would be ripped by jealousy at his attention to other women. Since he felt no need to placate her in any way tonight, each woman was more beautiful than the next, and nothing like the Oba. When she saw who they were, Asher was certain that the significance would not be lost.
Narcissus finally appeared, emerging from the double doors that led to the private playrooms, and her own personal quarters. She was dressed in her usual fare, stiletto heels, and black fishnet stockings with the garters peeking out of the hem of a black lace slip. She had elbow length black satin gloves on, and several strands of pearls of various lengths around her neck. Her dark hair was closely cropped, and her make-up expertly done. Her lips shiny and red seemed begging for a kiss. She had chosen her ensemble with as much care and purpose as Asher.
She had been informed that Asher was having a private party, and that she was the guest of honor, of course. The Oba was powerful, so if she was feeling any fear, she was shielding it very well. Many who knew her may perceive her as mad, but she was not stupid, except, it seemed, where Asher was concerned. And now she knew she had made a grave mistake in how she played her last hand.
Asher stood with the grace and silence of a vampire his age. He knew the effect his scars had on the Oba, which was the reason they were so visible tonight. He could smell her arousal from across the room, and although he was deft at hiding his true feelings, it sickened him. Any desire for this creature he had once secreted away in his inner sanctum was gone. All that remained was the desire to teach her to never again forget who her master was.
Narcissus had a few choices about to how to handle the scene that lay before her as she walked slowly towards the stage with her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. Her two hyena guards stuck close behind her, but not even they would dare to defy Asher. As per vampire custom, the hyenas belonged to him as much as they belonged to her.
It was a custom that Jean-Claude, perhaps out of respect and love for Richard, had not often adhered to, but that was ever present in a master vampire and animal-to-call relationship. He did not make a habit of lording his mastery over the wolves. But that was Jean-Claude. Asher didn’t have the same modern sensibilities, nor the affection for the Oba that Jean-Claude held for the Ulfric. Narcissus had lived her life in fear, for the most part, so it was something she understood. Asher planned to use that fear, at least in the beginning, to strengthen his control. It would be only after her total submission that they could perhaps actually talk, and move forward. At least that was his grand hope.
As she moved towards the stage, the lights shut off behind her leaving her wake in darkness. Castor and Pollux were standing by the short stair that led to where Asher was standing with Ixion and Ares, while Faust and Meng Die stood on either side of the suspended subs. Gerard was still at Asher’s feet, but now with the added benefit of a leash attached to his leather collar. The vampire held it taught so that Gerard’s head was at a strained angle. The look of euphoria on his face was undeniable.
“It would seem,” Narcissus said casually as she approached the stage, “that you have taken over my club this evening. I certainly hope you have good reason for hindering our pack from making their living.”
Asher didn’t move, “Is it all about money for you, Narcissus? Whatever happened to love?” His voice was threatening and filled with hundreds of years of practiced sarcasm.
Narcissus stopped in her tracks, about ten feet from the stairs. The entire room was dark now, save the pinpoints of light that came down from the ceiling. The effect was supposed to mirror the night of the new moon, when one could see a million stars. The lone spotlight shone down on Asher, making him appear ethereal and terrifying at once.
“You dare to speak to me of love?” Her disturbingly hysterical laughter echoed throughout the club. “I don’t think that love has anything to do with this. If you loved me, you would never have taken that girl into your bed, or whatever it is you have that passes for a heart.” The rage that Narcissus had been holding on to exploded throughout the room, searing the hyenas.
Even Castor and Pollux felt the smack of her rage, but they had given their word to Asher that no matter what, they would not do anything they were not commanded by him to do. So they stood stoically, watching the scene. Whatever was going on beneath the surface with the brothers was completely hidden. They were entirely in control, something that Asher took note of and filed in his brain for later.
Asher spoke with the coldness that had protected him for almost three hundred years.
“I never loved you.”
The words did their damage, because at that moment, Narcissus’ face showed that she understood that those words were the truest she had ever heard.
“But I loved you,” she pouted, and either she was an accomplished actor, or she truly did believe her words because her face fell with the kind of disappointment only one who has been ravaged by unrequited love could understand.
“You are obsessed with me, that is not love. I know love once again, and although you will not believe me, I do hope that one day you will learn the difference.” He held out Gerard’s leash to Meng Die, who took it with a strong jerk that elicited a cry of intense pleasure from her captive, and then he held his hand out to the Oba.
“Will you accept the punishment I have deemed appropriate for you?”
Narcissus looked at the stage. The empty glass box’s door was open, and she knew the chair inside was meant for her. Whatever Asher had planned would end one of two ways, and although Narcissus was usually confident that the ultimate outcome of her and Asher’s relationship would be mutual pleasure, this time she wasn’t so sure this wouldn’t end in her total submission.
Without looking at anyone but her master, she ascended the stage, and took his hand.
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Chapter 35- Control by nicola71
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As always, special thanks to Rekastormborn and Subbie for their invaluable advice! A SMEX warning for this chapter!
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He explored her each time as if it were the first time, and tonight was no different as they lay touching and kissing in the soft golden glow of scented oils under the starry sky he had made for her.
London had Penelope cuddled against his still clothed body, nibbling softly at her lips as his hands clasped her possessively. He drew out their pleasure with each caress and he felt her earnest yearning for him through every feathery kiss. His own fiery desires danced throughout his body, pushing his excitement higher and higher because at this moment Penelope appeared to be utterly defenseless, deliciously naked, and entirely his.
When he pulled away from her mouth a small trickle of blood ran down her chin. He licked it carefully, savoring yet another part of her that for this window in time belonged solely to him.
“Your clothes are still on,” she panted in a whisper. Her body was on fire in a million different ways. It was at once both invigorating and infuriating.
“I know.”
He smiled with a lasciviousness that she was used to seeing from Asher, not her knight. The thrill of that look lanced her with such lust that she could barely speak. But her lust had not overrode her wit, as yet, and she tried her best to seem in control when in fact she was more out of control than she had ever felt.
“You are exhibiting an enormous amount of control tonight.” Her words came laboured, partly from unquenched thirst for him and partly because most of London’s weight was pressing her into the silk cushions.
“I know.”
He started kissing her again, moving from lips to cheeks to chin, then lower to her neck, shoulders and chest. All the while his hands kept a firm grip on her. She wasn’t moving anywhere his tender yet firm embrace wouldn’t allow.
Without words he flipped her over onto her stomach, pinning her down with his body. He gently moved her hair out of the way, and lavished the back of her neck and shoulders with small flicks of his tongue and kisses that devoured with increasing intensity. Her moans told him he had made the right decision.
Content that she would allow him to do as he wished, he raised himself off of her body and straddled her thighs. He was running his fingers lightly over her backside and along the lines of her torso when he felt her shudder and quake. Her body was so warm tonight, and the cool smoothness of his own skin drank in that warmth. London fought an internal battle with his baser needs. Part of him wanted to shed his clothes, spread her open and sink inside her warmth; surround himself in it, drown in it. Instead, he leaned over and kissed a line from the base of her neck, down her spine, to her plump rear.
Penelope only managed a whimper when his kisses moved from her ass down the backs of her thighs and legs. When she felt his body next, his shirt was gone and once again he pressed his full weight on top of her. She could feel the roughness of his scars against her back, and when he came to rest, her breaths were ragged and uncontrolled. The tears that threatened to fall from her eyes were from overwhelming desire and need, because the surging heat between her legs was near to painful. She needed release and hoped that he was not about to make her wait any longer.
Between the kisses, she felt her legs pushed apart as London rolled to her left side. He pulled her back to rest against him, coaxing her leg over his hip to allow him full access. His fingers found her wet and trembling, and within seconds had her squirming with delight.
Since her desire was riding her so close to the surface tonight, it didn’t take long for her to feel the heat that had settled deeply inside her womb explode throughout the rest of her body. Her cries were captured by London’s mouth when he pulled her face toward his and he drank her passion through their kiss. He held her shaking body against his chest and chuckled softly.
“What?” she gasped between recovering breaths, the tears she fought falling freely down her cheeks.
“Nothing, my love, nothing...it’s just that you are so easy to tease tonight. So...” he licked his fingers and then offered them to Penelope, who sucked them into her mouth slowly, “so deliciously pliant, so easily quickened,” he tasted the salt of her tears, “you are crying?”
London could feel every electric pulse that was whirring throughout her body, and knew the tears were from the intense feelings of sensual delight, not from true physical pain, although he was all too familiar with how closely intense pleasure and pain were related. He reached once again between her legs and stroked her quickly, eliciting another series of cries that rode that familiar edge of sweet agony.
“London!” Her body arched back and turned in his arms until he was once again holding her close, her leg solidly wrapped around his hip.
He looked into her eyes, knowing his own were now fully aglow, and wished for a moment that they could be together without magic always riding alongside of their passion. Her eyes were still only sparkling with love, not magic, which reassured him. Another of his fears somewhat if not totally allayed. Although magic would always be there hovering over them, his, hers, whoever’s, it was not what would keep them together. He kept telling himself that it was not what bound them to each other. He had to believe that in order to keep his happiness from turning to despair. After centuries of expecting despair, he was struggling with this new bliss, and he desperately wanted to keep that struggle to himself.
Penelope took a deep breath and moved until she was on top pushing him down beneath her.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, then moved her body down where she could easily undo his belt buckle, and relieve him of his pants.
“And I love you. Are you sure you’re ready?” London knew he had been a little aggressive with his fingers, and didn’t want her to pay the price in pain later, for what she thought she wanted now.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m more than ready,” she guided his hand to her swollen folds which were silky and wet.
“I guess you are!” London was pleasantly surprised, but also aware that her lust was Asher’s lust tonight, and Asher had an appetite that was rumored to be only rivaled by Belle’s. His inheritance from his maker.
She looked up at him from her position between his legs where his erection was bobbing. Penelope knew what she wanted, and kissed the inside of his muscular thighs.
It was his turn to gasp. While Penelope’s lips kissed and caressed their way upward, her hair tickled his skin. He sat up against the cushions so he could have a better view of her, and reached down to twist his fingers in the chocolaty richness of her tresses. London watched his cock disappear inside her mouth, and swallowed hard as she alternated flicking and licking with her tongue with sinking her mouth over his shaft. He wouldn’t last long enough to be inside of her if she continued to take him with her mouth. He was just too excited at the moment, and with her he never wanted to hold back. It just felt too good to let go.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her up until she laid on top of him with his cock pressed between their bodies.
He closed his eyes and kissed her.
“Open,” she said, “open your eyes, look at me.”
A moment of hesitation passed until his eyes opened to find sable fire speckled with gold gazing back at him.
Penelope sensed his sudden unease and knew right away, “Our magic is part of us, London,” she held his face, “I love when you allow your magic to consume me, don’t think it makes our love any less.”
She had guessed one of his secret fears, and it made him wonder if she would discover and put to rest all of them. He was old enough to know that relying on another to wash away your dread was never a good idea, but fear itself was diminished by the comfort of someone you loved. Penelope was that person for him, for all time, and it was more than he could hope for.
“Did you reach into my mind for that piece of me that I was trying so hard to hide from you?”
“I don’t need my magic to know you, love. I don’t need to invade your thoughts and memories to know your fears. We are a part of each other. Magic enhances what we have, it does not diminish us. But if all my magic failed me in this moment I would know the deepest parts of you not because of that magic, but because of your words on the page, your eyes when you allow yourself to really look at me, and the tenor of your voice when you say my name.”
“Penelope.”
London sat up and cradled Penelope in his lap. He lifted her gently and guided himself into her warmth, slowly settling her onto his body. They rocked themselves into an easy rhythm, tightening their embrace with every subtle motion, kissing, and watching each other as their magic joined together and they rode into oblivion.
They were lost so deeply inside one another that neither could feel the pull from above. Perched high on one of the communication towers, a lithe, raven haired vampire watched the sweethearts, feeding on their love and wondering how he could be so close to such beauty and not reach out and touch it.
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Narcissus paced in the glass box as the scenes erupted around her in 360 degrees of pleasure and pain.
Asher’s plan had been masterful. Meng Die and Faust played their parts beautifully, as well. He wondered, briefly, why Meng was being so cooperative with his designs until he realized that perhaps this was something she too enjoyed, but was reluctant to share with anyone around her. Before tonight she seemed content in letting everyone think she was simply a raving bitch. But Asher wondered what she might be like to work with if some of that “bitch” was channeled into something more productive.
Faust was pure magnificence to behold. His copper eyes sparkled with absolute glee, for Faust was one who truly embraced who he was and what made him happy. He was a regular at the club, and was a respected and popular Dom. Asher and he had enjoyed many conversations and shared many submissives over the last few years. Asher could not have been more proud of him if he’d been his own child, or if he’d trained Faust himself.
Each submissive had been moved to a station and was being attended to in turn. Asher was sitting on a red velvet bench, with a tall blonde bent across his lap. Her bottom was red and bore the marks of his palm. He was giving her a thorough spanking, and from the muffled cries from her gagged mouth, she was very much enjoying it. He had paused only for a moment to caress her throbbing bottom, all the while never looking at the Oba who had long since abandoned her chair and was practically licking the glass of her transparent prison.
Gerard was at his master’s feet, attentive and ready to do his bidding. Ixion and Ares had not moved from their posts, and Castor and Pollux were sitting in front of the stage, casually enjoying a beer and the show. Neither brother’s expression betrayed their thoughts, but Asher had caught Pollux grinning more than once. On which end of the flogger he wished to be, remained a mystery. A mystery that would save itself for some future date, but one that Asher felt would prove amusing to pluck out. Castor watched with the intent of a voyeur. His mouth did not betray his thoughts as his brother’s did, but his eyes were sparkling. Asher had taken a chance including them in this enterprise and had breathed a theoretical sigh of relief that they were not in the least uncomfortable. Penelope had let him know that Castor had a fear of the ardeur. In Asher’s opinion that made him wise, not prudish. Clearly they would fit in well.
Asher pulled the blonde up until she was sitting in his lap, legs opened wide. Her nipples were clamped with small steel clips making them large and hard and dark pink. He flicked her right one roughly causing her to screech through the silk. She was covered in a thin layer of sweat, the red marks of the flogger and nothing else, save the gag and a pair of black patent stiletto heels. She smelled vaguely of gardenia, not his favorite flower. Her initial flogging of the night had been because of this, and he made her swear that she would never again wear that scent in his presence. A promise she made willingly through well earned tears.
Her long white blonde hair was natural and silky and feminine as he liked it. He made a great deal of the female subs’ hair. A blonde, a brunette and a curly red-head. Narcissus kept her hair cropped because she could never quite achieve the long thick feminine locks she desired, and so she publicly decried the look on women. In truth she was jealous, and far too proud to admit it by resorting to wigs.
Asher motioned for Gerard to crawl over between his legs and ordered him to begin pleasuring the blonde. Asher held her as she started to squirm, fisted her long hair in his hand and pulled back hard on her head until the long line of her neck was completely exposed. He had, of course, received the subs’ permission to use his powers on them, and feed from them, before the session commenced, so when he looked into her pale blue eyes all he saw there was pleading submission.
Take me, please.
Asher had not played with this particular woman before, but she had long inquired about being on the menu. In fact, each and every one of the subs present had all been Narcissus’ at some point, but she had cleverly kept them clear of the club on nights when Asher was expected to be there. These five were special. These five Narci kept all to herself. She was so possessive of them that she had actually banned one of the men and the blonde in Asher’s lap, from coming to the club without her express invitation. She had no idea that Asher even knew of their existence. Obviously she had underestimated him in more ways than one.
Narcissus couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes and forget how badly she wanted to be the blonde.
Asher’s power spread through the blonde into Gerard, who was expertly using his tongue and only his tongue, as directed. His hands remained dutifully at his sides, which displayed his experienced obedience. Asher was very pleased.
Around them Faust and Meng were finishing up with their charges as sounds of release echoed throughout the room. Nothing was lost on Asher as he glanced from station to station, and finally settled his eyes on his guards, none of whom even twitched.
Such control! he thought. Wonderful!
The blonde’s orgasm was brimming when he pulled her hair back roughly and struck at her throat. Her swanmane blood was hot and tasty, but more than that, taking it had an even more desired effect.
As Asher drank, his eyes set finally on his Oba, who he had artfully ignored looking at for the past several hours. The look in her eyes was one of utter hopelessness and defeat. He enjoyed it so much he almost forgot about the woman spasming in his lap.
He pulled up and licked the blood away from her neck, loosened the gag, and kissed her gently on the forehead before lifting her and handing her off to Ares, who along with Ixion had arranged comfortable beds in the back rooms for the subs to sleep and recover. They would be well fed and rested and healed before Asher would need them again the following evening. However, from the look on Narcissus’ face, he didn’t think much more convincing was going to be required.
Gerard was still sitting at Asher’s feet, not having had the fringe benefit of Asher’s bite since his cock and balls were still tied up tight. Asher reached down and gently lifted Gerard’s face.
“You have been a most obedient and worthy assistant to me tonight, mon garçon doux*,” he stroked the hyena’s wavy hair. “Will you retire to my chamber with me? There is some darkness yet left to us.”
Gerard smiled, “yes, master, yes!”
Asher grabbed Gerard’s leash, jerked it tightly, and headed in the direction of the room he used when he stayed at the club. Before disappearing with his pet, he spoke to his people.
“When everyone is settled for the day there are accommodations for you as well as a detail of daytime guards I have arranged. Please get some rest, and when you wake make certain our guests are fed, bathed and ready for me when I arise. Faust, Meng, take your pleasures as you wish.”
Asher noted that each of the vampires had a sub who was practically licking their heels for some private attention. Whatever they did on their own time was their business. As for himself, he planned to indulge his own desires, and perhaps take the edge off of Penelope who had been doing a wonderful job of keeping him full of energy. Whatever London was feeding her, be it lust or food, he was doing a marvellous job.
I wonder how Jean-Claude has fared so far?
He wasn’t in the mood to check in, and as for Penny, he still wasn’t sure he wanted her feeling what he was feeling at the moment.
“Sir?” Ixion questioned.
“Oui?”
“What about our Oba?”
Asher continued on his way without looking back at Narcissus who was pressed against the glass looking longingly in his direction.
“Leave her.”
Asher disappeared with Gerard behind a black velvet curtain.
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*My sweet boy
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— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 31- Sanctuary by nicola71
Penelope heard the deafening thud of something enormously heavy hitting the floor.
Vampires and lycanthropes could easily lift weight that even an abnormally strong human would struggle with, so the gym at the circus, which was a deceptively large space given the nature of the equipment, was furnished with some non-traditional apparatus.
London had just let one such apparatus hit the floor. He was dead lifting well over 1200 pounds with a bar that had eight Hummer tires rather than metal weights attached to it. Penelope had come into the gym just in time to see his muscles flex under the stress of the lift. He was shirtless with only a pair of black Adidas athletic pants that hung low on his hips, revealing every muscle in his back. His skin was shiny with effort and from this angle and distance she could truly see a difference in him that was not easily noticeable in clothes. Or out of them, when she was close up. London was ripped!
He turned around and drew in a deep breath that was taken more out of surprise rather than need. He had not expected her so soon, and reached for the black T-shirt that had been haphazardly thrown over the bars of one of the stationary bikes.
“Don’t,” Penelope said as she walked towards him. His abs were well defined and he had attained that elusive lower abdominal ‘V’ that was so coveted by modern men. Her eyes worked their way down and across every ripple of muscle until she could only use her memory to envision what was hidden by the black fabric of his pants.
London stood as still as he could. It was a skill perfected by all vampires of his age, but at this moment he was finding it hard to maintain. He focused on the woman coming towards him instead. Her body was soft and toned and the black yoga pants hugged her hips and thighs, the curves he had committed to memory. How many times now had his hands slid over the soft skin that lay underneath?
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice the change,” when she was close enough, she reached up and laid her hand upon his bare shoulder. She was always so close to him, so she tried to think of the last time she admired his nude body from afar. When he was nude, afar was the last place she wanted to be.
“It’s usually too subtle to show with us,” he tried to explain the physics of ‘how’ it happened in order to avoid the ‘why’ it happened.
“But, this,” she paused, sliding her hand over his chest, “this much change had to...god, London, how much time have you been spending in here?”
Penelope knew that even the smallest build in muscle for a vampire required a tremendous amount of energy and time even though a human who spent that much time in the gym would have garnered an extremely noticeable change. Some vampires who had been turned very young often spent hours each night pumping iron in order to appear older, only to have it dissipate quickly if they did not dedicate themselves to working out. She had seen Byron in the gym often enough to know how hard he worked to maintain his build, since he was turned before he had fully achieved his mans body.
Just at that moment, an unexpected answer came from the door as Graham walked in with two shifters she didn’t recognize, closely followed by WickedTruth.
“He’s in here, curiously, whenever you’re otherwise occupied,” Graham smirked and chuckled in the way men do when they are busting one another’s chops. The problem was nobody ever busted London’s chops. Of course Graham was always pushing limits everyone else seemed to see but him.
The two other wolves stopped dead in their tracks, unsure of what might happen next, but before anyone could register movement, Truth was standing next to London with his hand on the vampire’s shoulder. London’s eyes had bled to glowing pitch; something Penelope had often seen when they were together, infused with passion. This time, however, they were emitting something altogether different.
Graham growled lowly, feeling the anger pulsing through the room. His wolf was dangerously close to the surface tonight on account of the general anxiety of the last few days in the circus, but neither wolf nor vampire really wanted a fight. Everyone was just a little on edge. It was Truth’s voice that soothed the room.
“As we are all in here when we have some down time, isn’t that correct Graham? I mean, you didn’t get that big because you have a particularly active social life,” Truth’s voice mirrored the good natured ribbing that Graham’s had attempted. Lucky for everyone in the room, Graham was often a victim of Truth’s jibes, and he was too thick to see it as the cover up that it was. If he had been closer, he would have seen how deeply Truth’s fingers pressed into London’s flesh, keeping him from launching himself across the room.
Those fingers, and the fact that Penelope was staring wide-eyed at him were the only things keeping London from losing it all over the place.
“Thanks for reminding me of how underused I am around here, Truth,” Graham smiled and grabbed his crotch, “good thing I always have you to spar with,” he laughed and walked over to the large sparring mat with the other two wolves laughing it off as well. It seemed like only WickedTruth knew how close they had come to disaster.
London’s eyes seeped back to normal, and he shrugged his way out of Truth’s grip. Nothing was said between them as Truth followed the others over to the sparring mat, smiling and nodding courteously to Penelope on the way.
Wicked spoke up then, feeling that London needed a change of venue, “Care to work that out with steel, my friend?”
London nodded, and turned to Penny, softening his voice to hide the boiling anger over being exposed in front of people he didn’t know, let alone the woman he loved to distraction.
“What are you going to do?” The idea of leaving her in the same room with Graham after his rude exchange, even if she didn’t catch on, made his fury rise once again, but if he was to draw her attention away from it he had to act naturally.
Penelope did her best to act naturally as well. She knew something was up, but also knew her Knight well enough to know that here and now was not the place to address it. Truth’s eyes spoke to her as he passed, letting her know as much. She had not had many dealings with the brothers other than a formal introduction, but she felt at ease around them, and she had heard enough about their loyalty to Jean-Claude and Anita, as well as their martial skills to trust their judgment.
“You go on into the salle*, I’ll join you there in a while if I finish before you. I’m going to put in a few miles on the treadmill, and I really need to stretch,” she looked around at the very manly surroundings and covered her ears from the blaring music that Graham had turned on. “I really should ask Jean-Claude if he could have a sound proof yoga room built!” She smiled, happy that whatever the situation was had been diffused for the time being, but made a mental note to investigate further later tonight.
She went in to kiss London, but he backed away from her suddenly, although he smiled and nodded. Then he turned and slowly followed Wicked.
Penelope stood watching him walk away wondering what on earth could be his problem, why he didn’t want anyone to see her kiss him, and why exactly he felt the need to punish himself in the gym when she wasn’t around.
She started her cold stretches hoping that his behavior had nothing to do with her confession the night before.
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The blackened windows of the Escalade hid its occupants from the slowly waking streets of the St. Louis night. Castor drove silently, his brother riding shotgun. Asher and Ixion were next. Meng Die, Faust and Ares followed in an innocuous black car driven by one of the new lions. His name was Davis, and he’d recently arrived from Los Angeles. He’d been a stunt driver in Hollywood until he was outed as a shifter.
Although the Hollywood people enjoyed partying with and fucking the preternatural locals, they drew the line at working with them in situations where they might be unintentionally infected, especially by weres. The local Rex there thought Davis would be useful to Haven, and therefore Jean-Claude. The Master of the City of LA couldn’t call lions, but he and the Rex were about as famous as Jean-Claude, at least with the tabloids and paparazzi, so Davis felt quite at home here. He also loved driving all the cars that the St. Louis preternatural VIPs seemed to favor. Escalades, Maybachs*, very fast Italian sports cars. When anybody needed an expert driver and a fast ride Davis was their man, as many of the ladies of St. Louis could now attest to as well. With his movie star meets surfer good looks and lion’s libido, he very rarely spent the night alone.
Asher sat very still, with his eyes closed, focusing on how he was going to play this next scene. He had tried to push thoughts of Penelope as far out of his conscious mind as possible, but allowed himself one last small thought of her. He was doing this for her, and for Jean-Claude, and everyone else he had grown to love over the years. What he did over the next few nights could ensure the stability of at least his sphere of influence over the shifter community. Narcissus had grown the numbers of hyenas to well over 400 strong in a matter of less than a year, so she was certainly not a force to be ignored. At least not in that sense.
But, unlike Micah, or even Richard, Narcissus often let her own desires and needs outweigh the good of her pack. For all of Richard’s neuroses, he always took care of his wolves. Even when he was mad with grief over the loss of his humanity, or verdant with jealousy over whose bed Anita was in, he never used his power in a way that could come back to hurt the pack. Narcissus, in her mad jealousy, had endangered not only the hyenas stability, for although many of them were ‘out’, some were still safely closeted, but also the stability of St. Louis itself, and its reputation to other Masters of the City, as well as the leaders of various lycanthrope groups all over the United States. The stories she had planted in the papers only served to make Asher, and therefore Jean-Claude, look weak. There was always someone out there in the night who thought they were bigger and stronger, and when that person came to town it wasn’t just your own people who suffered or who fought. Jean-Claude had made sure of that. Like it or not, St. Louis was as close to a preternatural package deal as you could get.
But that wasn’t the only danger. Before Jean-Claude, the hyenas were as much slaves to Nikoloas, as were the vampires of her kiss and the humans who fed them. Narcissus had not had many good examples to learn to lead from. Between Marcus and Raina, Chimera, and Nikoloas herself, the Oba was so victimized that it was all she knew. Asher was going to change her way of thinking tonight. Jason had always prided himself on teaching the older vampires new and uniquely American phrases, and the one that Asher was planning to teach Narcissus this weekend was “team player.”
They got to the club and Castor parked in the VIP lot, shut off the car and turned in his seat. For tonight, Asher had asked the brothers to only reveal their hyena sides. No need to make a bad situation worse, but the fear that they brought with them would be enough. If one of them had been a female, this whole night would be moot, and Asher would probably be looking at his new Oba. But since that was not the case, this would have to do.
“Are you ready, sir?” Pollux said, pulling Asher from his distant thoughts back into the here and now. Asher had told them that although they were blood-oathed to Jean-Claude and had sworn loyalty to Asher as his hyenas, that they need not call anyone master. One of them, he mused, might possibly become a very important player in this game.
“Oui. Yes. Let’s go. Ixion, please carry the trunk.”
Asher always brought his own toys to a playdate.
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Salle*- (French: "room") A fencing hall or club
Maybach* - www.maybachusa.com/ This is a ridiculously expensive luxury auto that is meant to have a driver. They go for about $300,000, not including the driver! I have actually seen one in my town from time to time. Not much to look at on the outside, but unbelievable on the inside.
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Chapter 32 -Sparring by nicola71
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Thanks to Reka, as always! And to everyone who is enjoying this story once again!
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Blood poured from the gash in his thigh.
“London,” Wicked said calmly, as the wound was already starting to knit, “I will maim you if you don’t start paying attention. I assume you would like to utilize that area of your body later, am I correct?” Wicked leaned casually on his broad sword. “Care to tell me why you’re so distracted I almost sliced your balls off?”
Since their arrival, WickedTruth had struck an easy friendship with London, based at first with their common interest in swordplay and in reliving their past battles, then growing to mutual respect. London was one of only a few of Belle’s line who was chosen not strictly for his beauty but for his aptitude as a soldier. His maker had practical uses for him as well as carnal.
London looked up from where he was sopping up blood from his leg with a towel, “It’s nothing.”
“Try again. I won’t spar with you when you don’t have your head on straight. That’s how heads end up on the floor.”
London ignored him and instead readied himself, saluting.
“Come again, come at me. You will not best me this time.”
Wicked refused to move. “No.”
The sword hit the far wall with such a clang that it brought down an entire rack of rapiers.
“I’m certain that made you feel better,” Wicked was sarcastic while remaining calm and stoic in his stance, allowing London’s small tantrum to pass. “You know, I would say it was impossible, but I would swear you’ve inherited a small part of our temoin’s demeanor.”
“I... I don’t have the words to explain it.” Came London’s frustrated reply. Where was Requiem when he needed him?
“Maybe I do.” Wicked walked over, but stopped far enough away as to not invade London’s personal space. “You’ve hidden in corners for the last several hundred years, I gather. Now there are no more corners left to you. It’s out in the open, or nowhere.” He pointed towards the door, “And she is in the open. Loving her comes with a price, sir knight, your anonymity.”
London’s face must have shown his surprise at this man being able to see what he had so carefully concealed, because Wicked continued.
“And on top of that, you have to share her love. Well guess what, very few of us get exclusivity when it comes to love, my friend. Even those who have what the humans like to call, ‘normal’ relationships must share their hearts with more than one person. Parents, children, friends. And before you protest, sharing your body is natural for you. For us. We are different, in that sense. You don’t live as long as us and not evolve. Well, at least the best of us do, in my opinion. And you are one of the best of us.”
“Have I become that bloody transparent?”
“No, but perhaps I know a little of how you feel. I also know that you’ve been making this gym your home when Penelope is with Asher. You tried to fuck away your frustration before you and she consummated your love, now you’re trying to exercise it away. Why not try talking about it instead, and then letting it go for good?”
“Are you suggesting I see a psychiatrist?”
“No, I’m suggesting you talk to your lover. Tell her how you feel. You can’t change the fact that she is another vampire’s servant. You’re lucky that it’s Asher. Of all the vampires I know, he is one of the most giving with his love,” Wicked held up his hand, “Oh, I know he can be a sour son of a bitch, but give me the name of one vampire over a hundred who isn’t from time to time. He has endured more than many of us; the death of his servant and the woman he loved, the loss of the only identity he ever knew, and his place in our world, and yet he survived. He values love, even if he forgot about it for a few hundred years. If I had a servant myself, I don’t think I would be as flexible.”
“Except with Truth.” London knew that the brothers shared many women between them.
“Except with Truth. But this is not about me. I would never be so stupid as to promise myself to just one woman anyway.” Wicked grinned, and laughed at the thought.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. And one more thing,” Wicked walked back to take his stance.
“What is that?”
“Lighten the fuck up. You’re getting laid regularly now, you should be damn near pleasant to be around. Now raise your sword, and watch your cock, because I’m not responsible for any lost appendages.”
London did as he was told.
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After about an hour on the treadmill and thirty more minutes of stretching, Penelope found herself toweling off and sitting at the edge of the mat watching Truth lay Graham out time after time. For all his strength, the werewolf’s timing was pretty bad, and the guys were all ribbing him something awful.
Graham was huffing and puffing, sprawled on the mat. He held his hand up, “give me second, okay?”
“What’s the matter, wolf? A beautiful woman is in the room and you can’t perform? How typical.” Truth folded his arms and winked at Penelope. “I bet she could do better than you, and she is half your size.”
Penelope laughed, but when Truth reached down and grabbed her hand, she protested, “Oh no!”
“Oh yes,” Truth led her to the middle of the mat. “I know you have had training. Ready yourself.”
Truth came at her, and Penelope easily ducked and dodged him. Her lack of height was often an advantage with a much taller opponent, and the vampire was unused to such small prey.
Truth was not about to admit that though, and blamed it on Penelope choosing to avoid confrontation. “Well, see Graham, I did not expect her to do that. Running is always an option if failure is imminent.”
Penelope was ticked. “Who said anything about failure? It’s called self-preservation. Obviously, I am just faster than you are.” She knew this was untrue, but what was true was that she could verbally spar with the best of them. She was also feeling suddenly very brave. This was the first time she was joking around with them, and she found that she enjoyed the camaraderie. Time to take a chance.
She challenged him, “come at me again. This time I won’t move. I’ll even turn my back to you.”
Penelope turned and stood as she would normally. Truth came from behind and wrapped his arms around her as if to abduct her. In an instant her whole body went entirely limp. So limp that there was nothing for him to hold, and since he was expecting a struggle, it caught him off-guard. She was on the floor rolling away and up in a fighting stance in seconds. Graham was cackling on his hands and knees, laughing too hard to get up.
“Basic self defense, Truth. One of the first things I ever learned.” She said with a smile. She turned to Graham, “maybe you should take a refresher course. I read about this place they have here called the YMCA. I think you can take a class.”
It was her turn to grin and wink at Truth. He bowed gracefully.
The door to the salle opened, and Penelope saw London carrying a bloody towel. She blanched, and jogged over to him and whispered because she sensed that he was uncomfortable expressing their relationship around the others.
“Are you alright? Are you...” Her heart was racing.
She didn’t get the rest of her sentence out because he pulled her close and kissed her sweetly, enfolding her in his arms, finally unashamed of his feelings or showing them in front of the other men.
“I’m fine. Just need a shower, then you and I have plans.”
“Plans?”
“Plans.”
He took her hand, and with one look back at Wicked that said ‘thank you’, they walked out of the gym together.
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The club was buzzing with preparations for the night’s entertainments when Asher and his entourage strode in. They were unarmed, as was the policy of the club, but everyone who saw them knew that this company needed no guns or knives to cause damage if that was their intent. The group walked up into the middle of the dance floor and stopped so Asher could assess the situation.
There was not an eye in the room that was not glued to Asher. His ensemble had produced the desired effect. The dominants in the room would all be taking a page from Asher’s book tonight, and the submissives all wished they were his.
Castor and Pollux had allowed Asher to dress them, and so they both looked formidable in brown and black leather pants respectively. Each wore military style boots that matched as well as impossibly tight t-shirts that accentuated every finely worked muscle of their upper bodies. Castor’s shaggy hair was slicked back which provided almost as menacing a look as his brother’s closely cropped locks. Their handsomeness only served to make them appear more deadly. Neither of them seemed ill at ease with the nature of the club, and both were secure enough in their sexuality, whatever that may be, to be unfazed by the attention of the men and women in the room. Even Asher had noted, to himself, that they made a delicious looking pair. But it was Pollux who garnered most of his attention. There was simply something about him Asher could not quite put his finger on.
All of the hyenas he brought with him had let him mark them as his, letting everyone in the room know they were off limits. It was when he took his little drink from Pollux that Asher realized the depth of the hybrid’s power. He had fed from him once before and marked him delicious, but he now knew that the hybrid was shielding almost all of his power at that time. Were he to take a full feed from him with all of Pollux’s shields down, Asher imagined the rush would be overwhelmingly powerful.
Meng Die and Faust brought with them their own special brand of kink. Meng’s nails were her own, and had the same effect as the claws of a shifter. They were painted bright red, matching her lipstick. Her small tight body was made even smaller by the silver studded leather corset. She also sported red latex pants with thigh-high spiked heeled boots. Faust went against the grain in a copper colored silk shirt open to the waist, that matched his eyes, and black leather pants, which were looser than those the others wore. The leather belt he wore doubled as whip, the handle of which hung casually down the line of his fly, bobbing into his thigh suggestively.
Ixion and Ares had standard issue on, black leather and black t-shirts, that their sheer size and girth made intimidating enough. Other than that, they were unadorned, because they themselves were adornment for Asher as they flanked him.
Gerard, one of the hosts came over immediately to greet Asher, and since he was a hyena, greeted him in the old way, exposing the pulsing vein in his neck to his master. Gerard had long straight black hair, pulled back in a tight ponytail, and the scruff of three days on his face. He wore black leather pants, a red silk shirt and a black leather vest. His ears were both pierced, as were several other hidden parts of his body. His Spanish lineage gave him the swarthy sexiness of a pirate, as well as the intense dark brown eyes that made him one of Narcissus’ favorite companions. And incidentally, one of Asher’s. Of course it had been months since Asher had been to the club.
Asher, always willing to accept these ancient traditions when given, leaned in and scented him, just brushing his lips over the taught skin that held his powerful blood beneath. It would have been intoxicatingly difficult to resist if Asher had not already fed back at the circus.
“We are very happy to welcome you back, sir. Your usual table is ready and refreshments have been arranged for your men, and the lady.” A quick nod to Meng Die was greeted with what amounted to a snarl. Gerard made a mental note to tread lightly with her. “Narcissus imagined you would want to enjoy tonight’s performance before retiring to private quarters for your meeting.”
Asher shook his head and smiled, motioning for Ixion to put the trunk on the stage.
“There will be a performance tonight, Gerard, but it will be private. Tonight the club is closed. Actually, it’s closed for the weekend entirely. And I am expecting a delivery in about thirty minutes I will need you to take care of.”
Gerard’s eyes widened. It was Friday night and they had several private parties planned for the playrooms as well as the main floor performance. Friday night was VIP night, so anyone who was anyone would be there tonight, spending money on their outrageously overpriced drinks. The weekend cover charge alone was $50 per person.
“But sir, there are several large parties booked...” Gerard was a dedicated switch, but he was a business man too, and couldn’t help but argue. The revenue that would be lost this weekend would take months to recur. He knew that Asher had an interest in the club and was honestly flabbergasted that he would risk losing that much money.
Asher flared with just enough power to remind Gerard of his place, both as submissive to him and as an employee.
“I will not ask twice. Get on the phone. Cancel the reservations. Lock up. Put a note on the door if it makes you feel better. But close.” Asher handed him a piece of paper. “And when you are done, call the first five people on this list and tell them that if they wish, they are invited to a private party hosted by me. They know me, and they know what kind of party it will be. If one declines, go to the next on the list, however, unless they are dead I doubt highly you will encounter a refusal.”
Gerard looked at the list, “Sir, Narcissus has personally banned at least three...”
Asher’s eyes bled to ice blue fire as his power hit Gerard squarely this time, knocking him to his ass. The vampire knelt on one knee, grabbing the hyena by the collar and bringing his face within a centimeter of his own.
“Call. Them. Now.”
“Yes, sir” Gerard gasped. He found himself wishing his name was on that list. Wishing it more than he ever wished for anything before.
“And Gerard,” Asher let him fall to the ground as he walked towards the stage with his signature seductive gait.
“Yes, sir?”
“You may add your name to that list,” he turned and looked back casually, “ if you wish.”
Quivering with expectation, Gerard pulled himself up, and went to do his master’s bidding.
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Chapter 33- Asher's Gifts by nicola71
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Thanks and *hugs* to Reka and Subbie for helping to whip these next chapters into wonderful shape! Thank you to all the readers and reviewers!
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Penelope sat at her antique dressing table nervously fiddling with her perfume bottles. The table had a large square mirror edged in elaborately carved dark wood. The surface of the table itself was a rare golden marble, the chair cushioned with dark blue velvet. It was a new addition to her bedroom furniture, and didn’t exactly match the rest of the room, but it was a gift from Asher, so it complemented the other pieces. He loved to lie in her bed as she brushed her hair, watching her reflection in the mirror. Sometimes Penelope wondered just how often he thought of Juli while he watched, but she was at peace with that now. Julianna was always going to be a presence, but not a negative one. A part of Asher would always belong to her because she was the first woman he had ever truly loved. Penelope would never wish those feelings away from him.
She thought about Asher for a few moments, wondering how things were going with Narcissus. She still couldn’t feel him, but she remained calm and unworried. After centuries of feeling nothing from a master, she had grown very patient. If Asher needed her, or needed to draw power, he would. At least she hoped he would. She was feeling very powerful following her afternoon in the gym, and although she had endured a few rocky nights, she didn’t want Asher sparing her if he needed the boost. Even a vampire could get tired if he was expending a lot of energy. And that energy didn’t always have to be physical. She wondered if she should have pressed him for more details about his plans, but she resigned herself to the fact that he didn’t want to share, at least not yet, and she planned on respecting that. Regardless, she was going to be the good little servant and make sure that her energy was up, just in case.
Even if she had not been so conscientious, she had someone looking out for her who would not be denied. London had watched as she ate a protein bar, and a bowl full of blueberries before going back to her room to get ready for their date. He was so very attentive to her since they left the gym, and she had no idea how an hour or so fencing with Wicked had changed his attitude about publicly displaying his affection for her. Whatever it was, she felt she owed Wicked a thank you. Truth as well.
As she ran out her confusion on the treadmill, she also replayed the incident with Graham in her picture perfect memory and realized exactly how close London had been to truly losing his temper. He was old and powerful, and knew how to handle himself in a fight, but she shuddered thinking about actually having to watch him fend off Graham. When he emerged from the salle, bleeding, she felt as if she had been stabbed herself, and his wound was already healed. If just a bloody towel could move her to panic, she couldn’t imagine what would happen if he were truly hurt. At least with Asher she would feel it and be able to help him, even from afar. She pushed the thought from her mind, as she continued to get ready. Tonight was about relaxation and fun.
And hopefully some crazy sex! The sudden image of London groaning and sweating on top of her momentarily stole her breath.
Her sex drive was as high as ever tonight, so high she considered relieving some of that tension before seeing London. She was comfortable touching herself, although it was not something she did often. Master Socrates had been able to suppress the sex drive of his servants as much as Asher seemed capable of amping it up. She let her fingers softly caress her skin, between her breasts and down the line of her body and she allowed the pale blue brocade robe to fall back off her shoulders. Instead of continuing downward though, she reached for a large glass jar and carefully opened it, allowing the scent to fill the air. Her scent. The scent that Lucien had made for her. After he taught her how to recreate it, she was able to make all sorts of different toiletries. This was a thick body butter that she often used to soften her elbows and knees. Tonight she rubbed a small amount on her nipples, which were already hard and tender.
What the hell is going on?! She thought, staring at her reflection.
Penelope was always excited to be with London and Asher, but tonight she felt more than her usual want or need. What she felt was unnatural, almost overwhelming.
Asher? What are you doing to me?
It occurred to her that she was indeed extra turned on tonight, and that it was quite possible that she was feeling not only her own rising desire, but that of her master as well. Of course, she had no way to ask him.
Is he channeling it away from himself and into me? Oh, my...
Her own desire was still raw and new, having so recently rediscovered all the joy her flesh could give and receive, but this was the first time she was feeling something this strong. She knew, of course, that when a master vampire was involved in a sensitive situation, he or she could channel their baser feelings to a servant. If Asher wanted to be in full control, without desire getting in the way, he may be doing just that. If this was only the beginning...then London was in for one hell of a night.
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“Everything is as I directed?” London took the picnic basket that was held out to him.
“Yes, sir!” Jason playfully saluted. Lately he was running so many errands for these “vampires in love” that he was considering starting a side business. Jean-Claude would be so proud. His master’s entrepreneurial spirit was rubbing off on him.
Not that he minded. Doing London’s bidding tonight got him out of being groped at Guilty Pleasures, which normally he would not have minded, but tonight was bachelorette night. All the June brides were going to be out in droves, and although the thought surprised him, he was getting a little tired of being a pin cushion for horny women lamenting the fact that they were going to have to sleep with the same lame-o guy for the next fifty years. The thing that bothered him most, the thing he didn’t want anyone to know, was that despite his college degree he felt he really wasn’t qualified to be anything more than a nice body with a pretty face.
Jason decided not to think about that right now, and instead focused on the vampire interrogating him.
“You have the oil lamps in place?”
“Yes.”
“And the cushions?”
“Yes.”
“And the music?”
“Yes.”
“And...”
“ Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“You know, wolf, if you are trying to be funny...”
“Not trying. Am funny. And so are you. Relax. It’s perfect.”
London managed a smile. Jason irritated him sometimes, and his familiarity with Penelope seemed to bother him more than it did Asher, but he knew the young man had a good heart. And despite his ill treatment of him, Jason was being a friend.
“I apologize, Jason,” London then did something that was very uncharacteristic and put his hand on the shorter man’s shoulder, “I know it will be perfect. And without you to help me today, it would not have been possible. I know...I know I can be hard to deal with.”
Jason’s wide-eyed stare spoke volumes to London. It was time to follow Wicked’s advice, and remove himself from the corners of his surroundings. For lack of a better term, it was time to start living in the light.
“Gee, London, no problem, really, I’m happy to do it.”
At just that moment they heard a major ruckus coming from Jean-Claude’s living room. He and Anita were having a huge row.
“Do you know what that is about?” London motioned to the door.
Jason shrugged, “I’ve been trying to keep out of their fights lately,” then he smirked, “Bu-u-u-ut, I know she came by about an hour ago bitching a blue streak about Asher going to negotiate without her, and without the consultation of the Coalition. Jean-Claude believes this is Asher’s game to play, not the Coalition's. Anita disagrees.”
London sighed. He and Anita had a good relationship, but what she didn’t understand about men and vampires, especially old ones, could fill volumes.
“I suggest we, what do you say? Beat feet? Before she comes flying out of there in a rage. My plans do not include being fodder for her temper tonight.”
Jason nodded. “Are you picking Penny up at her room?”
“Don’t all gentlemen?” London smiled widely, something that up to this moment had been reserved for his lady, and winked at Jason.
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Penelope was instructed to dress comfortably and casually, her favorite style. The jeans she had on were soft and well worn, low on her waist and snug though the hips and thighs. As she admired her backside in the mirror, Penelope liked what she saw. She had put on a few pounds in the last few months, but she was convinced it was all muscle. Either way, she was happy with the way her butt looked in the jeans. Both Asher and London had many times told her how much they enjoyed that particular part of her body.
She chose a soft white long sleeved tee with a lilac short sleeved one over top. She liked the look of the two tees together. She had on a pair of white tennis shoes that Jason had given her. He told her she reminded him of the preppy cheerleaders he went to college with. Penelope wasn’t quite sure this was a compliment, but loved the sneakers anyway. Before she got to St. Louis, she thought sneakers were only functional in the gym. That they could be fashion accessories was totally new to her. When she mentioned this to Asher, he mumbled something about having a talk with Jason about that.
Her hair hung around her shoulders in soft curls she had painstakingly put in using an old set of hot curlers. She finished her look with a demure set of pearl earrings, and her Grandmother’s ring, of course. She would not be taking that off again anytime soon.
She had managed to get her desire under control after about 15 minutes of meditation, but she was still barely holding on. Her heart and her nethers jumped every time she heard someone walk by the door. When the soft knock came, she had to hold onto the bedpost to keep her balance.
She closed her eyes, gathered herself, and opened the door.
It was as if Deja Vu hit her square in the chest.
London stood in her doorway, much as he did that night months ago when she first realized he loved her. Still dressed in black, but smiling this time and holding a huge picnic basket.
The war she was waging with her desire took a decided turn against her, and without waiting for him to speak, she slid her arms around him, stood on tip toes and started kissing his neck; the only part she could reach when she wasn’t in heels and he wasn’t bending over her a bit. She pressed her body into his as much as she could, but no matter how hard she leaned, it wasn't enough.
It didn’t take long for his lips to find hers, and he took his time kissing her hello. He was fed, so his own desire jumped at being so surprised by her aggression.
Eventually it was he who pulled back.
“You are awfully keen tonight, milady,” his eyes had begun to bleed to black, but he fought back hard. He wanted her to actually see her surprise before they got naked.
“I know!” she blushed, “I think Asher is channeling some of his, maybe all of his, sex drive into me tonight. I just thought I should warn you.” She couldn’t help the huge grin that graced her face. All she was thinking of was running her hands and tongue all over his muscled body and having him respond in kind.
“I see,” London smiled as well, remembering just how ardent Asher could be. He figured something like this might happen. Asher was going somewhere tonight that normally would excite him very much. However, he needed to have his wits about him, therefore it was wise if he indeed was making Penelope handle his physical needs. The knight wondered, for a split second, if he would be up to the task.
Better see who’s around for a donation later.
He had fed from Nathaniel earlier, which was a great privilege, but he had no regular donor, and feeding from Penny more than once was out of the question. He might have to get creative, depending on how the night progressed.
Penelope stepped back, “I definitely want my surprise! So I will be a good girl, I promise!” She crossed her heart and pointed to the basket, “Is that for me? Do you want to come in?”
London stepped into the hallway, “Actually, we are going out.”
“Out!” If anything could make her almost as happy as a naked London, it was the prospect of fresh air.
He took her hand, “Come on,” he smiled, “I have a few surprises before we figure out just how much sex we can have in one night!” He allowed a small chuckle. After all, I am of Belle Morte’s line, he reminded himself. His confidence suddenly soared.
Penelope steeled herself against her rising desire, closed her door and went where her knight would lead her.
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Asher sat very still in what amounted to a throne set in the center of the stage. His back was straight, his legs hip width apart with his hands resting gently on his thighs. Eyes closed.
Gerard had ushered everyone who was unnecessary out of the club, and with his calling duties done, he now knelt at Asher’s feet, waiting on his master’s pleasure. His clothes were gone and his muscular body was now naked save for a few leather straps that had been fastened around his biceps and thighs, making them appear larger than they were. His cock and balls were nicely tied together with twine, and the collar and cuffs he sported had rings just waiting to be attached to chains. His heart paced as he waited.
Five submissives were getting ready in the dressing rooms. Meng Die and Faust were doing the honors there, while Castor and Pollux had taken up residence at a table directly in front of the stage. Ixion and Ares stood solidly behind Asher, like two seraphim in black, flanking their Archangel as he rested, waiting for his night to begin.
On one side of the stage there had been erected what looked like a large glass box. Big enough to hold several people, with one lone black chair inside.
Chains hung from the rafters, and a host of bondage equipment decorated the stage. Asher’s trunk was open on a large wooden table, his various toys on display.
Everything was ready.
Asher’s mind was as empty as he could make it. This weekend was not about his pleasure, although he was certain he would reward himself at some point. His ample desires had threatened to overwhelm him when he got into the club and saw what he was missing for the last few months. The sparkle in Gerard’s eyes alone was enough to remind him how much he enjoyed this part of his sexuality.
But he needed control more than pleasure at the moment, so he forced all that need down the metaphysical line he shared with Penelope.
She should be able to handle it, he thought to himself.
London will be able to handle her, I am sure, he added to reassure himself.
Then something occurred to him that he had not thought of before.
Jean-Claude.
He opened his mind.
Yes, Asher?
You sound irritated. What has happened?
Nothing. Anita. It’s over for now, but you will be getting an earful when next you see ma petite. As for me, an earful is all I will be getting this evening. But nevermind that now, how is it going?
It’s not yet. I just wondered if you’ve fed tonight?
Jason was here, Oui.
Not blood.
No. I may go to the club.
No need. You still often feed from a distance, no?
Oui. Unless I am with you or Anita. Jean-Claude thought how distance feeding his ardeur was like smelling a banquet and convincing yourself full.
Then tonight, mon amour, I have provided an incomparable feast for you. Enjoy...
Quoi?
I have given Penny my desire, at least for tonight. I imagine London will be searching for a blood donor at some point. Perhaps several. If you don’t stray too far, you will feed well tonight. Accept this gift with my compliments.
And you do not think Penelope will mind this...gift?
You’ve fed from her before...
A long time ago, and directly.
Well tonight you will feed indirectly. Her love and her magic protect her from addiction. At one time it was her love for Jean-Claude, Asher admitted to himself.
And London?
Love guards him as well. Besides, he grows in power from the feedings. He has not been with Anita in some time. This will benefit him as well.
Perhaps I should ask them.
As you wish. I must go. J’taime!
J’taime, mon chardonerette, J’taime! And...merci.
Asher’s eyes opened with a start. If all went well, everyone would greet the dawn well sated and happy. And of course he knew Jean-Claude would behave himself, despite the lingering desire Asher knew he had for Penelope. The two former lovers thought they were shielding their memories, but he had been privy to more than a few. It was only fair, he thought. But he was still not of the mind that Jean-Claude wanted to pursue anything more than the flirtation with the past he was already chasing. The Master of the City knew that Anita would have his balls in a sling if he did anything more.
At least that’s what Asher was counting on.
Penelope heard the deafening thud of something enormously heavy hitting the floor.
Vampires and lycanthropes could easily lift weight that even an abnormally strong human would struggle with, so the gym at the circus, which was a deceptively large space given the nature of the equipment, was furnished with some non-traditional apparatus.
London had just let one such apparatus hit the floor. He was dead lifting well over 1200 pounds with a bar that had eight Hummer tires rather than metal weights attached to it. Penelope had come into the gym just in time to see his muscles flex under the stress of the lift. He was shirtless with only a pair of black Adidas athletic pants that hung low on his hips, revealing every muscle in his back. His skin was shiny with effort and from this angle and distance she could truly see a difference in him that was not easily noticeable in clothes. Or out of them, when she was close up. London was ripped!
He turned around and drew in a deep breath that was taken more out of surprise rather than need. He had not expected her so soon, and reached for the black T-shirt that had been haphazardly thrown over the bars of one of the stationary bikes.
“Don’t,” Penelope said as she walked towards him. His abs were well defined and he had attained that elusive lower abdominal ‘V’ that was so coveted by modern men. Her eyes worked their way down and across every ripple of muscle until she could only use her memory to envision what was hidden by the black fabric of his pants.
London stood as still as he could. It was a skill perfected by all vampires of his age, but at this moment he was finding it hard to maintain. He focused on the woman coming towards him instead. Her body was soft and toned and the black yoga pants hugged her hips and thighs, the curves he had committed to memory. How many times now had his hands slid over the soft skin that lay underneath?
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice the change,” when she was close enough, she reached up and laid her hand upon his bare shoulder. She was always so close to him, so she tried to think of the last time she admired his nude body from afar. When he was nude, afar was the last place she wanted to be.
“It’s usually too subtle to show with us,” he tried to explain the physics of ‘how’ it happened in order to avoid the ‘why’ it happened.
“But, this,” she paused, sliding her hand over his chest, “this much change had to...god, London, how much time have you been spending in here?”
Penelope knew that even the smallest build in muscle for a vampire required a tremendous amount of energy and time even though a human who spent that much time in the gym would have garnered an extremely noticeable change. Some vampires who had been turned very young often spent hours each night pumping iron in order to appear older, only to have it dissipate quickly if they did not dedicate themselves to working out. She had seen Byron in the gym often enough to know how hard he worked to maintain his build, since he was turned before he had fully achieved his mans body.
Just at that moment, an unexpected answer came from the door as Graham walked in with two shifters she didn’t recognize, closely followed by WickedTruth.
“He’s in here, curiously, whenever you’re otherwise occupied,” Graham smirked and chuckled in the way men do when they are busting one another’s chops. The problem was nobody ever busted London’s chops. Of course Graham was always pushing limits everyone else seemed to see but him.
The two other wolves stopped dead in their tracks, unsure of what might happen next, but before anyone could register movement, Truth was standing next to London with his hand on the vampire’s shoulder. London’s eyes had bled to glowing pitch; something Penelope had often seen when they were together, infused with passion. This time, however, they were emitting something altogether different.
Graham growled lowly, feeling the anger pulsing through the room. His wolf was dangerously close to the surface tonight on account of the general anxiety of the last few days in the circus, but neither wolf nor vampire really wanted a fight. Everyone was just a little on edge. It was Truth’s voice that soothed the room.
“As we are all in here when we have some down time, isn’t that correct Graham? I mean, you didn’t get that big because you have a particularly active social life,” Truth’s voice mirrored the good natured ribbing that Graham’s had attempted. Lucky for everyone in the room, Graham was often a victim of Truth’s jibes, and he was too thick to see it as the cover up that it was. If he had been closer, he would have seen how deeply Truth’s fingers pressed into London’s flesh, keeping him from launching himself across the room.
Those fingers, and the fact that Penelope was staring wide-eyed at him were the only things keeping London from losing it all over the place.
“Thanks for reminding me of how underused I am around here, Truth,” Graham smiled and grabbed his crotch, “good thing I always have you to spar with,” he laughed and walked over to the large sparring mat with the other two wolves laughing it off as well. It seemed like only WickedTruth knew how close they had come to disaster.
London’s eyes seeped back to normal, and he shrugged his way out of Truth’s grip. Nothing was said between them as Truth followed the others over to the sparring mat, smiling and nodding courteously to Penelope on the way.
Wicked spoke up then, feeling that London needed a change of venue, “Care to work that out with steel, my friend?”
London nodded, and turned to Penny, softening his voice to hide the boiling anger over being exposed in front of people he didn’t know, let alone the woman he loved to distraction.
“What are you going to do?” The idea of leaving her in the same room with Graham after his rude exchange, even if she didn’t catch on, made his fury rise once again, but if he was to draw her attention away from it he had to act naturally.
Penelope did her best to act naturally as well. She knew something was up, but also knew her Knight well enough to know that here and now was not the place to address it. Truth’s eyes spoke to her as he passed, letting her know as much. She had not had many dealings with the brothers other than a formal introduction, but she felt at ease around them, and she had heard enough about their loyalty to Jean-Claude and Anita, as well as their martial skills to trust their judgment.
“You go on into the salle*, I’ll join you there in a while if I finish before you. I’m going to put in a few miles on the treadmill, and I really need to stretch,” she looked around at the very manly surroundings and covered her ears from the blaring music that Graham had turned on. “I really should ask Jean-Claude if he could have a sound proof yoga room built!” She smiled, happy that whatever the situation was had been diffused for the time being, but made a mental note to investigate further later tonight.
She went in to kiss London, but he backed away from her suddenly, although he smiled and nodded. Then he turned and slowly followed Wicked.
Penelope stood watching him walk away wondering what on earth could be his problem, why he didn’t want anyone to see her kiss him, and why exactly he felt the need to punish himself in the gym when she wasn’t around.
She started her cold stretches hoping that his behavior had nothing to do with her confession the night before.
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The blackened windows of the Escalade hid its occupants from the slowly waking streets of the St. Louis night. Castor drove silently, his brother riding shotgun. Asher and Ixion were next. Meng Die, Faust and Ares followed in an innocuous black car driven by one of the new lions. His name was Davis, and he’d recently arrived from Los Angeles. He’d been a stunt driver in Hollywood until he was outed as a shifter.
Although the Hollywood people enjoyed partying with and fucking the preternatural locals, they drew the line at working with them in situations where they might be unintentionally infected, especially by weres. The local Rex there thought Davis would be useful to Haven, and therefore Jean-Claude. The Master of the City of LA couldn’t call lions, but he and the Rex were about as famous as Jean-Claude, at least with the tabloids and paparazzi, so Davis felt quite at home here. He also loved driving all the cars that the St. Louis preternatural VIPs seemed to favor. Escalades, Maybachs*, very fast Italian sports cars. When anybody needed an expert driver and a fast ride Davis was their man, as many of the ladies of St. Louis could now attest to as well. With his movie star meets surfer good looks and lion’s libido, he very rarely spent the night alone.
Asher sat very still, with his eyes closed, focusing on how he was going to play this next scene. He had tried to push thoughts of Penelope as far out of his conscious mind as possible, but allowed himself one last small thought of her. He was doing this for her, and for Jean-Claude, and everyone else he had grown to love over the years. What he did over the next few nights could ensure the stability of at least his sphere of influence over the shifter community. Narcissus had grown the numbers of hyenas to well over 400 strong in a matter of less than a year, so she was certainly not a force to be ignored. At least not in that sense.
But, unlike Micah, or even Richard, Narcissus often let her own desires and needs outweigh the good of her pack. For all of Richard’s neuroses, he always took care of his wolves. Even when he was mad with grief over the loss of his humanity, or verdant with jealousy over whose bed Anita was in, he never used his power in a way that could come back to hurt the pack. Narcissus, in her mad jealousy, had endangered not only the hyenas stability, for although many of them were ‘out’, some were still safely closeted, but also the stability of St. Louis itself, and its reputation to other Masters of the City, as well as the leaders of various lycanthrope groups all over the United States. The stories she had planted in the papers only served to make Asher, and therefore Jean-Claude, look weak. There was always someone out there in the night who thought they were bigger and stronger, and when that person came to town it wasn’t just your own people who suffered or who fought. Jean-Claude had made sure of that. Like it or not, St. Louis was as close to a preternatural package deal as you could get.
But that wasn’t the only danger. Before Jean-Claude, the hyenas were as much slaves to Nikoloas, as were the vampires of her kiss and the humans who fed them. Narcissus had not had many good examples to learn to lead from. Between Marcus and Raina, Chimera, and Nikoloas herself, the Oba was so victimized that it was all she knew. Asher was going to change her way of thinking tonight. Jason had always prided himself on teaching the older vampires new and uniquely American phrases, and the one that Asher was planning to teach Narcissus this weekend was “team player.”
They got to the club and Castor parked in the VIP lot, shut off the car and turned in his seat. For tonight, Asher had asked the brothers to only reveal their hyena sides. No need to make a bad situation worse, but the fear that they brought with them would be enough. If one of them had been a female, this whole night would be moot, and Asher would probably be looking at his new Oba. But since that was not the case, this would have to do.
“Are you ready, sir?” Pollux said, pulling Asher from his distant thoughts back into the here and now. Asher had told them that although they were blood-oathed to Jean-Claude and had sworn loyalty to Asher as his hyenas, that they need not call anyone master. One of them, he mused, might possibly become a very important player in this game.
“Oui. Yes. Let’s go. Ixion, please carry the trunk.”
Asher always brought his own toys to a playdate.
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Salle*- (French: "room") A fencing hall or club
Maybach* - www.maybachusa.com/ This is a ridiculously expensive luxury auto that is meant to have a driver. They go for about $300,000, not including the driver! I have actually seen one in my town from time to time. Not much to look at on the outside, but unbelievable on the inside.
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Chapter 32 -Sparring by nicola71
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Thanks to Reka, as always! And to everyone who is enjoying this story once again!
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Blood poured from the gash in his thigh.
“London,” Wicked said calmly, as the wound was already starting to knit, “I will maim you if you don’t start paying attention. I assume you would like to utilize that area of your body later, am I correct?” Wicked leaned casually on his broad sword. “Care to tell me why you’re so distracted I almost sliced your balls off?”
Since their arrival, WickedTruth had struck an easy friendship with London, based at first with their common interest in swordplay and in reliving their past battles, then growing to mutual respect. London was one of only a few of Belle’s line who was chosen not strictly for his beauty but for his aptitude as a soldier. His maker had practical uses for him as well as carnal.
London looked up from where he was sopping up blood from his leg with a towel, “It’s nothing.”
“Try again. I won’t spar with you when you don’t have your head on straight. That’s how heads end up on the floor.”
London ignored him and instead readied himself, saluting.
“Come again, come at me. You will not best me this time.”
Wicked refused to move. “No.”
The sword hit the far wall with such a clang that it brought down an entire rack of rapiers.
“I’m certain that made you feel better,” Wicked was sarcastic while remaining calm and stoic in his stance, allowing London’s small tantrum to pass. “You know, I would say it was impossible, but I would swear you’ve inherited a small part of our temoin’s demeanor.”
“I... I don’t have the words to explain it.” Came London’s frustrated reply. Where was Requiem when he needed him?
“Maybe I do.” Wicked walked over, but stopped far enough away as to not invade London’s personal space. “You’ve hidden in corners for the last several hundred years, I gather. Now there are no more corners left to you. It’s out in the open, or nowhere.” He pointed towards the door, “And she is in the open. Loving her comes with a price, sir knight, your anonymity.”
London’s face must have shown his surprise at this man being able to see what he had so carefully concealed, because Wicked continued.
“And on top of that, you have to share her love. Well guess what, very few of us get exclusivity when it comes to love, my friend. Even those who have what the humans like to call, ‘normal’ relationships must share their hearts with more than one person. Parents, children, friends. And before you protest, sharing your body is natural for you. For us. We are different, in that sense. You don’t live as long as us and not evolve. Well, at least the best of us do, in my opinion. And you are one of the best of us.”
“Have I become that bloody transparent?”
“No, but perhaps I know a little of how you feel. I also know that you’ve been making this gym your home when Penelope is with Asher. You tried to fuck away your frustration before you and she consummated your love, now you’re trying to exercise it away. Why not try talking about it instead, and then letting it go for good?”
“Are you suggesting I see a psychiatrist?”
“No, I’m suggesting you talk to your lover. Tell her how you feel. You can’t change the fact that she is another vampire’s servant. You’re lucky that it’s Asher. Of all the vampires I know, he is one of the most giving with his love,” Wicked held up his hand, “Oh, I know he can be a sour son of a bitch, but give me the name of one vampire over a hundred who isn’t from time to time. He has endured more than many of us; the death of his servant and the woman he loved, the loss of the only identity he ever knew, and his place in our world, and yet he survived. He values love, even if he forgot about it for a few hundred years. If I had a servant myself, I don’t think I would be as flexible.”
“Except with Truth.” London knew that the brothers shared many women between them.
“Except with Truth. But this is not about me. I would never be so stupid as to promise myself to just one woman anyway.” Wicked grinned, and laughed at the thought.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. And one more thing,” Wicked walked back to take his stance.
“What is that?”
“Lighten the fuck up. You’re getting laid regularly now, you should be damn near pleasant to be around. Now raise your sword, and watch your cock, because I’m not responsible for any lost appendages.”
London did as he was told.
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After about an hour on the treadmill and thirty more minutes of stretching, Penelope found herself toweling off and sitting at the edge of the mat watching Truth lay Graham out time after time. For all his strength, the werewolf’s timing was pretty bad, and the guys were all ribbing him something awful.
Graham was huffing and puffing, sprawled on the mat. He held his hand up, “give me second, okay?”
“What’s the matter, wolf? A beautiful woman is in the room and you can’t perform? How typical.” Truth folded his arms and winked at Penelope. “I bet she could do better than you, and she is half your size.”
Penelope laughed, but when Truth reached down and grabbed her hand, she protested, “Oh no!”
“Oh yes,” Truth led her to the middle of the mat. “I know you have had training. Ready yourself.”
Truth came at her, and Penelope easily ducked and dodged him. Her lack of height was often an advantage with a much taller opponent, and the vampire was unused to such small prey.
Truth was not about to admit that though, and blamed it on Penelope choosing to avoid confrontation. “Well, see Graham, I did not expect her to do that. Running is always an option if failure is imminent.”
Penelope was ticked. “Who said anything about failure? It’s called self-preservation. Obviously, I am just faster than you are.” She knew this was untrue, but what was true was that she could verbally spar with the best of them. She was also feeling suddenly very brave. This was the first time she was joking around with them, and she found that she enjoyed the camaraderie. Time to take a chance.
She challenged him, “come at me again. This time I won’t move. I’ll even turn my back to you.”
Penelope turned and stood as she would normally. Truth came from behind and wrapped his arms around her as if to abduct her. In an instant her whole body went entirely limp. So limp that there was nothing for him to hold, and since he was expecting a struggle, it caught him off-guard. She was on the floor rolling away and up in a fighting stance in seconds. Graham was cackling on his hands and knees, laughing too hard to get up.
“Basic self defense, Truth. One of the first things I ever learned.” She said with a smile. She turned to Graham, “maybe you should take a refresher course. I read about this place they have here called the YMCA. I think you can take a class.”
It was her turn to grin and wink at Truth. He bowed gracefully.
The door to the salle opened, and Penelope saw London carrying a bloody towel. She blanched, and jogged over to him and whispered because she sensed that he was uncomfortable expressing their relationship around the others.
“Are you alright? Are you...” Her heart was racing.
She didn’t get the rest of her sentence out because he pulled her close and kissed her sweetly, enfolding her in his arms, finally unashamed of his feelings or showing them in front of the other men.
“I’m fine. Just need a shower, then you and I have plans.”
“Plans?”
“Plans.”
He took her hand, and with one look back at Wicked that said ‘thank you’, they walked out of the gym together.
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The club was buzzing with preparations for the night’s entertainments when Asher and his entourage strode in. They were unarmed, as was the policy of the club, but everyone who saw them knew that this company needed no guns or knives to cause damage if that was their intent. The group walked up into the middle of the dance floor and stopped so Asher could assess the situation.
There was not an eye in the room that was not glued to Asher. His ensemble had produced the desired effect. The dominants in the room would all be taking a page from Asher’s book tonight, and the submissives all wished they were his.
Castor and Pollux had allowed Asher to dress them, and so they both looked formidable in brown and black leather pants respectively. Each wore military style boots that matched as well as impossibly tight t-shirts that accentuated every finely worked muscle of their upper bodies. Castor’s shaggy hair was slicked back which provided almost as menacing a look as his brother’s closely cropped locks. Their handsomeness only served to make them appear more deadly. Neither of them seemed ill at ease with the nature of the club, and both were secure enough in their sexuality, whatever that may be, to be unfazed by the attention of the men and women in the room. Even Asher had noted, to himself, that they made a delicious looking pair. But it was Pollux who garnered most of his attention. There was simply something about him Asher could not quite put his finger on.
All of the hyenas he brought with him had let him mark them as his, letting everyone in the room know they were off limits. It was when he took his little drink from Pollux that Asher realized the depth of the hybrid’s power. He had fed from him once before and marked him delicious, but he now knew that the hybrid was shielding almost all of his power at that time. Were he to take a full feed from him with all of Pollux’s shields down, Asher imagined the rush would be overwhelmingly powerful.
Meng Die and Faust brought with them their own special brand of kink. Meng’s nails were her own, and had the same effect as the claws of a shifter. They were painted bright red, matching her lipstick. Her small tight body was made even smaller by the silver studded leather corset. She also sported red latex pants with thigh-high spiked heeled boots. Faust went against the grain in a copper colored silk shirt open to the waist, that matched his eyes, and black leather pants, which were looser than those the others wore. The leather belt he wore doubled as whip, the handle of which hung casually down the line of his fly, bobbing into his thigh suggestively.
Ixion and Ares had standard issue on, black leather and black t-shirts, that their sheer size and girth made intimidating enough. Other than that, they were unadorned, because they themselves were adornment for Asher as they flanked him.
Gerard, one of the hosts came over immediately to greet Asher, and since he was a hyena, greeted him in the old way, exposing the pulsing vein in his neck to his master. Gerard had long straight black hair, pulled back in a tight ponytail, and the scruff of three days on his face. He wore black leather pants, a red silk shirt and a black leather vest. His ears were both pierced, as were several other hidden parts of his body. His Spanish lineage gave him the swarthy sexiness of a pirate, as well as the intense dark brown eyes that made him one of Narcissus’ favorite companions. And incidentally, one of Asher’s. Of course it had been months since Asher had been to the club.
Asher, always willing to accept these ancient traditions when given, leaned in and scented him, just brushing his lips over the taught skin that held his powerful blood beneath. It would have been intoxicatingly difficult to resist if Asher had not already fed back at the circus.
“We are very happy to welcome you back, sir. Your usual table is ready and refreshments have been arranged for your men, and the lady.” A quick nod to Meng Die was greeted with what amounted to a snarl. Gerard made a mental note to tread lightly with her. “Narcissus imagined you would want to enjoy tonight’s performance before retiring to private quarters for your meeting.”
Asher shook his head and smiled, motioning for Ixion to put the trunk on the stage.
“There will be a performance tonight, Gerard, but it will be private. Tonight the club is closed. Actually, it’s closed for the weekend entirely. And I am expecting a delivery in about thirty minutes I will need you to take care of.”
Gerard’s eyes widened. It was Friday night and they had several private parties planned for the playrooms as well as the main floor performance. Friday night was VIP night, so anyone who was anyone would be there tonight, spending money on their outrageously overpriced drinks. The weekend cover charge alone was $50 per person.
“But sir, there are several large parties booked...” Gerard was a dedicated switch, but he was a business man too, and couldn’t help but argue. The revenue that would be lost this weekend would take months to recur. He knew that Asher had an interest in the club and was honestly flabbergasted that he would risk losing that much money.
Asher flared with just enough power to remind Gerard of his place, both as submissive to him and as an employee.
“I will not ask twice. Get on the phone. Cancel the reservations. Lock up. Put a note on the door if it makes you feel better. But close.” Asher handed him a piece of paper. “And when you are done, call the first five people on this list and tell them that if they wish, they are invited to a private party hosted by me. They know me, and they know what kind of party it will be. If one declines, go to the next on the list, however, unless they are dead I doubt highly you will encounter a refusal.”
Gerard looked at the list, “Sir, Narcissus has personally banned at least three...”
Asher’s eyes bled to ice blue fire as his power hit Gerard squarely this time, knocking him to his ass. The vampire knelt on one knee, grabbing the hyena by the collar and bringing his face within a centimeter of his own.
“Call. Them. Now.”
“Yes, sir” Gerard gasped. He found himself wishing his name was on that list. Wishing it more than he ever wished for anything before.
“And Gerard,” Asher let him fall to the ground as he walked towards the stage with his signature seductive gait.
“Yes, sir?”
“You may add your name to that list,” he turned and looked back casually, “ if you wish.”
Quivering with expectation, Gerard pulled himself up, and went to do his master’s bidding.
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Chapter 33- Asher's Gifts by nicola71
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Thanks and *hugs* to Reka and Subbie for helping to whip these next chapters into wonderful shape! Thank you to all the readers and reviewers!
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Penelope sat at her antique dressing table nervously fiddling with her perfume bottles. The table had a large square mirror edged in elaborately carved dark wood. The surface of the table itself was a rare golden marble, the chair cushioned with dark blue velvet. It was a new addition to her bedroom furniture, and didn’t exactly match the rest of the room, but it was a gift from Asher, so it complemented the other pieces. He loved to lie in her bed as she brushed her hair, watching her reflection in the mirror. Sometimes Penelope wondered just how often he thought of Juli while he watched, but she was at peace with that now. Julianna was always going to be a presence, but not a negative one. A part of Asher would always belong to her because she was the first woman he had ever truly loved. Penelope would never wish those feelings away from him.
She thought about Asher for a few moments, wondering how things were going with Narcissus. She still couldn’t feel him, but she remained calm and unworried. After centuries of feeling nothing from a master, she had grown very patient. If Asher needed her, or needed to draw power, he would. At least she hoped he would. She was feeling very powerful following her afternoon in the gym, and although she had endured a few rocky nights, she didn’t want Asher sparing her if he needed the boost. Even a vampire could get tired if he was expending a lot of energy. And that energy didn’t always have to be physical. She wondered if she should have pressed him for more details about his plans, but she resigned herself to the fact that he didn’t want to share, at least not yet, and she planned on respecting that. Regardless, she was going to be the good little servant and make sure that her energy was up, just in case.
Even if she had not been so conscientious, she had someone looking out for her who would not be denied. London had watched as she ate a protein bar, and a bowl full of blueberries before going back to her room to get ready for their date. He was so very attentive to her since they left the gym, and she had no idea how an hour or so fencing with Wicked had changed his attitude about publicly displaying his affection for her. Whatever it was, she felt she owed Wicked a thank you. Truth as well.
As she ran out her confusion on the treadmill, she also replayed the incident with Graham in her picture perfect memory and realized exactly how close London had been to truly losing his temper. He was old and powerful, and knew how to handle himself in a fight, but she shuddered thinking about actually having to watch him fend off Graham. When he emerged from the salle, bleeding, she felt as if she had been stabbed herself, and his wound was already healed. If just a bloody towel could move her to panic, she couldn’t imagine what would happen if he were truly hurt. At least with Asher she would feel it and be able to help him, even from afar. She pushed the thought from her mind, as she continued to get ready. Tonight was about relaxation and fun.
And hopefully some crazy sex! The sudden image of London groaning and sweating on top of her momentarily stole her breath.
Her sex drive was as high as ever tonight, so high she considered relieving some of that tension before seeing London. She was comfortable touching herself, although it was not something she did often. Master Socrates had been able to suppress the sex drive of his servants as much as Asher seemed capable of amping it up. She let her fingers softly caress her skin, between her breasts and down the line of her body and she allowed the pale blue brocade robe to fall back off her shoulders. Instead of continuing downward though, she reached for a large glass jar and carefully opened it, allowing the scent to fill the air. Her scent. The scent that Lucien had made for her. After he taught her how to recreate it, she was able to make all sorts of different toiletries. This was a thick body butter that she often used to soften her elbows and knees. Tonight she rubbed a small amount on her nipples, which were already hard and tender.
What the hell is going on?! She thought, staring at her reflection.
Penelope was always excited to be with London and Asher, but tonight she felt more than her usual want or need. What she felt was unnatural, almost overwhelming.
Asher? What are you doing to me?
It occurred to her that she was indeed extra turned on tonight, and that it was quite possible that she was feeling not only her own rising desire, but that of her master as well. Of course, she had no way to ask him.
Is he channeling it away from himself and into me? Oh, my...
Her own desire was still raw and new, having so recently rediscovered all the joy her flesh could give and receive, but this was the first time she was feeling something this strong. She knew, of course, that when a master vampire was involved in a sensitive situation, he or she could channel their baser feelings to a servant. If Asher wanted to be in full control, without desire getting in the way, he may be doing just that. If this was only the beginning...then London was in for one hell of a night.
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“Everything is as I directed?” London took the picnic basket that was held out to him.
“Yes, sir!” Jason playfully saluted. Lately he was running so many errands for these “vampires in love” that he was considering starting a side business. Jean-Claude would be so proud. His master’s entrepreneurial spirit was rubbing off on him.
Not that he minded. Doing London’s bidding tonight got him out of being groped at Guilty Pleasures, which normally he would not have minded, but tonight was bachelorette night. All the June brides were going to be out in droves, and although the thought surprised him, he was getting a little tired of being a pin cushion for horny women lamenting the fact that they were going to have to sleep with the same lame-o guy for the next fifty years. The thing that bothered him most, the thing he didn’t want anyone to know, was that despite his college degree he felt he really wasn’t qualified to be anything more than a nice body with a pretty face.
Jason decided not to think about that right now, and instead focused on the vampire interrogating him.
“You have the oil lamps in place?”
“Yes.”
“And the cushions?”
“Yes.”
“And the music?”
“Yes.”
“And...”
“ Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“You know, wolf, if you are trying to be funny...”
“Not trying. Am funny. And so are you. Relax. It’s perfect.”
London managed a smile. Jason irritated him sometimes, and his familiarity with Penelope seemed to bother him more than it did Asher, but he knew the young man had a good heart. And despite his ill treatment of him, Jason was being a friend.
“I apologize, Jason,” London then did something that was very uncharacteristic and put his hand on the shorter man’s shoulder, “I know it will be perfect. And without you to help me today, it would not have been possible. I know...I know I can be hard to deal with.”
Jason’s wide-eyed stare spoke volumes to London. It was time to follow Wicked’s advice, and remove himself from the corners of his surroundings. For lack of a better term, it was time to start living in the light.
“Gee, London, no problem, really, I’m happy to do it.”
At just that moment they heard a major ruckus coming from Jean-Claude’s living room. He and Anita were having a huge row.
“Do you know what that is about?” London motioned to the door.
Jason shrugged, “I’ve been trying to keep out of their fights lately,” then he smirked, “Bu-u-u-ut, I know she came by about an hour ago bitching a blue streak about Asher going to negotiate without her, and without the consultation of the Coalition. Jean-Claude believes this is Asher’s game to play, not the Coalition's. Anita disagrees.”
London sighed. He and Anita had a good relationship, but what she didn’t understand about men and vampires, especially old ones, could fill volumes.
“I suggest we, what do you say? Beat feet? Before she comes flying out of there in a rage. My plans do not include being fodder for her temper tonight.”
Jason nodded. “Are you picking Penny up at her room?”
“Don’t all gentlemen?” London smiled widely, something that up to this moment had been reserved for his lady, and winked at Jason.
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Penelope was instructed to dress comfortably and casually, her favorite style. The jeans she had on were soft and well worn, low on her waist and snug though the hips and thighs. As she admired her backside in the mirror, Penelope liked what she saw. She had put on a few pounds in the last few months, but she was convinced it was all muscle. Either way, she was happy with the way her butt looked in the jeans. Both Asher and London had many times told her how much they enjoyed that particular part of her body.
She chose a soft white long sleeved tee with a lilac short sleeved one over top. She liked the look of the two tees together. She had on a pair of white tennis shoes that Jason had given her. He told her she reminded him of the preppy cheerleaders he went to college with. Penelope wasn’t quite sure this was a compliment, but loved the sneakers anyway. Before she got to St. Louis, she thought sneakers were only functional in the gym. That they could be fashion accessories was totally new to her. When she mentioned this to Asher, he mumbled something about having a talk with Jason about that.
Her hair hung around her shoulders in soft curls she had painstakingly put in using an old set of hot curlers. She finished her look with a demure set of pearl earrings, and her Grandmother’s ring, of course. She would not be taking that off again anytime soon.
She had managed to get her desire under control after about 15 minutes of meditation, but she was still barely holding on. Her heart and her nethers jumped every time she heard someone walk by the door. When the soft knock came, she had to hold onto the bedpost to keep her balance.
She closed her eyes, gathered herself, and opened the door.
It was as if Deja Vu hit her square in the chest.
London stood in her doorway, much as he did that night months ago when she first realized he loved her. Still dressed in black, but smiling this time and holding a huge picnic basket.
The war she was waging with her desire took a decided turn against her, and without waiting for him to speak, she slid her arms around him, stood on tip toes and started kissing his neck; the only part she could reach when she wasn’t in heels and he wasn’t bending over her a bit. She pressed her body into his as much as she could, but no matter how hard she leaned, it wasn't enough.
It didn’t take long for his lips to find hers, and he took his time kissing her hello. He was fed, so his own desire jumped at being so surprised by her aggression.
Eventually it was he who pulled back.
“You are awfully keen tonight, milady,” his eyes had begun to bleed to black, but he fought back hard. He wanted her to actually see her surprise before they got naked.
“I know!” she blushed, “I think Asher is channeling some of his, maybe all of his, sex drive into me tonight. I just thought I should warn you.” She couldn’t help the huge grin that graced her face. All she was thinking of was running her hands and tongue all over his muscled body and having him respond in kind.
“I see,” London smiled as well, remembering just how ardent Asher could be. He figured something like this might happen. Asher was going somewhere tonight that normally would excite him very much. However, he needed to have his wits about him, therefore it was wise if he indeed was making Penelope handle his physical needs. The knight wondered, for a split second, if he would be up to the task.
Better see who’s around for a donation later.
He had fed from Nathaniel earlier, which was a great privilege, but he had no regular donor, and feeding from Penny more than once was out of the question. He might have to get creative, depending on how the night progressed.
Penelope stepped back, “I definitely want my surprise! So I will be a good girl, I promise!” She crossed her heart and pointed to the basket, “Is that for me? Do you want to come in?”
London stepped into the hallway, “Actually, we are going out.”
“Out!” If anything could make her almost as happy as a naked London, it was the prospect of fresh air.
He took her hand, “Come on,” he smiled, “I have a few surprises before we figure out just how much sex we can have in one night!” He allowed a small chuckle. After all, I am of Belle Morte’s line, he reminded himself. His confidence suddenly soared.
Penelope steeled herself against her rising desire, closed her door and went where her knight would lead her.
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Asher sat very still in what amounted to a throne set in the center of the stage. His back was straight, his legs hip width apart with his hands resting gently on his thighs. Eyes closed.
Gerard had ushered everyone who was unnecessary out of the club, and with his calling duties done, he now knelt at Asher’s feet, waiting on his master’s pleasure. His clothes were gone and his muscular body was now naked save for a few leather straps that had been fastened around his biceps and thighs, making them appear larger than they were. His cock and balls were nicely tied together with twine, and the collar and cuffs he sported had rings just waiting to be attached to chains. His heart paced as he waited.
Five submissives were getting ready in the dressing rooms. Meng Die and Faust were doing the honors there, while Castor and Pollux had taken up residence at a table directly in front of the stage. Ixion and Ares stood solidly behind Asher, like two seraphim in black, flanking their Archangel as he rested, waiting for his night to begin.
On one side of the stage there had been erected what looked like a large glass box. Big enough to hold several people, with one lone black chair inside.
Chains hung from the rafters, and a host of bondage equipment decorated the stage. Asher’s trunk was open on a large wooden table, his various toys on display.
Everything was ready.
Asher’s mind was as empty as he could make it. This weekend was not about his pleasure, although he was certain he would reward himself at some point. His ample desires had threatened to overwhelm him when he got into the club and saw what he was missing for the last few months. The sparkle in Gerard’s eyes alone was enough to remind him how much he enjoyed this part of his sexuality.
But he needed control more than pleasure at the moment, so he forced all that need down the metaphysical line he shared with Penelope.
She should be able to handle it, he thought to himself.
London will be able to handle her, I am sure, he added to reassure himself.
Then something occurred to him that he had not thought of before.
Jean-Claude.
He opened his mind.
Yes, Asher?
You sound irritated. What has happened?
Nothing. Anita. It’s over for now, but you will be getting an earful when next you see ma petite. As for me, an earful is all I will be getting this evening. But nevermind that now, how is it going?
It’s not yet. I just wondered if you’ve fed tonight?
Jason was here, Oui.
Not blood.
No. I may go to the club.
No need. You still often feed from a distance, no?
Oui. Unless I am with you or Anita. Jean-Claude thought how distance feeding his ardeur was like smelling a banquet and convincing yourself full.
Then tonight, mon amour, I have provided an incomparable feast for you. Enjoy...
Quoi?
I have given Penny my desire, at least for tonight. I imagine London will be searching for a blood donor at some point. Perhaps several. If you don’t stray too far, you will feed well tonight. Accept this gift with my compliments.
And you do not think Penelope will mind this...gift?
You’ve fed from her before...
A long time ago, and directly.
Well tonight you will feed indirectly. Her love and her magic protect her from addiction. At one time it was her love for Jean-Claude, Asher admitted to himself.
And London?
Love guards him as well. Besides, he grows in power from the feedings. He has not been with Anita in some time. This will benefit him as well.
Perhaps I should ask them.
As you wish. I must go. J’taime!
J’taime, mon chardonerette, J’taime! And...merci.
Asher’s eyes opened with a start. If all went well, everyone would greet the dawn well sated and happy. And of course he knew Jean-Claude would behave himself, despite the lingering desire Asher knew he had for Penelope. The two former lovers thought they were shielding their memories, but he had been privy to more than a few. It was only fair, he thought. But he was still not of the mind that Jean-Claude wanted to pursue anything more than the flirtation with the past he was already chasing. The Master of the City knew that Anita would have his balls in a sling if he did anything more.
At least that’s what Asher was counting on.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 28- The Confession by nicola71
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Thank you again to everyone who has picked up this story, new and old! I appreciate all of your support! Thanks also to Reka for her superior beta skills!
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Penelope opened the door to her suite slowly and saw London sitting in the chair, in front of the fire, reading something. As she closed in on him he never moved except to turn the pages of what, to her amusement, was a copy of Entertainment Weekly.
“Penny,” he looked up and smiled nervously, “you know, I never asked you if you’ve ever gone to a movie. Maybe you would like to go some night?”
He stood slowly, dropped the magazine to the chair and looked at her for what seemed like an eternity until they both rushed together, each begging the other’s forgiveness.
“London, I’m so sorry,” Penny exclaimed.
“No, no, no, I should have never scolded you like a child, I...”
“Please, London, let me speak first, please?”
“As you wish,” he practically whispered and took her into his arms as they both sunk to the floor, backs against the chair.
Penelope was having trouble deciding where to begin, so she decided to start with the most important thing he needed to know.
“London, I love you. And I was being selfish in that it never occurred to me what you might do if I died.” She held both his hands to her heart. “The danger of what I did was overshadowed by the possible benefit, and that’s something that I’ve always done. Weighed the benefit against the risks. It’s practical and rational and utterly stupid when it affects people I love. But until a few months ago I didn’t have people that I loved. I know that’s a poor excuse, but I’m learning as I go. My death, although regrettable, would not have changed things much for my former master.”
London didn’t believe what she was saying, “Penny, all masters are affected by the well being of their servants. I refuse to believe that he would not have been devastated by your death, regardless if he could have protected himself from it.”
Penelope took a deep breath. There was so much that Asher and London didn’t know about her and her life before St. Louis, and the hour was so late. But she had to tell him.
She shook her head, “No, my love. I was with him for three hundred years, and I know, beyond any doubt, that the lives and deaths of his servants, although marked by and mourned upon by the servants themselves, caused no more distress to my old master than the death of perhaps a beloved pet.”
Penelope explained that Socrates’ gift of making many servants and having the ability to release them was, as all vampire gifts, a double edged sword. He could feel his servants, he could tell if they were upset or angry or frustrated or in danger, and he could draw on their powers if needed. But he could not ‘feel’ them. He had no desire to touch them, or to draw them in, or love them. Their power was all he needed, be it magical or intellectual. Of all of his servants Penelope was dear to him only because of a promise he made to her grandmother, the details of which Penelope was never privy to. He rushed to save her after Julianna’s death because he gave his word to keep her safe. Because he gave his word. Not because she filled any empty void.
London spoke, “How do you know for certain? Perhaps he kept things from you...”
“What did Asher do when he thought Jean-Claude was responsible for Julianna’s death?”
“He plotted to take revenge, by killing Anita.”
“London, what would you do if someone harmed me? Raped me? Killed me?”
Without hesitation he replied, “I would drain them to the point of death, drive them to madness with all means of torture in my power, then rip the limbs from their body. If you were dead I would meet the sun because I meant what I told you before. If you die, I will live long enough to avenge you. No more.”
“I killed one of my sister servants.”
“What?” London knew that Penelope had dark secrets. Sometimes when she slept, she cried out in anguish, muttering in one or another dead language he didn’t understand.
“I never wanted to tell you, because I was afraid of what you might say, that you might think less of me. But I don’t want there to be secrets between us. There are places that I cannot go inside of Asher, and there are places inside of me not meant for him. I know that now because those places are meant for you. You are the one who can guide me from those particularly dark passages.”
The tears that gathered in her eyes were not because of her great sin, for she had cried herself out about that decades ago, but for the fact that London was going to gain the knowledge of the worst parts of her. Asher accepted all of her without question. He had seen glimpses, of course, and he felt her feelings, but the magic that bound them created an understanding that was simply ‘there’. Her relationship with London was not based on magic, and with nothing to bind them but love, she hoped it would be enough to keep him from leaving her.
He wiped her tears, and pulled her chin so that she was looking into his eyes. The blackness of them still sparkled for her, with love, concern and a yen for understanding.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
Penelope reminded him of the letter she wrote to him warning him of the onset of a great danger, the letter she wrote when the Dragon came to their palace and brought uninvited visitors from Germany, prior to World War II.
“It was June of 1939,” she began, “when the Dragon requested another audience with my master. I had been excluded from their meetings for many years because for some reason he didn’t want me involved. But that night was very different.”
She went on to explain that the Dragon was in league with high ranking members of the Nazi party in Germany, and that she was there to tell Socrates that an invasion was planned for Poland later that year in the hopes that it would spark a world wide conflict. A conflict that did indeed occur, the outcome of which was suffering all around, not only for the humans but for vampires and other supernatural creatures alike. If the Dragon had intended to feed on the anger of the world, she had painfully misjudged what the world was made of. As the Allies banded together to defeat a seemingly unfathomable evil, she would eventually lose her hold. Even the Council would turn against her, and although battle lines were drawn in the preternatural world as everywhere else, the strongest of their kind sided with the Allies. Not even the creatures of the night wanted to see their world reduced to ashes.
But on that night in 1939, the Dragon seemed to have other, even more sinister intentions for invading Penelope’s home. What the Dragon truly wanted from Socrates was never revealed to Penelope, but whatever it was he refused. Up to that point he had never refused a request from a member of the Council. He ordered her and her Nazi minions to leave and a battle began. Penelope heard her master’s call and went to the library with everyone else.
“When I got there it was already a bloodbath,” she squeezed London’s hand because it made her feel safe and in the present. The memories were so vivid, especially for her, and she was not sure that she wanted them to become living memories. She didn’t want to drag him into that horror.
London knew exactly what she was doing, so he spoke softly. He knew that whatever it was that she was seeing in her nightmares was nothing he had not seen before.
“My love, let me go there with you if it will help you put to rest the sorrow. I know I can help you because there’s no horror I have not already seen or not participated in, willingly and unwillingly. I am more than strong enough for you.”
Penelope leaned over and kissed him, knowing he was telling her the truth.
“Would you?”
Without waiting for the answer she already knew, she drew them into the memory. They were only observers, but what London saw made him clasp her to him as if to protect her from what was erupting around them.
Blood was splattered on virtually every surface and there were bodies on the floor, shredded by fang and claw. The Nazi officers were not all human, some of them were werewolves and vampires, so those humans in the library were among the first to die, including the young students who had been in there studying and assisting the master. Five altogether. Hecuba, one of the most senior servants was fighting two werewolves, while Socrates was dueling with the Dragon to the best of his ability, which was not very deft. He had grown soft manipulating centuries of his masterfully orchestrated tranquility. Give them what they want, and they will leave you in peace, were words that he lived by. But this time he could not play the blind pacifist, despite the milennia of walking the thin line between what was practical and what was moral.
Other servants ran in from all directions taking out anyone who was an enemy and surrounding the Dragon, forcing her to stop fighting and flee to the air. Things seemed to quiet.
Penelope had come in onto the scene from the south entrance and as she focused on what was happening she fell over the body of Cassiopeia. The flame haired woman had become a servant not long before Penelope herself, and was admired for her razor sharp wit and expertise with ancient symbology. Her throat had been torn out, but the fang marks on her arms and neck suggested that she had been dead long before the wolfman, who was bending over her body in a frenzy of bloodlust, began to violate her.
Penelope had taken the C96 Mauser pistol from her closet before heading to the library and with cold rationality put it up to the temple of the wolf, who was powerful enough to shift back to human form, shooting him point blank in the head. The bullets were silver, so two more shots in his chest killed him. But it was too late to help her friend now. If she did her job there would be time to mourn her later.
Penelope ran to join her master but was stopped short by the shrieking laughter of the Dragon as she ascended into the air, hovering just above their heads. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling that had been blasted apart with some sort of explosive. She was about to make her escape.
“Josef!” She called to one of the wolves who was still alive below.
Hecuba had killed his partner, and although she was very skilled he had managed to get the upper hand on her and was now holding her tightly to his body with a dagger at her throat. Under his arm was an ancient book.
Hecuba screamed as he dragged the dagger across her skin and blood seeped from the surface wound, dripping slowly down the line of her throat.
Socrates’ voice filled Penelope’s mind.
Do not let him leave with the book.
Penelope lowered her gun, and focused her eyes.
She concentrated on Josef. He was an alpha werewolf, but he was scared at the moment. He didn’t fully trust the Dragon, so Penelope played on that weakness. She filled his mind with scenes of outrageous torture and made him believe that those things would happen to him if the Dragon abandoned him here with them. Penelope had the talent of making her subject not only see what could be, but to feel it as well, and she delivered this with speed and as much cruelty as she could summon.
Her grandmother had told her that to inflict that type of pain, and have it be believed, you yourself had to truly want to inflict it. Helene’s words resonated with Penelope.
Never show them something you would be unwilling to do in reality. If you do, it will not be as powerful, and your enemy will know you are weak.
It did not surprise her, the cruelty of the image she gave to him. He was killing her friend, he and his compatriots had slaughtered innocent students, they were stealing from her master, and destroying their sanctuary. She wanted him to hurt.
The Dragon did her best to scream him into submission, but she could not call wolves, which meant her power over him was limited. By this time the library was teeming with servants and guards armed with silver plated swords, bullets and sharpened stakes, so she dare not descend again for she was outnumbered. She was going to have to leave without her prize.
Josef was still holding Hecuba, tightly clutching the dagger and the book, although now he was crying as he imagined being spiked out on a wooden board, hands and feet pierced with silver, with Penelope carefully drizzling molten silver over his chest and stomach, penis and thighs. The image was so real, so inconceivably real to him, that he sank to the ground and wept, releasing Hecuba who fell in a heap at his feet.
The Dragon was long gone, so Penelope let up her mental assault on Josef and turned to her master. She had thought that Josef was too far gone to muster any counter attack. Besides, in her mind, who wouldn't surrender under the same circumstances? Penelope's textbook versus practical experience was her ultimate downfall, because just that little bit of time was enough for the wolf to gather his senses. He raised the book and in one hand held a live grenade that he had clipped to his belt, out of everyone's sight.
Socrates screamed, “The book! He must not destroy the book!”
Penelope didn’t hesitate in the microseconds it took for her to realize her mistake. She was too far away, but Hecuba wasn’t. The older servant was wounded, but not mortally, however she was all but passed out from the pain of her injuries. Penelope reached into Hecuba’s mind and willed her to rise, controlling her body from a distance. By implanting the directions in her mind, Penelope told her exactly what to do and gave her the strength to withstand the pain that was firing throughout her broken body. In an instant the book was out of the wolf's hands and flying through the air where their master caught it, and Hecuba had thrown her body over Josef’s and the grenade.
The memory was gone.
Penelope sat shaking in London’s arms. He held her so tightly that he was afraid he might be hurting her, but when he tried to loosen his grip, she clasped him harder.
“There is more I want you to see,” she wept.
This time it was a memory of Penelope sitting in the moonlight looking over the ocean from a rocky crag. Socrates was there.
“Child, you must be ready to leave within the hour. The Dragon will be back for the book.”
“I don’t give a damn about the book.”
“You did what you had to do. You did your duty. So did she.”
“She had a name.”
“Yes, and when we get to our mountain fortress I am certain that you and the other servants will remember her sacrifice with the honor she deserves.”
“Their sacrifice, master. Cassiopeia was killed as well, and for her it may well have been a sacrifice. I've known her for centuries and she would have willingly died to protect you and the knowledge of this place from misuse. But it wasn’t the young one's choice, those women who died where they sat. It wasn’t Hecuba’s choice. I made her do it.”
“You did what you knew would eliminate the problem in the swiftest manner with the least collateral damage. Penelope, you served me well tonight.”
“Did I?”
“Of course. You always do.”
“Do you not feel their loss at all?” Penelope searched his stoic face for some sign of remorse or regret.
“Would it make you feel better if I said so?”
“No. I don’t suppose it would.” She turned her face back to the roar of the sea.
“I am glad to hear that. You know me well enough to know that I cannot lie to you anyway.” In the vision, Socrates moved as if to lay a hand on her shoulder, then pulled back, thinking better of it, and continued what sounded like a rehearsed speech.
“Penelope, you have learned well your lessons all these years and your command of your gifts has grown to be a great asset to me and to those I serve. It is even possible that you are my greatest achievement in teaching, so try not to waste too much time over-thinking what has transpired, for you have great possibilities in your future. Now go and gather your things, for we leave at midnight.”
That memory faded as well. But this time London forced her to look into his eyes.
“Penny,” he said gently, holding her face in his hands, “her death was not your fault. Years of training elicited a response. A reaction. You did not kill her for sport, or for pleasure, or for money.”
London wanted to punch that old philosopher in his sanctimonious face after seeing that memory and hearing what he said to her. He thought, no wonder she was so open and ripe for affection since she arrived. No wonder the need in her is so great.
Penelope was unconvinced, “But I forced her to throw herself on that grenade. I could have easily forced her to run in the other direction. But her body helped shield...”
Penelope couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“The books.” London said. “I know that’s what you think. But there were people in that room too who could have been hurt or killed. I saw them and by her shielding the blast with her body she most likely saved their lives.”
“I guess I’ll never know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I took the choice of life or death away from her. I chose her to die.” Penelope let him cradle her in his arms, although at the moment she felt undeserving of comfort.
He stroked her back, “And you will carry that with you for as long as you walk the earth. As I carry all the innocent deaths that I caused, both as a living man and a vampire. I can tell you with certainty that most of the death I dealt did not carry such noble purpose.”
It was Penelope’s turn to hold on to her knight and she knew that this was as it should be. London had been a soldier, a man who did violent things because he was commanded to and so it became second nature. Although a vampire of Belle’s line, his human talents had more often led his masters to use him as a creature for terror rather than seduction. When he was ready, she knew that he would tell her his darkest pains as well because it was meant to be. Then they would move on, past it all, together.
For the last fleeting moments of the night, they crawled into her bed and held each other. The weight that had been lifted from her conscience was liberating. She now knew it was the right thing to do, keeping the details of what happened out of her letter to him back in ‘39. Even though he didn’t know all of the facts at the time, she knew he was with her then, now, and always would be.
As she thought about the comfort his written words had always brought to her, she realized that London had been the most consistent presence of her entire life. She was so glad she had waited to tell him, because finally telling the story needed the comfort and strength of his arms as she told it. The pen would not have been enough.
London, too was glad she had waited to tell him. If he had known back then, those years of no word from her would have driven him to madness a thousand times over. Now the waiting was done and he had the pleasure of feeling her fall asleep in his arms before he was claimed by the dawn.
It was one of the best day’s sleep Penelope had ever had.
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Chapter 29- Much Advice by nicola71
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Thank you to everyone who is reading! Reka, thanks for all the great advice
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Asher’s eyes opened slowly and he scented the air of his surroundings.
Jean.
When he arrived in Jean-Claude’s bedroom the previous night his intention was to discuss his Narcissus problem, but when he saw his lover, dressed in his favorite robe, other ideas took momentary precedence. Jean-Claude’s pale skin, peeking through the black sable and silk, was too much to resist.
The stress of the last few days must have shown on Asher’s face because Jean-Claude immediately took him in his arms and put a long graceful finger to his lips. They spent the remains of the darkness taking their pleasure in each other’s bodies and releasing some of that stress. It had become so easy to be together again, and at least with each other they knew there never had to be any words. They died in each other’s arms, as on so many other dawns in their never forgotten past.
But now the day was new, and the problems of old were still there to be discussed.
Jean-Claude, although he awoke far earlier than Asher, had remained in bed waiting and watching his lover’s breathless body. When Asher’s eyes turned to him, Jean-Claude greeted him with a long kiss.
“Good morning, mon amour.”
“Good morning.”
Asher sat up on one elbow and brushed the stray curls from Jean-Claude’s face.
“Waking up with you once again has been one of the best things to happen to me in months of many wonderful things. I hope you know that, Jean-Claude.”
“Moi aussi, mon coeur, moi aussi,” Jean-Claude whispered between soft kisses on Asher’s cheeks and lips. It was a custom of old for them, one they practiced with the women they loved as well.
“And...as much as I would like to call that sweet little wolf of yours in here and spend the day reminding you of what an ass you’ve been to keep me from your bed, there are things I must attend to. And I need your counsel.”
Jean-Claude let Asher’s small insult slide. He had a bit of making up to do to his chardonneret but they had plenty of time for that now that they were together once again. The Narcissus problem, however, was bleeding over into his personal business, and that was unacceptable.
Not only was it bad for business, but the Oba had created a publicity nightmare. Jean-Claude had people, of course, who were on it, but it was still a mess. That alone was enough to make him want to bleed the little hyena dry. Add into the mix their own personal history and the fact that she apparently had it in for Penelope, and that just made him all the more intent that something must be done. As Master of the City he could intervene, but because his temoin could call hyenas, that too was unacceptable. It would have made Asher, who was already perceived to be weak, appear impotent and pathetic. Jean-Claude would never allow that to happen. So he would remain the silent partner in this enterprise. At least he hoped he could.
“Asher, I believe you already know what you must do.”
“I cannot kill her.”
“No, you cannot.”
“I will not give her what she wants.”
“No, you will not.”
“Jean, you are being so helpful, no wonder you are master of us all!”
With a whoosh Asher was out of the bed and across the room, arms folded in disgust. His moods could still swing from one extreme to the other in a manner of seconds. Something that would most likely never change.
Even as he stood there in all his naked perfection, muscles flexing with agitation under the marble of his skin, Jean-Claude somehow found a way to look past his desire and find enough anger at Asher’s sudden snark to reply in kind.
“Que voulez-vous ? What do you want, Asher? Do you wish me to handle this for you? Must I clean up yet another of your messes?” It was Jean-Claude’s turn to unleash his disgust.
And that apparent disgust really pissed Asher off.
“I’m not asking you to ‘handle’ anything! I’m asking for your help as my friend and one that I love. I need your advice! Your ‘oh so wise’ counsel. Perhaps I should I call Anita instead, at least she’d have a useful suggestion.”
Jean-Claude frowned and searched for his robe amongst the tangled sheets of the bed, “yes, but that suggestion would include firearms, and I think that it is arms of another kind that Narcissus is interested in.”
“I will not be her lover, Jean-Claude. Non.”
“Perhaps it is not a lover that she needs.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I thought I could leave that life behind me.”
Now Jean-Claude got up in a huff. For as much as he loved Asher, this routine of constantly stroking his weeping wounds was wearing thin.
“Why are you suddenly so intent on changing something that has been a part of you for centuries? You are a top, a gloriously talented top. And you enjoy it, I know that you do.”
Asher’s face was shadowed in pain, as if the compliment from Jean-Claude had actually stung him.
“But it was not always so! It’s what was left for me after I was ruined,” Asher casually motioned to his scarred chest, “when no one would touch me out of desire or tenderness, I found that they would touch me out of fear. I prefer to be loved.”
Asher remembered what it was like for him at the beginning, when Belle relegated him to her torture chamber. The portrait of him as Vulcan, the one that he and Penelope had burned to ash, was the first, and sometimes the last thing her prisoners glimpsed before they saw the god made flesh. It was only after his successes in that chamber that Belle realized the entertainment factor that Asher could provide, first as the victim, and then many years later as the abuser. He learned to love what he did, and turned it to the only pleasure he was able to feel.
“You are loved. Mon dieu! When will you finally and fully believe that?”
“I thought that after having you back in my bed, and with Penelope, I wouldn’t need it anymore. I wouldn’t need it in such degrees.”
“But you do. Why are you reverting back to being ashamed of what you are?”
Asher thought back a few days when he was alone with Nathaniel, chatting about Anita learning to top him. He was always so excited and eager to play with them, and Nathaniel certainly was a willing and able submissive. The times they had spent together prior to Penelope’s arrival had been more than satisfying. Although it was obvious that the chaton missed his dom’s attentions, Nathaniel was so happy for Asher that he would never have mentioned it. It was at this realization that Asher thought about Penelope and what she might think of his activities with Nathaniel, let alone what he was capable of with Narcissus. His excitement turned to anguish. Penny had expressed interest in experimenting with light BDSM in the bedroom; a spanking, velvet restraints, a pull of the hair and rough wanton fucking, but he had been around the scene long enough to know that ‘light’ was her limit. It just wasn’t her thing. And ‘light’, although enjoyable and sensual and arousing, was not enough to sate what crouched in the darker corners of his mind.
“I thought it would be enough. Loving her. Loving you.” Asher turned from him.
Jean-Claude reached around and took his hand. “Enough to deny part of what makes you, you? Penelope is content not to share every aspect of you. I certainly do not share every aspect of Anita. Just because it was that way with Julianna doesn’t mean that is how it always works.” He laughed, but not his usual velvet coated laugh that could reach inside of a person. This laugh was tinged with his frustration. “You continue to underestimate your servant, Asher. She is not a wilting flower. She will not leave the circus screaming if you reveal your nature to her. I think we both know she will not want to participate in your more intense scenes. So what?”
Asher’s face flared with fury, “So what? I guess you would know about her limits, wouldn’t you, Jean? You did have her first.”
As soon as Asher said it he was sorry. He didn’t really feel that way, but he was frustrated and his old habit of blaming everyone and anyone for his problems was hard to break. He held his hand up, “Before you say anything, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
Jean-Claude reached out and took that hand as well, so he stood holding both of them to his heart. His face showed that he did indeed understand.
Asher sighed, wondering if Jean-Claude was right.
“Regardless if Penelope accepts what I need, and accepts that she’s not part if it, how on earth can I ask her to accept Narcissus? Even you shudder at the thought of her.”
“I have a past there, Asher. From before you arrived and that will never change, I’m sorry.” Jean-Claude’s face went blank as his mind slipped into his not so distant past.
Asher drew Jean-Claude into his arms. What he had endured during the reign of Nikolas was not something he talked about, and Asher had no intention of digging it up at the moment.
“I know, my love.”
Jean-Claude spoke into his embrace. “You have to go and sort this out. You must negotiate with her and find out exactly what she wants, and what you are willing to give in order to keep her in line. It might take surprisingly little to satisfy her. I believe that she only wants to be topped by you on occasion, not on your arm at the ballet. For all her insanity she does know how things work in our world. She is simply slighted at the moment, and that is your fault. Besides, whether you want to admit it or not, you understand her. You know what she needs.”
“I wish I didn’t. But you’re right. I made this a disaster by wanting to keep Penny insulated. That never works, and I know she does not judge me so it seems ridiculous to me now that I thought I had to protect her from that part of my life. The real problem is me, as always, I am the one who is a mess.”
Jean-Claude kissed him, “And a delightful mess you are.”
“So I should exact no punishment?” Asher wondered.
“Oh, you should exact much punishment. But how you do that is up to you. I would not encourage her behavior by rewarding her with what she wants. Let her know that I would as soon invite a new Oba to St. Louis than deal with her anymore. Do some research, throw out some names. Then try to find out what, if anything, will make her happy. If we must, we will make a move on her.”
“We?”
“The city is still mine, the last time I checked,” Jean-Claude moved away from Asher, just a bit. “We have enough outside problems at the moment to which I must devote much of my attention. I cannot afford for there to be dissent amongst my own people, and so one way or another this nonsense with the Oba must come to an end. But you have my word that I will not intervene unless it is a last resort. I trust you, my temoin. I trust that you will resolve this without it getting to that point.”
Asher broke away from the half embrace, picked up his robe and put it on, his long arms filling out the dark brown silk as it billowed around his body. Jean-Claude came behind him and embraced once again him laying his cheek against the taller man’s shoulder.
Asher turned and kissed him quickly, holding his gaze, “Then I must go. I would like to take Castor and Pollux with me, if you approve, as well as Ares and Ixion.”
“Any vampires?”
“Valentina?” Asher asked, half jokingly.
Jean-Claude made a face and didn’t even dignify the request with an answer.
“It was worth a try,” Asher smirked, “How about Faust, and Meng Die. She’s a handful, but if it gets tricky I know she will not hesitate. And Faust, well, he knows his way around the club.”
“Very well. I’ll have the WickedTruth on standby. They know how to make a point when necessary.”
“Agreed.”
“And what of your servant?”
“London will look after her. I have forbidden her to leave the circus, and before you say anything, we discussed it last night and she doesn’t have a problem with it.”
“We will all look after her,” Jean-Claude let his mind wander for a moment.
“I know that you will, Jean. I know.” Asher spoke with an undercurrent hinting to Jean-Claude that he might just know the thoughts that have been haunting the Master of the City since Penelope’s arrival, but he said nothing.
And with that, Asher glided out the bedroom door.
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After a shower, a feeding, and finding the most over the top fetish-wear with which to torture the Oba, Asher softly knocked on Penelope’s door. He sensed London pacing around the room, but he felt that Penelope was still in a deep sleep. The door opened slowly to London smiling and motioning to their sleeping beauty snuggled under the pale yellow sheets.
London couldn’t help but stare. Asher was clad in the tightest black leather pants he had ever seen. There was not a wrinkle in them and when Asher moved it was as if the leather itself was an entity, sliding over his skin. The belt was studded with silver spikes. Anyone who got too close was going to get quite a surprise. He was shirtless, exposing the scars on his chest. Two cuffs of black leather were wrapped around his wrists also with silver spikes, and in his hand a black leather hood, one that would essentially hide his face. His hair was glorious as always, golden and perfect, braided tightly to the his head. The boots he chose were thigh high, and laced up the back. London thought, that if he was going for an impression, he was certainly making it loud and clear.
“She’s been asleep for over 12 hours. I didn’t want to disturb her, but you should wake her if you’re leaving. I know she wants to say goodbye.” London made way for Asher to come inside.
“Actually, London, I would like to speak with you, out here.”
London stepped out into the hallway where the signs of the circus coming to life were all around them. All the regulars were getting ready for their various nights work and none of them could help but be dumbstruck at Asher’s imposing figure. London was only an inch shorter, but he was dwarfed by the image that Asher had chosen to portray.
“Yes, Asher?”
“She needs the sleep more than a kiss from me at the moment, but I wanted to talk to you about something important.” Asher wondered for a moment if they should have this conversation in privacy of his room, but then thought better of it. Why should it matter? What he was going to say was the truth, which was more than he could say of the recent newspaper articles that had been written about him.
“I’m listening.” London replied with as blank an expression as he could muster.
He and Asher had seemed to put the past behind them and come to a pleasant arrangement where Penelope was concerned. Even though their one night together was cut short, both vampires knew that at some point in the future it would occur again. Given their history and recent reconcilement, it was not an unwelcome future, and in fact they both found themselves looking forward to the possibilities of that future more than they had the many centuries before.
“I’m going to Narcissus in Chains tonight, and I’m not sure I will be back for several nights to come. It’s hard to tell.”
“Does she know?”
“Not that it might be days before I return. And I plan to be entirely shut down from her for as long as I am there.”
“Will you call on the phone at least?”
“Yes. When I can. And I will of course keep Jean-Claude informed of what is going on, so he is sure to bring her news. I don’t anticipate the situation to turn...violent.” Asher, of course meant non-consensual violence.
“What muscle are you taking with you?” London thought for a moment that perhaps he should accompany Asher. He had grown in power the last few months, and could likely have been Jean-Claude’s third, if he had the inclination to vie for the job. Temoin if he had the emotional connection to Jean-Claude that seemed to keep Asher in the position. But every vampire in St. Louis knew that would never happen.
“I want to take Castor and Pollux, as well as a few other Hyenas, Faust and Meng Die.”
London chuckled, “I hear Narci fears Meng.”
“That’s why I am bringing her.”
“Castor and Pollux?” London knew that Penny was already devoted to the brothers, but his soldier instincts made him always cautious of new allies.
“Narcissus is definitely afraid of them, and I think they need some room to flex. Jean-Claude cleared them for me and they have more than regained their strength from last night. Their power is...substantial.” Asher added, after a brief pause in thought, “Besides, now that they know that Penelope was the target of Narcissus’ plot, they are hungry to even the score, but not stupidly so. Ares has been briefing them all morning.”
“Sounds like you have thought of everything, Asher.” London was puzzled as to the lengthy explanation.
“Well, yes. And that is where you come in.” Asher took a breath, displaying his nervousness. “If anything should happen to me...”
“Asher...”
“Non! Listen to me. I don’t expect it to be dangerous, just arduous, but just in case, for future reference, if anything were ever to happen to me I know she would survive it. I’ve felt it. I would not be able to drag her to death with me, and I wouldn’t want to. If I were mortally wounded, with no hope of survival, I would use all the power left to me to make sure she was released.”
London stood very still, half knowing what Asher was about to ask him.
“Yes, I know you would.”
“And if that should ever happen, I want your word that you would make her your servant. That you would give her the marks immediately despite any protestations she might make. Eventually she would understand. And she loves you so, that she would never hate you for doing it.” he paused trying to decide how to put it into words, “ I have felt the depths of her love for you, London. I sometimes wonder if she would survive your death.” Asher couldn’t look at him when said those words. There was no doubt in his heart concerning Penelope’s love and devotion, and he knew exactly where he stood in her heart, but he knew her feelings for the knight ran deeply as well. He accepted this, and loved her even more for her capacity for love.
London didn’t know what to say. After her confession the previous night, and knowing that Asher knew little of that particular pain she carried, he finally felt that he had a part of her that was completely his. Now Asher, his newly reconciled friend, was asking him to take all of her in the case of his real and true death. It was too much. London was presented with his one heart’s desire, his secret wish, and suddenly found himself hoping and praying that it would never, ever happen. The sorrow would be too much for all of them.
“Asher, there is no need to have this conversation. If you are unsure of what might happen tonight...I can go...”
“Non, mon ami,” Asher put his hands on London’s shoulders and laughed, “ I am not unsure about anything. In fact I am very sure about everything. I just want your word that you will always be there for her. Period.” He looked him squarely in the eyes, “I remember what you said the night she became mine, London. When I almost couldn’t go through with it. I felt it then, that you would always be there to protect her. To love her. It was something I should have asked of Jean-Claude with Julianna, but it was a different time and I was a different vampire then. I thought we had forever, and my arrogance was insurmountable. I also believed that death of the master meant death of the servant, because that is what I had been told. I no longer believe that now.”
Asher had never spoken of the night of the ceremony, but he most certainly remembered London’s frantic desperation. He knew in that instant what the dying woman in his arms meant to the knight and it bolstered his courage to do what he had to do. Asher owed that courage to London, and he had no doubts about the vampire who stood before him, now.
His expression changed from one of melancholic remembrance to rougish impishness in a moment, as he slapped London on both arms. “Believe me, mon chevalier, I plan on being back in her arms before the end of the weekend, taking my pleasures and kicking you to, how does Jason put it? The proverbial curb?”
London smiled, “You can make light of it all you want, frog.” He paused, although his answer was always, “Yes. I give you my word that I would take her as my servant. But first, it will never happen. Period. And second, you didn’t even have to ask because my life is bound to hers, no matter if it’s not magic that binds us. But there is one condition, we will never speak of this again, understand? It’s discussed, agreed upon, and over.”
“Agreed.” Asher kissed the knight on both cheeks and gently, and perhaps teasingly, on the lips before turning down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder waving the leather hood at him, “Enjoy her company all you can, mon chevalier, but don’t you dare tire her out! When I get back I am ordering a week’s worth of French take-out, chaining Nathaniel to the bedpost and having my servant for breakfast lunch and dinner!”
London smiled and slipped back into Penelope’s room. Until then, he thought, I’ll have her all to myself.
Back to index
Chapter 30- Waking Up Hungry by nicola71
Author's Notes:
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Thanks to Reka for her mad beta skilz! And to Subbie for all of her support always! I hope everyone is enjoying the story as much as I am enjoying writing it!
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Penelope opened her eyes but didn’t move. She heard Asher’s voice in the hallway talking to London and it put a smile on her face. It sounded like they were at the joking end of a serious conversation, because she heard Asher’s barb about French food, and imagined the sour look it drew all over London’s face. He had become so much more expressive with her and Asher in the last few weeks, and for a vampire that was real progress.
But she could not feel anything from her master. She assumed that was his wish, and so she closed her eyes, and closed herself off from him. She slowed her breathing when she heard the door open and felt London come in toward the bed. He could sense she was awake.
He slid his hand along the bed covers until he got to her foot, then traced his way up her leg, over the down comforter to her exposed arm. His fingers lighted over the silk of her pajama top, around her shoulder to her face. He tucked her hair behind her ear as she opened her eyes for him.
“Good morning,” he bent in and kissed her as he sat on the bed in the nook her body made for his.
“Morning,” she kissed him back and took his hand in hers. She felt rested but not in any hurry to get up. What they had shared in the last moments before dawn had taken more out of her than she expected. But despite that, she felt better than she had in a long time with that particular story off her chest. The look in London’s eyes told her that she should feel no shame.
“Asher is gone, isn’t he?”
“The sun has not yet set, but he is gone to a briefing with his men. He said goodbye. Are you upset that he didn’t come in here himself?”
“No, not upset. He must have had his reasons.” She patted the bed to invite him to lay with her and snuggle a bit. He readily complied and laid down facing her, pressing as much of his body to hers as he could and still look at her face. Even with clothes on, just touching their bodies together awakened both spirit and magic.
“He asked me to tell you that he would be shut down until this business with Narcissus was over, but that he would call to check in and that you shouldn’t worry.” London was unsure she would buy all of that, but it was all he had to offer. He’d never lied to her and wasn’t about to start now.
“I’m oddly not worried at all. He must feel very confident, and for that I’m grateful. Until he calls for me there is nothing I can do.” Penelope was so at ease that she wondered what Asher had done to make it so. He could control her feelings if he wanted to, and right now she felt safe and comfortable. She relaxed into London’s arms, “Asher said that you promised to help me ‘relax’”
London smiled, “I would like to try. I can’t say I’m not a little excited at the prospect of having you all to myself for a little while.” He didn’t even try to hide his happiness, he wanted her to know how much their private times meant to him.
“Hmmm...and what an attractive gaoler you are!” She said with just the slightest hint of her masters signature snark.
London frowned, “now, Penny, I agree with Asher that it’s best to stay in the circus,” he knew she wasn’t happy about that part.
For a moment her eyes seemed to go far away.
“I miss the ocean air,” Penelope didn’t know exactly where that thought came from. She did indeed miss the ocean air of her island home, but it simply fell out of her mouth with no rhyme or reason.
London was surprised, “I wish I could take you there, Penny.” Was all he said when there was a knock at the door.
Jason poked his head in, “I hope I’m interrupting something! Don’t bother getting dressed, I promise I won’t look... much.”
“Jason!” they said in unison.
“Relax, keep your fangs on, London. Just bringing some breakfast for Penny. For you both actually if you want.”
Jason brought in a huge tray of hot breakfast food.
“Asher asked me to bring you a healthy and hearty breakfast, and as usual, I aim to please!”
Jason had taken the role of Penny’s unofficial daytime companion. She suspected that Jean-Claude was behind it at first, but hoped that it was genuine friendship that kept him coming back. Jason’s position in the kiss was certainly high enough that he didn’t have to bring her anything. He did it because he wanted to do it.
London took the tray and placed it on Penny’s lap as she sat up in bed. “You need to eat everything on this tray.”
The tray was almost bigger than Penelope. She looked at her lover and playfully smacked his arm.
“Two weeks ago you thought I was getting fat, now this?” Penelope teased her knight about his earlier faux pas.
“You have to eat, love, that’s another part of my job this weekend. Keeping you fed so if Asher needs to draw some power...”
“He can. I know. I’ll eat. I’m starving actually and can’t remember the last time I had any food!”
Jason hopped up on the bed with them as Penelope sat up. The smells from the tray were divine. Chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, two eggs sunniside up, mixed berries with cream, mint tea and a large glass of V8.
“Nathaniel must be here in the kitchen this afternoon,” she smiled. He was the only one who could make such perfect pancakes. Ever since more people who actually ate food were living at the circus, the kitchen had been expanded and anyone who had a talent for cooking was in high demand.
“Lancelot, you care for something wolfy with a side of smart ass today?”
London’s face was far off for a moment, but when he came back he said, “Not really. Where did you say Nathaniel was?”
London’s position as Anita’s sometime pomme, gave him the privilege of feeding from Nathaniel or Jason whenever either of them offered. Jean-Claude did not stand on ceremony and when it came to blood donations, it was really up to the donors themselves.
London had yet to choose his own pomme de sang, although he certainly had enough clout to do so. Something was keeping him from making that decision though. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. What he did know at the moment, was that the willing wolf in the bed with them was not quite what he yearned for today.
Jason lay there dejected.
“WHAT! I plate all this for you,” he motioned to his neck, “and you want the cook!”
Penelope blushed, and all three laughed as London got up in search of a feed. He was suddenly very hungry, which was a little unusual, but not so much that it caused him distress.
“Wolf, although you are delectable, I think that you still need some recovery time from your last donation,” bringing up Asher sent Jason rolling on the bed with an enormous smile. London charged him with a stern, playfully menacing look, “See that she eats every morsel.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Where are you going?” Penelope was puzzled.
“I am going to feed, and then I am meeting you in the gym.”
“What!?”
“We have a long night, and I have plans for you, my love. Meet me in the gym and be ready to sweat,” he winked at Jason which elicited a barrage of whistles and hoots.
London was relieved that Penelope didn’t beg him to wait for her, because he couldn’t have said no. He wanted to make sure the gym was empty when they worked out, and although he knew his reasons were irrational, they were still his reasons.
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Penelope was swallowing the last drops of V8 when a pair of purple lace panties landed on the tray in front of her.
“Jason! What are you doing going though my underwear drawer?”
“Getting you your gym clothes, silly.”
She held up the unmentionables,“I don’t think my sweats are in that drawer, and I certainly don’t think I will be needing these.”
“You mean you weren’t planning on wearing panties? You naughty girl! No wonder London’s so keen to pump some iron!”
Penelope cried out in mock frustration, “Jason, I’m capable of getting my own clothes out and deciding what underwear, if any, to put on! If. You. Please.”
The wolf turned and pounced on the bed, stretching out next to Penelope and flashing her his sweetest smile.
“So...I guess things are going well for you and old Dark and Moody?”
His reference to London produced a large frown on her face.
“I would hardly call him that. At least not anymore.” She smirked.
“You know, Penny, I think you should...”
Jason was interrupted by a knock on the door. Requiem poked his head in and Penelope jumped out of bed and into his embrace.
“Requiem! Where have you been?”
“Someone has to run your new club, milady,” he bowed low and kissed both of her hands.
Since Asher and Penelope had been holed up in the circus, Requiem had taken over running Veritas,. He loved it, and wouldn’t mind being put there permanently. Stripping, although something he was no doubt talented at, was not something he wished to do for the long term.
Penelope was shocked and a little embarrassed that she had forgotten all about Veritas. Here she had been an entrepreneur for all of one night, and she was already ignoring her duties.
“Oh, Requiem! Thank you so much! Is everything okay there? We were expecting a large shipment yesterday, and there were at least three parties booked! Oh, and one tonight for the mayor’s wife’s birthday! I have to...”
Requiem silenced her with a shake of his head and a flash of his exquisite blue eyes.
“Milady, it is all taken care of. No worry should cross your mind.”
“Are you sure, I should be there, I should...”
“Shhhh! I know you’re under house arrest this weekend, and I know your warden very well. That he is not here at this moment listening to every careful breath you take is a sheer miracle.”
“She’s meeting him in the gym,” Jason piped up from the bed.
“Ah...his sanctuary.” Requiem looked at Jason, as if he knew he had said something he should not have.
Penelope questioned, “His sanctuary?”
Requiem changed the subject, “You had better get dressed and get down there or London will be sending out a small army to find you.”
“Okay, but do you promise to give me a full report about Veritas tomorrow afternoon, as soon as you wake?”
“I should be hoisted with mine own petard, if I do not, milady.”
Penelope laughed and went into the bathroom to get ready, leaving the two men alone.
Jason said, “She doesn’t know how much time he spends in there, does she?”
“No, my little wolf, she does not. And it is not ours to tell.”
“She had to notice how much bigger he’s got! Christ, he’s practically bulging out of every shirt he has!”
“Let him tell her, Jason.”
Jason shrugged not understanding what the big deal was, but then again he wasn’t as close to London as Requiem. Certainly not close enough for confidences.
Requiem left quietly, leaving Jason to wait for his charge. Penelope didn’t know it, but London had made Jason swear on his life not to leave her alone for a second. And London was not a vampire that Jason intended to cross, especially where his lady love was concerned.
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“Penelope, are you ready yet?” Jason had worked his way through all of Penelope’s lingerie, and was now laying on the bed once again. He loved the smell of her sheets because they smelled like her and vampire. Like everyone who came in contact with Penelope, her perfume captivated him, and he wondered what it was made from.
Penelope emerged from the bathroom, showered and primped.
Jason couldn’t help himself as usual, “Uh, you are going to the gym, you know.”
“I know. Does that mean I can’t be presentable?” Penelope never went anywhere unkempt. Her old master did not expect glamor, but he also did not tolerate a slovenly appearance. She was dressed in simple black yoga pants and a form fitting hot pink athletic tank. Her hair was in a high ponytail, off her neck, which highlighted the faded marks of fangs. Two sets.
They walked through the halls bantering about silly things. Penelope enjoyed Jason’s company and had confided many small things in him. He was probably the closest friend she had in the circus, because many of the other inhabitants still kept their distance for one reason or another. When she first arrived she expected that she an Anita would be fast friends, but she soon found that Anita’s life wasn’t really constructed to maintain close friendships. Even though when they were together it was relaxed and social, Anita just seemed to always be somewhere else, and when she was in the circus she was usually holed up in Jean-Claude’s rooms. A strong friendship with her was going to take time. But Penelope had never had a male friend, at least not in the flesh, so that made Jason extra special.
Before they got to the gym Jason put his hand on Penelope’s arm. They were out of earshot of anyone, which was why he took advantage.
“Penny,” his face turned serious for a moment.
“Jason?”
“I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming here. For hanging in all these months when it seemed like Asher was never going to come around. For making Asher bearable, that’s a big one. For making London happy, too.”
“I am very happy here, Jason. That helps, being happy yourself.”
“I wish everyone could get that, Penny.”
“Are you happy?” She reached for his hand, wondering about where this conversation was going. She had never seen Jason anything but smiling, so she worried that something was wrong.
“I am happy, I guess. Jean-Claude is a little happier too, so that transfers to me, more than you know. I like when he feels good. I love him.”
Jason did love his master, but he also probably knew him better than people might think. Having Asher back in his bed and in his life, and more importantly a ‘happy Asher’ had caused Jean-Claude to smile privately more than Jason could remember. Jean-Claude always had a smile for him, but Jason watched him very closely over the years, and rarely saw him smile when no one was looking. Now Jean-Claude smiled when no one was watching. It made Jason feel really good.
Jason pulled her into a quick hug, turned her around and whacked her butt hard, pushing her in the direction of the gym.
“OUCH!” Penny rubbed his target, “Hey, Jas?”
“Yes? If you want more of that, you know I am available whenever you have a free moment. I know your mid-mornings are often free,” he winked, apparently back to his old licentious self.
“What were you trying to say to me, back in my room before Requiem came in?”
Jason had a few things he wanted to say, but he hoped she might figure out some of those things on her own, and thought better about bringing them up at the moment. He had wanted to talk to her about her future plans. About how she was balancing two guys like Asher and London, and what she imagined her future was going to be like. And where Jean-Claude fit into that equation. He had felt his master’s mixed feelings about her but had not dared to say anything as yet. There was something there, he just knew it, and he didn’t want it to mess up what seemed like a good thing.
“Nothing important, Penny. Nothing that can’t wait.”
“Okay,” she grabbed a towel from the bin and went through the door, “catch you later, before you leave for the club?”
Penelope disappeared into the gym before he could answer.
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Thank you again to everyone who has picked up this story, new and old! I appreciate all of your support! Thanks also to Reka for her superior beta skills!
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Penelope opened the door to her suite slowly and saw London sitting in the chair, in front of the fire, reading something. As she closed in on him he never moved except to turn the pages of what, to her amusement, was a copy of Entertainment Weekly.
“Penny,” he looked up and smiled nervously, “you know, I never asked you if you’ve ever gone to a movie. Maybe you would like to go some night?”
He stood slowly, dropped the magazine to the chair and looked at her for what seemed like an eternity until they both rushed together, each begging the other’s forgiveness.
“London, I’m so sorry,” Penny exclaimed.
“No, no, no, I should have never scolded you like a child, I...”
“Please, London, let me speak first, please?”
“As you wish,” he practically whispered and took her into his arms as they both sunk to the floor, backs against the chair.
Penelope was having trouble deciding where to begin, so she decided to start with the most important thing he needed to know.
“London, I love you. And I was being selfish in that it never occurred to me what you might do if I died.” She held both his hands to her heart. “The danger of what I did was overshadowed by the possible benefit, and that’s something that I’ve always done. Weighed the benefit against the risks. It’s practical and rational and utterly stupid when it affects people I love. But until a few months ago I didn’t have people that I loved. I know that’s a poor excuse, but I’m learning as I go. My death, although regrettable, would not have changed things much for my former master.”
London didn’t believe what she was saying, “Penny, all masters are affected by the well being of their servants. I refuse to believe that he would not have been devastated by your death, regardless if he could have protected himself from it.”
Penelope took a deep breath. There was so much that Asher and London didn’t know about her and her life before St. Louis, and the hour was so late. But she had to tell him.
She shook her head, “No, my love. I was with him for three hundred years, and I know, beyond any doubt, that the lives and deaths of his servants, although marked by and mourned upon by the servants themselves, caused no more distress to my old master than the death of perhaps a beloved pet.”
Penelope explained that Socrates’ gift of making many servants and having the ability to release them was, as all vampire gifts, a double edged sword. He could feel his servants, he could tell if they were upset or angry or frustrated or in danger, and he could draw on their powers if needed. But he could not ‘feel’ them. He had no desire to touch them, or to draw them in, or love them. Their power was all he needed, be it magical or intellectual. Of all of his servants Penelope was dear to him only because of a promise he made to her grandmother, the details of which Penelope was never privy to. He rushed to save her after Julianna’s death because he gave his word to keep her safe. Because he gave his word. Not because she filled any empty void.
London spoke, “How do you know for certain? Perhaps he kept things from you...”
“What did Asher do when he thought Jean-Claude was responsible for Julianna’s death?”
“He plotted to take revenge, by killing Anita.”
“London, what would you do if someone harmed me? Raped me? Killed me?”
Without hesitation he replied, “I would drain them to the point of death, drive them to madness with all means of torture in my power, then rip the limbs from their body. If you were dead I would meet the sun because I meant what I told you before. If you die, I will live long enough to avenge you. No more.”
“I killed one of my sister servants.”
“What?” London knew that Penelope had dark secrets. Sometimes when she slept, she cried out in anguish, muttering in one or another dead language he didn’t understand.
“I never wanted to tell you, because I was afraid of what you might say, that you might think less of me. But I don’t want there to be secrets between us. There are places that I cannot go inside of Asher, and there are places inside of me not meant for him. I know that now because those places are meant for you. You are the one who can guide me from those particularly dark passages.”
The tears that gathered in her eyes were not because of her great sin, for she had cried herself out about that decades ago, but for the fact that London was going to gain the knowledge of the worst parts of her. Asher accepted all of her without question. He had seen glimpses, of course, and he felt her feelings, but the magic that bound them created an understanding that was simply ‘there’. Her relationship with London was not based on magic, and with nothing to bind them but love, she hoped it would be enough to keep him from leaving her.
He wiped her tears, and pulled her chin so that she was looking into his eyes. The blackness of them still sparkled for her, with love, concern and a yen for understanding.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
Penelope reminded him of the letter she wrote to him warning him of the onset of a great danger, the letter she wrote when the Dragon came to their palace and brought uninvited visitors from Germany, prior to World War II.
“It was June of 1939,” she began, “when the Dragon requested another audience with my master. I had been excluded from their meetings for many years because for some reason he didn’t want me involved. But that night was very different.”
She went on to explain that the Dragon was in league with high ranking members of the Nazi party in Germany, and that she was there to tell Socrates that an invasion was planned for Poland later that year in the hopes that it would spark a world wide conflict. A conflict that did indeed occur, the outcome of which was suffering all around, not only for the humans but for vampires and other supernatural creatures alike. If the Dragon had intended to feed on the anger of the world, she had painfully misjudged what the world was made of. As the Allies banded together to defeat a seemingly unfathomable evil, she would eventually lose her hold. Even the Council would turn against her, and although battle lines were drawn in the preternatural world as everywhere else, the strongest of their kind sided with the Allies. Not even the creatures of the night wanted to see their world reduced to ashes.
But on that night in 1939, the Dragon seemed to have other, even more sinister intentions for invading Penelope’s home. What the Dragon truly wanted from Socrates was never revealed to Penelope, but whatever it was he refused. Up to that point he had never refused a request from a member of the Council. He ordered her and her Nazi minions to leave and a battle began. Penelope heard her master’s call and went to the library with everyone else.
“When I got there it was already a bloodbath,” she squeezed London’s hand because it made her feel safe and in the present. The memories were so vivid, especially for her, and she was not sure that she wanted them to become living memories. She didn’t want to drag him into that horror.
London knew exactly what she was doing, so he spoke softly. He knew that whatever it was that she was seeing in her nightmares was nothing he had not seen before.
“My love, let me go there with you if it will help you put to rest the sorrow. I know I can help you because there’s no horror I have not already seen or not participated in, willingly and unwillingly. I am more than strong enough for you.”
Penelope leaned over and kissed him, knowing he was telling her the truth.
“Would you?”
Without waiting for the answer she already knew, she drew them into the memory. They were only observers, but what London saw made him clasp her to him as if to protect her from what was erupting around them.
Blood was splattered on virtually every surface and there were bodies on the floor, shredded by fang and claw. The Nazi officers were not all human, some of them were werewolves and vampires, so those humans in the library were among the first to die, including the young students who had been in there studying and assisting the master. Five altogether. Hecuba, one of the most senior servants was fighting two werewolves, while Socrates was dueling with the Dragon to the best of his ability, which was not very deft. He had grown soft manipulating centuries of his masterfully orchestrated tranquility. Give them what they want, and they will leave you in peace, were words that he lived by. But this time he could not play the blind pacifist, despite the milennia of walking the thin line between what was practical and what was moral.
Other servants ran in from all directions taking out anyone who was an enemy and surrounding the Dragon, forcing her to stop fighting and flee to the air. Things seemed to quiet.
Penelope had come in onto the scene from the south entrance and as she focused on what was happening she fell over the body of Cassiopeia. The flame haired woman had become a servant not long before Penelope herself, and was admired for her razor sharp wit and expertise with ancient symbology. Her throat had been torn out, but the fang marks on her arms and neck suggested that she had been dead long before the wolfman, who was bending over her body in a frenzy of bloodlust, began to violate her.
Penelope had taken the C96 Mauser pistol from her closet before heading to the library and with cold rationality put it up to the temple of the wolf, who was powerful enough to shift back to human form, shooting him point blank in the head. The bullets were silver, so two more shots in his chest killed him. But it was too late to help her friend now. If she did her job there would be time to mourn her later.
Penelope ran to join her master but was stopped short by the shrieking laughter of the Dragon as she ascended into the air, hovering just above their heads. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling that had been blasted apart with some sort of explosive. She was about to make her escape.
“Josef!” She called to one of the wolves who was still alive below.
Hecuba had killed his partner, and although she was very skilled he had managed to get the upper hand on her and was now holding her tightly to his body with a dagger at her throat. Under his arm was an ancient book.
Hecuba screamed as he dragged the dagger across her skin and blood seeped from the surface wound, dripping slowly down the line of her throat.
Socrates’ voice filled Penelope’s mind.
Do not let him leave with the book.
Penelope lowered her gun, and focused her eyes.
She concentrated on Josef. He was an alpha werewolf, but he was scared at the moment. He didn’t fully trust the Dragon, so Penelope played on that weakness. She filled his mind with scenes of outrageous torture and made him believe that those things would happen to him if the Dragon abandoned him here with them. Penelope had the talent of making her subject not only see what could be, but to feel it as well, and she delivered this with speed and as much cruelty as she could summon.
Her grandmother had told her that to inflict that type of pain, and have it be believed, you yourself had to truly want to inflict it. Helene’s words resonated with Penelope.
Never show them something you would be unwilling to do in reality. If you do, it will not be as powerful, and your enemy will know you are weak.
It did not surprise her, the cruelty of the image she gave to him. He was killing her friend, he and his compatriots had slaughtered innocent students, they were stealing from her master, and destroying their sanctuary. She wanted him to hurt.
The Dragon did her best to scream him into submission, but she could not call wolves, which meant her power over him was limited. By this time the library was teeming with servants and guards armed with silver plated swords, bullets and sharpened stakes, so she dare not descend again for she was outnumbered. She was going to have to leave without her prize.
Josef was still holding Hecuba, tightly clutching the dagger and the book, although now he was crying as he imagined being spiked out on a wooden board, hands and feet pierced with silver, with Penelope carefully drizzling molten silver over his chest and stomach, penis and thighs. The image was so real, so inconceivably real to him, that he sank to the ground and wept, releasing Hecuba who fell in a heap at his feet.
The Dragon was long gone, so Penelope let up her mental assault on Josef and turned to her master. She had thought that Josef was too far gone to muster any counter attack. Besides, in her mind, who wouldn't surrender under the same circumstances? Penelope's textbook versus practical experience was her ultimate downfall, because just that little bit of time was enough for the wolf to gather his senses. He raised the book and in one hand held a live grenade that he had clipped to his belt, out of everyone's sight.
Socrates screamed, “The book! He must not destroy the book!”
Penelope didn’t hesitate in the microseconds it took for her to realize her mistake. She was too far away, but Hecuba wasn’t. The older servant was wounded, but not mortally, however she was all but passed out from the pain of her injuries. Penelope reached into Hecuba’s mind and willed her to rise, controlling her body from a distance. By implanting the directions in her mind, Penelope told her exactly what to do and gave her the strength to withstand the pain that was firing throughout her broken body. In an instant the book was out of the wolf's hands and flying through the air where their master caught it, and Hecuba had thrown her body over Josef’s and the grenade.
The memory was gone.
Penelope sat shaking in London’s arms. He held her so tightly that he was afraid he might be hurting her, but when he tried to loosen his grip, she clasped him harder.
“There is more I want you to see,” she wept.
This time it was a memory of Penelope sitting in the moonlight looking over the ocean from a rocky crag. Socrates was there.
“Child, you must be ready to leave within the hour. The Dragon will be back for the book.”
“I don’t give a damn about the book.”
“You did what you had to do. You did your duty. So did she.”
“She had a name.”
“Yes, and when we get to our mountain fortress I am certain that you and the other servants will remember her sacrifice with the honor she deserves.”
“Their sacrifice, master. Cassiopeia was killed as well, and for her it may well have been a sacrifice. I've known her for centuries and she would have willingly died to protect you and the knowledge of this place from misuse. But it wasn’t the young one's choice, those women who died where they sat. It wasn’t Hecuba’s choice. I made her do it.”
“You did what you knew would eliminate the problem in the swiftest manner with the least collateral damage. Penelope, you served me well tonight.”
“Did I?”
“Of course. You always do.”
“Do you not feel their loss at all?” Penelope searched his stoic face for some sign of remorse or regret.
“Would it make you feel better if I said so?”
“No. I don’t suppose it would.” She turned her face back to the roar of the sea.
“I am glad to hear that. You know me well enough to know that I cannot lie to you anyway.” In the vision, Socrates moved as if to lay a hand on her shoulder, then pulled back, thinking better of it, and continued what sounded like a rehearsed speech.
“Penelope, you have learned well your lessons all these years and your command of your gifts has grown to be a great asset to me and to those I serve. It is even possible that you are my greatest achievement in teaching, so try not to waste too much time over-thinking what has transpired, for you have great possibilities in your future. Now go and gather your things, for we leave at midnight.”
That memory faded as well. But this time London forced her to look into his eyes.
“Penny,” he said gently, holding her face in his hands, “her death was not your fault. Years of training elicited a response. A reaction. You did not kill her for sport, or for pleasure, or for money.”
London wanted to punch that old philosopher in his sanctimonious face after seeing that memory and hearing what he said to her. He thought, no wonder she was so open and ripe for affection since she arrived. No wonder the need in her is so great.
Penelope was unconvinced, “But I forced her to throw herself on that grenade. I could have easily forced her to run in the other direction. But her body helped shield...”
Penelope couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“The books.” London said. “I know that’s what you think. But there were people in that room too who could have been hurt or killed. I saw them and by her shielding the blast with her body she most likely saved their lives.”
“I guess I’ll never know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I took the choice of life or death away from her. I chose her to die.” Penelope let him cradle her in his arms, although at the moment she felt undeserving of comfort.
He stroked her back, “And you will carry that with you for as long as you walk the earth. As I carry all the innocent deaths that I caused, both as a living man and a vampire. I can tell you with certainty that most of the death I dealt did not carry such noble purpose.”
It was Penelope’s turn to hold on to her knight and she knew that this was as it should be. London had been a soldier, a man who did violent things because he was commanded to and so it became second nature. Although a vampire of Belle’s line, his human talents had more often led his masters to use him as a creature for terror rather than seduction. When he was ready, she knew that he would tell her his darkest pains as well because it was meant to be. Then they would move on, past it all, together.
For the last fleeting moments of the night, they crawled into her bed and held each other. The weight that had been lifted from her conscience was liberating. She now knew it was the right thing to do, keeping the details of what happened out of her letter to him back in ‘39. Even though he didn’t know all of the facts at the time, she knew he was with her then, now, and always would be.
As she thought about the comfort his written words had always brought to her, she realized that London had been the most consistent presence of her entire life. She was so glad she had waited to tell him, because finally telling the story needed the comfort and strength of his arms as she told it. The pen would not have been enough.
London, too was glad she had waited to tell him. If he had known back then, those years of no word from her would have driven him to madness a thousand times over. Now the waiting was done and he had the pleasure of feeling her fall asleep in his arms before he was claimed by the dawn.
It was one of the best day’s sleep Penelope had ever had.
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Chapter 29- Much Advice by nicola71
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Thank you to everyone who is reading! Reka, thanks for all the great advice
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Asher’s eyes opened slowly and he scented the air of his surroundings.
Jean.
When he arrived in Jean-Claude’s bedroom the previous night his intention was to discuss his Narcissus problem, but when he saw his lover, dressed in his favorite robe, other ideas took momentary precedence. Jean-Claude’s pale skin, peeking through the black sable and silk, was too much to resist.
The stress of the last few days must have shown on Asher’s face because Jean-Claude immediately took him in his arms and put a long graceful finger to his lips. They spent the remains of the darkness taking their pleasure in each other’s bodies and releasing some of that stress. It had become so easy to be together again, and at least with each other they knew there never had to be any words. They died in each other’s arms, as on so many other dawns in their never forgotten past.
But now the day was new, and the problems of old were still there to be discussed.
Jean-Claude, although he awoke far earlier than Asher, had remained in bed waiting and watching his lover’s breathless body. When Asher’s eyes turned to him, Jean-Claude greeted him with a long kiss.
“Good morning, mon amour.”
“Good morning.”
Asher sat up on one elbow and brushed the stray curls from Jean-Claude’s face.
“Waking up with you once again has been one of the best things to happen to me in months of many wonderful things. I hope you know that, Jean-Claude.”
“Moi aussi, mon coeur, moi aussi,” Jean-Claude whispered between soft kisses on Asher’s cheeks and lips. It was a custom of old for them, one they practiced with the women they loved as well.
“And...as much as I would like to call that sweet little wolf of yours in here and spend the day reminding you of what an ass you’ve been to keep me from your bed, there are things I must attend to. And I need your counsel.”
Jean-Claude let Asher’s small insult slide. He had a bit of making up to do to his chardonneret but they had plenty of time for that now that they were together once again. The Narcissus problem, however, was bleeding over into his personal business, and that was unacceptable.
Not only was it bad for business, but the Oba had created a publicity nightmare. Jean-Claude had people, of course, who were on it, but it was still a mess. That alone was enough to make him want to bleed the little hyena dry. Add into the mix their own personal history and the fact that she apparently had it in for Penelope, and that just made him all the more intent that something must be done. As Master of the City he could intervene, but because his temoin could call hyenas, that too was unacceptable. It would have made Asher, who was already perceived to be weak, appear impotent and pathetic. Jean-Claude would never allow that to happen. So he would remain the silent partner in this enterprise. At least he hoped he could.
“Asher, I believe you already know what you must do.”
“I cannot kill her.”
“No, you cannot.”
“I will not give her what she wants.”
“No, you will not.”
“Jean, you are being so helpful, no wonder you are master of us all!”
With a whoosh Asher was out of the bed and across the room, arms folded in disgust. His moods could still swing from one extreme to the other in a manner of seconds. Something that would most likely never change.
Even as he stood there in all his naked perfection, muscles flexing with agitation under the marble of his skin, Jean-Claude somehow found a way to look past his desire and find enough anger at Asher’s sudden snark to reply in kind.
“Que voulez-vous ? What do you want, Asher? Do you wish me to handle this for you? Must I clean up yet another of your messes?” It was Jean-Claude’s turn to unleash his disgust.
And that apparent disgust really pissed Asher off.
“I’m not asking you to ‘handle’ anything! I’m asking for your help as my friend and one that I love. I need your advice! Your ‘oh so wise’ counsel. Perhaps I should I call Anita instead, at least she’d have a useful suggestion.”
Jean-Claude frowned and searched for his robe amongst the tangled sheets of the bed, “yes, but that suggestion would include firearms, and I think that it is arms of another kind that Narcissus is interested in.”
“I will not be her lover, Jean-Claude. Non.”
“Perhaps it is not a lover that she needs.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I thought I could leave that life behind me.”
Now Jean-Claude got up in a huff. For as much as he loved Asher, this routine of constantly stroking his weeping wounds was wearing thin.
“Why are you suddenly so intent on changing something that has been a part of you for centuries? You are a top, a gloriously talented top. And you enjoy it, I know that you do.”
Asher’s face was shadowed in pain, as if the compliment from Jean-Claude had actually stung him.
“But it was not always so! It’s what was left for me after I was ruined,” Asher casually motioned to his scarred chest, “when no one would touch me out of desire or tenderness, I found that they would touch me out of fear. I prefer to be loved.”
Asher remembered what it was like for him at the beginning, when Belle relegated him to her torture chamber. The portrait of him as Vulcan, the one that he and Penelope had burned to ash, was the first, and sometimes the last thing her prisoners glimpsed before they saw the god made flesh. It was only after his successes in that chamber that Belle realized the entertainment factor that Asher could provide, first as the victim, and then many years later as the abuser. He learned to love what he did, and turned it to the only pleasure he was able to feel.
“You are loved. Mon dieu! When will you finally and fully believe that?”
“I thought that after having you back in my bed, and with Penelope, I wouldn’t need it anymore. I wouldn’t need it in such degrees.”
“But you do. Why are you reverting back to being ashamed of what you are?”
Asher thought back a few days when he was alone with Nathaniel, chatting about Anita learning to top him. He was always so excited and eager to play with them, and Nathaniel certainly was a willing and able submissive. The times they had spent together prior to Penelope’s arrival had been more than satisfying. Although it was obvious that the chaton missed his dom’s attentions, Nathaniel was so happy for Asher that he would never have mentioned it. It was at this realization that Asher thought about Penelope and what she might think of his activities with Nathaniel, let alone what he was capable of with Narcissus. His excitement turned to anguish. Penny had expressed interest in experimenting with light BDSM in the bedroom; a spanking, velvet restraints, a pull of the hair and rough wanton fucking, but he had been around the scene long enough to know that ‘light’ was her limit. It just wasn’t her thing. And ‘light’, although enjoyable and sensual and arousing, was not enough to sate what crouched in the darker corners of his mind.
“I thought it would be enough. Loving her. Loving you.” Asher turned from him.
Jean-Claude reached around and took his hand. “Enough to deny part of what makes you, you? Penelope is content not to share every aspect of you. I certainly do not share every aspect of Anita. Just because it was that way with Julianna doesn’t mean that is how it always works.” He laughed, but not his usual velvet coated laugh that could reach inside of a person. This laugh was tinged with his frustration. “You continue to underestimate your servant, Asher. She is not a wilting flower. She will not leave the circus screaming if you reveal your nature to her. I think we both know she will not want to participate in your more intense scenes. So what?”
Asher’s face flared with fury, “So what? I guess you would know about her limits, wouldn’t you, Jean? You did have her first.”
As soon as Asher said it he was sorry. He didn’t really feel that way, but he was frustrated and his old habit of blaming everyone and anyone for his problems was hard to break. He held his hand up, “Before you say anything, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
Jean-Claude reached out and took that hand as well, so he stood holding both of them to his heart. His face showed that he did indeed understand.
Asher sighed, wondering if Jean-Claude was right.
“Regardless if Penelope accepts what I need, and accepts that she’s not part if it, how on earth can I ask her to accept Narcissus? Even you shudder at the thought of her.”
“I have a past there, Asher. From before you arrived and that will never change, I’m sorry.” Jean-Claude’s face went blank as his mind slipped into his not so distant past.
Asher drew Jean-Claude into his arms. What he had endured during the reign of Nikolas was not something he talked about, and Asher had no intention of digging it up at the moment.
“I know, my love.”
Jean-Claude spoke into his embrace. “You have to go and sort this out. You must negotiate with her and find out exactly what she wants, and what you are willing to give in order to keep her in line. It might take surprisingly little to satisfy her. I believe that she only wants to be topped by you on occasion, not on your arm at the ballet. For all her insanity she does know how things work in our world. She is simply slighted at the moment, and that is your fault. Besides, whether you want to admit it or not, you understand her. You know what she needs.”
“I wish I didn’t. But you’re right. I made this a disaster by wanting to keep Penny insulated. That never works, and I know she does not judge me so it seems ridiculous to me now that I thought I had to protect her from that part of my life. The real problem is me, as always, I am the one who is a mess.”
Jean-Claude kissed him, “And a delightful mess you are.”
“So I should exact no punishment?” Asher wondered.
“Oh, you should exact much punishment. But how you do that is up to you. I would not encourage her behavior by rewarding her with what she wants. Let her know that I would as soon invite a new Oba to St. Louis than deal with her anymore. Do some research, throw out some names. Then try to find out what, if anything, will make her happy. If we must, we will make a move on her.”
“We?”
“The city is still mine, the last time I checked,” Jean-Claude moved away from Asher, just a bit. “We have enough outside problems at the moment to which I must devote much of my attention. I cannot afford for there to be dissent amongst my own people, and so one way or another this nonsense with the Oba must come to an end. But you have my word that I will not intervene unless it is a last resort. I trust you, my temoin. I trust that you will resolve this without it getting to that point.”
Asher broke away from the half embrace, picked up his robe and put it on, his long arms filling out the dark brown silk as it billowed around his body. Jean-Claude came behind him and embraced once again him laying his cheek against the taller man’s shoulder.
Asher turned and kissed him quickly, holding his gaze, “Then I must go. I would like to take Castor and Pollux with me, if you approve, as well as Ares and Ixion.”
“Any vampires?”
“Valentina?” Asher asked, half jokingly.
Jean-Claude made a face and didn’t even dignify the request with an answer.
“It was worth a try,” Asher smirked, “How about Faust, and Meng Die. She’s a handful, but if it gets tricky I know she will not hesitate. And Faust, well, he knows his way around the club.”
“Very well. I’ll have the WickedTruth on standby. They know how to make a point when necessary.”
“Agreed.”
“And what of your servant?”
“London will look after her. I have forbidden her to leave the circus, and before you say anything, we discussed it last night and she doesn’t have a problem with it.”
“We will all look after her,” Jean-Claude let his mind wander for a moment.
“I know that you will, Jean. I know.” Asher spoke with an undercurrent hinting to Jean-Claude that he might just know the thoughts that have been haunting the Master of the City since Penelope’s arrival, but he said nothing.
And with that, Asher glided out the bedroom door.
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After a shower, a feeding, and finding the most over the top fetish-wear with which to torture the Oba, Asher softly knocked on Penelope’s door. He sensed London pacing around the room, but he felt that Penelope was still in a deep sleep. The door opened slowly to London smiling and motioning to their sleeping beauty snuggled under the pale yellow sheets.
London couldn’t help but stare. Asher was clad in the tightest black leather pants he had ever seen. There was not a wrinkle in them and when Asher moved it was as if the leather itself was an entity, sliding over his skin. The belt was studded with silver spikes. Anyone who got too close was going to get quite a surprise. He was shirtless, exposing the scars on his chest. Two cuffs of black leather were wrapped around his wrists also with silver spikes, and in his hand a black leather hood, one that would essentially hide his face. His hair was glorious as always, golden and perfect, braided tightly to the his head. The boots he chose were thigh high, and laced up the back. London thought, that if he was going for an impression, he was certainly making it loud and clear.
“She’s been asleep for over 12 hours. I didn’t want to disturb her, but you should wake her if you’re leaving. I know she wants to say goodbye.” London made way for Asher to come inside.
“Actually, London, I would like to speak with you, out here.”
London stepped out into the hallway where the signs of the circus coming to life were all around them. All the regulars were getting ready for their various nights work and none of them could help but be dumbstruck at Asher’s imposing figure. London was only an inch shorter, but he was dwarfed by the image that Asher had chosen to portray.
“Yes, Asher?”
“She needs the sleep more than a kiss from me at the moment, but I wanted to talk to you about something important.” Asher wondered for a moment if they should have this conversation in privacy of his room, but then thought better of it. Why should it matter? What he was going to say was the truth, which was more than he could say of the recent newspaper articles that had been written about him.
“I’m listening.” London replied with as blank an expression as he could muster.
He and Asher had seemed to put the past behind them and come to a pleasant arrangement where Penelope was concerned. Even though their one night together was cut short, both vampires knew that at some point in the future it would occur again. Given their history and recent reconcilement, it was not an unwelcome future, and in fact they both found themselves looking forward to the possibilities of that future more than they had the many centuries before.
“I’m going to Narcissus in Chains tonight, and I’m not sure I will be back for several nights to come. It’s hard to tell.”
“Does she know?”
“Not that it might be days before I return. And I plan to be entirely shut down from her for as long as I am there.”
“Will you call on the phone at least?”
“Yes. When I can. And I will of course keep Jean-Claude informed of what is going on, so he is sure to bring her news. I don’t anticipate the situation to turn...violent.” Asher, of course meant non-consensual violence.
“What muscle are you taking with you?” London thought for a moment that perhaps he should accompany Asher. He had grown in power the last few months, and could likely have been Jean-Claude’s third, if he had the inclination to vie for the job. Temoin if he had the emotional connection to Jean-Claude that seemed to keep Asher in the position. But every vampire in St. Louis knew that would never happen.
“I want to take Castor and Pollux, as well as a few other Hyenas, Faust and Meng Die.”
London chuckled, “I hear Narci fears Meng.”
“That’s why I am bringing her.”
“Castor and Pollux?” London knew that Penny was already devoted to the brothers, but his soldier instincts made him always cautious of new allies.
“Narcissus is definitely afraid of them, and I think they need some room to flex. Jean-Claude cleared them for me and they have more than regained their strength from last night. Their power is...substantial.” Asher added, after a brief pause in thought, “Besides, now that they know that Penelope was the target of Narcissus’ plot, they are hungry to even the score, but not stupidly so. Ares has been briefing them all morning.”
“Sounds like you have thought of everything, Asher.” London was puzzled as to the lengthy explanation.
“Well, yes. And that is where you come in.” Asher took a breath, displaying his nervousness. “If anything should happen to me...”
“Asher...”
“Non! Listen to me. I don’t expect it to be dangerous, just arduous, but just in case, for future reference, if anything were ever to happen to me I know she would survive it. I’ve felt it. I would not be able to drag her to death with me, and I wouldn’t want to. If I were mortally wounded, with no hope of survival, I would use all the power left to me to make sure she was released.”
London stood very still, half knowing what Asher was about to ask him.
“Yes, I know you would.”
“And if that should ever happen, I want your word that you would make her your servant. That you would give her the marks immediately despite any protestations she might make. Eventually she would understand. And she loves you so, that she would never hate you for doing it.” he paused trying to decide how to put it into words, “ I have felt the depths of her love for you, London. I sometimes wonder if she would survive your death.” Asher couldn’t look at him when said those words. There was no doubt in his heart concerning Penelope’s love and devotion, and he knew exactly where he stood in her heart, but he knew her feelings for the knight ran deeply as well. He accepted this, and loved her even more for her capacity for love.
London didn’t know what to say. After her confession the previous night, and knowing that Asher knew little of that particular pain she carried, he finally felt that he had a part of her that was completely his. Now Asher, his newly reconciled friend, was asking him to take all of her in the case of his real and true death. It was too much. London was presented with his one heart’s desire, his secret wish, and suddenly found himself hoping and praying that it would never, ever happen. The sorrow would be too much for all of them.
“Asher, there is no need to have this conversation. If you are unsure of what might happen tonight...I can go...”
“Non, mon ami,” Asher put his hands on London’s shoulders and laughed, “ I am not unsure about anything. In fact I am very sure about everything. I just want your word that you will always be there for her. Period.” He looked him squarely in the eyes, “I remember what you said the night she became mine, London. When I almost couldn’t go through with it. I felt it then, that you would always be there to protect her. To love her. It was something I should have asked of Jean-Claude with Julianna, but it was a different time and I was a different vampire then. I thought we had forever, and my arrogance was insurmountable. I also believed that death of the master meant death of the servant, because that is what I had been told. I no longer believe that now.”
Asher had never spoken of the night of the ceremony, but he most certainly remembered London’s frantic desperation. He knew in that instant what the dying woman in his arms meant to the knight and it bolstered his courage to do what he had to do. Asher owed that courage to London, and he had no doubts about the vampire who stood before him, now.
His expression changed from one of melancholic remembrance to rougish impishness in a moment, as he slapped London on both arms. “Believe me, mon chevalier, I plan on being back in her arms before the end of the weekend, taking my pleasures and kicking you to, how does Jason put it? The proverbial curb?”
London smiled, “You can make light of it all you want, frog.” He paused, although his answer was always, “Yes. I give you my word that I would take her as my servant. But first, it will never happen. Period. And second, you didn’t even have to ask because my life is bound to hers, no matter if it’s not magic that binds us. But there is one condition, we will never speak of this again, understand? It’s discussed, agreed upon, and over.”
“Agreed.” Asher kissed the knight on both cheeks and gently, and perhaps teasingly, on the lips before turning down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder waving the leather hood at him, “Enjoy her company all you can, mon chevalier, but don’t you dare tire her out! When I get back I am ordering a week’s worth of French take-out, chaining Nathaniel to the bedpost and having my servant for breakfast lunch and dinner!”
London smiled and slipped back into Penelope’s room. Until then, he thought, I’ll have her all to myself.
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Chapter 30- Waking Up Hungry by nicola71
Author's Notes:
***************************************
Thanks to Reka for her mad beta skilz!
And to Subbie for all of her support always! I hope everyone is enjoying the story as much as I am enjoying writing it!***************************************
Penelope opened her eyes but didn’t move. She heard Asher’s voice in the hallway talking to London and it put a smile on her face. It sounded like they were at the joking end of a serious conversation, because she heard Asher’s barb about French food, and imagined the sour look it drew all over London’s face. He had become so much more expressive with her and Asher in the last few weeks, and for a vampire that was real progress.
But she could not feel anything from her master. She assumed that was his wish, and so she closed her eyes, and closed herself off from him. She slowed her breathing when she heard the door open and felt London come in toward the bed. He could sense she was awake.
He slid his hand along the bed covers until he got to her foot, then traced his way up her leg, over the down comforter to her exposed arm. His fingers lighted over the silk of her pajama top, around her shoulder to her face. He tucked her hair behind her ear as she opened her eyes for him.
“Good morning,” he bent in and kissed her as he sat on the bed in the nook her body made for his.
“Morning,” she kissed him back and took his hand in hers. She felt rested but not in any hurry to get up. What they had shared in the last moments before dawn had taken more out of her than she expected. But despite that, she felt better than she had in a long time with that particular story off her chest. The look in London’s eyes told her that she should feel no shame.
“Asher is gone, isn’t he?”
“The sun has not yet set, but he is gone to a briefing with his men. He said goodbye. Are you upset that he didn’t come in here himself?”
“No, not upset. He must have had his reasons.” She patted the bed to invite him to lay with her and snuggle a bit. He readily complied and laid down facing her, pressing as much of his body to hers as he could and still look at her face. Even with clothes on, just touching their bodies together awakened both spirit and magic.
“He asked me to tell you that he would be shut down until this business with Narcissus was over, but that he would call to check in and that you shouldn’t worry.” London was unsure she would buy all of that, but it was all he had to offer. He’d never lied to her and wasn’t about to start now.
“I’m oddly not worried at all. He must feel very confident, and for that I’m grateful. Until he calls for me there is nothing I can do.” Penelope was so at ease that she wondered what Asher had done to make it so. He could control her feelings if he wanted to, and right now she felt safe and comfortable. She relaxed into London’s arms, “Asher said that you promised to help me ‘relax’”
London smiled, “I would like to try. I can’t say I’m not a little excited at the prospect of having you all to myself for a little while.” He didn’t even try to hide his happiness, he wanted her to know how much their private times meant to him.
“Hmmm...and what an attractive gaoler you are!” She said with just the slightest hint of her masters signature snark.
London frowned, “now, Penny, I agree with Asher that it’s best to stay in the circus,” he knew she wasn’t happy about that part.
For a moment her eyes seemed to go far away.
“I miss the ocean air,” Penelope didn’t know exactly where that thought came from. She did indeed miss the ocean air of her island home, but it simply fell out of her mouth with no rhyme or reason.
London was surprised, “I wish I could take you there, Penny.” Was all he said when there was a knock at the door.
Jason poked his head in, “I hope I’m interrupting something! Don’t bother getting dressed, I promise I won’t look... much.”
“Jason!” they said in unison.
“Relax, keep your fangs on, London. Just bringing some breakfast for Penny. For you both actually if you want.”
Jason brought in a huge tray of hot breakfast food.
“Asher asked me to bring you a healthy and hearty breakfast, and as usual, I aim to please!”
Jason had taken the role of Penny’s unofficial daytime companion. She suspected that Jean-Claude was behind it at first, but hoped that it was genuine friendship that kept him coming back. Jason’s position in the kiss was certainly high enough that he didn’t have to bring her anything. He did it because he wanted to do it.
London took the tray and placed it on Penny’s lap as she sat up in bed. “You need to eat everything on this tray.”
The tray was almost bigger than Penelope. She looked at her lover and playfully smacked his arm.
“Two weeks ago you thought I was getting fat, now this?” Penelope teased her knight about his earlier faux pas.
“You have to eat, love, that’s another part of my job this weekend. Keeping you fed so if Asher needs to draw some power...”
“He can. I know. I’ll eat. I’m starving actually and can’t remember the last time I had any food!”
Jason hopped up on the bed with them as Penelope sat up. The smells from the tray were divine. Chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, two eggs sunniside up, mixed berries with cream, mint tea and a large glass of V8.
“Nathaniel must be here in the kitchen this afternoon,” she smiled. He was the only one who could make such perfect pancakes. Ever since more people who actually ate food were living at the circus, the kitchen had been expanded and anyone who had a talent for cooking was in high demand.
“Lancelot, you care for something wolfy with a side of smart ass today?”
London’s face was far off for a moment, but when he came back he said, “Not really. Where did you say Nathaniel was?”
London’s position as Anita’s sometime pomme, gave him the privilege of feeding from Nathaniel or Jason whenever either of them offered. Jean-Claude did not stand on ceremony and when it came to blood donations, it was really up to the donors themselves.
London had yet to choose his own pomme de sang, although he certainly had enough clout to do so. Something was keeping him from making that decision though. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. What he did know at the moment, was that the willing wolf in the bed with them was not quite what he yearned for today.
Jason lay there dejected.
“WHAT! I plate all this for you,” he motioned to his neck, “and you want the cook!”
Penelope blushed, and all three laughed as London got up in search of a feed. He was suddenly very hungry, which was a little unusual, but not so much that it caused him distress.
“Wolf, although you are delectable, I think that you still need some recovery time from your last donation,” bringing up Asher sent Jason rolling on the bed with an enormous smile. London charged him with a stern, playfully menacing look, “See that she eats every morsel.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Where are you going?” Penelope was puzzled.
“I am going to feed, and then I am meeting you in the gym.”
“What!?”
“We have a long night, and I have plans for you, my love. Meet me in the gym and be ready to sweat,” he winked at Jason which elicited a barrage of whistles and hoots.
London was relieved that Penelope didn’t beg him to wait for her, because he couldn’t have said no. He wanted to make sure the gym was empty when they worked out, and although he knew his reasons were irrational, they were still his reasons.
***************************************************************
Penelope was swallowing the last drops of V8 when a pair of purple lace panties landed on the tray in front of her.
“Jason! What are you doing going though my underwear drawer?”
“Getting you your gym clothes, silly.”
She held up the unmentionables,“I don’t think my sweats are in that drawer, and I certainly don’t think I will be needing these.”
“You mean you weren’t planning on wearing panties? You naughty girl! No wonder London’s so keen to pump some iron!”
Penelope cried out in mock frustration, “Jason, I’m capable of getting my own clothes out and deciding what underwear, if any, to put on! If. You. Please.”
The wolf turned and pounced on the bed, stretching out next to Penelope and flashing her his sweetest smile.
“So...I guess things are going well for you and old Dark and Moody?”
His reference to London produced a large frown on her face.
“I would hardly call him that. At least not anymore.” She smirked.
“You know, Penny, I think you should...”
Jason was interrupted by a knock on the door. Requiem poked his head in and Penelope jumped out of bed and into his embrace.
“Requiem! Where have you been?”
“Someone has to run your new club, milady,” he bowed low and kissed both of her hands.
Since Asher and Penelope had been holed up in the circus, Requiem had taken over running Veritas,. He loved it, and wouldn’t mind being put there permanently. Stripping, although something he was no doubt talented at, was not something he wished to do for the long term.
Penelope was shocked and a little embarrassed that she had forgotten all about Veritas. Here she had been an entrepreneur for all of one night, and she was already ignoring her duties.
“Oh, Requiem! Thank you so much! Is everything okay there? We were expecting a large shipment yesterday, and there were at least three parties booked! Oh, and one tonight for the mayor’s wife’s birthday! I have to...”
Requiem silenced her with a shake of his head and a flash of his exquisite blue eyes.
“Milady, it is all taken care of. No worry should cross your mind.”
“Are you sure, I should be there, I should...”
“Shhhh! I know you’re under house arrest this weekend, and I know your warden very well. That he is not here at this moment listening to every careful breath you take is a sheer miracle.”
“She’s meeting him in the gym,” Jason piped up from the bed.
“Ah...his sanctuary.” Requiem looked at Jason, as if he knew he had said something he should not have.
Penelope questioned, “His sanctuary?”
Requiem changed the subject, “You had better get dressed and get down there or London will be sending out a small army to find you.”
“Okay, but do you promise to give me a full report about Veritas tomorrow afternoon, as soon as you wake?”
“I should be hoisted with mine own petard, if I do not, milady.”
Penelope laughed and went into the bathroom to get ready, leaving the two men alone.
Jason said, “She doesn’t know how much time he spends in there, does she?”
“No, my little wolf, she does not. And it is not ours to tell.”
“She had to notice how much bigger he’s got! Christ, he’s practically bulging out of every shirt he has!”
“Let him tell her, Jason.”
Jason shrugged not understanding what the big deal was, but then again he wasn’t as close to London as Requiem. Certainly not close enough for confidences.
Requiem left quietly, leaving Jason to wait for his charge. Penelope didn’t know it, but London had made Jason swear on his life not to leave her alone for a second. And London was not a vampire that Jason intended to cross, especially where his lady love was concerned.
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“Penelope, are you ready yet?” Jason had worked his way through all of Penelope’s lingerie, and was now laying on the bed once again. He loved the smell of her sheets because they smelled like her and vampire. Like everyone who came in contact with Penelope, her perfume captivated him, and he wondered what it was made from.
Penelope emerged from the bathroom, showered and primped.
Jason couldn’t help himself as usual, “Uh, you are going to the gym, you know.”
“I know. Does that mean I can’t be presentable?” Penelope never went anywhere unkempt. Her old master did not expect glamor, but he also did not tolerate a slovenly appearance. She was dressed in simple black yoga pants and a form fitting hot pink athletic tank. Her hair was in a high ponytail, off her neck, which highlighted the faded marks of fangs. Two sets.
They walked through the halls bantering about silly things. Penelope enjoyed Jason’s company and had confided many small things in him. He was probably the closest friend she had in the circus, because many of the other inhabitants still kept their distance for one reason or another. When she first arrived she expected that she an Anita would be fast friends, but she soon found that Anita’s life wasn’t really constructed to maintain close friendships. Even though when they were together it was relaxed and social, Anita just seemed to always be somewhere else, and when she was in the circus she was usually holed up in Jean-Claude’s rooms. A strong friendship with her was going to take time. But Penelope had never had a male friend, at least not in the flesh, so that made Jason extra special.
Before they got to the gym Jason put his hand on Penelope’s arm. They were out of earshot of anyone, which was why he took advantage.
“Penny,” his face turned serious for a moment.
“Jason?”
“I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming here. For hanging in all these months when it seemed like Asher was never going to come around. For making Asher bearable, that’s a big one. For making London happy, too.”
“I am very happy here, Jason. That helps, being happy yourself.”
“I wish everyone could get that, Penny.”
“Are you happy?” She reached for his hand, wondering about where this conversation was going. She had never seen Jason anything but smiling, so she worried that something was wrong.
“I am happy, I guess. Jean-Claude is a little happier too, so that transfers to me, more than you know. I like when he feels good. I love him.”
Jason did love his master, but he also probably knew him better than people might think. Having Asher back in his bed and in his life, and more importantly a ‘happy Asher’ had caused Jean-Claude to smile privately more than Jason could remember. Jean-Claude always had a smile for him, but Jason watched him very closely over the years, and rarely saw him smile when no one was looking. Now Jean-Claude smiled when no one was watching. It made Jason feel really good.
Jason pulled her into a quick hug, turned her around and whacked her butt hard, pushing her in the direction of the gym.
“OUCH!” Penny rubbed his target, “Hey, Jas?”
“Yes? If you want more of that, you know I am available whenever you have a free moment. I know your mid-mornings are often free,” he winked, apparently back to his old licentious self.
“What were you trying to say to me, back in my room before Requiem came in?”
Jason had a few things he wanted to say, but he hoped she might figure out some of those things on her own, and thought better about bringing them up at the moment. He had wanted to talk to her about her future plans. About how she was balancing two guys like Asher and London, and what she imagined her future was going to be like. And where Jean-Claude fit into that equation. He had felt his master’s mixed feelings about her but had not dared to say anything as yet. There was something there, he just knew it, and he didn’t want it to mess up what seemed like a good thing.
“Nothing important, Penny. Nothing that can’t wait.”
“Okay,” she grabbed a towel from the bin and went through the door, “catch you later, before you leave for the club?”
Penelope disappeared into the gym before he could answer.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 25- The Brothers by nicola71
"I can't feel them, Jean-Claude. Why can't I feel their magic?" Anita was next to him the instant he let her in on the secret.
"I do not know, ma petite. Why could I not feel them? Why could Asher not feel them?" He was perplexed beyond measure. And irritated. And perhaps, deep down where he could hide it, a little bit frightened.
Castor looked like himself again, except for the silver chains that bound him. Jean-Claude had called all of his master vampires, as well as every alpha were that was present at The Circus. If the brothers were as powerful as he thought they might be, it probably wouldn't be enough. But that was the most irritating part of all. He could not tell how powerful they were. Jean-Claude had himself become a master of hiding his true power, but he had never met another being who could do it as well as he. Until now.
Pollux suggested that Jean-Claude have them bound in silver, a prospect that Castor protested with vigor. But the silent conversation that always connected the brothers changed his mind. And shut his mouth.
They now sat side by side, chained and in the cross-hairs of about ten different kinds of automatic weapons and sharpened fangs. However, since at least one of the brothers seemed to be reasonable, Jean-Claude was more than willing to hear what they had to say.
"You cannot feel us, Anita, because we are not quite as old and powerful as you might think." Pollux's words were strained by the obvious pain he was experiencing. The silver was settling into their tanned skin, burning them with every move, every struggle against the pain.
"Well, how the hell old are you?" Anita was losing patience and in no mood for the games the old ones seemed to like to play.
"Do not tell them anything, brother!" Castor struggled against the chains, his skin ready to break open under the stress and effects of the silver.
Pollux silenced him again with a look, then turned to Penelope.
"Could you not feel us, madam? Of all of them, I thought for certain you would feel us."
Penelope had been watching the scene unfold from a distance. She stood beside London, while Asher functioned as Jean-Claude's second. Her mind was open to him though, and she could hear him questioning his bonds with the Hyenas.
I should have felt them. But I feel nothing more than I do from Narcissus. Their power seems to fluctuate a bit, but really, nothing more.
Asher, it's not your fault. But there is something...
Penelope moved forward past Anita and Jean-Claude until she stood in front of Castor, who looked away.
"Why do you look away?" she questioned, then turned to Pollux. "What have I done to him?"
She didn't wait for an answer, but instead reached out to stroke Pollux's cheek, in an attempt to relieve some of his pain. She admitted to herself that she did not like to see them so tortured. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly certain that they were two of the good guys.
As her hand gently slid down the side of his face, Pollux's eyes shut and his head fell back. When he opened them again, the same hazel eyes that had looked on her with kindness in the past were there. No tears, simply the same man she had grown to trust through countless conversations.
"You remind him of our mother."
It was a short, but powerful statement. One that touched her, for she had very few memories of her own mother.
"Your mother?"
Jean-Claude was suddenly reminded of an old story he had once heard at court.
"You cannot be the children of that old fairy-tale," he said with interest. The Master of the City was standing with his arms folded trying his best to disbelieve.
"What story?" Anita was definitely at the end of her patience. Her tone demanded answers, and she was about to get more than she wanted.
Castor still refused to speak, so Pollux raised his head and spoke to them, although his eyes never left Penelope.
"I think that you are all acquainted with the Mother of all Darkness and her special guards. We are the offspring of one of their kind, and one of yours, Penelope."
"More." Jean-Claude's directive was unneeded though, for Pollux had waited a long time to tell his story.
"I do not know all of the details, only what our mother told us before she died."
"Before she was murdered, brother." Castor broke his silence and a hot wave of power swept through the room, causing rifles to click into place and Penelope to wince in pain as she finally felt some of Castor's true power pierce through her.
"Hyena, vampire or whatever you are, restrain yourself or you'll be eating silver the next time you decide to lose control." Anita repositioned her gun at Castor's cheek as he snarled and once again bared his vampire fangs.
"Brother, let me speak." Pollux's words and silent soothing brought the power level down, and calmed Castor. He then turned back to Penelope and continued his story.
"We had what we thought was a very normal childhood, traveling the world with our mother, who for all we knew was a respected archaeologist. We grew up believing that our father had abandoned us and was killed during the war."
"What war?" Asher was surprisingly calm, and interested in where the story was going. He knew the same "fairy-tale" Jean-Claude spoke of, and was curious as to the brother's part in it.
"World War I."
A small gasp was heard although no one would own up to it.
"Continue." Things were becoming much clearer to Jean-Claude, and he could not help the small curves of a smile that were beginning to form. They ARE the children of that tale!
Pollux continued, "Our mother raised us all over the world, and despite a few incidents that we only remember as fevers or other illnesses, we had a life of love and learning and travel. She taught us herself, but when it came time for us to go to university she sat us down for a very overdue conversation. You see, there were gaps in our memories that needed to be filled."
Pollux explained that their mother, Athena, told them that they were very special, and that she had protected them their entire lives but that the time of her protection was nearing an end.
"When she told us about her magic we did not believe her. We thought perhaps she had spent too much time in the sun digging or had inhaled too much ancient dust in the tombs she explored. But she proved it to us in a most spectacular fashion."
Athena restored every memory she had hidden from them, and like a modern movie they suddenly saw everything. Blood, claws, and death.
They saw their father, a member of Marmee Noir's elite guard. Older than time, vicious and untamed.
"Our mother thought she could control him. He was one of the last of Marmee's guard to fall into the great sleep. Mother saw him and lured him away from his fellows. He was the youngest of their kind, one of the lastMarmee made, and for all his power, one of the weakest. It was folly on Athena's part. She felt if she could gain control of him, then she might be able to harvest Marmee's power while she slept. Our mother was ambitious and power hungry, and despite my brother's misguided ideas about her death, she cheated her ultimate and deserved fate on more than one occasion."
"But, Pollux, how old must she have been?" Penelope was astounded. She had heard the story as well, but dismissed it as pure fiction. A rogue sorceress from the same world as her Grandmother had abducted and enslaved one of the most powerful crossbreeds of the preternatural world? She could not possibly have achieved this, let alone survived.
"She was very old, milady. Very old."
Castor and Pollux's mother had used her considerable magic and beauty to capture their father. She held him in a cave for several centuries, trying to absorb his magic and power. With the rest of his brothers and Marmeeasleep he had been left very vulnerable. However, when her tactics failed time and time again, she figured there was only one way left for her to get what she wanted.
"We are all men at our core, after all. Our father was no different. Her beauty enthralled him, and she used it to seduce him."
"What happened to him?" Jean-Claude knew the story of the missing guard. In vampire circles it was thought that Marmee herself had killed him, or that the other guards had because of his weakness. In their world there was no room for the weak and there was seldom a body left for evidence.
"Mother killed him."
Castor reared back his head in anger, "to protect us, Brother, to keep him or Marmee from killing us."
Pollux shook his head. "Whatever her reasons, she killed him after she got pregnant, and we were her prize."
Athena used her magic to erase all memories of their true nature from the brothers. Their cravings for blood, their incredible strength, and their superior magical abilities.
"Suddenly we could hear each other without speaking. Our strength grew tenfold, as did our desires. It was a very difficult transition period."
Both brothers' faces showed deep regret upon mentioning this "transition" period. Penelope restrained her base desire to take them in her arms and comfort them. But that was not all she was restraining. The temptation to reach into Castor's mind was unreal. He was so angry and so vulnerable at the moment. She knew she could have him and all of his memories in an instant. But that was rape. And she had been there before.
Pollux went on to explain that because they were the offspring of a hybrid and a human, albeit a magical being, they learned through discipline to control their desires.
"We walk in the sunlight but must ingest fresh blood from the vein once a month, just before the full moon. Our hyena selves are not like others. We are very...different. If you paid attention, the last full moon we did not spend with the pack, but rather on our own." He looked to Asher, "you thought it was because Narcissus despised us, and partly that is true. She knows, without knowing, that we are not like her. We do not belong to her pack, and never will."
Asher stared at him, "but you come when I call."
"We are attracted to you in the same way Richard is attracted to Jean-Claude. It may be because of the added power you received from Penelope. She is like our mother. It attracts us. We are as much hers as we are yours. It is because of her that we are here. We have been tracking her for almost eighty years."
"Eighty years?" Penelope was shocked, "but I have only been out in society for the last several months."
"We have known of you for a very long time."
"From your mother?" How could she have known me?
"Your grandmother, her name was Helene."
"Yes."
"Then you must have been a child when Athena came to her."
Penelope reached back into her own childhood memories. Ones that she tried so long to block out, simply to save herself the intense feelings of regret. But now she let herself fall into a trance and delved deeply into her own past.
A woman with long dark brown hair and a deep red gown was sitting at the wooden table in the kitchen with Helene who was a contrast in every way to her guest with her flaxen hair and dark green homespun dress. They were arguing. Helene was refusing to help her. Told her she was mad and that they should all be thankful that Marmee was asleep. That they should not tempt fate, and instead be happy with what they had.
The argument escalated until the two women seemed to come to blows without touching each other. Penelope and Julianna were hidden behind the door, peeking through the cracks. Whatever battle took place, their grandmother had won. The pretty woman with the flowing hair sat slumped in a chair, breathing heavily. Helene brought her a mug of wine.
"Sister, you cannot manage this type of magic."
"Helene, you never did have any respect for me or my abilities. I'm just as powerful as you. Just as powerful as our mother was," she heaved, "just as powerful."
"Athena, let me kill him now, before it is too late."
"No! You will not touch him. If you will not help me, then this is the last you will ever see of me."
Helene sighed heavily, "yes, sister, of all the things you have ever said to me that is the one thing I am certain is true."
The memory ended and Penelope swooned. London caught her in his arms. She was extremely cold.
"Your mother, and my grandmother were sisters," she said weakly.
"Yes." Pollux looked at Castor, and back at Penelope.
It was suddenly very clear to her why Castor was so uncomfortable around her. In essence they were cousins and the intimate moment they had shared had clearly shaken him. She could not understand why he was so prudish at the time, but now she looked on him with tender affection and with her eyes tried to tell him that no harm was done.
Penelope looked across the room at Asher and smiled. "It appears, my love, that you have in-laws." And with that, she passed out.
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Chapter 26- Family Ties by nicola71
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After a ridiculously long hiatus, I have once again found my muse! Many, many, many thanks go to Rekastormborn, and all of the people who have recently discovered my stories. (As well as some of you from the past who have encouraged me to continue!) Reka...thanks for the Beta duties!
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Penelope came to in Asher's arms. Touching him always helped to speed her recovery from a spell. His ice blue eyes were the first thing she saw as she awoke, and they always made her feel safe and secure.
"Penelope?" Asher said her name gravely, rather than using an endearment, which indicated his worry.
Penelope could feel both his and London's concern for her, but strangely enough she felt quite well.
"Where are Castor and Pollux?" she asked as she sat up and scanned the room.
"They have been taken to their quarters, under guard, but without the restraints," London said. He sensed her desire to know they were alright, and wanted to reassure her. "Jean-Claude feels the guard still in order, but silver chains no longer necessary. Now drink this." He gently stroked her hair and brought a cup of mint tea to her lips.
"Thank you, really, but I must speak to them now." She broke away from their hold with more strength than they expected and was out the door before anyone could grab her.
Something was different. Different and good. Penelope felt fantastic. Energized and invigorated, confident and full of magic and energy. That power preceded her through the halls of the Circus until she came to a door heavily guarded by rats.
"Claudia, move aside," she commanded.
Claudia was not used to being spoken to in that fashion, especially by Penelope who barely had two words for her up to this moment. The surprise was all over her face, and the other guards watched as she seemed to suppress the desire to smack the little girl, who stood before her, across the face.
"You do not give orders here."
All six feet of solid woman was behind the words, but that didn't deter Penelope. She was hopped up on power and nothing was going to stand between her and the men who waited on the other side of the door. However, years of playing politic had taught her a few things about tact. And so she changed hers.
She let just enough of her power ease out so that those around her could tell that there was more to her than what appeared, but she made it obvious that she had no intention of using that power to force her way through the door. It was dominance, not fear, that she was trying to display. There was a time in her life when she wouldn't have given such a courtesy, and not have thought twice about mind raping her way into that room. Penelope was determined to not go down that road again.
She concentrated on Claudia, though, and spoke to her with authority.
"Please let me in that room, Claudia. They are of my blood and I know you understand that kind of connection. Look at your brothers here. You would do the same." Penelope spoke her words clearly and directly. Something the powerful wererat in front of her understood and appreciated.
Claudia could not argue Penelope's logic. She also felt the depth of Penelope's magic and what she could do with it. After all the time she'd spent among the powerful at the Circus, Claudia had come to respect those who had power and didn't use it. She also liked Penelope. Sort of. Asher certainly had been less of a pain in the ass since Penelope's arrival and she was thankful for that. The broody vampire tended to create quite a mess, from time to time.
Wordlessly, Claudia, who was in charge, moved to the side and let Penelope go through the door.
Inside the two brothers seemed casual, at first glance. Castor stretched out on one of the beds, Pollux sitting at the desk, pen in hand, as if about to write.
He put the pen down and both brothers slowly stood up.
"Hello, milady. I am relieved to see you well." Pollux made a courteous bow of his head.
"I am better than well. I feel wonderful. Is that because of you?"
Pollux stayed very still, "Perhaps. On the contrary, I, we, feel very drained, and weak." The silver damage was healing at a tremendous rate of speed, but they seemed far worse for the wear.
Penelope wondered if maybe she had drawn from them on her trip down memory lane.
"May I touch you?" she asked cautiously, making sure that her voice was steady and nonthreatening. Touch was so important in the vampire and were world, she figured that it might help.
Pollux instantly reached out his hand to her, and when she grasped it something surged between them. He smiled.
"Thank you, yes, that is much better. Brother..."
Castor was reluctant, but something in his brother's voice, or perhaps their unheard conversation, drew him over to them. He took his brother's hand at first, while keeping his distance from Penelope. It was good but not enough. With a reassuring look from Pollux, she reached out and gently took Castor's hand in hers, completing the circuit.
It was an easy power that flowed through them. Gentle, and cool, and invigorating. She shared back some of what she had borrowed from them.
"Well," she said as she broke away and took the seat at the desk, "that seems right, now doesn't it?"
There was a small silence as the brothers sat down on the bed, facing her.
"Your mother," Penelope didn't know where to begin, "she was very beautiful as I recall."
Pollux spoke, "Beautiful, yes, and also very foolish."
Castor did not say anything, but shifted his body. Obviously the brothers had very differing opinions upon their mother and her motives.
"But she loved you?"
Pollux pondered for a moment, "Loved us? " he looked over at Castor, "She loved us, yes. In her way, I suppose. I think that you have already guessed that there was some enmity between us."
"I surmised as much." Penelope spoke to Castor, next. She wanted to address the awkwardness between them, and decided that the direct route was most likely the best.
"There is no need to be upset or humilated about what happened in the bed. You saved my life most likely." She looked kindly at him, knowing that what she said was the truth. Their warmth had made it possible for her physical body to survive.
Castor finally looked up, "I may seem a monster, but I am still a gentleman. And to be aroused in that way, with you, was wrong," he looked hard at Pollux, "no matter the amount of power that flows through us."
Penelope understood what he was saying, and knew that to make things right between them would take some time.
"Listen, this place is full of vampires from Belle's line. And Jean-Claude's power lies with the ardeur, I know you are familiar with it. Maybe you know more than you're telling me. I have seen the damage it can do, but I have also seen the good side of it as well. I can promise you both that Jean-Claude and his servant in no way wield that power to cause pain. This is not Belle's court. But by your reaction, I think you know something of that."
"We found ourselves there for a short time." Pollux took his brother's hand, lovingly. "He does not speak of his experiences, and I do not press him. I ask you to do the same."
"Very well. There are those here who share your experiences though. And it might not be a bad idea to speak to them, when you are ready. Belle's dainty fingers have tightened around the throats of many, and many have found that here with Jean-Claude are the means to break free of not only her grip, but the memories of her love, as she pretends it to be."
Penelope suddenly saw, in Castor's eyes, the very same look she had seen in London's when he spoke to her of his time in Belle's golden prison. She knew that Castor had been tortured with the ardeur. No wonder he lost it a little when Jean-Claude flexed his power.
Surprisingly, Castor spoke up.
"He feels very different from her, this Master of the City." He looked at Penelope squarely for the first time. "I am not afraid of him, as I was of Belle Morte. It's just hard, sometimes, to differentiate. I need to remind myself of where I am."
"When you are ready to talk about it, if ever, there will be someone to listen." Penelope instantly thought of London, or even Asher. But Castor's behavior was that of a former addict. Something her dear London knew something about.
"When will Jean-Claude clear us?" Pollux asked.
"I don't know." Penelope thought for a moment. "I think he knows you are not a threat."
"We must protect you, you know. You are the reason we are here. You're the only family we have."
"It's been so long since I had any family that I'm not sure what to do. But, we'll figure it out."
Penelope smiled as she rose and walked toward the door. She wanted to embrace them but felt that maybe it was not the right time. Enough had been said for one evening.
"I'll speak to Jean-Claude and see you in the morning?"
"We'll be here. Especially with that She-Rat they have on our door. I don't plan to cross that one." Pollux smiled, and Penny thought to herself that if the brothers really wanted to escape, they could. But as she smiled and left she knew for certain that leaving was the last thing they wanted. They were home.
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Chapter 27- Late Night Requests by nicola71
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Thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story! Your support means a lot to me! Thank you to Reka as well for being a wonderful beta!
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The exhaustion from the evening’s activities finally caught up with Penelope, and all she really wanted was some sleep. But there were still a few more things to do before dawn stole away the people she needed to talk to the most, so she grabbed a protein bar from the kitchen and started her rounds. First up, Jean-Claude.
She found him, curiously alone, in his living room.
“Where is everyone?” Penelope asked, leaning against the door jamb. Jean-Claude looked up from his papers and smiled. It made her feel warm to see that smile for her especially after all the excitement. It was genuine and open, and familiar.
“Even the Master of the City can enjoy a rare moment of solitude, non?” He teased, but offered up the truth, “Anita has been called away on some police matter, and Jason is asleep in my bedroom.”
He allowed a large grin and told Penelope that Jason’s reward for being the ‘Go To’ guy in the last few days was the full ride of Asher’s feeding. It made her chuckle to think of the blond wolf passed out from pleasure in the next room. Jason had been a true friend to her these many months and he deserved it.
“You chose well your pomme de sang,” she remarked, thinking of all the wisdom Jason casually dropped on those around him. Looks certainly were deceiving.
“When I did, no one would have said so,” Jean-Claude mused, remembering the misguided advice of other vampires and pack members who decried his choice as “weak.”
“But then, Jean-Claude, you always have had the talent of seeing the potential of a person, not just the physical aspects of what is set before you. It’s one of the things that makes you one of the most powerful vampires I have ever known.”
His laughter filled the room and twirled around her body making her feel all it’s velvety warmth.
“Oh, ma belle etudiant, you flatter me so! But you didn’t stop by to inflate my ego, nor offer a good night kiss, I imagine. So, how may I assist you in these early morning hours?”
She walked in and sat on the plush black carpet at his feet. There were still many old-fashioned customs that to her were simply natural. Sitting at the Master’s feet was one of them.
Jean-Claude looked down and saw her eyes as bright as he remembered and he thought that at this moment she looked almost as innocent as when he first met her. However, innocent she was not, and like everyone else in his life, he waited to find out what she wanted.
“I would like to know your intentions with Castor and Pollux.” She asked quietly.
“I see.” He did not move.
After a moment, “Well, Jean-Claude?”
“Would you believe me, if I said ‘I do not know?’”
Penelope sighed, disappointed that he would play this game with her.
“Ah, I suppose you would not believe me. In that case, I will tell you what you are so keen to know. I plan to keep them here, if they so desire, of course. They have a place in my Kiss and my organization if they wish, although I was planning on leaving the final decision up to Asher. Their hyena nature calls them to him. Their vampire nature calls them to me because the part of them that is vampire desires to be blood-oathed to a powerful master. And their blood and magic, the part of them that is their mother, apparently calls them to you.”
Penelope couldn’t help but smile. “Good.”
“You are very confident that Asher will agree to this.”
“Of course he will!” As she said the words she clasped her hand over her mouth. Jean-Claude let out an enormous bellow.
“Oh ma mei! For one who was cloistered for so many centuries, it certainly did not take you long to remember how to handle a man!” He was entirely amused at her confidence, even though he also knew it was not misplaced. Asher would do anything for her. A fact that both pleased and alarmed him at the same time.
“As I recall, it didn’t take me very long to learn how to handle you.” She parried and looked up into his eyes. Although her intent was to tease, for the briefest moment she allowed herself to get lost there in the midnight.
Jean-Claude broke the reverie before it began. He would be the strong one tonight, and she had others to see before dawn. He rose, taking her hand, and her body, up with him.
He kissed her cheeks, “Asher is waiting for you. And then I believe there is a particularly sulky vampire who would like to see you as well.”
Penelope was suddenly hit with the memory of London’s harsh words. She knew he was completely justified, but it had been their first real quarrel, and she couldn’t let him die for the day without talking about it. There were things between them that must be said.
“Well, good day to you then,” she smiled and turned to go.
Jean-Claude watched her leave him, again.
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Asher was sitting at his writing desk when he felt his servant come in the door. He didn’t turn around, but instead closed his eyes. He had changed into a soft beige cashmere turtlenecked sweater and light brown wool slacks.
Penelope rested her hands on his shoulders and slid them around his chest until her cheek rested against the roughness of his scars. She figured he must have showered because he smelled like fresh linen, but it was when Penelope opened her mind to him that she really drank in his scent. The scent that seemed to be exclusively for her. It was always the decadent combination of chocolate and cinnamon. Warm spices that were at once inviting and delicious. He reached up and laid his hands upon hers.
“Je t'adore,” she whispered, softly.
“I know, bien aimèe.”
He pulled her around until she was sitting in his lap. As much as he wanted to play, he had something rather serious to tell her, and he wasn’t so sure she would be totally agreeable. He planned on relying on her old fashioned sensibilities, and prayed that his servant had not yet succumbed to every aspect of modernity.
“Penelope, I must take care of this Narcissus business tomorrow evening. There was no time to go to her tonight, but I have called and made it clear that we will be having a formal meeting and that this behavior will end.”
Asher had no idea how he was going to accomplish that at the moment, but at least when he called, Narcissus was playing the good Oba. She agreed that they needed to speak face to face, and had admitted her part in the publicity meltdown. She also vehemently denied wanting to cause any physical harm to Penelope, or Asher. An admission that she believed would save her from severe punishment or excommunication from Jean-Claude’s powerful city machine. Asher had remained calm and cool on the phone, but he made no promise and no acknowledgement of her halfhearted apology. All he said was that everything would be resolved, one way or another, before the sun rose on Monday morning.
“What time should I be ready to go?” Penelope assumed that Asher would be going in with a full entourage, including his servant.
“You are not going,” he said with a finality she was unused to hearing from him.
Penelope was startled. “My place is with my master when he deals with his Oba.”
“Not this time. I forbid you to leave the circus until this matter is settled. Period.” Asher hoped she would not ask for more, but of course, he knew her too well. There were things he had no wish to tell her. At least not tonight. Not ever, if he truly had his way.
“Then tell me why.”
Penelope knew she surprised him with her apparent complicity, but she was not about to argue. She was a modern woman in many ways, but as a human servant she was still steeped in thousands of years of tradition. When her old master gave a command it was obeyed. Although she debated and fought with Asher on many other issues, this was a direct order given not only with his voice, but with his entire essence and with the power that he held over her. She could feel through his words that this was non-negotiable. Also, Penelope was nothing if she was not practical. To waste the waning hours of the night in a potentially violent argument with her master would neither change his mind nor give her desired results. But she felt she deserved the truth about Narcissus. That, also, was non-negotiable.
Their promise to be open with each other was taken lightly by neither of them, so Asher told her the truth. Mostly.
“Narcissus thinks she’s in love with me, and she is insulted that she was not involved with choosing my human servant. She is almost certainly put out that you are female.” And not a dominatrix, he added to himself.
“But she’s not your Animal to Call.”
“She thinks she will be.”
Penelope didn’t pretend to understand, especially since she had very little experience with weres, and those she had met were pleasant and friendly to her. Narcissus sounded neither pleasant nor friendly.
“She and I have an arrangement,” Asher continued with a deep sigh, “and I don’t know how to explain it to you. I know we promised to be open to one another, but I really don’t want to share any of those memories with you.” It was very hard for him to say it, but it had to be said.
“Why not?” came her disappointed reply.
Penelope knew about Asher’s involvement with BDSM. He had not indulged his desires in that way since they had been together, but he had begun to explain it to her, and of course she knew from Requiem about Asher’s performances at court. She had also seen countless memories of what he was made to do and what he willingly did at the behest of Belle Morte. It was a part of him that she totally accepted although it was not something she was necessarily interested in to participate. Nevertheless, she had told Asher that she would be willing to try. In any case, whatever he needed to be happy was fine with her, and he knew that.
“Penny,” he kissed her lovingly on the forehead, cheeks and lips, “You are very sweet to want to experiment with my ‘other interests,’ and in time, maybe we will. But you also know that there are certain aspects of my sexuality that I do not want to share with you. That I cannot share with you.”
Penelope nodded. There was a dark place in Asher’s mind that he prevented her from penetrating, and she would never try against his wishes. The bond between master and servant was strong and open, but each individual was expected to keep certain things to themselves. Some things were just that sacred, that personal. If he invited her in, that was one thing. Of course, she had dark places too. Dark places where it was not Asher’s destiny to go.
“I understand.” She truly did understand, so when she said it, it was not just lip service, or a woman trying to reassure a man she loved. She meant it.
“I don’t believe that Narcissus would physically harm you because she knows I would kill her. But until I get things sorted out I want you to stay with London.”
“I will, I promise.” She went in to kiss him, but he turned from her.
“Tonight. He is waiting in your suite. I need to speak with Jean-Claude before I die for the day, and so I will most likely stay with him tonight.”
Asher had spoken to London, and knew about their argument. The Knight had all but poured his heart out, and Asher had to remind him that his words were being wasted on the wrong person. London needed to speak with Penelope, and so it would work out perfectly, because tonight Asher needed to be with Jean-Claude.
Penelope was slightly hurt, but never begrudged him time with Jean.
“Will I see you before you leave?”
“I will say goodbye, but in all honesty I hope that you will be sleeping. You have not rested properly since your...incident. I want you to give me your word you will rest.” He kissed her then, passionately, stroking her silky hair which she had hastily thrown up in a ponytail.
“Now, go!” He smiled, “And don’t let our knight wear you out! He promised to help you...relax.”
She laughed and, looking back at him one last time, left him there alone.
Asher sat back in the chair. He needed to go and talk with Jean-Claude, but that meant he would have to tell him everything. He now, too late, realized what a mistake it was to exclude the Oba from the servant ceremony and the preparations for the opening of Veritas. He knew that Penelope loved him, but he was still unsure how she would react to what he did when he visited Narcissus’ club. It was a part of his life that he needed. It was a release for him that he could not find elsewhere, not even in Jean-Claude’s arms, and one that he so desperately thought he could do without. But even if he could not leave it behind, Penelope was not meant to be featured in that particular snapshot of his life. He shuddered imagining about what she might think if she walked in on a scene he was playing with Narcissus. Nathaniel, she might understand. Their scenes never quite reached the same levels as with the Oba. That one was an entirely different animal.
“Damn!” he said out loud.
Narcissus was a problem. She was obviously insanely jealous and enraged over Asher pledging himself to another. She was living in a delusion that she would be the main ‘woman’ in Asher’s life. She must also be terrified of Castor and Pollux, especially if she couldn’t recognize them for what they were. If she was not so afraid of them she would never have let them go to the circus full time. They were both too beautiful to let go, and if Narcissus was anything she was a connoisseur of beautiful men.
“I must find out what she is capable of doing.” He muttered to himself. Jean-Claude would have the advice he needed, and maybe something more of what he wanted tonight.
Keeping Penelope safe from the Oba and also keeping his hyenas in check might be the most difficult task Asher was going to have. In the times to come he knew that Jean-Claude was going to need as much power as those around him could offer. Heaven forbid if the Council visited St. Louis and reported back that Asher had failed to empower Jean-Claude, even with an animal to call and a powerful human servant at his back. He had to regain and retain control of the situation.
He got undressed and put on Jean-Claude’s favorite robe.
"I can't feel them, Jean-Claude. Why can't I feel their magic?" Anita was next to him the instant he let her in on the secret.
"I do not know, ma petite. Why could I not feel them? Why could Asher not feel them?" He was perplexed beyond measure. And irritated. And perhaps, deep down where he could hide it, a little bit frightened.
Castor looked like himself again, except for the silver chains that bound him. Jean-Claude had called all of his master vampires, as well as every alpha were that was present at The Circus. If the brothers were as powerful as he thought they might be, it probably wouldn't be enough. But that was the most irritating part of all. He could not tell how powerful they were. Jean-Claude had himself become a master of hiding his true power, but he had never met another being who could do it as well as he. Until now.
Pollux suggested that Jean-Claude have them bound in silver, a prospect that Castor protested with vigor. But the silent conversation that always connected the brothers changed his mind. And shut his mouth.
They now sat side by side, chained and in the cross-hairs of about ten different kinds of automatic weapons and sharpened fangs. However, since at least one of the brothers seemed to be reasonable, Jean-Claude was more than willing to hear what they had to say.
"You cannot feel us, Anita, because we are not quite as old and powerful as you might think." Pollux's words were strained by the obvious pain he was experiencing. The silver was settling into their tanned skin, burning them with every move, every struggle against the pain.
"Well, how the hell old are you?" Anita was losing patience and in no mood for the games the old ones seemed to like to play.
"Do not tell them anything, brother!" Castor struggled against the chains, his skin ready to break open under the stress and effects of the silver.
Pollux silenced him again with a look, then turned to Penelope.
"Could you not feel us, madam? Of all of them, I thought for certain you would feel us."
Penelope had been watching the scene unfold from a distance. She stood beside London, while Asher functioned as Jean-Claude's second. Her mind was open to him though, and she could hear him questioning his bonds with the Hyenas.
I should have felt them. But I feel nothing more than I do from Narcissus. Their power seems to fluctuate a bit, but really, nothing more.
Asher, it's not your fault. But there is something...
Penelope moved forward past Anita and Jean-Claude until she stood in front of Castor, who looked away.
"Why do you look away?" she questioned, then turned to Pollux. "What have I done to him?"
She didn't wait for an answer, but instead reached out to stroke Pollux's cheek, in an attempt to relieve some of his pain. She admitted to herself that she did not like to see them so tortured. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly certain that they were two of the good guys.
As her hand gently slid down the side of his face, Pollux's eyes shut and his head fell back. When he opened them again, the same hazel eyes that had looked on her with kindness in the past were there. No tears, simply the same man she had grown to trust through countless conversations.
"You remind him of our mother."
It was a short, but powerful statement. One that touched her, for she had very few memories of her own mother.
"Your mother?"
Jean-Claude was suddenly reminded of an old story he had once heard at court.
"You cannot be the children of that old fairy-tale," he said with interest. The Master of the City was standing with his arms folded trying his best to disbelieve.
"What story?" Anita was definitely at the end of her patience. Her tone demanded answers, and she was about to get more than she wanted.
Castor still refused to speak, so Pollux raised his head and spoke to them, although his eyes never left Penelope.
"I think that you are all acquainted with the Mother of all Darkness and her special guards. We are the offspring of one of their kind, and one of yours, Penelope."
"More." Jean-Claude's directive was unneeded though, for Pollux had waited a long time to tell his story.
"I do not know all of the details, only what our mother told us before she died."
"Before she was murdered, brother." Castor broke his silence and a hot wave of power swept through the room, causing rifles to click into place and Penelope to wince in pain as she finally felt some of Castor's true power pierce through her.
"Hyena, vampire or whatever you are, restrain yourself or you'll be eating silver the next time you decide to lose control." Anita repositioned her gun at Castor's cheek as he snarled and once again bared his vampire fangs.
"Brother, let me speak." Pollux's words and silent soothing brought the power level down, and calmed Castor. He then turned back to Penelope and continued his story.
"We had what we thought was a very normal childhood, traveling the world with our mother, who for all we knew was a respected archaeologist. We grew up believing that our father had abandoned us and was killed during the war."
"What war?" Asher was surprisingly calm, and interested in where the story was going. He knew the same "fairy-tale" Jean-Claude spoke of, and was curious as to the brother's part in it.
"World War I."
A small gasp was heard although no one would own up to it.
"Continue." Things were becoming much clearer to Jean-Claude, and he could not help the small curves of a smile that were beginning to form. They ARE the children of that tale!
Pollux continued, "Our mother raised us all over the world, and despite a few incidents that we only remember as fevers or other illnesses, we had a life of love and learning and travel. She taught us herself, but when it came time for us to go to university she sat us down for a very overdue conversation. You see, there were gaps in our memories that needed to be filled."
Pollux explained that their mother, Athena, told them that they were very special, and that she had protected them their entire lives but that the time of her protection was nearing an end.
"When she told us about her magic we did not believe her. We thought perhaps she had spent too much time in the sun digging or had inhaled too much ancient dust in the tombs she explored. But she proved it to us in a most spectacular fashion."
Athena restored every memory she had hidden from them, and like a modern movie they suddenly saw everything. Blood, claws, and death.
They saw their father, a member of Marmee Noir's elite guard. Older than time, vicious and untamed.
"Our mother thought she could control him. He was one of the last of Marmee's guard to fall into the great sleep. Mother saw him and lured him away from his fellows. He was the youngest of their kind, one of the lastMarmee made, and for all his power, one of the weakest. It was folly on Athena's part. She felt if she could gain control of him, then she might be able to harvest Marmee's power while she slept. Our mother was ambitious and power hungry, and despite my brother's misguided ideas about her death, she cheated her ultimate and deserved fate on more than one occasion."
"But, Pollux, how old must she have been?" Penelope was astounded. She had heard the story as well, but dismissed it as pure fiction. A rogue sorceress from the same world as her Grandmother had abducted and enslaved one of the most powerful crossbreeds of the preternatural world? She could not possibly have achieved this, let alone survived.
"She was very old, milady. Very old."
Castor and Pollux's mother had used her considerable magic and beauty to capture their father. She held him in a cave for several centuries, trying to absorb his magic and power. With the rest of his brothers and Marmeeasleep he had been left very vulnerable. However, when her tactics failed time and time again, she figured there was only one way left for her to get what she wanted.
"We are all men at our core, after all. Our father was no different. Her beauty enthralled him, and she used it to seduce him."
"What happened to him?" Jean-Claude knew the story of the missing guard. In vampire circles it was thought that Marmee herself had killed him, or that the other guards had because of his weakness. In their world there was no room for the weak and there was seldom a body left for evidence.
"Mother killed him."
Castor reared back his head in anger, "to protect us, Brother, to keep him or Marmee from killing us."
Pollux shook his head. "Whatever her reasons, she killed him after she got pregnant, and we were her prize."
Athena used her magic to erase all memories of their true nature from the brothers. Their cravings for blood, their incredible strength, and their superior magical abilities.
"Suddenly we could hear each other without speaking. Our strength grew tenfold, as did our desires. It was a very difficult transition period."
Both brothers' faces showed deep regret upon mentioning this "transition" period. Penelope restrained her base desire to take them in her arms and comfort them. But that was not all she was restraining. The temptation to reach into Castor's mind was unreal. He was so angry and so vulnerable at the moment. She knew she could have him and all of his memories in an instant. But that was rape. And she had been there before.
Pollux went on to explain that because they were the offspring of a hybrid and a human, albeit a magical being, they learned through discipline to control their desires.
"We walk in the sunlight but must ingest fresh blood from the vein once a month, just before the full moon. Our hyena selves are not like others. We are very...different. If you paid attention, the last full moon we did not spend with the pack, but rather on our own." He looked to Asher, "you thought it was because Narcissus despised us, and partly that is true. She knows, without knowing, that we are not like her. We do not belong to her pack, and never will."
Asher stared at him, "but you come when I call."
"We are attracted to you in the same way Richard is attracted to Jean-Claude. It may be because of the added power you received from Penelope. She is like our mother. It attracts us. We are as much hers as we are yours. It is because of her that we are here. We have been tracking her for almost eighty years."
"Eighty years?" Penelope was shocked, "but I have only been out in society for the last several months."
"We have known of you for a very long time."
"From your mother?" How could she have known me?
"Your grandmother, her name was Helene."
"Yes."
"Then you must have been a child when Athena came to her."
Penelope reached back into her own childhood memories. Ones that she tried so long to block out, simply to save herself the intense feelings of regret. But now she let herself fall into a trance and delved deeply into her own past.
A woman with long dark brown hair and a deep red gown was sitting at the wooden table in the kitchen with Helene who was a contrast in every way to her guest with her flaxen hair and dark green homespun dress. They were arguing. Helene was refusing to help her. Told her she was mad and that they should all be thankful that Marmee was asleep. That they should not tempt fate, and instead be happy with what they had.
The argument escalated until the two women seemed to come to blows without touching each other. Penelope and Julianna were hidden behind the door, peeking through the cracks. Whatever battle took place, their grandmother had won. The pretty woman with the flowing hair sat slumped in a chair, breathing heavily. Helene brought her a mug of wine.
"Sister, you cannot manage this type of magic."
"Helene, you never did have any respect for me or my abilities. I'm just as powerful as you. Just as powerful as our mother was," she heaved, "just as powerful."
"Athena, let me kill him now, before it is too late."
"No! You will not touch him. If you will not help me, then this is the last you will ever see of me."
Helene sighed heavily, "yes, sister, of all the things you have ever said to me that is the one thing I am certain is true."
The memory ended and Penelope swooned. London caught her in his arms. She was extremely cold.
"Your mother, and my grandmother were sisters," she said weakly.
"Yes." Pollux looked at Castor, and back at Penelope.
It was suddenly very clear to her why Castor was so uncomfortable around her. In essence they were cousins and the intimate moment they had shared had clearly shaken him. She could not understand why he was so prudish at the time, but now she looked on him with tender affection and with her eyes tried to tell him that no harm was done.
Penelope looked across the room at Asher and smiled. "It appears, my love, that you have in-laws." And with that, she passed out.
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Chapter 26- Family Ties by nicola71
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After a ridiculously long hiatus, I have once again found my muse! Many, many, many thanks go to Rekastormborn, and all of the people who have recently discovered my stories. (As well as some of you from the past who have encouraged me to continue!) Reka...thanks for the Beta duties!
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Penelope came to in Asher's arms. Touching him always helped to speed her recovery from a spell. His ice blue eyes were the first thing she saw as she awoke, and they always made her feel safe and secure.
"Penelope?" Asher said her name gravely, rather than using an endearment, which indicated his worry.
Penelope could feel both his and London's concern for her, but strangely enough she felt quite well.
"Where are Castor and Pollux?" she asked as she sat up and scanned the room.
"They have been taken to their quarters, under guard, but without the restraints," London said. He sensed her desire to know they were alright, and wanted to reassure her. "Jean-Claude feels the guard still in order, but silver chains no longer necessary. Now drink this." He gently stroked her hair and brought a cup of mint tea to her lips.
"Thank you, really, but I must speak to them now." She broke away from their hold with more strength than they expected and was out the door before anyone could grab her.
Something was different. Different and good. Penelope felt fantastic. Energized and invigorated, confident and full of magic and energy. That power preceded her through the halls of the Circus until she came to a door heavily guarded by rats.
"Claudia, move aside," she commanded.
Claudia was not used to being spoken to in that fashion, especially by Penelope who barely had two words for her up to this moment. The surprise was all over her face, and the other guards watched as she seemed to suppress the desire to smack the little girl, who stood before her, across the face.
"You do not give orders here."
All six feet of solid woman was behind the words, but that didn't deter Penelope. She was hopped up on power and nothing was going to stand between her and the men who waited on the other side of the door. However, years of playing politic had taught her a few things about tact. And so she changed hers.
She let just enough of her power ease out so that those around her could tell that there was more to her than what appeared, but she made it obvious that she had no intention of using that power to force her way through the door. It was dominance, not fear, that she was trying to display. There was a time in her life when she wouldn't have given such a courtesy, and not have thought twice about mind raping her way into that room. Penelope was determined to not go down that road again.
She concentrated on Claudia, though, and spoke to her with authority.
"Please let me in that room, Claudia. They are of my blood and I know you understand that kind of connection. Look at your brothers here. You would do the same." Penelope spoke her words clearly and directly. Something the powerful wererat in front of her understood and appreciated.
Claudia could not argue Penelope's logic. She also felt the depth of Penelope's magic and what she could do with it. After all the time she'd spent among the powerful at the Circus, Claudia had come to respect those who had power and didn't use it. She also liked Penelope. Sort of. Asher certainly had been less of a pain in the ass since Penelope's arrival and she was thankful for that. The broody vampire tended to create quite a mess, from time to time.
Wordlessly, Claudia, who was in charge, moved to the side and let Penelope go through the door.
Inside the two brothers seemed casual, at first glance. Castor stretched out on one of the beds, Pollux sitting at the desk, pen in hand, as if about to write.
He put the pen down and both brothers slowly stood up.
"Hello, milady. I am relieved to see you well." Pollux made a courteous bow of his head.
"I am better than well. I feel wonderful. Is that because of you?"
Pollux stayed very still, "Perhaps. On the contrary, I, we, feel very drained, and weak." The silver damage was healing at a tremendous rate of speed, but they seemed far worse for the wear.
Penelope wondered if maybe she had drawn from them on her trip down memory lane.
"May I touch you?" she asked cautiously, making sure that her voice was steady and nonthreatening. Touch was so important in the vampire and were world, she figured that it might help.
Pollux instantly reached out his hand to her, and when she grasped it something surged between them. He smiled.
"Thank you, yes, that is much better. Brother..."
Castor was reluctant, but something in his brother's voice, or perhaps their unheard conversation, drew him over to them. He took his brother's hand at first, while keeping his distance from Penelope. It was good but not enough. With a reassuring look from Pollux, she reached out and gently took Castor's hand in hers, completing the circuit.
It was an easy power that flowed through them. Gentle, and cool, and invigorating. She shared back some of what she had borrowed from them.
"Well," she said as she broke away and took the seat at the desk, "that seems right, now doesn't it?"
There was a small silence as the brothers sat down on the bed, facing her.
"Your mother," Penelope didn't know where to begin, "she was very beautiful as I recall."
Pollux spoke, "Beautiful, yes, and also very foolish."
Castor did not say anything, but shifted his body. Obviously the brothers had very differing opinions upon their mother and her motives.
"But she loved you?"
Pollux pondered for a moment, "Loved us? " he looked over at Castor, "She loved us, yes. In her way, I suppose. I think that you have already guessed that there was some enmity between us."
"I surmised as much." Penelope spoke to Castor, next. She wanted to address the awkwardness between them, and decided that the direct route was most likely the best.
"There is no need to be upset or humilated about what happened in the bed. You saved my life most likely." She looked kindly at him, knowing that what she said was the truth. Their warmth had made it possible for her physical body to survive.
Castor finally looked up, "I may seem a monster, but I am still a gentleman. And to be aroused in that way, with you, was wrong," he looked hard at Pollux, "no matter the amount of power that flows through us."
Penelope understood what he was saying, and knew that to make things right between them would take some time.
"Listen, this place is full of vampires from Belle's line. And Jean-Claude's power lies with the ardeur, I know you are familiar with it. Maybe you know more than you're telling me. I have seen the damage it can do, but I have also seen the good side of it as well. I can promise you both that Jean-Claude and his servant in no way wield that power to cause pain. This is not Belle's court. But by your reaction, I think you know something of that."
"We found ourselves there for a short time." Pollux took his brother's hand, lovingly. "He does not speak of his experiences, and I do not press him. I ask you to do the same."
"Very well. There are those here who share your experiences though. And it might not be a bad idea to speak to them, when you are ready. Belle's dainty fingers have tightened around the throats of many, and many have found that here with Jean-Claude are the means to break free of not only her grip, but the memories of her love, as she pretends it to be."
Penelope suddenly saw, in Castor's eyes, the very same look she had seen in London's when he spoke to her of his time in Belle's golden prison. She knew that Castor had been tortured with the ardeur. No wonder he lost it a little when Jean-Claude flexed his power.
Surprisingly, Castor spoke up.
"He feels very different from her, this Master of the City." He looked at Penelope squarely for the first time. "I am not afraid of him, as I was of Belle Morte. It's just hard, sometimes, to differentiate. I need to remind myself of where I am."
"When you are ready to talk about it, if ever, there will be someone to listen." Penelope instantly thought of London, or even Asher. But Castor's behavior was that of a former addict. Something her dear London knew something about.
"When will Jean-Claude clear us?" Pollux asked.
"I don't know." Penelope thought for a moment. "I think he knows you are not a threat."
"We must protect you, you know. You are the reason we are here. You're the only family we have."
"It's been so long since I had any family that I'm not sure what to do. But, we'll figure it out."
Penelope smiled as she rose and walked toward the door. She wanted to embrace them but felt that maybe it was not the right time. Enough had been said for one evening.
"I'll speak to Jean-Claude and see you in the morning?"
"We'll be here. Especially with that She-Rat they have on our door. I don't plan to cross that one." Pollux smiled, and Penny thought to herself that if the brothers really wanted to escape, they could. But as she smiled and left she knew for certain that leaving was the last thing they wanted. They were home.
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Chapter 27- Late Night Requests by nicola71
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Thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story! Your support means a lot to me! Thank you to Reka as well for being a wonderful beta!
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The exhaustion from the evening’s activities finally caught up with Penelope, and all she really wanted was some sleep. But there were still a few more things to do before dawn stole away the people she needed to talk to the most, so she grabbed a protein bar from the kitchen and started her rounds. First up, Jean-Claude.
She found him, curiously alone, in his living room.
“Where is everyone?” Penelope asked, leaning against the door jamb. Jean-Claude looked up from his papers and smiled. It made her feel warm to see that smile for her especially after all the excitement. It was genuine and open, and familiar.
“Even the Master of the City can enjoy a rare moment of solitude, non?” He teased, but offered up the truth, “Anita has been called away on some police matter, and Jason is asleep in my bedroom.”
He allowed a large grin and told Penelope that Jason’s reward for being the ‘Go To’ guy in the last few days was the full ride of Asher’s feeding. It made her chuckle to think of the blond wolf passed out from pleasure in the next room. Jason had been a true friend to her these many months and he deserved it.
“You chose well your pomme de sang,” she remarked, thinking of all the wisdom Jason casually dropped on those around him. Looks certainly were deceiving.
“When I did, no one would have said so,” Jean-Claude mused, remembering the misguided advice of other vampires and pack members who decried his choice as “weak.”
“But then, Jean-Claude, you always have had the talent of seeing the potential of a person, not just the physical aspects of what is set before you. It’s one of the things that makes you one of the most powerful vampires I have ever known.”
His laughter filled the room and twirled around her body making her feel all it’s velvety warmth.
“Oh, ma belle etudiant, you flatter me so! But you didn’t stop by to inflate my ego, nor offer a good night kiss, I imagine. So, how may I assist you in these early morning hours?”
She walked in and sat on the plush black carpet at his feet. There were still many old-fashioned customs that to her were simply natural. Sitting at the Master’s feet was one of them.
Jean-Claude looked down and saw her eyes as bright as he remembered and he thought that at this moment she looked almost as innocent as when he first met her. However, innocent she was not, and like everyone else in his life, he waited to find out what she wanted.
“I would like to know your intentions with Castor and Pollux.” She asked quietly.
“I see.” He did not move.
After a moment, “Well, Jean-Claude?”
“Would you believe me, if I said ‘I do not know?’”
Penelope sighed, disappointed that he would play this game with her.
“Ah, I suppose you would not believe me. In that case, I will tell you what you are so keen to know. I plan to keep them here, if they so desire, of course. They have a place in my Kiss and my organization if they wish, although I was planning on leaving the final decision up to Asher. Their hyena nature calls them to him. Their vampire nature calls them to me because the part of them that is vampire desires to be blood-oathed to a powerful master. And their blood and magic, the part of them that is their mother, apparently calls them to you.”
Penelope couldn’t help but smile. “Good.”
“You are very confident that Asher will agree to this.”
“Of course he will!” As she said the words she clasped her hand over her mouth. Jean-Claude let out an enormous bellow.
“Oh ma mei! For one who was cloistered for so many centuries, it certainly did not take you long to remember how to handle a man!” He was entirely amused at her confidence, even though he also knew it was not misplaced. Asher would do anything for her. A fact that both pleased and alarmed him at the same time.
“As I recall, it didn’t take me very long to learn how to handle you.” She parried and looked up into his eyes. Although her intent was to tease, for the briefest moment she allowed herself to get lost there in the midnight.
Jean-Claude broke the reverie before it began. He would be the strong one tonight, and she had others to see before dawn. He rose, taking her hand, and her body, up with him.
He kissed her cheeks, “Asher is waiting for you. And then I believe there is a particularly sulky vampire who would like to see you as well.”
Penelope was suddenly hit with the memory of London’s harsh words. She knew he was completely justified, but it had been their first real quarrel, and she couldn’t let him die for the day without talking about it. There were things between them that must be said.
“Well, good day to you then,” she smiled and turned to go.
Jean-Claude watched her leave him, again.
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Asher was sitting at his writing desk when he felt his servant come in the door. He didn’t turn around, but instead closed his eyes. He had changed into a soft beige cashmere turtlenecked sweater and light brown wool slacks.
Penelope rested her hands on his shoulders and slid them around his chest until her cheek rested against the roughness of his scars. She figured he must have showered because he smelled like fresh linen, but it was when Penelope opened her mind to him that she really drank in his scent. The scent that seemed to be exclusively for her. It was always the decadent combination of chocolate and cinnamon. Warm spices that were at once inviting and delicious. He reached up and laid his hands upon hers.
“Je t'adore,” she whispered, softly.
“I know, bien aimèe.”
He pulled her around until she was sitting in his lap. As much as he wanted to play, he had something rather serious to tell her, and he wasn’t so sure she would be totally agreeable. He planned on relying on her old fashioned sensibilities, and prayed that his servant had not yet succumbed to every aspect of modernity.
“Penelope, I must take care of this Narcissus business tomorrow evening. There was no time to go to her tonight, but I have called and made it clear that we will be having a formal meeting and that this behavior will end.”
Asher had no idea how he was going to accomplish that at the moment, but at least when he called, Narcissus was playing the good Oba. She agreed that they needed to speak face to face, and had admitted her part in the publicity meltdown. She also vehemently denied wanting to cause any physical harm to Penelope, or Asher. An admission that she believed would save her from severe punishment or excommunication from Jean-Claude’s powerful city machine. Asher had remained calm and cool on the phone, but he made no promise and no acknowledgement of her halfhearted apology. All he said was that everything would be resolved, one way or another, before the sun rose on Monday morning.
“What time should I be ready to go?” Penelope assumed that Asher would be going in with a full entourage, including his servant.
“You are not going,” he said with a finality she was unused to hearing from him.
Penelope was startled. “My place is with my master when he deals with his Oba.”
“Not this time. I forbid you to leave the circus until this matter is settled. Period.” Asher hoped she would not ask for more, but of course, he knew her too well. There were things he had no wish to tell her. At least not tonight. Not ever, if he truly had his way.
“Then tell me why.”
Penelope knew she surprised him with her apparent complicity, but she was not about to argue. She was a modern woman in many ways, but as a human servant she was still steeped in thousands of years of tradition. When her old master gave a command it was obeyed. Although she debated and fought with Asher on many other issues, this was a direct order given not only with his voice, but with his entire essence and with the power that he held over her. She could feel through his words that this was non-negotiable. Also, Penelope was nothing if she was not practical. To waste the waning hours of the night in a potentially violent argument with her master would neither change his mind nor give her desired results. But she felt she deserved the truth about Narcissus. That, also, was non-negotiable.
Their promise to be open with each other was taken lightly by neither of them, so Asher told her the truth. Mostly.
“Narcissus thinks she’s in love with me, and she is insulted that she was not involved with choosing my human servant. She is almost certainly put out that you are female.” And not a dominatrix, he added to himself.
“But she’s not your Animal to Call.”
“She thinks she will be.”
Penelope didn’t pretend to understand, especially since she had very little experience with weres, and those she had met were pleasant and friendly to her. Narcissus sounded neither pleasant nor friendly.
“She and I have an arrangement,” Asher continued with a deep sigh, “and I don’t know how to explain it to you. I know we promised to be open to one another, but I really don’t want to share any of those memories with you.” It was very hard for him to say it, but it had to be said.
“Why not?” came her disappointed reply.
Penelope knew about Asher’s involvement with BDSM. He had not indulged his desires in that way since they had been together, but he had begun to explain it to her, and of course she knew from Requiem about Asher’s performances at court. She had also seen countless memories of what he was made to do and what he willingly did at the behest of Belle Morte. It was a part of him that she totally accepted although it was not something she was necessarily interested in to participate. Nevertheless, she had told Asher that she would be willing to try. In any case, whatever he needed to be happy was fine with her, and he knew that.
“Penny,” he kissed her lovingly on the forehead, cheeks and lips, “You are very sweet to want to experiment with my ‘other interests,’ and in time, maybe we will. But you also know that there are certain aspects of my sexuality that I do not want to share with you. That I cannot share with you.”
Penelope nodded. There was a dark place in Asher’s mind that he prevented her from penetrating, and she would never try against his wishes. The bond between master and servant was strong and open, but each individual was expected to keep certain things to themselves. Some things were just that sacred, that personal. If he invited her in, that was one thing. Of course, she had dark places too. Dark places where it was not Asher’s destiny to go.
“I understand.” She truly did understand, so when she said it, it was not just lip service, or a woman trying to reassure a man she loved. She meant it.
“I don’t believe that Narcissus would physically harm you because she knows I would kill her. But until I get things sorted out I want you to stay with London.”
“I will, I promise.” She went in to kiss him, but he turned from her.
“Tonight. He is waiting in your suite. I need to speak with Jean-Claude before I die for the day, and so I will most likely stay with him tonight.”
Asher had spoken to London, and knew about their argument. The Knight had all but poured his heart out, and Asher had to remind him that his words were being wasted on the wrong person. London needed to speak with Penelope, and so it would work out perfectly, because tonight Asher needed to be with Jean-Claude.
Penelope was slightly hurt, but never begrudged him time with Jean.
“Will I see you before you leave?”
“I will say goodbye, but in all honesty I hope that you will be sleeping. You have not rested properly since your...incident. I want you to give me your word you will rest.” He kissed her then, passionately, stroking her silky hair which she had hastily thrown up in a ponytail.
“Now, go!” He smiled, “And don’t let our knight wear you out! He promised to help you...relax.”
She laughed and, looking back at him one last time, left him there alone.
Asher sat back in the chair. He needed to go and talk with Jean-Claude, but that meant he would have to tell him everything. He now, too late, realized what a mistake it was to exclude the Oba from the servant ceremony and the preparations for the opening of Veritas. He knew that Penelope loved him, but he was still unsure how she would react to what he did when he visited Narcissus’ club. It was a part of his life that he needed. It was a release for him that he could not find elsewhere, not even in Jean-Claude’s arms, and one that he so desperately thought he could do without. But even if he could not leave it behind, Penelope was not meant to be featured in that particular snapshot of his life. He shuddered imagining about what she might think if she walked in on a scene he was playing with Narcissus. Nathaniel, she might understand. Their scenes never quite reached the same levels as with the Oba. That one was an entirely different animal.
“Damn!” he said out loud.
Narcissus was a problem. She was obviously insanely jealous and enraged over Asher pledging himself to another. She was living in a delusion that she would be the main ‘woman’ in Asher’s life. She must also be terrified of Castor and Pollux, especially if she couldn’t recognize them for what they were. If she was not so afraid of them she would never have let them go to the circus full time. They were both too beautiful to let go, and if Narcissus was anything she was a connoisseur of beautiful men.
“I must find out what she is capable of doing.” He muttered to himself. Jean-Claude would have the advice he needed, and maybe something more of what he wanted tonight.
Keeping Penelope safe from the Oba and also keeping his hyenas in check might be the most difficult task Asher was going to have. In the times to come he knew that Jean-Claude was going to need as much power as those around him could offer. Heaven forbid if the Council visited St. Louis and reported back that Asher had failed to empower Jean-Claude, even with an animal to call and a powerful human servant at his back. He had to regain and retain control of the situation.
He got undressed and put on Jean-Claude’s favorite robe.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 22- Return by nicola71
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Sorry for the long wait between chapters. RL continues to chew on me. Special thanks to Submissively Asher's for all of her wisdom, editing skills, and ready ear. She has truly been a good friend which is, above all else, the best trait of a great beta! *hugs*
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It must be necessary. It IS necessary. It's necessary. Anita kept repeating this mantra to herself silently. At least she thought it was silently.
"Of course it must be necessary, Anita. Jean-Claude's power comes from sex after all, duh." Jason spoke softly and slowly to Anita but couldn't take his eyes off what was happening on the bed a few feet from him.
Jean-Claude had Penelope's naked body in his arms, his lips gently, but passionately kissing her while he ran his long fingers through the brown waves of her hair. Pollux was pressed to her back with his hands caressing her flesh, kissing her shoulders. Since he was still naked, his arousal was plain for everyone in the room to see. He growled softly and gently grazed the creamy skin of her neck with bared teeth that for a split second seemed more like the fangs of a vampire than the teeth of a hyena.
Castor, however, was suddenly at the opposite end of the bed, cowering as if his greatest fear had manifested before him. The terror on his face was real, as were the tears that glistened in his hazel eyes. Jason and Anita had not even seen him move.
Penelope's eyes opened with a start, and she pushed herself away from Jean-Claude with a small gasp. Pollux's arms caught her, but as the moment passed over them he looked down at her, and then across to his brother with a puzzled expression. When he realized his hands were touching her bare skin, and that his erection was pressed into her back, he quickly reached for the sheet and covered her. He then quietly extracted himself from the bed, and began to gather his clothes, careful to shield his groin from everyone. Try as he might to appear nonchalant, he stumbled. Jason was there to catch him.
"Hey, buddy, it's okay. First time feeling the ardeur?"
"The what?" Pollux's face was contorted in confusion, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
"The ardeur, brother." Castor materialized to steady his sibling and whispered, "you are well aware of that power. It has been a long time, though." He cast a warning glance at Jason.
"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine with me. Just get him something to eat, okay."
"I know how to take care of him, wolf."
Jason backed off, surprised by the the condescending tone. Castor had never exhibited anything but a jovial, if somewhat serious, nature. Jason filed this information away for future investigation and cast a curious glance at Anita.
Castor ignored him and instead looked back at Jean-Claude, "May we be excused?"
"Oui, of course. You served us well today. I will be sure to inform your master of your unwavering devotion." There was something else in Jean-Claude's tone, but for the moment he was letting it go.
"Thank you," Castor led his brother to the door, even though he was only half dressed.
Jason watched them carefully and looked back at Anita. Both of them silently agreed to do some investigating on the hyena brothers as soon as things calmed down. Which with their crew, might be never.
Penelope sat up, suddenly very alert.
"Castor! Pollux!"
The brothers stopped and Castor held on to Pollux tightly as he strained to go to her.
"Thank you, thank you very much." She reached out to them, wanting to embrace them but knowing they would come no closer at the moment. There was an odd feeling in the room, masked only because of the magical residue that remained. But Penelope felt something strange from the brothers. Something she felt she should have recognized, but for the moment she was too tired to care.
"Your welcome, my lady." Pollux managed a half bow, Castor nodded curtly and turned him towards the door quickly.
When they were gone, Penelope reached for Jean-Claude's hand.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I did no more than what you allowed me to do." Careful now that the power receded, Jean-Claude simply kissed her hand.
Penelope had a dim memory of a conversation with Jean-Claude on the other side, but could not remember the details. There was something about it she felt she should have been able to recollect. Something important about Asher, and London, and her. But for now it was lost.
She gazed into Jean-Claude's eyes and saw something there she had not seen in many centuries, but as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone.
"So, you guys want to tell us what the hell happened?"
Anita sat on the bed and took Jean-Claude's other hand. She was feeling a bit territorial, and although she was truly happy to have Penny back, there was no need to loan her boyfriend for longer than necessary. Anita had worked very hard to conceal the jealousy that burned through her as she watched Jean-Claude kiss his former lover. She let herself wonder for a moment if he had ever kissed her so tenderly. As soon as she thought it, she was ashamed. Of course he had, even if she had been too hard-hearted to notice. One thing she knew for certain now though, was that his connection to Penelope was more than she had led herself to believe. She filed this feeling away with the rest of the truths she was reluctant to acknowledge.
Penelope's face darkened, "I took a foolish chance, Anita. A chance that yielded less than I'd hoped."
"Not quite, ma cheriè." Jean-Claude smiled, "you have bought us some time. That is something we can always use."
Penelope looked around, "Speaking of that, what time is it? Where is Asher?" She knew she would have felt him if he was awake.
"Asher will be awake soon, within the hour I think." Anita motioned towards the other bedroom. "He and London were pretty shaken by what you did. I think you will have a bit of explaining to do after they get done hugging and kissing you to death."
"I would not be surprised if hugging and kissing is the last thing on their minds. What I did, what I used them for, was..."
"Was the only choice I left you." Jean-Claude said as he placed a finger to her lips, "And they will know that."
What was between the former lovers would remain unspoken as yet in this world, but for now they had reached a new level of understanding. With all the metaphysical at an end for the moment, Penelope was suddenly very aware of her physical needs.
"I think I'd like a shower, and maybe something to eat?"
Jean-Claude laughed, "Of course. I'll have something sent in."
"I can help you shower if you're feeling weak." Jason piped up.
Penelope laughed and brought him in for a hug.
"How about you wait out here until I'm done, and keep me company until my lovers awaken to throttle me?"
"Aw!" Jason playfully whined, but smiled as she wrapped herself up in the sheet and disappeared into the bathroom.
"I think we can make ourselves scarce," Anita smiled and tugged on Jean-Claude's sable sleeve. "I mean, you're up and around and all, and I don't think anyone is expecting you at work anytime soon."
"True, ma petite, very true." Jean-Claude smiled slyly. "I could get used to staying up all day."
The comment was not intentionally meant to jab at Anita, but if it did he didn't care at the moment. As usual, Jean-Claude pressed his luck.
"As a matter of fact, I think I could do with short nap. I have not napped in centuries."
"A nap!" Anita felt the jab, and knew it was not entirely unwarranted. "Well, if the Master of the City needs a nap, far be it from me to distract him." She got up in a huff and stalked out of the room.
Jason couldn't help himself, "uh, you think she's a little pissed?"
Jean-Claude looked over at his pomme with an almost boyish glint in his sapphire eyes.
"She'll be waiting for me in my bed, of that you can be certain."
Jean-Claude was still feeling quite a rush of power from raising the ardeur, and the need to quench it. He knew his servant felt it too. Besides that, he knew Anita too well not to know that she would need to re-mark her territory.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I was you. You know how she gets. I bet she's in her car already." Jason laughed, but something in Jean-Claude's face made him believe.
"Come to my room in about an hour, mon lupe. If I don't need to feed, then you can have the rest of the week off. Paid in full." Jean-Claude smiled his best badly behaved boy smile.
Jason was at work that night, and every night for the whole week.
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After her shower and something to eat, Penelope fell into a light sleep. The image of her grandmother's face lingered in her mind, but some of her words were fading.
What was it Helene told me? Why can't I remember everything?
As deeper sleep claimed her, she found it didn't really matter. The charm, however, was clear and ingrained in her mind. She could perform it as if she had always known how.
Penelope? A soft voice caressed her mind.
Asher.
"Penelope, wake up, ma mei."
Asher was lightly stroking her arm. He was dressed and sitting next to her on his bed.
"Oh, Asher!" Penelope threw herself into his arms, "Forgive me! Forgive me, please!"
"Shush," he stopped her pleas with a kiss. "There is nothing to forgive, as far as I am concerned. Jean-Claude has spoken to me."
Asher's face turned reflective and in a tone tinged with regret he continued, "I just wish you had told me how much pressure you were feeling. I would have had words with him, had I known."
He pushed her back so he could look into her eyes as his voice turned stern.
"I do not want you to keep difficult things from me again, Penelope. I know you have the ability to shield your anxieties, but I do not want you to because we are supposed to share such things. Your fears and desires should be my fears and desires. I thought we were past hiding from one another." He stroked a stray hair from her face, " You must give me your word that will never keep anything so important from me again. Your solemn word."
Jean-Claude had been there when Asher awoke, sitting beside him and gently caressing him. For a split second Asher thought it was because he had the worst of news. His memory of waking up another night long ago with Jean-Claude holding him was still very strong. But the moment his eyes opened he felt her. She was alive, and well, and in the next room breathing softly. He clung to Jean-Claude and cried. When he was done, Jean-Claude told him everything and took the blame for driving Penelope to such a desperate act. Asher was too grateful to quarrel with him, and he could feel that Jean-Claude was truly contrite. Instead they discussed and marvelled at Penelope's ability to create and divert that much power. The implications were intriguing, but they both agreed that now was not the time to explore the possibilities of such power. Despite that agreement, Asher knew that the wheels turning in Jean-Claude's mind would not forget so easily.
He looked down into his servant's eyes, and all his concerns disappeared. Penelope was here and alive. What powers she possessed were immaterial to him.
"I give you my word, Master." Penelope bowed her head.
For this once Asher did not correct her of her old ways. He tipped her chin back up and kissed her, gently at first, but then he unleashed his desire. Desire, and something altogether more intense. Perhaps it was primordial in nature, but he felt the need to show his dominance as well as his love for her. He was not gentle in this display, not even taking the time to remove his clothing.
But afterwards, as he softened inside of her, he caressed the quickly healing bruises on her wrists and licked the rivulets of blood that ran down her white skin, and felt more in love with her and more love from her than ever before.
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Later that afternoon Asher got up to go over the figures from last night's opening at Veritas and to read the reviews in the paper. He promised to bring them in to Penelope if she promised not to get out of bed. Which meant staying home from work. He declared that he and the rest of the staff were more than capable of running the show for one night.
After he left, Penelope drifted in and out of sleep, but was awakened by the feeling that someone was watching her. Someone was.
Far away from the bed, in the corner, London stood staring at her. He had on his signature black pants and a black silk shirt and, were it not for the pale glow of his skin, he would have blended in with the dark surroundings. Penelope sat up and reached for him.
"London?"
She rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. She wondered why he was not there when he first awoke, but figured he wished to give Asher private time with her first. Now, she needed to touch him.
London was as still as vampires could get. His voice devoid of the lilt she was used to hearing when they were together.
"Why, Penelope? I have heard Jean-Claude's explanation, and Asher's, but I need to hear it from your lips. Why? Why would you risk your life? Our new found happiness?"
Penelope had expected this reaction from Asher, but not from her knight.
"London, I had no..."
"No what, Penelope? No choice? NO CHOICE?" For the first time ever his voice was raised in anger towards her. "We all have choices, Penelope. Choices that do not include using the people we profess to love. Choices that include not leaving them behind."
Penelope jumped out of bed and moved towards him, thankful that she was no longer naked but had on a pair of pale pink silk pajamas. Her sudden movement prompted London to take refuge on the other side of the room with his vampire speed. Although the distance was only a few yards, it may as well have been miles. Penelope's heart throbbed with a dull pain as she realized the effect of her actions on her lover.
"London, I never meant to hurt you. I love you."
"But you meant to leave me. To leave me behind." He turned from her so she could not see his face, could not see the pink tears that brimmed in his eyes. His voice was steady though, and fierce, and angry.
His voice changed again, this time effused with an intense sadness."You are not my servant. I have no ties to you, no connection that affords me the luxury of going to my death with you. At least Asher knew he would never awaken if you died. At least he had that."
"I would have released him, London. I had no intention of taking him with me."
"Your power to do so is well known, but what you do not know is that Jean-Claude agreed to take his life if you did not survive. Asher would not have opened his eyes again had you died. But I, I would have been forced to go on. Go on, or take my own life. Can you imagine a knight of the Crusades plunging a dagger into his own heart? Committing the worst of sins? Damning the already damned?"
He laughed, but not because he thought it was amusing. "I was prepared to do it, too. I would not have lived to see another nightfall. You say you would have released Asher, but you would have damned us both and Jean-Claude too. Damned us all in a way our sires never could."
London's words reminded her of what Jean-Claude had told her. He had given his word to kill Asher in the event she did not survive. She began to shake with the knowledge that Asher had said nothing to her about his Devil's agreement. Penelope looked to London. She had to make him understand.
"Please don't say those things," her voice trembled, knowing in her heart that all of her excuses were meaningless. "Can you not try to see it from my point of view? I had to do something, London. You at least have purpose here in this place, your powers contribute to the strength of the kiss. This charm was all I had to give."
London turned and moved with lightening speed, intending on grabbing her shoulders, but stopping just short. He could not bear to touch her right now because he was afraid of what might happen. His voice bellowed and filled the room.
"That is exactly the problem, Penelope! You do not know your true worth to those who love you. Do you think I give a damn about the fucking charm, or Marmee Noir, or even this kiss? Were you my servant I would have taken you away from all of this and happily lived with and loved you in a secluded cottage for all eternity."
The truth of his feelings was suddenly clear. London knew that although he could have Penelope for all time if they wished, it would never be just them. It was not Asher who he resented, but rather the entire vampire community and the way things were, and the world in general. Asher would never leave Jean-Claude, which meant Penelope would always be in the line of fire, and London had no intention of ever leaving Penelope. He had thought all afternoon that perhaps he would have been better off loving her from afar and in secret. But those thoughts quickly dissolved when he remembered how good it felt to feel her body next to him, or to hear her laugh, or to watch the expressions on her face when they were together. It didn't matter that he could not "feel" her in the same way that Asher could. What they had was different, and allowed him to experience what was left of his humanity in ways he never thought possible.
No. Leaving her was not an option. Not loving her was impossible. But for now, he had to get away from her.
"I have to go."
London turned and went for the door.
"No, don't leave like this, please!" Penelope reached to grab his arm, but London moved too fast for her.
"Think about this moment the next time you foolishly risk your life and our love."
The door slammed shut and Penelope ran to the bathroom as sickness and sorrow overcame her.
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Asher stared in disbelief.
How? How did this happen?
The tabloid floated lightly to the floor. On the cover was a photograph of Penelope and London locked in a passionate embrace with the headline:
"Debauchery! Devastatingly deformed Master Vampire loses servant to Darkly Handsome Knight: A tale of sex and servant swapping in St. Louis"
He covered his face with his hands and slumped over the desk.
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Chapter 23- A Modern Strike by nicola71
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Many thanks to Submissively Asher's for her eternal support and superior beta skills!
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"Well," Anita sighed as she crumpled up the tabloid and threw it to the floor, "is it wrong of me to be relieved that at least it's not my picture on the front page this time?"
She was being sarcastic and trying to lighten Jean-Claude's very dark mood.
"Ma petite, please. This is no time for your special kind of, what do you call it? Humor?"
Jean-Claude appreciated her attempt, but was not inclined to respond in kind. He was standing by the fireplace with both graceful hands on the mantle staring up at the portrait of he and Asher and Julianna. The painting had recently been re-hung when the landscape of Asher's ancestral home was moved to Veritas. He was still processing the events which had come to light in a most violent and unexpected way in the last hour or so. Is it too much to ask that things might actually run smoothly in my life, at least for a little while, Jean-Claude thought to himself.
Asher had burst into his office an hour earlier in a murderous rage, cursing and screaming in French, ready to bleed out whoever was responsible for the outrageous story in the papers. It took a lot of power for Jean-Claude to calm his temoin. Not only power, but soothing, and promises that he would do everything he could to ensure things would be made right. But even Jean-Claude had no idea what that was at the moment.
The blaring headline said it all, but the story inked inside was even seedier. Someone had leaked Asher's most private pains to the media. Julianna, the Inquisition, his years of torture, and his sexual proclivities.
"A source who wishes to remain anonymous, to protect his life, says that the vampire Asher, Master of the City Jean-Claude's sometime lover and second in command, is a frequent visitor to Narcissus in Chains, the very expensive and up to now discreet home of some of St. Louis's most depraved sexual appetites. The source continues to say that Asher developed his love for inflicting pain on sexual submissives, sodomy, orgies, and trans-gender sexcapades while he was a denizen of the elusive vampire Belle Morte in France."
Jean-Claude, of course, saw nothing wrong with any of Asher's proclivities. But to have them spattered across both tabloids and mainstream American newspapers was not exactly the kind of publicity he was looking for. That was not the worst of it, though. Asher was never ashamed of sex, or of his sexual appetites, but what was reported next cut him to the quick.
“The source told our reporter that Asher's recently taken servant, Penelope, (consequently the sister to Asher's first servant who was burned as a witch because of her liaison with him), was so violated by the deformed vampire, who we understand forced her into becoming his servant, that she ran to the safety of another Master Vampire of Jean-Claude's kiss, named London. A gallant and handsome knight, intent on rescuing his lady from a life of sexual slavery. The two can be seen in a passionate and loving embrace in the photo-spread on pages 8 and 9.”
Lies of course. But now the whole country saw Asher as a monster that trapped a beautiful woman into a freak show of sexual horrors.
"At least the proper newspapers did not run the quotes," Jean-Claude sighed.
The tabloids printed several quotes from an apparently overheard conversation between London and Penelope. The alleged quotes read just like a tawdry romance novel.
"London, or the Dark Knight as he is known, pleaded with his lover to forsake Asher's debauched sexplay, 'Don't go to him tonight! Please! Darling! Do not submit to his twisted desires for one more moment!' 'Be with me, my love!' 'Run away with me!'"
Anita sighed again as the door opened and London walked in. His all black attire which usually heightened his handsomeness, made him appear more morose than usual. Morose, and deadly.
"I suppose you have heard?"
He nodded.
"Does Penelope know?"
"She has locked herself in her room refusing to see anyone, even Asher. She believes this to be her fault...the reporter..."
"Yeah," Anita snarled, "I guess we now know who sabotaged the cameras. But that still doesn't explain where he got all his Intel. Or who he is working for. Or why all the trouble for a fabricated story for the gossip rags."
London sat down with the grace of his kind, completely in control of himself. At least on the outside.
"We have a traitor." He said straightforwardly.
Jean-Claude looked up from his desk, "Oui, I know. But we also know who may be behind this. There is only one person I can think of on the planet who would take pleasure in this kind of attack. Who would smile knowing she had struck at his heart once again. A heart that she had heard was recently healed."
Belle Morte.
"I guess Belle has joined the 21st century after all." Anita sighed.
"More than you know." Jason ripped through the door carrying his laptop. "The blogs are buzzing."
"Fuck." Anita sank into the sofa.
"Yeah, you could say that. There are photo-shopped pictures all over the net of Asher with Penelope, Asher with Jean-Claude, Asher with Narcissus, Asher with me, Asher with you, Asher with...well, with many. Things even the lowlife papers would never print for fear of being sued." Jason joined Anita on the sofa.
"I don't want to see!"
"Jason!" Jean-Claude said sharply. He rarely addressed his pomme so frigidly.
"Please."
Jason closed the laptop.
London rose slowly and moved towards the door, but his magic flared so suddenly and so violently throughout the room, it struck everyone in it squarely in the face. His anger was so great he didn't even bother to hide it.
"London!" Jean-Claude, cautioned sternly. Because of his connections to London, both as a friend and as his master, he had some idea of what was going through his head.
"I forbid you to do anything rash."
London looked back, his eyes on fire with rage. They gave away what his body language did not.
"Do not try to stop me from, at the very least, locating the man. He may be just a pawn, but often enough the pawns are aware of the identity of the King."
"Or, queen, as is most likely the case." Jean-Claude seemed to lose himself in thought for a split second.
"Master, on my word I will not kill him."
London looked down in deference, reverting to the old ways in the hope that it would convince Jean-Claude of his sincerity. His immediate fantasy was not to damage the reporter too badly, at least not at first. But after he had squeezed every drop of information the man had from his brain, he imagined killing him slowly, first driving him to madness in the process. It was a road that London was not afraid to travel, and one he had been down before.
"I cannot trust you, mon ami, I am sorry. Your love clouds your judgment in this. I have already had to remind Asher of this tonight, and I am afraid you do not quite hold for me the same affection. Do not force me to restrain you in silver, for it would kill me to do so. But I will do it."
London turned to face him. Both Anita and Jason rose slowly, unsure of exactly what lengths London was willing to go to. They were more than a little terrified at the dead calm of his tone. Anita instinctively felt for her gun just in case, but she was starting to use her head a little more these days, especially with those she loved, or in London's case, liked a whole lot.
London stood very still once again, clearly suppressing the human desire to pace the room frantically, throw furniture, and destroy things.
"I will not sit here and do nothing while someone I love becomes target practice for Her ego. I will not. I have endured the last of her taunts, her vindictiveness, and her bile. Must she be allowed to terrorize us for eternity? Are we not free, Jean-Claude? I thought we were free."
Although practiced in hiding his emotions, London was unable to disguise his anguish. Jean-Claude looked away, well acquainted with what the other vampire was feeling. As he searched for words, he heard the soft and calming voice of his servant. Where it came from was anyone's guess.
"She is a two-thousand year old vampire, London, a ruling member of the Council, and we are not even sure it is she behind this. "
Anita was certain that it was Jean-Claude channeling through her, because she could not believe how rational she was being about Belle. A vampire she would just as soon eviscerate than negotiate with. Despite her disbelief, she approached London carefully, reaching for his arm. She figured of all the people in the room she had the best chance of getting close to him without losing her head or a quart of blood.
"You can't fight her alone," she said quietly.
London let her touch his arm, and his magic, which felt like it was burning through the surface of his skin, was cooled by her touch.
"I have no intention of fighting Her, Anita. But do not ask me not to make someone pay for this."
"Someone will pay, mon ami, someone will pay."
Jean-Claude was doing his best to remain his cool and calm self, but inside he was boiling as much as his dark knight. His heart was bleeding for Asher, for Penelope, and for London. But mostly for Asher. The look on hischardonneret's face when he came into the room earlier broke his heart. It was the same anguish Jean-Claude had seen centuries before. The same hopelessness, the same fear, the same rage. It was a look he had thought he would not see on Asher's face ever again.
Anita stroked London's arm.
"Go to Penelope, London. Go see her. Be with her."
Her voice was as soft as she had ever been with him. Even when she fed from him, she often worked very hard to avoid too much emotional contact. Anita did a lot of things wrong, but with London she had been determined that the feedings would not cause him more pain than necessary. She liked him very much, and recognized the abuse reflected in his eyes. It was something in the eyes of all of her men.
London looked down into Anita's face, feeling grateful but undeserving for the tenderness. She did not know about the harsh words he had dealt Penelope only hours before the scandal was revealed. How he had hurt her, intentionally. He tried to push his words from his mind, but all he could see was the look on Penny's face as he turned and walked out her door. He had meant to hurt her. He struck out at her because of his own fear and pain. It was petty and it was childish, but he still had not come to terms with how he felt about what she had done when this new pain settled in on top of it.
She had been selfish, in his opinion. But she was alive and that should have been all that mattered. In the end it was something that could be addressed later. When he searched his soul all he wanted was to see her. To hold her. And to rip the throat out of that reporter. To rip the throat out of Belle Morte. The latter was a death wish, but the former was a real possibility.
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Penelope was all cried out. Again.
The flames from the gas fireplace started to blend together, but by this point she could care less if the whole room burst into flames. Her naïveté had cost Asher, had cost London, and had cost Jean-Claude. Cost them much more than she was worth, in her opinion.
Since there was no doubt in her mind that she could not get any more stupid than she was, she had drained almost an entire bottle of cognac. Her servant's constitution made getting drunk a difficult endeavor, but somehow she had managed it. She didn't even hear Asher break the lock and come in.
He stood for a moment watching the flames halo her. He had put his anger away in that secret place where he contained his rage. It was a place he had not visited for quite a while, but once there he felt utterly familiar and at ease. There were compartments for all the pain he had endured over the long centuries, but the largest room by far was reserved for Belle Morte. His maker. His one time lover. The former goddess to his worship. His constant tormentor.
The scent of cognac filled his nostrils. He had experienced his servant's feelings more and more the drunker she got, and there was no hiding anything from him now. She wasn't even trying. He recognized the feelings of inadequacy, the helplessness, the stupidity. They were, of course, all the same things he had felt for most of his life.
You are far from stupid, ma mei. He whispered through her mind. But you are quite drunk.
Penelope spun around. Her own senses were hindered, and Asher had hidden his presence. She tried to focus on him standing a few feet from her, with hair falling golden and mussed around his face. He looked like an angel. He walked forward until he was behind her and reached around to lift the empty crystal glass from her hand.
"I see you found the cognac."
Penelope nodded and mumbled something about being sorry she drank most of it. Then something occurred to her.
"Oh, my word! Are you? Did I make you?" She spun in her chair again, and even though her body stopped, the room continued.
Asher laughed, caught Penelope's shoulders to steady her and came to kneel in front of her, stroking the hair from her face and smiling at the pained expression she wore. He could already feel the enormous headache that was about to descend upon her.
"No, my love, I am not drunk. Although I was wobbling a bit coming down the hall, and I fear if I take your vein I may pass out far before dawn." He smiled and sniffed the air. "As a matter of fact, I think simply your breath may do almost as much damage as your blood."
She fell sloppily forward into his arms and made an attempt to put a sentence together.
"You don't have to say anything, Penelope. I know." Asher just held her.
The anger that pounded through his body was not directed at her, and she knew that. It was for another woman, one who was thousands of miles away, but whose blood red fingertips seemed to always be inches from his throat.
When he looked up from her he saw London standing in the doorway. With a subtle eye movement, Asher motioned for him to close the door and come in.
He came in and knelt next to Asher. His hand instinctively went to Penelope's hair, and he too began to stroke her, with one arm around Asher's shoulders. The three of them stayed that way for some time, just touching. No magic, just the three of them joined by the threads of humanity they shared.
When Penny finally looked up into London's eyes, she only had one thing to say.
"I am so drunk."
Now it was London's turn to laugh. His earlier anger had gone somewhere else for the time being and he was strangely okay with that.
"Yes, love, you certainly are." He kissed her forehead and made a face as he caught a whiff of cognac and smiled. "We must keep you away from open flames tonight!"
Penelope was too far gone to enjoy the joke. Right now the room was revolving at what seemed like impossible speed. She needed to be prone, and attached to something solid.
"I think I need to lie down," She said pathetically.
Asher moved and let London take Penelope up in his arms. He carried her to the bed where the three of them snuggled in together with Penny in the middle.
"This is so nice," she muttered as she gripped tightly to each of their shirts until she peacefully passed out.
London leaned up on one elbow and looked Asher straight in the eyes. The love and compassion the two men felt for the woman between them had changed to something much more sinister.
"I know we are of one mind, you and I." The knight said to the courtier.
"Jean-Claude must not know until it is done." Asher's ice blue eyes flared with power.
"This reporter did not work on his own. He had to have inside help." London had an inkling as to who, but was not saying what both he and Asher were thinking.
"Well, mon ami, we will have to persuade him to let us in on his little secret."
The two vampires gracefully rose and simultaneously lay a gentle kiss on each of Penelope's cheeks. They hoped that by the time she awoke with her head in tatters, the deed would be done.
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Chapter 24- Discussions by nicola71
Chapter 24- Discussions
Jean-Claude was outwardly irate.
Inside he displayed his most gleeful and sinister smile. A smile he had not shown in many years, but one he still derived a certain degree of pleasure from. For more than a second he imagined exactly what he would be doing to the shivering man before him if Anita had never come into his life. He was a vampire, after all.
For her part, Anita had gotten over her initial anger at Asher and London, but mostly she was pissed off that they didn't invite her along on the hunt. The scumbag was human, but he had played a part in hurting people she loved.
"Better not involve the servant of the Master of the City, and a Federal Marshall, in a somewhat less than legal borrowing of this man from his motel room", Asher said with a sneer.
London and Asher used their heightened senses, as well as their street contacts to locate the reporter, who was going by the name of Mark Fontaine. Apparently he was still using his phony press credentials to have a good time in St. Louis before he returned to wherever he came from. He obviously did not think his ruse would be discovered so quickly. Stupid man.
London gently persuaded one of the coat check girls from Veritas to admit that she spent the night with Mr. Fontaine after the opening party. He had seen her give her cell phone number to Fontaine in one of the surveillance videos that he and Asher had poured over after they left Penelope. They had vengeance in their hearts, but both were intelligent enough to use modern technology to make their quest easier. Castor and Pollux added two extra sets of preternatural eyes, as well as drove the SUV with dark tinted windows to the seedy motel where the girl said she met Fontaine.
Sharise was her name, and she gave them a wealth of information about the elusive Mr. Fontaine. It seemed he was feeling rather proud of himself as he left Veritas that night. So proud, in fact, that he felt the need to brag to her about how rich and powerful he would become after the ruse he'd been able to orchestrate, and that "wouldn't she like to be the mistress of a rich and powerful man?"
Even though London had used his powers, Sharise's natural idiocy still managed to leak through. London and Asher learned another modern phrase. TMI.
"When I saw that hotel, I thought, 'Oh. My. GOD!', I am not going in there no matter how cute you are! And I thought maybe we could just do it in my car or in the alleyway where I think I would have felt safer if you can believe it! But I couldn't help myself. He looked in my eyes and I was his. I did things to him that I had only seen on those videos you get at The PlayPen, and Oh. My. GOD! He asked me to put my..."
London quickly put her to sleep and wiped not only the memory of him, but also of Mr. Fontaine. As far as Sharise knew, she went home that night and fell peacefully asleep.
It had been easier than they could have imagined to find Fontaine. When they burst open the door they found him alone, naked and sleeping soundly, a bottle of twelve year old scotch next to the bed. Asher and London had the same thought. If this guy was working for Belle, he was actually lucky they found him first. Belle did not tolerate slip shod work, and this guy obviously had no idea what he had gotten himself into or he would have left town. It was almost too easy.
"Yes, mes ami, I agree. Much too easy. And not like Her at all." Jean-Claude circled around Fontaine, who was still naked, a little bruised, and securely chained to a chair in the middle of the coffin room.
They had decided to go for drama, and the puddle under Fontaine's chair indicated that it had been the right path. The man was clearly terrified. Another clue that perhaps they had been too hasty when thinking that Belle was behind the newspaper attacks. She liked her minions controllable, but never cowardly.
Anita was sitting on a backwards chair in front of Fontaine. Although she was the smallest creature in the room, her visible guns and knives showed she was as deadly as any vampire, and if he had done any homework at all for this job, he already knew her reputation. She stared at him, while he stared at the floor.
"Well, are we going to paint his portrait, or get down to business?" She questioned Jean-Claude who she could feel was still working out the details in his mind.
Fontaine raised his head, tears streaming down his face, which was starting to purple up from where London had accidentally on purpose punched him in the face.
When the two vampires saw him alone in the bed, London initially held back Asher who tried to rush the bed with fangs bared. He was afraid that Asher had had quite enough of being a victim and was going to start his recovery with Fontaine. Pollux came through the door seconds after them and used all his strength to hold Asher while London easily crossed the room and grabbed Fontaine before he could even think about fleeing. However, as he held him by the arms, something primal took over. It wasn't the vampire who swung his fist, but the man. And it felt good. Of course, even though London knew he could kill him with precious little effort, he just could not help himself. He hauled back and punched him unconscious, swung him over his shoulder and the three of them got out of there unseen.
In the car Asher thanked him.
"I would have killed him. I guess, as they say, I owe you one."
"No, you don't." London looked absently out the blackened window thinking that Asher had already given him more than he could ever want.
"Perhaps a few days in one of our coffins may loosen his tongue." Asher piped up.
Anita's expression didn't change. She knew it was a bluff. At least, she hoped so. A few days in a coffin could cause madness in a new vampire, she couldn't imagine what it would do to this weak human in front of her.
Fresh tears began to roll down Fontaine's face, but the threat finally opened his mouth.
"What did I do? What do you want from me?" he wailed.
It was Jean-Claude who spoke. His voice was calm, and smooth, and utterly terrifying.
"Well, Mr. Fontaine, if that is your name, we were wondering, if perhaps you might feel like telling us one or two things." He came around to Fontaine's back and placed both hands on his shoulders. Fontaine winced as if in pain.
"First," Jean-Claue continued, "I would be very grateful to know who you work for. But I don't expect that even a weak and foolish coward like yourself is willing to give up your benefactor so easily. So let's start with my second question."
He moved slowly around until he was bent over making eye contact with Fontaine. He used no magic, just bared his fangs, and ran his long graceful fingers up and down the man's throat.
"Exactly how did you bypass our security cameras the other night?"
"What?"
Anita huffed loudly.
"Oh, fuck, this is going to be good! You are going to play..."
"Ma petite..." Jean-Claude wanted to do this his way.
He turned his face back to Fontaine. "Let us try that again. You managed to shut down our video cameras and intercept the feed in order to get photographic stills of two of my employees in a private moment. How did you do this?" His fingers dug hard into Fontiane's skin, hard enough that if he used his nails there would have been ten trails of blood flowing down the man's white skin.
"It...it...it...wasn't me. I...I...I was just there to distract her. To...to...to get her downstairs alone."
"To what purpose?" Jean-Claude let up his grip slightly. He felt the man breaking.
"To get some pictures of her...I really don't know what else...really! I swear! She told me that she was just going to run some rumors in the paper, to try and ruin the new club."
"She?" Jean-Claude looked at Asher and then Anita. He silently talked to them.
This is not Belle we are dealing with.
"The chick that runs that other club in town. The one where all the fetish freaks go to."
After he said it, he regretted using the word, 'freaks'.
"NOT FREAKS! I mean the people into that kind of stuff, you know...kinky stuff, leather, and whips, and shit like that. I never meant to call you freaks...I myself have been known..."
"ENOUGH!" Jean-Claude had no intention of listening to his hysterically terrified ramble. He had what he needed.
Anita spoke, "Well,well,well!"
Asher's lips were pressed together in anger. "She" was Narcissus. His own Oba. Leader of his animal to call.
When he calmed down, Fontaine explained that Narcissus came to him with a lot of money, and promises of more, if he helped her ruin Veritas' reputation as well as that of its owners. He was from Tallahassee and had no idea who he was dealing with. He wasn't even a real reporter. Just a man on a business trip who found himself in over his head one night while 'recreating' at Narcissus in Chains. To repay his debt to the Oba, who he didn't even know was a were-hyena, or a hermaphrodite, he agreed to pose as a reporter. He never realized that he was supposed to be the scapegoat, or that Narcissus was probably hoping Asher would kill him before he had the chance to talk.
"Asher," Jean-Claude said quietly, "would you be so kind as to call Castor and Pollux down here?"
"They are already on their way."
Asher refused to believe that the brothers were involved in this in any way. They seemed to have no love for their Oba, and spent all of their time at the Circus. But he had to be certain. At the very least, they might know something.
He felt Penelope awaken.
Ma mei, how do you feel?
Awful. Where are you? Come snuggle with me.
Soon, darling. I am taking care of something at the moment.
Penelope sensed the tension and used her abilities to see through Asher. She saw the room, and Fontaine.
I'm coming down.
Non! There is no need for you to be here.
No Need? That man destroyed your reputation, and that of our new club, and made me look like a simpering fool. Don't I deserve to be there?
There was no stopping her, she was already on her way.
Just then, Castor and Pollux entered the room, followed closely by Claudia, Fredo, and several other guards. Their loylaty was not yet in question, but the brothers had proved enigmatic and powerful, so Jean-Claude was taking no chances.
"You summoned us?" Castor spoke first, his hazel eyes afire. He seemed to know what was about to be asked.
"How much time did you spend with your Oba before you came into Asher's service?" Jean-Claude was asking the questions and mentally holding back both Asher and Anita. It was going to be an exhausting interrogation.
"Not much." Castor did not seem to want to give up to much information.
"I am surprised that she would not want to keep you. You both are exquisite physical specimens, certainly to her taste."
"Not quite, it would seem. She did not want us from the moment she saw us. Service to Asher and to you was offered quite readily, and almost immediately."
"Why is that?"
"I do not pretend to understand the machinations of that mad hyena's mind, Master."
Castor accentuated the 'Master', unafraid to show Jean-Claude that his patience was running a bit thin.
So was Jean-Claude's.
The vampire launched himself at the hyena, pinning him to the far wall, just as Penelope came through the door. Pollux grabbed her and protected her from the debris of the stone wall that shattered into the air as Jean-Claude plowed Castor into it.
In an instant, Asher had Penelope in his arms, snatching her from Pollux who offered no fight. Asher noted to himself that he was indeed truly protecting her.
"Jean," Asher spoke to his lover quietly.
Castor did not make an attempt to defend himself, only stared into the midnight blue eyes glowing centimeters from his face.
Jean-Claude whispered, "Who, and what exactly are you and your brother? The Oba sends you away. Why? She is frightened of you. Tell me why she fears you so much that she sends you to us, only to hire this weakling to do what you could have done with ease, and far more success."
"Brother!" Pollux's words cautioned, but it was already too late.
Castor's hands had morphed into sharpened claws, but his lips pulled back to reveal not the teeth of a hyena, but the fangs of a vampire. His eyes, like Jean-Claude's were alive with brilliant hazel-green fire.
Anita, Claudia and Fredo had their guns drawn, but it was Jean-Claude who held his hand up to them.
He now knew exactly what Castor was.
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Sorry for the long wait between chapters. RL continues to chew on me. Special thanks to Submissively Asher's for all of her wisdom, editing skills, and ready ear. She has truly been a good friend which is, above all else, the best trait of a great beta! *hugs*
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It must be necessary. It IS necessary. It's necessary. Anita kept repeating this mantra to herself silently. At least she thought it was silently.
"Of course it must be necessary, Anita. Jean-Claude's power comes from sex after all, duh." Jason spoke softly and slowly to Anita but couldn't take his eyes off what was happening on the bed a few feet from him.
Jean-Claude had Penelope's naked body in his arms, his lips gently, but passionately kissing her while he ran his long fingers through the brown waves of her hair. Pollux was pressed to her back with his hands caressing her flesh, kissing her shoulders. Since he was still naked, his arousal was plain for everyone in the room to see. He growled softly and gently grazed the creamy skin of her neck with bared teeth that for a split second seemed more like the fangs of a vampire than the teeth of a hyena.
Castor, however, was suddenly at the opposite end of the bed, cowering as if his greatest fear had manifested before him. The terror on his face was real, as were the tears that glistened in his hazel eyes. Jason and Anita had not even seen him move.
Penelope's eyes opened with a start, and she pushed herself away from Jean-Claude with a small gasp. Pollux's arms caught her, but as the moment passed over them he looked down at her, and then across to his brother with a puzzled expression. When he realized his hands were touching her bare skin, and that his erection was pressed into her back, he quickly reached for the sheet and covered her. He then quietly extracted himself from the bed, and began to gather his clothes, careful to shield his groin from everyone. Try as he might to appear nonchalant, he stumbled. Jason was there to catch him.
"Hey, buddy, it's okay. First time feeling the ardeur?"
"The what?" Pollux's face was contorted in confusion, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
"The ardeur, brother." Castor materialized to steady his sibling and whispered, "you are well aware of that power. It has been a long time, though." He cast a warning glance at Jason.
"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine with me. Just get him something to eat, okay."
"I know how to take care of him, wolf."
Jason backed off, surprised by the the condescending tone. Castor had never exhibited anything but a jovial, if somewhat serious, nature. Jason filed this information away for future investigation and cast a curious glance at Anita.
Castor ignored him and instead looked back at Jean-Claude, "May we be excused?"
"Oui, of course. You served us well today. I will be sure to inform your master of your unwavering devotion." There was something else in Jean-Claude's tone, but for the moment he was letting it go.
"Thank you," Castor led his brother to the door, even though he was only half dressed.
Jason watched them carefully and looked back at Anita. Both of them silently agreed to do some investigating on the hyena brothers as soon as things calmed down. Which with their crew, might be never.
Penelope sat up, suddenly very alert.
"Castor! Pollux!"
The brothers stopped and Castor held on to Pollux tightly as he strained to go to her.
"Thank you, thank you very much." She reached out to them, wanting to embrace them but knowing they would come no closer at the moment. There was an odd feeling in the room, masked only because of the magical residue that remained. But Penelope felt something strange from the brothers. Something she felt she should have recognized, but for the moment she was too tired to care.
"Your welcome, my lady." Pollux managed a half bow, Castor nodded curtly and turned him towards the door quickly.
When they were gone, Penelope reached for Jean-Claude's hand.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I did no more than what you allowed me to do." Careful now that the power receded, Jean-Claude simply kissed her hand.
Penelope had a dim memory of a conversation with Jean-Claude on the other side, but could not remember the details. There was something about it she felt she should have been able to recollect. Something important about Asher, and London, and her. But for now it was lost.
She gazed into Jean-Claude's eyes and saw something there she had not seen in many centuries, but as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone.
"So, you guys want to tell us what the hell happened?"
Anita sat on the bed and took Jean-Claude's other hand. She was feeling a bit territorial, and although she was truly happy to have Penny back, there was no need to loan her boyfriend for longer than necessary. Anita had worked very hard to conceal the jealousy that burned through her as she watched Jean-Claude kiss his former lover. She let herself wonder for a moment if he had ever kissed her so tenderly. As soon as she thought it, she was ashamed. Of course he had, even if she had been too hard-hearted to notice. One thing she knew for certain now though, was that his connection to Penelope was more than she had led herself to believe. She filed this feeling away with the rest of the truths she was reluctant to acknowledge.
Penelope's face darkened, "I took a foolish chance, Anita. A chance that yielded less than I'd hoped."
"Not quite, ma cheriè." Jean-Claude smiled, "you have bought us some time. That is something we can always use."
Penelope looked around, "Speaking of that, what time is it? Where is Asher?" She knew she would have felt him if he was awake.
"Asher will be awake soon, within the hour I think." Anita motioned towards the other bedroom. "He and London were pretty shaken by what you did. I think you will have a bit of explaining to do after they get done hugging and kissing you to death."
"I would not be surprised if hugging and kissing is the last thing on their minds. What I did, what I used them for, was..."
"Was the only choice I left you." Jean-Claude said as he placed a finger to her lips, "And they will know that."
What was between the former lovers would remain unspoken as yet in this world, but for now they had reached a new level of understanding. With all the metaphysical at an end for the moment, Penelope was suddenly very aware of her physical needs.
"I think I'd like a shower, and maybe something to eat?"
Jean-Claude laughed, "Of course. I'll have something sent in."
"I can help you shower if you're feeling weak." Jason piped up.
Penelope laughed and brought him in for a hug.
"How about you wait out here until I'm done, and keep me company until my lovers awaken to throttle me?"
"Aw!" Jason playfully whined, but smiled as she wrapped herself up in the sheet and disappeared into the bathroom.
"I think we can make ourselves scarce," Anita smiled and tugged on Jean-Claude's sable sleeve. "I mean, you're up and around and all, and I don't think anyone is expecting you at work anytime soon."
"True, ma petite, very true." Jean-Claude smiled slyly. "I could get used to staying up all day."
The comment was not intentionally meant to jab at Anita, but if it did he didn't care at the moment. As usual, Jean-Claude pressed his luck.
"As a matter of fact, I think I could do with short nap. I have not napped in centuries."
"A nap!" Anita felt the jab, and knew it was not entirely unwarranted. "Well, if the Master of the City needs a nap, far be it from me to distract him." She got up in a huff and stalked out of the room.
Jason couldn't help himself, "uh, you think she's a little pissed?"
Jean-Claude looked over at his pomme with an almost boyish glint in his sapphire eyes.
"She'll be waiting for me in my bed, of that you can be certain."
Jean-Claude was still feeling quite a rush of power from raising the ardeur, and the need to quench it. He knew his servant felt it too. Besides that, he knew Anita too well not to know that she would need to re-mark her territory.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I was you. You know how she gets. I bet she's in her car already." Jason laughed, but something in Jean-Claude's face made him believe.
"Come to my room in about an hour, mon lupe. If I don't need to feed, then you can have the rest of the week off. Paid in full." Jean-Claude smiled his best badly behaved boy smile.
Jason was at work that night, and every night for the whole week.
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After her shower and something to eat, Penelope fell into a light sleep. The image of her grandmother's face lingered in her mind, but some of her words were fading.
What was it Helene told me? Why can't I remember everything?
As deeper sleep claimed her, she found it didn't really matter. The charm, however, was clear and ingrained in her mind. She could perform it as if she had always known how.
Penelope? A soft voice caressed her mind.
Asher.
"Penelope, wake up, ma mei."
Asher was lightly stroking her arm. He was dressed and sitting next to her on his bed.
"Oh, Asher!" Penelope threw herself into his arms, "Forgive me! Forgive me, please!"
"Shush," he stopped her pleas with a kiss. "There is nothing to forgive, as far as I am concerned. Jean-Claude has spoken to me."
Asher's face turned reflective and in a tone tinged with regret he continued, "I just wish you had told me how much pressure you were feeling. I would have had words with him, had I known."
He pushed her back so he could look into her eyes as his voice turned stern.
"I do not want you to keep difficult things from me again, Penelope. I know you have the ability to shield your anxieties, but I do not want you to because we are supposed to share such things. Your fears and desires should be my fears and desires. I thought we were past hiding from one another." He stroked a stray hair from her face, " You must give me your word that will never keep anything so important from me again. Your solemn word."
Jean-Claude had been there when Asher awoke, sitting beside him and gently caressing him. For a split second Asher thought it was because he had the worst of news. His memory of waking up another night long ago with Jean-Claude holding him was still very strong. But the moment his eyes opened he felt her. She was alive, and well, and in the next room breathing softly. He clung to Jean-Claude and cried. When he was done, Jean-Claude told him everything and took the blame for driving Penelope to such a desperate act. Asher was too grateful to quarrel with him, and he could feel that Jean-Claude was truly contrite. Instead they discussed and marvelled at Penelope's ability to create and divert that much power. The implications were intriguing, but they both agreed that now was not the time to explore the possibilities of such power. Despite that agreement, Asher knew that the wheels turning in Jean-Claude's mind would not forget so easily.
He looked down into his servant's eyes, and all his concerns disappeared. Penelope was here and alive. What powers she possessed were immaterial to him.
"I give you my word, Master." Penelope bowed her head.
For this once Asher did not correct her of her old ways. He tipped her chin back up and kissed her, gently at first, but then he unleashed his desire. Desire, and something altogether more intense. Perhaps it was primordial in nature, but he felt the need to show his dominance as well as his love for her. He was not gentle in this display, not even taking the time to remove his clothing.
But afterwards, as he softened inside of her, he caressed the quickly healing bruises on her wrists and licked the rivulets of blood that ran down her white skin, and felt more in love with her and more love from her than ever before.
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Later that afternoon Asher got up to go over the figures from last night's opening at Veritas and to read the reviews in the paper. He promised to bring them in to Penelope if she promised not to get out of bed. Which meant staying home from work. He declared that he and the rest of the staff were more than capable of running the show for one night.
After he left, Penelope drifted in and out of sleep, but was awakened by the feeling that someone was watching her. Someone was.
Far away from the bed, in the corner, London stood staring at her. He had on his signature black pants and a black silk shirt and, were it not for the pale glow of his skin, he would have blended in with the dark surroundings. Penelope sat up and reached for him.
"London?"
She rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. She wondered why he was not there when he first awoke, but figured he wished to give Asher private time with her first. Now, she needed to touch him.
London was as still as vampires could get. His voice devoid of the lilt she was used to hearing when they were together.
"Why, Penelope? I have heard Jean-Claude's explanation, and Asher's, but I need to hear it from your lips. Why? Why would you risk your life? Our new found happiness?"
Penelope had expected this reaction from Asher, but not from her knight.
"London, I had no..."
"No what, Penelope? No choice? NO CHOICE?" For the first time ever his voice was raised in anger towards her. "We all have choices, Penelope. Choices that do not include using the people we profess to love. Choices that include not leaving them behind."
Penelope jumped out of bed and moved towards him, thankful that she was no longer naked but had on a pair of pale pink silk pajamas. Her sudden movement prompted London to take refuge on the other side of the room with his vampire speed. Although the distance was only a few yards, it may as well have been miles. Penelope's heart throbbed with a dull pain as she realized the effect of her actions on her lover.
"London, I never meant to hurt you. I love you."
"But you meant to leave me. To leave me behind." He turned from her so she could not see his face, could not see the pink tears that brimmed in his eyes. His voice was steady though, and fierce, and angry.
His voice changed again, this time effused with an intense sadness."You are not my servant. I have no ties to you, no connection that affords me the luxury of going to my death with you. At least Asher knew he would never awaken if you died. At least he had that."
"I would have released him, London. I had no intention of taking him with me."
"Your power to do so is well known, but what you do not know is that Jean-Claude agreed to take his life if you did not survive. Asher would not have opened his eyes again had you died. But I, I would have been forced to go on. Go on, or take my own life. Can you imagine a knight of the Crusades plunging a dagger into his own heart? Committing the worst of sins? Damning the already damned?"
He laughed, but not because he thought it was amusing. "I was prepared to do it, too. I would not have lived to see another nightfall. You say you would have released Asher, but you would have damned us both and Jean-Claude too. Damned us all in a way our sires never could."
London's words reminded her of what Jean-Claude had told her. He had given his word to kill Asher in the event she did not survive. She began to shake with the knowledge that Asher had said nothing to her about his Devil's agreement. Penelope looked to London. She had to make him understand.
"Please don't say those things," her voice trembled, knowing in her heart that all of her excuses were meaningless. "Can you not try to see it from my point of view? I had to do something, London. You at least have purpose here in this place, your powers contribute to the strength of the kiss. This charm was all I had to give."
London turned and moved with lightening speed, intending on grabbing her shoulders, but stopping just short. He could not bear to touch her right now because he was afraid of what might happen. His voice bellowed and filled the room.
"That is exactly the problem, Penelope! You do not know your true worth to those who love you. Do you think I give a damn about the fucking charm, or Marmee Noir, or even this kiss? Were you my servant I would have taken you away from all of this and happily lived with and loved you in a secluded cottage for all eternity."
The truth of his feelings was suddenly clear. London knew that although he could have Penelope for all time if they wished, it would never be just them. It was not Asher who he resented, but rather the entire vampire community and the way things were, and the world in general. Asher would never leave Jean-Claude, which meant Penelope would always be in the line of fire, and London had no intention of ever leaving Penelope. He had thought all afternoon that perhaps he would have been better off loving her from afar and in secret. But those thoughts quickly dissolved when he remembered how good it felt to feel her body next to him, or to hear her laugh, or to watch the expressions on her face when they were together. It didn't matter that he could not "feel" her in the same way that Asher could. What they had was different, and allowed him to experience what was left of his humanity in ways he never thought possible.
No. Leaving her was not an option. Not loving her was impossible. But for now, he had to get away from her.
"I have to go."
London turned and went for the door.
"No, don't leave like this, please!" Penelope reached to grab his arm, but London moved too fast for her.
"Think about this moment the next time you foolishly risk your life and our love."
The door slammed shut and Penelope ran to the bathroom as sickness and sorrow overcame her.
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Asher stared in disbelief.
How? How did this happen?
The tabloid floated lightly to the floor. On the cover was a photograph of Penelope and London locked in a passionate embrace with the headline:
"Debauchery! Devastatingly deformed Master Vampire loses servant to Darkly Handsome Knight: A tale of sex and servant swapping in St. Louis"
He covered his face with his hands and slumped over the desk.
Back to index
Chapter 23- A Modern Strike by nicola71
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Many thanks to Submissively Asher's for her eternal support and superior beta skills!
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"Well," Anita sighed as she crumpled up the tabloid and threw it to the floor, "is it wrong of me to be relieved that at least it's not my picture on the front page this time?"
She was being sarcastic and trying to lighten Jean-Claude's very dark mood.
"Ma petite, please. This is no time for your special kind of, what do you call it? Humor?"
Jean-Claude appreciated her attempt, but was not inclined to respond in kind. He was standing by the fireplace with both graceful hands on the mantle staring up at the portrait of he and Asher and Julianna. The painting had recently been re-hung when the landscape of Asher's ancestral home was moved to Veritas. He was still processing the events which had come to light in a most violent and unexpected way in the last hour or so. Is it too much to ask that things might actually run smoothly in my life, at least for a little while, Jean-Claude thought to himself.
Asher had burst into his office an hour earlier in a murderous rage, cursing and screaming in French, ready to bleed out whoever was responsible for the outrageous story in the papers. It took a lot of power for Jean-Claude to calm his temoin. Not only power, but soothing, and promises that he would do everything he could to ensure things would be made right. But even Jean-Claude had no idea what that was at the moment.
The blaring headline said it all, but the story inked inside was even seedier. Someone had leaked Asher's most private pains to the media. Julianna, the Inquisition, his years of torture, and his sexual proclivities.
"A source who wishes to remain anonymous, to protect his life, says that the vampire Asher, Master of the City Jean-Claude's sometime lover and second in command, is a frequent visitor to Narcissus in Chains, the very expensive and up to now discreet home of some of St. Louis's most depraved sexual appetites. The source continues to say that Asher developed his love for inflicting pain on sexual submissives, sodomy, orgies, and trans-gender sexcapades while he was a denizen of the elusive vampire Belle Morte in France."
Jean-Claude, of course, saw nothing wrong with any of Asher's proclivities. But to have them spattered across both tabloids and mainstream American newspapers was not exactly the kind of publicity he was looking for. That was not the worst of it, though. Asher was never ashamed of sex, or of his sexual appetites, but what was reported next cut him to the quick.
“The source told our reporter that Asher's recently taken servant, Penelope, (consequently the sister to Asher's first servant who was burned as a witch because of her liaison with him), was so violated by the deformed vampire, who we understand forced her into becoming his servant, that she ran to the safety of another Master Vampire of Jean-Claude's kiss, named London. A gallant and handsome knight, intent on rescuing his lady from a life of sexual slavery. The two can be seen in a passionate and loving embrace in the photo-spread on pages 8 and 9.”
Lies of course. But now the whole country saw Asher as a monster that trapped a beautiful woman into a freak show of sexual horrors.
"At least the proper newspapers did not run the quotes," Jean-Claude sighed.
The tabloids printed several quotes from an apparently overheard conversation between London and Penelope. The alleged quotes read just like a tawdry romance novel.
"London, or the Dark Knight as he is known, pleaded with his lover to forsake Asher's debauched sexplay, 'Don't go to him tonight! Please! Darling! Do not submit to his twisted desires for one more moment!' 'Be with me, my love!' 'Run away with me!'"
Anita sighed again as the door opened and London walked in. His all black attire which usually heightened his handsomeness, made him appear more morose than usual. Morose, and deadly.
"I suppose you have heard?"
He nodded.
"Does Penelope know?"
"She has locked herself in her room refusing to see anyone, even Asher. She believes this to be her fault...the reporter..."
"Yeah," Anita snarled, "I guess we now know who sabotaged the cameras. But that still doesn't explain where he got all his Intel. Or who he is working for. Or why all the trouble for a fabricated story for the gossip rags."
London sat down with the grace of his kind, completely in control of himself. At least on the outside.
"We have a traitor." He said straightforwardly.
Jean-Claude looked up from his desk, "Oui, I know. But we also know who may be behind this. There is only one person I can think of on the planet who would take pleasure in this kind of attack. Who would smile knowing she had struck at his heart once again. A heart that she had heard was recently healed."
Belle Morte.
"I guess Belle has joined the 21st century after all." Anita sighed.
"More than you know." Jason ripped through the door carrying his laptop. "The blogs are buzzing."
"Fuck." Anita sank into the sofa.
"Yeah, you could say that. There are photo-shopped pictures all over the net of Asher with Penelope, Asher with Jean-Claude, Asher with Narcissus, Asher with me, Asher with you, Asher with...well, with many. Things even the lowlife papers would never print for fear of being sued." Jason joined Anita on the sofa.
"I don't want to see!"
"Jason!" Jean-Claude said sharply. He rarely addressed his pomme so frigidly.
"Please."
Jason closed the laptop.
London rose slowly and moved towards the door, but his magic flared so suddenly and so violently throughout the room, it struck everyone in it squarely in the face. His anger was so great he didn't even bother to hide it.
"London!" Jean-Claude, cautioned sternly. Because of his connections to London, both as a friend and as his master, he had some idea of what was going through his head.
"I forbid you to do anything rash."
London looked back, his eyes on fire with rage. They gave away what his body language did not.
"Do not try to stop me from, at the very least, locating the man. He may be just a pawn, but often enough the pawns are aware of the identity of the King."
"Or, queen, as is most likely the case." Jean-Claude seemed to lose himself in thought for a split second.
"Master, on my word I will not kill him."
London looked down in deference, reverting to the old ways in the hope that it would convince Jean-Claude of his sincerity. His immediate fantasy was not to damage the reporter too badly, at least not at first. But after he had squeezed every drop of information the man had from his brain, he imagined killing him slowly, first driving him to madness in the process. It was a road that London was not afraid to travel, and one he had been down before.
"I cannot trust you, mon ami, I am sorry. Your love clouds your judgment in this. I have already had to remind Asher of this tonight, and I am afraid you do not quite hold for me the same affection. Do not force me to restrain you in silver, for it would kill me to do so. But I will do it."
London turned to face him. Both Anita and Jason rose slowly, unsure of exactly what lengths London was willing to go to. They were more than a little terrified at the dead calm of his tone. Anita instinctively felt for her gun just in case, but she was starting to use her head a little more these days, especially with those she loved, or in London's case, liked a whole lot.
London stood very still once again, clearly suppressing the human desire to pace the room frantically, throw furniture, and destroy things.
"I will not sit here and do nothing while someone I love becomes target practice for Her ego. I will not. I have endured the last of her taunts, her vindictiveness, and her bile. Must she be allowed to terrorize us for eternity? Are we not free, Jean-Claude? I thought we were free."
Although practiced in hiding his emotions, London was unable to disguise his anguish. Jean-Claude looked away, well acquainted with what the other vampire was feeling. As he searched for words, he heard the soft and calming voice of his servant. Where it came from was anyone's guess.
"She is a two-thousand year old vampire, London, a ruling member of the Council, and we are not even sure it is she behind this. "
Anita was certain that it was Jean-Claude channeling through her, because she could not believe how rational she was being about Belle. A vampire she would just as soon eviscerate than negotiate with. Despite her disbelief, she approached London carefully, reaching for his arm. She figured of all the people in the room she had the best chance of getting close to him without losing her head or a quart of blood.
"You can't fight her alone," she said quietly.
London let her touch his arm, and his magic, which felt like it was burning through the surface of his skin, was cooled by her touch.
"I have no intention of fighting Her, Anita. But do not ask me not to make someone pay for this."
"Someone will pay, mon ami, someone will pay."
Jean-Claude was doing his best to remain his cool and calm self, but inside he was boiling as much as his dark knight. His heart was bleeding for Asher, for Penelope, and for London. But mostly for Asher. The look on hischardonneret's face when he came into the room earlier broke his heart. It was the same anguish Jean-Claude had seen centuries before. The same hopelessness, the same fear, the same rage. It was a look he had thought he would not see on Asher's face ever again.
Anita stroked London's arm.
"Go to Penelope, London. Go see her. Be with her."
Her voice was as soft as she had ever been with him. Even when she fed from him, she often worked very hard to avoid too much emotional contact. Anita did a lot of things wrong, but with London she had been determined that the feedings would not cause him more pain than necessary. She liked him very much, and recognized the abuse reflected in his eyes. It was something in the eyes of all of her men.
London looked down into Anita's face, feeling grateful but undeserving for the tenderness. She did not know about the harsh words he had dealt Penelope only hours before the scandal was revealed. How he had hurt her, intentionally. He tried to push his words from his mind, but all he could see was the look on Penny's face as he turned and walked out her door. He had meant to hurt her. He struck out at her because of his own fear and pain. It was petty and it was childish, but he still had not come to terms with how he felt about what she had done when this new pain settled in on top of it.
She had been selfish, in his opinion. But she was alive and that should have been all that mattered. In the end it was something that could be addressed later. When he searched his soul all he wanted was to see her. To hold her. And to rip the throat out of that reporter. To rip the throat out of Belle Morte. The latter was a death wish, but the former was a real possibility.
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Penelope was all cried out. Again.
The flames from the gas fireplace started to blend together, but by this point she could care less if the whole room burst into flames. Her naïveté had cost Asher, had cost London, and had cost Jean-Claude. Cost them much more than she was worth, in her opinion.
Since there was no doubt in her mind that she could not get any more stupid than she was, she had drained almost an entire bottle of cognac. Her servant's constitution made getting drunk a difficult endeavor, but somehow she had managed it. She didn't even hear Asher break the lock and come in.
He stood for a moment watching the flames halo her. He had put his anger away in that secret place where he contained his rage. It was a place he had not visited for quite a while, but once there he felt utterly familiar and at ease. There were compartments for all the pain he had endured over the long centuries, but the largest room by far was reserved for Belle Morte. His maker. His one time lover. The former goddess to his worship. His constant tormentor.
The scent of cognac filled his nostrils. He had experienced his servant's feelings more and more the drunker she got, and there was no hiding anything from him now. She wasn't even trying. He recognized the feelings of inadequacy, the helplessness, the stupidity. They were, of course, all the same things he had felt for most of his life.
You are far from stupid, ma mei. He whispered through her mind. But you are quite drunk.
Penelope spun around. Her own senses were hindered, and Asher had hidden his presence. She tried to focus on him standing a few feet from her, with hair falling golden and mussed around his face. He looked like an angel. He walked forward until he was behind her and reached around to lift the empty crystal glass from her hand.
"I see you found the cognac."
Penelope nodded and mumbled something about being sorry she drank most of it. Then something occurred to her.
"Oh, my word! Are you? Did I make you?" She spun in her chair again, and even though her body stopped, the room continued.
Asher laughed, caught Penelope's shoulders to steady her and came to kneel in front of her, stroking the hair from her face and smiling at the pained expression she wore. He could already feel the enormous headache that was about to descend upon her.
"No, my love, I am not drunk. Although I was wobbling a bit coming down the hall, and I fear if I take your vein I may pass out far before dawn." He smiled and sniffed the air. "As a matter of fact, I think simply your breath may do almost as much damage as your blood."
She fell sloppily forward into his arms and made an attempt to put a sentence together.
"You don't have to say anything, Penelope. I know." Asher just held her.
The anger that pounded through his body was not directed at her, and she knew that. It was for another woman, one who was thousands of miles away, but whose blood red fingertips seemed to always be inches from his throat.
When he looked up from her he saw London standing in the doorway. With a subtle eye movement, Asher motioned for him to close the door and come in.
He came in and knelt next to Asher. His hand instinctively went to Penelope's hair, and he too began to stroke her, with one arm around Asher's shoulders. The three of them stayed that way for some time, just touching. No magic, just the three of them joined by the threads of humanity they shared.
When Penny finally looked up into London's eyes, she only had one thing to say.
"I am so drunk."
Now it was London's turn to laugh. His earlier anger had gone somewhere else for the time being and he was strangely okay with that.
"Yes, love, you certainly are." He kissed her forehead and made a face as he caught a whiff of cognac and smiled. "We must keep you away from open flames tonight!"
Penelope was too far gone to enjoy the joke. Right now the room was revolving at what seemed like impossible speed. She needed to be prone, and attached to something solid.
"I think I need to lie down," She said pathetically.
Asher moved and let London take Penelope up in his arms. He carried her to the bed where the three of them snuggled in together with Penny in the middle.
"This is so nice," she muttered as she gripped tightly to each of their shirts until she peacefully passed out.
London leaned up on one elbow and looked Asher straight in the eyes. The love and compassion the two men felt for the woman between them had changed to something much more sinister.
"I know we are of one mind, you and I." The knight said to the courtier.
"Jean-Claude must not know until it is done." Asher's ice blue eyes flared with power.
"This reporter did not work on his own. He had to have inside help." London had an inkling as to who, but was not saying what both he and Asher were thinking.
"Well, mon ami, we will have to persuade him to let us in on his little secret."
The two vampires gracefully rose and simultaneously lay a gentle kiss on each of Penelope's cheeks. They hoped that by the time she awoke with her head in tatters, the deed would be done.
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Chapter 24- Discussions by nicola71
Chapter 24- Discussions
Jean-Claude was outwardly irate.
Inside he displayed his most gleeful and sinister smile. A smile he had not shown in many years, but one he still derived a certain degree of pleasure from. For more than a second he imagined exactly what he would be doing to the shivering man before him if Anita had never come into his life. He was a vampire, after all.
For her part, Anita had gotten over her initial anger at Asher and London, but mostly she was pissed off that they didn't invite her along on the hunt. The scumbag was human, but he had played a part in hurting people she loved.
"Better not involve the servant of the Master of the City, and a Federal Marshall, in a somewhat less than legal borrowing of this man from his motel room", Asher said with a sneer.
London and Asher used their heightened senses, as well as their street contacts to locate the reporter, who was going by the name of Mark Fontaine. Apparently he was still using his phony press credentials to have a good time in St. Louis before he returned to wherever he came from. He obviously did not think his ruse would be discovered so quickly. Stupid man.
London gently persuaded one of the coat check girls from Veritas to admit that she spent the night with Mr. Fontaine after the opening party. He had seen her give her cell phone number to Fontaine in one of the surveillance videos that he and Asher had poured over after they left Penelope. They had vengeance in their hearts, but both were intelligent enough to use modern technology to make their quest easier. Castor and Pollux added two extra sets of preternatural eyes, as well as drove the SUV with dark tinted windows to the seedy motel where the girl said she met Fontaine.
Sharise was her name, and she gave them a wealth of information about the elusive Mr. Fontaine. It seemed he was feeling rather proud of himself as he left Veritas that night. So proud, in fact, that he felt the need to brag to her about how rich and powerful he would become after the ruse he'd been able to orchestrate, and that "wouldn't she like to be the mistress of a rich and powerful man?"
Even though London had used his powers, Sharise's natural idiocy still managed to leak through. London and Asher learned another modern phrase. TMI.
"When I saw that hotel, I thought, 'Oh. My. GOD!', I am not going in there no matter how cute you are! And I thought maybe we could just do it in my car or in the alleyway where I think I would have felt safer if you can believe it! But I couldn't help myself. He looked in my eyes and I was his. I did things to him that I had only seen on those videos you get at The PlayPen, and Oh. My. GOD! He asked me to put my..."
London quickly put her to sleep and wiped not only the memory of him, but also of Mr. Fontaine. As far as Sharise knew, she went home that night and fell peacefully asleep.
It had been easier than they could have imagined to find Fontaine. When they burst open the door they found him alone, naked and sleeping soundly, a bottle of twelve year old scotch next to the bed. Asher and London had the same thought. If this guy was working for Belle, he was actually lucky they found him first. Belle did not tolerate slip shod work, and this guy obviously had no idea what he had gotten himself into or he would have left town. It was almost too easy.
"Yes, mes ami, I agree. Much too easy. And not like Her at all." Jean-Claude circled around Fontaine, who was still naked, a little bruised, and securely chained to a chair in the middle of the coffin room.
They had decided to go for drama, and the puddle under Fontaine's chair indicated that it had been the right path. The man was clearly terrified. Another clue that perhaps they had been too hasty when thinking that Belle was behind the newspaper attacks. She liked her minions controllable, but never cowardly.
Anita was sitting on a backwards chair in front of Fontaine. Although she was the smallest creature in the room, her visible guns and knives showed she was as deadly as any vampire, and if he had done any homework at all for this job, he already knew her reputation. She stared at him, while he stared at the floor.
"Well, are we going to paint his portrait, or get down to business?" She questioned Jean-Claude who she could feel was still working out the details in his mind.
Fontaine raised his head, tears streaming down his face, which was starting to purple up from where London had accidentally on purpose punched him in the face.
When the two vampires saw him alone in the bed, London initially held back Asher who tried to rush the bed with fangs bared. He was afraid that Asher had had quite enough of being a victim and was going to start his recovery with Fontaine. Pollux came through the door seconds after them and used all his strength to hold Asher while London easily crossed the room and grabbed Fontaine before he could even think about fleeing. However, as he held him by the arms, something primal took over. It wasn't the vampire who swung his fist, but the man. And it felt good. Of course, even though London knew he could kill him with precious little effort, he just could not help himself. He hauled back and punched him unconscious, swung him over his shoulder and the three of them got out of there unseen.
In the car Asher thanked him.
"I would have killed him. I guess, as they say, I owe you one."
"No, you don't." London looked absently out the blackened window thinking that Asher had already given him more than he could ever want.
"Perhaps a few days in one of our coffins may loosen his tongue." Asher piped up.
Anita's expression didn't change. She knew it was a bluff. At least, she hoped so. A few days in a coffin could cause madness in a new vampire, she couldn't imagine what it would do to this weak human in front of her.
Fresh tears began to roll down Fontaine's face, but the threat finally opened his mouth.
"What did I do? What do you want from me?" he wailed.
It was Jean-Claude who spoke. His voice was calm, and smooth, and utterly terrifying.
"Well, Mr. Fontaine, if that is your name, we were wondering, if perhaps you might feel like telling us one or two things." He came around to Fontaine's back and placed both hands on his shoulders. Fontaine winced as if in pain.
"First," Jean-Claue continued, "I would be very grateful to know who you work for. But I don't expect that even a weak and foolish coward like yourself is willing to give up your benefactor so easily. So let's start with my second question."
He moved slowly around until he was bent over making eye contact with Fontaine. He used no magic, just bared his fangs, and ran his long graceful fingers up and down the man's throat.
"Exactly how did you bypass our security cameras the other night?"
"What?"
Anita huffed loudly.
"Oh, fuck, this is going to be good! You are going to play..."
"Ma petite..." Jean-Claude wanted to do this his way.
He turned his face back to Fontaine. "Let us try that again. You managed to shut down our video cameras and intercept the feed in order to get photographic stills of two of my employees in a private moment. How did you do this?" His fingers dug hard into Fontiane's skin, hard enough that if he used his nails there would have been ten trails of blood flowing down the man's white skin.
"It...it...it...wasn't me. I...I...I was just there to distract her. To...to...to get her downstairs alone."
"To what purpose?" Jean-Claude let up his grip slightly. He felt the man breaking.
"To get some pictures of her...I really don't know what else...really! I swear! She told me that she was just going to run some rumors in the paper, to try and ruin the new club."
"She?" Jean-Claude looked at Asher and then Anita. He silently talked to them.
This is not Belle we are dealing with.
"The chick that runs that other club in town. The one where all the fetish freaks go to."
After he said it, he regretted using the word, 'freaks'.
"NOT FREAKS! I mean the people into that kind of stuff, you know...kinky stuff, leather, and whips, and shit like that. I never meant to call you freaks...I myself have been known..."
"ENOUGH!" Jean-Claude had no intention of listening to his hysterically terrified ramble. He had what he needed.
Anita spoke, "Well,well,well!"
Asher's lips were pressed together in anger. "She" was Narcissus. His own Oba. Leader of his animal to call.
When he calmed down, Fontaine explained that Narcissus came to him with a lot of money, and promises of more, if he helped her ruin Veritas' reputation as well as that of its owners. He was from Tallahassee and had no idea who he was dealing with. He wasn't even a real reporter. Just a man on a business trip who found himself in over his head one night while 'recreating' at Narcissus in Chains. To repay his debt to the Oba, who he didn't even know was a were-hyena, or a hermaphrodite, he agreed to pose as a reporter. He never realized that he was supposed to be the scapegoat, or that Narcissus was probably hoping Asher would kill him before he had the chance to talk.
"Asher," Jean-Claude said quietly, "would you be so kind as to call Castor and Pollux down here?"
"They are already on their way."
Asher refused to believe that the brothers were involved in this in any way. They seemed to have no love for their Oba, and spent all of their time at the Circus. But he had to be certain. At the very least, they might know something.
He felt Penelope awaken.
Ma mei, how do you feel?
Awful. Where are you? Come snuggle with me.
Soon, darling. I am taking care of something at the moment.
Penelope sensed the tension and used her abilities to see through Asher. She saw the room, and Fontaine.
I'm coming down.
Non! There is no need for you to be here.
No Need? That man destroyed your reputation, and that of our new club, and made me look like a simpering fool. Don't I deserve to be there?
There was no stopping her, she was already on her way.
Just then, Castor and Pollux entered the room, followed closely by Claudia, Fredo, and several other guards. Their loylaty was not yet in question, but the brothers had proved enigmatic and powerful, so Jean-Claude was taking no chances.
"You summoned us?" Castor spoke first, his hazel eyes afire. He seemed to know what was about to be asked.
"How much time did you spend with your Oba before you came into Asher's service?" Jean-Claude was asking the questions and mentally holding back both Asher and Anita. It was going to be an exhausting interrogation.
"Not much." Castor did not seem to want to give up to much information.
"I am surprised that she would not want to keep you. You both are exquisite physical specimens, certainly to her taste."
"Not quite, it would seem. She did not want us from the moment she saw us. Service to Asher and to you was offered quite readily, and almost immediately."
"Why is that?"
"I do not pretend to understand the machinations of that mad hyena's mind, Master."
Castor accentuated the 'Master', unafraid to show Jean-Claude that his patience was running a bit thin.
So was Jean-Claude's.
The vampire launched himself at the hyena, pinning him to the far wall, just as Penelope came through the door. Pollux grabbed her and protected her from the debris of the stone wall that shattered into the air as Jean-Claude plowed Castor into it.
In an instant, Asher had Penelope in his arms, snatching her from Pollux who offered no fight. Asher noted to himself that he was indeed truly protecting her.
"Jean," Asher spoke to his lover quietly.
Castor did not make an attempt to defend himself, only stared into the midnight blue eyes glowing centimeters from his face.
Jean-Claude whispered, "Who, and what exactly are you and your brother? The Oba sends you away. Why? She is frightened of you. Tell me why she fears you so much that she sends you to us, only to hire this weakling to do what you could have done with ease, and far more success."
"Brother!" Pollux's words cautioned, but it was already too late.
Castor's hands had morphed into sharpened claws, but his lips pulled back to reveal not the teeth of a hyena, but the fangs of a vampire. His eyes, like Jean-Claude's were alive with brilliant hazel-green fire.
Anita, Claudia and Fredo had their guns drawn, but it was Jean-Claude who held his hand up to them.
He now knew exactly what Castor was.
— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 20- Reunion by nicola71
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Thanks to Subbie for all of her help with this chapter that was beating me up! If you have not read the Penelope/Julianna ficlet, you may want to because those stories figure in this chapter. Also a note: I have not read Blood Noir yet, and this story was outlined before it debuted, so I apologize for any inconsistencies or unintentional similarities concerning Marmee. I really do need to read that book! However I plan on sticking to my original outline no matter what comes from BN. Also, I only gave one French translation, the other bits of French are all in context or restated in English. Thank you for reading!
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The door to Asher’s room burst open and Jean-Claude and Anita rushed in together, clad in their robes, followed closely by several guards including Castor and Pollux, who were both ashen. The brothers felt the full force of their master's pain, even more so than the other Hyenas at the Circus tonight.
Jean-Claude and Asher spoke very quickly in French, which they often did in times of great distress. It was Anita who finally screamed for them to slow down and speak English so the rest of them could be caught up on the situation.
Jean-Claude explained that Marmee Noir had made an attempt to invade Anita's mind, but something stopped her dead in her tracks.
“It wasn't like before. It was as if she was totally distracted, and simply let me go,” Anita explained. “But she was angry about something. Very angry.”
“Asher, what happened here?” Jean-Claude sat on the bed and touched Asher's arm. His voice was calm and even-tempered. He looked on his chardonneret with concern and love, and just a hint of fear.
Anita felt all of it, and did not care for the 'fear' part in the least. She was not used to feeling that particular emotion from Jean-Claude, but either he could not shield it from her, or he needed her to share the burden.
Asher did not feel the need to tell or explain to everyone present about the sexual aspect of what happened, first of all because it was obvious due to the condition of the room and the scents, and second because he knew that they all had felt the power surge.
“There was an enormous power spike. I believe Penelope took most of it and funneled it through her own body somewhere. She was not herself, her words...they made no sense. I thought for a moment she was simply power drunk, but then...then she just started to fade. I can still feel her, but she is so far away it is, it is like, it is like…il ressemble à un bruit bourdonnant, a buzzing.” Asher's eyes were glassy and unfocused. He seemed dazed as though wherever Penelope had gone she had taken some of his consciousness with her.
Asher held Penelope clasped tightly to his body, but she was cold, even to him. She should not have been cold.
“She is so cold. Jean-Claude, I have no warmth to give her.” His voice faltered.
"Her heart still beats, mon ami, and she has never given up on you before. It would be unwise to jump to conclusions." The calmness of the Master of the City's voice betrayed nothing of what was going on inside of him.
Jean-Claude felt the dawn pressing against them. There was not much time. Anita spoke his words before he could.
“Asher, London, you have to get out of here. Go to her room so you’ll be close, but you guys falling to the floor once the sun is up will help no one.” She turned to Jean-Claude. “If we are touching at dawn, you’ll stay awake. You won’t die for the day, right?”
“I believe so. It has only happened the once.”
Anita frowned ignoring the insinuation.
“Then let’s hope it happens again. We’re going to need you, because I have no idea what to do. And if Mommy decides to make a return visit…where’s Jason?” she directed this question to Claudia.
“I’ll go get him.” Claudia was gone in a blur.
Anita answered the questioning glances. “We’ll need a wolf if Mommy Dearest decides to come back.”
“Oui,” Jean-Claude picked up Penelope’s hand and held it to his cheek. It was like ice. What has she done?
“Look at her hand!” London was the first to notice.
There was still a faint pink mark left where Penelope’s ring had snugly fit for centuries. It was gone.
“What the hell did she think she was doing taking her ring off? Where the fuck is it?” Anita started frantically searching the bedside table while London practically tore the bed apart.
“My, God!” London jumped up in sudden realization and ran to Penelope’s bathroom. When he came back he had her ring in his hand.
“She must have taken it off deliberately. It was just sitting by the sink.” His heart sank at all the possible reasons she might have done this. None of them good.
“Give it to me," Jean-Claude held his hand out, “Now go, both of you. You have but minutes.”
“Non! Non! Non!” Asher fought off London’s attempt to lead him away.
London gently pulled Asher's chin until their eyes met. Despair had ruled them both for far too long, and he was not about to allow it to rule them once again.
“We will be useless to her in a matter of minutes, Asher. We must trust that Jean-Claude and Anita can bring her back. Please, please come with me.” London implored with a soft voice that hid the storm of anxiety that raged inside of him. His own frantic thoughts about waking up to find her gone chewed him from the inside out, but he fought them off. If Asher needed his strength to do the same, then he would gladly give it to him.
Asher looked into Jean-Claude’s eyes. His own were dry. He had no tears. He had nothing. He had grown so used to Penelope's constant presence that the emptiness was numbingly painful. A pain he had felt before. He could not go through that again.
“Jean, please. Give me your word. *Donnez-moi votre mot que vous le ferez personnellement."
Jean-Claude touched Asher’s face.
“Je vous promets, mon Chardonneret, I give you my word.”
Asher carefully handed Penelope over to Jean-Claude, who took her into his arms. Then he reluctantly got up and followed London into Penelope’s adjoining room. The two vampires both looked back once more and hurried to make it to the bed before the sun caught up with them.
“What in hell did you promise him?” Anita knelt in front of Jean-Claude. Her voice was frantic and angry because she thought she already knew the answer to her question.
“It is of no concern at this moment," he said sharply. "Now, please, Anita, hold my hand.”
Jean-Claude used her real name, which meant things were very wrong, indeed.
Anita sighed, grasped his hand and pulled it to her lips. What a way to start the day.
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Penelope let Helene help her to her feet. She guessed it was late spring, by the new leaves and young budding flowers.
“Thank you.” Penelope moved slightly away to keep her distance. It was not an entirely instinctive move.
“Do you still hate me so much that do not embrace me after all this time?” Helene said, sorrow and disappointment in her voice.
She looked almost exactly as she had the last time Penelope saw her except that her hair was now fully flaxen instead of peppered with gray, and her skin was once again taut as it must have been when she was young. She wore an emerald green gossamer gown that hugged her body. She looked beautiful, ethereal, and alive.
Penelope hesitantly wrapped her arms around the taller woman’s waist, laying her head against her shoulder, but what started out as a reluctantly performed duty soon turned into something familiar and longed for. Penelope clung to her like she had when she was a child.
“Grand-mama!” Penelope allowed herself a few well fought off tears.
“It is all right, child,” Helene pulled her in tightly, and tried through her embrace to remind Penelope how much they loved each other once.
“I hated you for so long. I think I still do.” Penelope knew they had little time for convenient lies, and so did Helene.
“I know, darling, I know.”
Helene released her and the two women walked hand in hand to a blanket that was spread beneath a large Oak tree. Penelope began to recognize the place as the meadow that bordered their cottage. A place where she and Julianna had played many times, and where Helene had first taught them to identify different types of herbs and flowers.
When they were seated, Helene spoke with urgency.
“I do not have much time. Shielding you from Marmee took a great deal of power and energy. I had to siphon most of the power you summoned, and I am afraid I have left your physical body compromised.”
Penelope suddenly remembered how she got here.
“I knew I could attract her, and I hoped that you would come. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I created something like the ardeur. Something that made her think that Anita and Jean-Claude were vulnerable. It was a ruse that I figured would work for a few moments only, so I took out some insurance. I took my ring off first.”
Helene looked at her hand, “Yes, I see. It took you long enough to find the courage to do that.”
“You made me swear never to take it off!” Penelope’s anger started to flare, as she was reminded once more of Helene's irritatingly enigmatic nature.
“And I did not expect that you would never defy me! Did you become nothing but an obedient slave in all these years? Gods, Penelope, what did I do to your spirit sending you away for so long?” Helene's face, despite its apparent youth, was at once awash with centuries of doubt and shame. Penelope, however, still saw only the woman who sent her away from her home and those she loved.
“Only you can answer that question, Helene. It was you who banished me.”
“I loved you, ma toute belle,. I had to send you away before anything happened that you were not prepared to handle.”
“Don't you dare use his pet name for me, don't you dare! You banished me, Grandmother. Banished me from my sister, from Madeline, and from Lucien! And never a word of discussion about it. I was just gone.”
“You would not have understood, at the time.”
“Will I understand now?” Penelope's voice was full of venom.
“Penelope, there is little time.”
“I have waited three hundred years to ask you this, Helene. It was not an easy question for me and I do not deserve an easy, bullshit answer.”
Helene sighed, “No, you do not.”
“Why did you send me away? Why did you choose to sentence me to a life without love, without emotional bonds?”
“You had to be protected, but I never expected things to turn out the way they did.”
Penelope laughed, “Protected? From what? From love? From society? From life? Your protection did Julianna quite well, did it not?”
“What happened to your sister was my fault, and I carry her death with me every day.”
“Somehow I doubt that. I was there.”
“So was I.”
Penelope looked on her grandmother with disgusted amazement.
“You were there? How? And why did you do nothing? If you could reach out to me today, why not to her then? Why not! Why not free me so I could have done something? I would have climbed up onto the pyre with her. I would have died rather than bear witness to that atrocity!”
“That is precisely why I did not help to free you. And I could not help her. You would have both died and with you all that the women in our family have vowed to preserve for more than a thousand years.”
“Was that so important? More important than Juli’s life? Than their happiness, of…”
“Of Asher?”
“It almost killed him.”
“But it did not.”
“How can you be so cold? Were you always like this? When I was a child, and worshipped you, were you always such a bitch?”
Helene struck back with anger.
“You forget that I too have lost those I loved! I lost a daughter who was dearer to me than anyone in the world. I lost her to a handsome man on a black horse with dark eyes and the promise of a title and a ‘normal’ life. I lost the only man I ever truly loved to the irrational rage of a maniacal vampire, bent on destroying our family. And yes, before you 'enlighten me' I know what part Belle played in the death of your sister.”
Penelope suddenly remembered the secret she had bound with Anita. Belle was the maestro of Jean-Claude and Asher’s misfortune and Julianna’s death. The look on her face told her grandmother all she needed to know.
“The secret, Penelope, will remain bound. You remember it here because there are no boundaries here. Your charm will remain intact.”
Penelope nodded and tried to pat down the rage that began to fill her. That fight was for another time. She looked at Helene who was wiping away her tears.
“You cry for him still?” Penelope had shed her own tears for Lucien, long ago. But to look at Helene's face one would think he had gone to his final death only yesterday.
“I am forbidden to see him. And please do not ask why, Penny, there are things about this place that I cannot reveal.”
Penelope could feel the truth in Helene's words. She found herself looking on the events of that time from a totally new point of view. The mere idea of Asher, or London, sentenced to their final death never to awaken, terrified her. Never to have the chance to say goodbye to them, or 'I love you', or to never again feel their bodies warm as her blood flowed through their veins, was a future she did not want to think about. In that instant Penelope understood what her grandmother had endured. Holding her truly dead lover in her arms and seeing his eyes, their fire forever doused, was more than Helene could bear.
“I’m sorry.” Penelope looked away, suddenly ashamed.
“Now that you love, you know.” Helene tipped Penelope’s chin up to look at her and softened her voice. Their time was scarce and the anger that still lay between them would not dissolve in this short span. It was part of the price for this little visitation. Helene brought them back to the task at hand.
“I knew you would inspire a man to love one day. But two? And with such strength and power. You have truly exceeded my expectations.”
“It is not about power.”
“As you like. In our world they go hand in hand. But you do love them?”
“More than I thought possible.”
“They are why you are here?”
“Yes. In part.”
“And Jean-Claude?”
“He asked me to make the charm to protect his servant and his kiss. I knew I could not do it without your help. It is the only thing he has asked of me.”
“That is not true.”
“What?”
“He asked for your love once as well.”
“That was a long time ago, and he never said the words.”
“Words are meaningless, and first love smolders forever, Penny. If you forget that, it may burn you when you think it is out.”
“Then perhaps I did it for the memory of something we once felt for one another.”
“As you like.”
“Were you always this cryptic?”
“Probably. Yes.”
Penelope grew tired of the repartee. The momentary emotional plateau they found had once again risen and deformed so that she was once again the pupil, Helene the teacher.
“The charm, Helene.”
“The charm, Penelope.”
Helene touched Penelope’s forehead with her own and when she did she transferred the knowledge to make the charm against Marmee Noir, as well as a few other tidbits that might prove useful to her granddaughter one day. These things would remain secret to her until need arose, but knowledge was the only gift Helene had to give her.
The transfer was painless, but made Penelope feel much as she had at Veritas the night before after drinking too much wine.
She looked up, dazed, into Helene’s black eyes.
“Are my eyes black as well?” She said with a slight slur.
“Yours are as brown and gold as they were the first time I ever looked into them, but with perhaps more fire than before.”
Helene’s eyes slowly morphed back to her own, but tinged with sadness.
“Once mine burned with green fire, as yours sometimes burn with blue.”
Helene touched Penelope’s heart and moved her hand down the length of her torso to rest upon her belly.
“Do you still have my mother’s ring?”
“Yes. Of course.”
An awkward moment of silence passed between them. So many things had gone unsaid, and would remain so. Helene reached out and touched her granddaughter with love instead of purpose. There was nothing she could do to make right the mistakes of the past, but she thought perhaps she could offer Penelope something to ease the pain.
“I sent you away because I was frightened. Frightened of what may happen if you stayed that close to Lucien. His power called to you, as the power of those of Belle’s line have called to women of our family for generations.”
Penelope was confused, “But I was just a child. Did you think that he and I…?”
“It was not jealousy, if that is what you are thinking. Lucien thought of you as a daughter, I know that. But as I tried to tell you, power is a strange thing. I feared for you because I knew that Lucien was not powerful, and I could not chance what might have happened if you had come into contact with a Master of Belle’s line, or gods forbid, Belle herself, before you were ready.”
“But I did. Asher and I were almost violently attracted to one another from the moment we saw each other.”
“Before that even, I suspect. There are those who say a master vampire and their servant are destined to be together from the moment the human is born. I believe you were meant for each other.”
“And what about London?”
“Sometimes love just happens, Penelope. It is surprising that way. But his love for you, and his power, called you to him as well.”
“And Jean-Claude?”
“Jean-Claude is, well, he is Jean-Claude!”
Both women, although still uneasy with one another, laughed a little at that, and it felt good.
“Darling, you must go. Remember what I have said and use the knowledge I have passed to you to help protect Jean-Claude and his servant. It will not last forever, but it will give them time to prepare. There is quite a fight ahead, and not all of their enemies are lying in a dark underground chamber.”
"Will I have to fight?" Penelope was still pensive about using her powers offensively. She wondered if Helene knew all that had happened to her over the long centuries.
"Marmee? I do not think that getting in her way would be wise. She will remember you now. If it comes to that, then you will fight. But it truly is not your battle." Helene stroked the hair from Penelope's face. "You were put on this earth to protect others, child. But you have the strength of all our generations behind you if the battle finds you. Now, you really must go."
“What do I have to do?”
“Think of them, Penelope. Think of all the people you love. I suspect there will be someone pulling you back, and if you reach out, you will feel it too.”
Penelope turned to go when Helene grabbed her hand and held it.
“I am sorry. I am sorry I could not share with you my reasons for sending you away. I am sorry I was not strong enough to live on after Lucien was gone. I am sorry I was not there to protect you and Julianna. I have made more mistakes than I ever thought possible, but I always, always loved you.”
“I know.” Penelope gently pulled her hand away and turned towards the trees, then stopped and looked back at Helene who was almost invisible for the bright sunshine that haloed her.
“Grand-mama?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Were you with her? When she died?”
“Yes.”
“She was not alone?”
“No.”
“Tell her I love her.”
“She knows, ma toute belle, she knows.”
Penelope walked into the forest until she could no longer see the rays of the sun streaming through the branches, and all was shrouded in darkness.
*"Give me your word that you will do it personally."
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Chapter 21- Recovery by nicola71
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Sorry that it has been so long! Summer has taken hold of me and has been reluctant to let me go. I hope everyone is well!
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"We have to get her warm, guys. Off with the clothes."
Castor and Pollux looked at each other, then back at Anita.
"What?" The brothers questioned in unison.
"You're shifters aren't you? For crying out loud, take your clothes off and climb into the bed with her, she needs your body heat!"
The brothers did not move, but Pollux spoke aloud a conversation that seemed to have begun inside their heads.
"Brother..."
"She belongs to him, Pollux."
"So do we."
Anita did not have the time or patience to analyze their odd exchange, focusing instead on getting them naked. She started to take Castor's jacket off when he finally seemed to get it and began to disrobe himself.
Jason and Steven had taken the first shift, but even their heat was not enough. Jean-Claude figured that hyenas might be the better choice, seeing that they were Asher's animal to call. Whatever they did, it had to be now. Penelope's temperature had risen slightly, but she was still colder than Jean-Claude, who had not fed yet. Which made her pretty damn cold.
Anita had replaced the ring on Penelope's finger, and as soon as that happened she began to rally. Jason and Steven were snuggled around her, but her lips were still blue. They had been trying to warm her up for what seemed like hours.
"Jason," Jean-Claude motioned to him as he slipped out of bed, allowing Pollux to take his place.
"Yes?"
"I need to feed."
Jason offered his wrist. Jean-Claude needed blood, and it was not the time for a slow comfortable feed.
"Here, take as much as you need."
Jean-Claude looked at his servant.
"From both of you."
Anita blinked. Jean-Claude never asked to feed from her unless it was a dire situation. Sure, she let him take blood when they were having sex, but just a feed? It had taken her quite some time to get used to the idea of how much Jean-Claude enjoyed taking her blood when they were making love. Although he did not indulge that desire often, Anita now never refused him, and often begged him to take her blood when the moment got really intense. But Jean-Claude had never asked to feed from her for sustenance. Despite that being Jason's primary duty, Anita was still opposed to being used as what she still thought of as 'cattle.' In her heart she knew this request was quite different, but her nature made her question him.
"Why both of us?"
"I need the strength and power of your blood to help her cross over."
"Cross over from where?"
"From where she is, ma petite."
Anita sighed. He was being enigmatic, and she was not in the mood.
"And where exactly is that?"
Now it was Jean-Claude's turn to sigh. "Somewhere between here, and somewhere else."
Jason piped up. "I don't care where she is, I just want her back, so take my wrist, ankle, earlobe, whatever, just do something because I don't want to be here if Asher wakes up and Penny is..." He couldn't bring himself to say the words. Jason had seen Asher go from bitterness to elation and knew that he would never survive another devastating loss.
Anita looked from Jason to Jean-Claude and rolled up her sleeve.
"Well get on with it if you're going to feed, don't just stand there staring like I have five heads."
Penelope was the one girlfriend Anita had who didn't judge her, and who completely understood her lifestyle without question. For that she could spare a pint or two. Actually, the thought of watching Asher go through losing Penny terrified Anita. She'd felt and seen too many memories of Jean-Claude's to want either of them to go through that again, if she could help it.
Afterwards, Anita stood there watching the twin puncture marks heal. She no longer put bandages over the fang marks, even though it was difficult for her to see those marks and forget that they would have sickened her just a few years ago. But she had gone through a few important changes recently and realized how hurtful it was to her vampire friends. To Jean-Claude especially.
"So, now what?" Anita shrugged.
Jean-Claude's eyes were closed as he felt the warmth of his Pomme and Servant pulse through him. Their blood together was both intoxicating and powerful, and made him quite warm to the touch.
"Her temperature is rising," Castor announced, the discomfort in his voice undisguised. Clearly he wanted out of that bed as soon as possible.
The brothers had Penelope tightly snuggled between them to the point where her body was completely encased in their muscular flesh. There was nothing sexual in the way they touched her. Their natural shifter instincts allowed them to cuddle her into the heat of their bodies without crossing that line. But Anita noticed that Pollux was far less fazed by this than his fairer sibling.
There was no great resemblance between them other than their eyes. Both had the same hazel eyes. Castor still sported a shaggy dirty blond haircut, whereas Pollux's much darker brown hair was neatly clipped in what was commonly referred to as a 'Caesar' cut. He also sported a closely trimmed beard. Both were deeply tanned, and beautiful, in a rugged masculine way.
Jean-Claude sat on the bed and reached for Penelope's hand. The ghostly pale had started to lift from her skin telling him that it was now time for him to act. His own hand was like summer heat to the winter chill of hers, and for a moment he was drawn into the softness of the palm that had once so tenderly adored him. The moment was intense, but he pushed it away, as he did most of his memories of her, and focused on what he was about to do. Which curiously everyone in the room wanted to know.
"What are you doing?" Jason, Anita, and the brothers asked in unison.
Castor looked to his brother a warning glance. The private conversation they seemed to be having continued, and ended abruptly with a growl from Pollux. Anita made another mental note to investigate this little oddity further once the crisis was over.
Jean-Claude sighed at their human need to know everything that was happening at a given time.
"I will invade her mind and attempt to bring her back to us."
"Why couldn't you do that before?" Anita had her hands on her hips in her classic WTF pose.
"Because she was not here, ma petite. She was somewhere I could not go. But now that some color and warmth have returned to her body I believe I can reach her. She is on her way back. I am just going to show her the path."
Jean-Claude closed his eyes and seemed to fall into a trance. Jason was the only one who dared to speak, his nervous energy needing an outlet. In this case, his mouth.
"I sure as hell hope where ever she's been sucks, so she wants to come back."
Anita glared at him, then rested her eyes on the bed. Silently, she thought, so do I, Jason. So do I.
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Penelope came through the trees as the day seamlessly slipped into night. As she stepped through to another meadow, the moon had replaced the sun and was sparkling along the ripples of the small lake that rose before her. The night air was warm against her skin, and she looked down to see that her gown had changed. She was now clothed in a soft silver robe. She stopped and let her bare feet feel the blades of velvety grass underneath them, breathing deeply of the scent of exotic flowers and clean, fresh air. Kneeling in the distance she she saw a man. A man with hair the color of ebony.
Jean-Claude.
She walked towards him slowly, not knowing if this was a dream. And not caring. She stopped when he was at her feet. Suddenly he reached for her and pulled her down and tightly to his body.
He is so very warm, she thought as she nuzzled her face into his shoulder.
"Is this a dream, Jean?" Penelope remembered talking with her grandmother. She remembered leaving the sunlit meadow. She remembered her grandmother's embrace, her words, the curve of her smile as she said farewell.
"A dream? I suppose it is. I thought it would be more difficult to find you."
"I wanted to be found, Jean-Claude." She clasped him as tightly as she could, afraid he might disappear into the mist.
"And I am very glad of that, ma belle etudiant. Very glad, indeed." He paused, thinking about all the things that he could and wanted to say to her. As was his usual practice, he pushed away those things until they were merely echoes in the back of his mind. But despite winning the battle with his memories he still found himself uttering the smallest of white lies.
"We should linger here for a moment. Your body is not quite ready for you to return."
Jean-Claude was confident that she would survive, but he selfishly wanted to take a few moments totally alone with her, in a way that was almost impossible in their reality.
"Okay," she sighed and sank into his arms, reconnecting with the other side. She thought how strange it was that, although on their side Jean-Claude was considered dead, here he felt more alive to her than anything else.
He pulled her in tightly and, as he felt the breath ease in and out of her body, began to think about the possible consequences of her actions. Although he knew he had pushed her in this desperate direction, he could not hold back the anger he suddenly felt. It was not only her life she had put in jeopardy.
"Why did you do it, Penelope, why? I blame myself for the rashness of your act, but I also must ask why you risked his life and happiness." His voice was edged with anger and he pulled back so he could see her eyes.
Penelope moved back even further until only their hands remained clasped.
"I could have severed our tie without hurting him. My old master taught me how to do it." She knew she was not answering the question.
"That is not what I mean!" Jean-Claude rose with fury and walked a few feet away from her. "True death would have been a mercy for him. Do you actually think he wants to exist without you?"
"He went on after..."
"Non! Do NOT bring her into this, Penelope. The only thing that kept him from meeting the dawn back then was my determination to save him. And after that, his perverse notion that the punishments dealt him from Belle were just. He wore the pain of awakening each night like a cilice*. Penance for bringing Julianna to the threshold of her death."
Penelope tried to rationalize, all the while knowing it was an argument she could not win.
"But he has you in his life. And Anita. He had found his worth here with you before I ever showed my face."
"Is that what you believe? That Anita or myself could take your place? Could ease Asher's sorrow if you died? I gave you far more credit for intelligence than that, Penelope. How could you say something so stupid."
Penelope's mouth fell open at the accusation, but before she could speak Jean-Claude had rushed and grabbed her arms, pulled her to her feet and shook her almost violently.
"Do you know what he asked me to do if you did not survive? Do you know what he made me give my word to do?"
She bowed her head, not wanting to hear the words.
"Kill him, Penelope! Kill him! And I would have done it, too, with my own hand, rather than have him wake one more night with a gaping hole where his soul should be. For someone who has spent several lifetimes as a human servant, you know little about how much you truly mean to your vampire."
"Master Socrates..."
"Socrates was a fool, for all his knowledge. A fool! He had you all those years, you and all those other women, and never truly saw you. Never felt you. Never loved you. Perhaps that was the price he paid for being able to create so many servants. But to us, to Asher, and me, a human servant is more than someone to do the bookkeeping or guard us during the day, or warm our beds at night. You ARE us. You are the living, breathing, beating connection to the world. More than a lover, more than any spouse. For three hundred years I wrestled with the thought that the worst disservice I ever did was not to kill Asher that night after your sister was murdered."
Jean-Claude softened his grip and found himself breathing heavily, his words flying at her like stinging barbs. But the dam was cracked now. The only thing he could do was hang on to her so that neither of them drowned in the flood.
Penelope tried to explain herself, tried to make him understand that what she had done had been out of love.
"I wanted to be useful, Jean. I want to protect him. I want to protect you. I want my life to mean something."
"Your life does mean something, Penelope. To Asher, to London. And to me. What comes from Marmee Noir or the Council or Hell itself cannot be stopped by you or me. Looking at you now, I have no idea why I pushed so hard to discover the secret to that charm. In the end, she will come no matter what we do."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Helene, grandmother, told me the charm will give you time, but it will not hold her off forever. The magic in it is waning. I am truly sorry, but I can only buy you time."
Jean-Claude thought about that for a moment.
"I think I have always known that."
The false security that the magic had given him was made painfully clear, and the true reason he had goaded Penelope materialized before him. If she did not disappoint him in some way, it would be too easy for him to fall into a comfortable position with her. A position that Anita would never understand, and one that might even be too much for Asher. To share her body was one thing. Asher would never deny him that. But to share her heart as they shared Julianna's? No.
Jean-Claude and Asher had spoken many times about his feelings on sharing Penelope with London. London loved her with his whole heart, and Asher could accept that because Asher shared his own heart between Penelope and Jean-Claude. He loved Jean-Claude, but he did not have similar feelings for London. But to again have the two most important people in his heart connected in the same way was not something Asher could accept. Not again. The first time had been too painful.
But even that knowledge could not break the connection Jean-Claude still felt for the woman in his arms. He had loved her. He loved her still, in a way. And that was something he was going to have to take to his final death. At least he hoped he could.
"I'm sorry, Jean." Penelope put her cheek to his chest and wrapped her arms around him.
"So am I, ma belle etudiant." He held her close, hoping she did not guess how truly sorry he was.
"Can we go home now?"
"Oui, home."
Jean-Claude tilted Penelope's chin up and leaned down to place a gentle kiss upon her lips.
* In modern times this word means a spiked metal belt or chain worn strapped tight around the upper thigh as a penance.
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Thanks to Subbie for all of her help with this chapter that was beating me up! If you have not read the Penelope/Julianna ficlet, you may want to because those stories figure in this chapter. Also a note: I have not read Blood Noir yet, and this story was outlined before it debuted, so I apologize for any inconsistencies or unintentional similarities concerning Marmee. I really do need to read that book! However I plan on sticking to my original outline no matter what comes from BN. Also, I only gave one French translation, the other bits of French are all in context or restated in English. Thank you for reading!
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The door to Asher’s room burst open and Jean-Claude and Anita rushed in together, clad in their robes, followed closely by several guards including Castor and Pollux, who were both ashen. The brothers felt the full force of their master's pain, even more so than the other Hyenas at the Circus tonight.
Jean-Claude and Asher spoke very quickly in French, which they often did in times of great distress. It was Anita who finally screamed for them to slow down and speak English so the rest of them could be caught up on the situation.
Jean-Claude explained that Marmee Noir had made an attempt to invade Anita's mind, but something stopped her dead in her tracks.
“It wasn't like before. It was as if she was totally distracted, and simply let me go,” Anita explained. “But she was angry about something. Very angry.”
“Asher, what happened here?” Jean-Claude sat on the bed and touched Asher's arm. His voice was calm and even-tempered. He looked on his chardonneret with concern and love, and just a hint of fear.
Anita felt all of it, and did not care for the 'fear' part in the least. She was not used to feeling that particular emotion from Jean-Claude, but either he could not shield it from her, or he needed her to share the burden.
Asher did not feel the need to tell or explain to everyone present about the sexual aspect of what happened, first of all because it was obvious due to the condition of the room and the scents, and second because he knew that they all had felt the power surge.
“There was an enormous power spike. I believe Penelope took most of it and funneled it through her own body somewhere. She was not herself, her words...they made no sense. I thought for a moment she was simply power drunk, but then...then she just started to fade. I can still feel her, but she is so far away it is, it is like, it is like…il ressemble à un bruit bourdonnant, a buzzing.” Asher's eyes were glassy and unfocused. He seemed dazed as though wherever Penelope had gone she had taken some of his consciousness with her.
Asher held Penelope clasped tightly to his body, but she was cold, even to him. She should not have been cold.
“She is so cold. Jean-Claude, I have no warmth to give her.” His voice faltered.
"Her heart still beats, mon ami, and she has never given up on you before. It would be unwise to jump to conclusions." The calmness of the Master of the City's voice betrayed nothing of what was going on inside of him.
Jean-Claude felt the dawn pressing against them. There was not much time. Anita spoke his words before he could.
“Asher, London, you have to get out of here. Go to her room so you’ll be close, but you guys falling to the floor once the sun is up will help no one.” She turned to Jean-Claude. “If we are touching at dawn, you’ll stay awake. You won’t die for the day, right?”
“I believe so. It has only happened the once.”
Anita frowned ignoring the insinuation.
“Then let’s hope it happens again. We’re going to need you, because I have no idea what to do. And if Mommy decides to make a return visit…where’s Jason?” she directed this question to Claudia.
“I’ll go get him.” Claudia was gone in a blur.
Anita answered the questioning glances. “We’ll need a wolf if Mommy Dearest decides to come back.”
“Oui,” Jean-Claude picked up Penelope’s hand and held it to his cheek. It was like ice. What has she done?
“Look at her hand!” London was the first to notice.
There was still a faint pink mark left where Penelope’s ring had snugly fit for centuries. It was gone.
“What the hell did she think she was doing taking her ring off? Where the fuck is it?” Anita started frantically searching the bedside table while London practically tore the bed apart.
“My, God!” London jumped up in sudden realization and ran to Penelope’s bathroom. When he came back he had her ring in his hand.
“She must have taken it off deliberately. It was just sitting by the sink.” His heart sank at all the possible reasons she might have done this. None of them good.
“Give it to me," Jean-Claude held his hand out, “Now go, both of you. You have but minutes.”
“Non! Non! Non!” Asher fought off London’s attempt to lead him away.
London gently pulled Asher's chin until their eyes met. Despair had ruled them both for far too long, and he was not about to allow it to rule them once again.
“We will be useless to her in a matter of minutes, Asher. We must trust that Jean-Claude and Anita can bring her back. Please, please come with me.” London implored with a soft voice that hid the storm of anxiety that raged inside of him. His own frantic thoughts about waking up to find her gone chewed him from the inside out, but he fought them off. If Asher needed his strength to do the same, then he would gladly give it to him.
Asher looked into Jean-Claude’s eyes. His own were dry. He had no tears. He had nothing. He had grown so used to Penelope's constant presence that the emptiness was numbingly painful. A pain he had felt before. He could not go through that again.
“Jean, please. Give me your word. *Donnez-moi votre mot que vous le ferez personnellement."
Jean-Claude touched Asher’s face.
“Je vous promets, mon Chardonneret, I give you my word.”
Asher carefully handed Penelope over to Jean-Claude, who took her into his arms. Then he reluctantly got up and followed London into Penelope’s adjoining room. The two vampires both looked back once more and hurried to make it to the bed before the sun caught up with them.
“What in hell did you promise him?” Anita knelt in front of Jean-Claude. Her voice was frantic and angry because she thought she already knew the answer to her question.
“It is of no concern at this moment," he said sharply. "Now, please, Anita, hold my hand.”
Jean-Claude used her real name, which meant things were very wrong, indeed.
Anita sighed, grasped his hand and pulled it to her lips. What a way to start the day.
*********************************************************************
Penelope let Helene help her to her feet. She guessed it was late spring, by the new leaves and young budding flowers.
“Thank you.” Penelope moved slightly away to keep her distance. It was not an entirely instinctive move.
“Do you still hate me so much that do not embrace me after all this time?” Helene said, sorrow and disappointment in her voice.
She looked almost exactly as she had the last time Penelope saw her except that her hair was now fully flaxen instead of peppered with gray, and her skin was once again taut as it must have been when she was young. She wore an emerald green gossamer gown that hugged her body. She looked beautiful, ethereal, and alive.
Penelope hesitantly wrapped her arms around the taller woman’s waist, laying her head against her shoulder, but what started out as a reluctantly performed duty soon turned into something familiar and longed for. Penelope clung to her like she had when she was a child.
“Grand-mama!” Penelope allowed herself a few well fought off tears.
“It is all right, child,” Helene pulled her in tightly, and tried through her embrace to remind Penelope how much they loved each other once.
“I hated you for so long. I think I still do.” Penelope knew they had little time for convenient lies, and so did Helene.
“I know, darling, I know.”
Helene released her and the two women walked hand in hand to a blanket that was spread beneath a large Oak tree. Penelope began to recognize the place as the meadow that bordered their cottage. A place where she and Julianna had played many times, and where Helene had first taught them to identify different types of herbs and flowers.
When they were seated, Helene spoke with urgency.
“I do not have much time. Shielding you from Marmee took a great deal of power and energy. I had to siphon most of the power you summoned, and I am afraid I have left your physical body compromised.”
Penelope suddenly remembered how she got here.
“I knew I could attract her, and I hoped that you would come. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I created something like the ardeur. Something that made her think that Anita and Jean-Claude were vulnerable. It was a ruse that I figured would work for a few moments only, so I took out some insurance. I took my ring off first.”
Helene looked at her hand, “Yes, I see. It took you long enough to find the courage to do that.”
“You made me swear never to take it off!” Penelope’s anger started to flare, as she was reminded once more of Helene's irritatingly enigmatic nature.
“And I did not expect that you would never defy me! Did you become nothing but an obedient slave in all these years? Gods, Penelope, what did I do to your spirit sending you away for so long?” Helene's face, despite its apparent youth, was at once awash with centuries of doubt and shame. Penelope, however, still saw only the woman who sent her away from her home and those she loved.
“Only you can answer that question, Helene. It was you who banished me.”
“I loved you, ma toute belle,. I had to send you away before anything happened that you were not prepared to handle.”
“Don't you dare use his pet name for me, don't you dare! You banished me, Grandmother. Banished me from my sister, from Madeline, and from Lucien! And never a word of discussion about it. I was just gone.”
“You would not have understood, at the time.”
“Will I understand now?” Penelope's voice was full of venom.
“Penelope, there is little time.”
“I have waited three hundred years to ask you this, Helene. It was not an easy question for me and I do not deserve an easy, bullshit answer.”
Helene sighed, “No, you do not.”
“Why did you send me away? Why did you choose to sentence me to a life without love, without emotional bonds?”
“You had to be protected, but I never expected things to turn out the way they did.”
Penelope laughed, “Protected? From what? From love? From society? From life? Your protection did Julianna quite well, did it not?”
“What happened to your sister was my fault, and I carry her death with me every day.”
“Somehow I doubt that. I was there.”
“So was I.”
Penelope looked on her grandmother with disgusted amazement.
“You were there? How? And why did you do nothing? If you could reach out to me today, why not to her then? Why not! Why not free me so I could have done something? I would have climbed up onto the pyre with her. I would have died rather than bear witness to that atrocity!”
“That is precisely why I did not help to free you. And I could not help her. You would have both died and with you all that the women in our family have vowed to preserve for more than a thousand years.”
“Was that so important? More important than Juli’s life? Than their happiness, of…”
“Of Asher?”
“It almost killed him.”
“But it did not.”
“How can you be so cold? Were you always like this? When I was a child, and worshipped you, were you always such a bitch?”
Helene struck back with anger.
“You forget that I too have lost those I loved! I lost a daughter who was dearer to me than anyone in the world. I lost her to a handsome man on a black horse with dark eyes and the promise of a title and a ‘normal’ life. I lost the only man I ever truly loved to the irrational rage of a maniacal vampire, bent on destroying our family. And yes, before you 'enlighten me' I know what part Belle played in the death of your sister.”
Penelope suddenly remembered the secret she had bound with Anita. Belle was the maestro of Jean-Claude and Asher’s misfortune and Julianna’s death. The look on her face told her grandmother all she needed to know.
“The secret, Penelope, will remain bound. You remember it here because there are no boundaries here. Your charm will remain intact.”
Penelope nodded and tried to pat down the rage that began to fill her. That fight was for another time. She looked at Helene who was wiping away her tears.
“You cry for him still?” Penelope had shed her own tears for Lucien, long ago. But to look at Helene's face one would think he had gone to his final death only yesterday.
“I am forbidden to see him. And please do not ask why, Penny, there are things about this place that I cannot reveal.”
Penelope could feel the truth in Helene's words. She found herself looking on the events of that time from a totally new point of view. The mere idea of Asher, or London, sentenced to their final death never to awaken, terrified her. Never to have the chance to say goodbye to them, or 'I love you', or to never again feel their bodies warm as her blood flowed through their veins, was a future she did not want to think about. In that instant Penelope understood what her grandmother had endured. Holding her truly dead lover in her arms and seeing his eyes, their fire forever doused, was more than Helene could bear.
“I’m sorry.” Penelope looked away, suddenly ashamed.
“Now that you love, you know.” Helene tipped Penelope’s chin up to look at her and softened her voice. Their time was scarce and the anger that still lay between them would not dissolve in this short span. It was part of the price for this little visitation. Helene brought them back to the task at hand.
“I knew you would inspire a man to love one day. But two? And with such strength and power. You have truly exceeded my expectations.”
“It is not about power.”
“As you like. In our world they go hand in hand. But you do love them?”
“More than I thought possible.”
“They are why you are here?”
“Yes. In part.”
“And Jean-Claude?”
“He asked me to make the charm to protect his servant and his kiss. I knew I could not do it without your help. It is the only thing he has asked of me.”
“That is not true.”
“What?”
“He asked for your love once as well.”
“That was a long time ago, and he never said the words.”
“Words are meaningless, and first love smolders forever, Penny. If you forget that, it may burn you when you think it is out.”
“Then perhaps I did it for the memory of something we once felt for one another.”
“As you like.”
“Were you always this cryptic?”
“Probably. Yes.”
Penelope grew tired of the repartee. The momentary emotional plateau they found had once again risen and deformed so that she was once again the pupil, Helene the teacher.
“The charm, Helene.”
“The charm, Penelope.”
Helene touched Penelope’s forehead with her own and when she did she transferred the knowledge to make the charm against Marmee Noir, as well as a few other tidbits that might prove useful to her granddaughter one day. These things would remain secret to her until need arose, but knowledge was the only gift Helene had to give her.
The transfer was painless, but made Penelope feel much as she had at Veritas the night before after drinking too much wine.
She looked up, dazed, into Helene’s black eyes.
“Are my eyes black as well?” She said with a slight slur.
“Yours are as brown and gold as they were the first time I ever looked into them, but with perhaps more fire than before.”
Helene’s eyes slowly morphed back to her own, but tinged with sadness.
“Once mine burned with green fire, as yours sometimes burn with blue.”
Helene touched Penelope’s heart and moved her hand down the length of her torso to rest upon her belly.
“Do you still have my mother’s ring?”
“Yes. Of course.”
An awkward moment of silence passed between them. So many things had gone unsaid, and would remain so. Helene reached out and touched her granddaughter with love instead of purpose. There was nothing she could do to make right the mistakes of the past, but she thought perhaps she could offer Penelope something to ease the pain.
“I sent you away because I was frightened. Frightened of what may happen if you stayed that close to Lucien. His power called to you, as the power of those of Belle’s line have called to women of our family for generations.”
Penelope was confused, “But I was just a child. Did you think that he and I…?”
“It was not jealousy, if that is what you are thinking. Lucien thought of you as a daughter, I know that. But as I tried to tell you, power is a strange thing. I feared for you because I knew that Lucien was not powerful, and I could not chance what might have happened if you had come into contact with a Master of Belle’s line, or gods forbid, Belle herself, before you were ready.”
“But I did. Asher and I were almost violently attracted to one another from the moment we saw each other.”
“Before that even, I suspect. There are those who say a master vampire and their servant are destined to be together from the moment the human is born. I believe you were meant for each other.”
“And what about London?”
“Sometimes love just happens, Penelope. It is surprising that way. But his love for you, and his power, called you to him as well.”
“And Jean-Claude?”
“Jean-Claude is, well, he is Jean-Claude!”
Both women, although still uneasy with one another, laughed a little at that, and it felt good.
“Darling, you must go. Remember what I have said and use the knowledge I have passed to you to help protect Jean-Claude and his servant. It will not last forever, but it will give them time to prepare. There is quite a fight ahead, and not all of their enemies are lying in a dark underground chamber.”
"Will I have to fight?" Penelope was still pensive about using her powers offensively. She wondered if Helene knew all that had happened to her over the long centuries.
"Marmee? I do not think that getting in her way would be wise. She will remember you now. If it comes to that, then you will fight. But it truly is not your battle." Helene stroked the hair from Penelope's face. "You were put on this earth to protect others, child. But you have the strength of all our generations behind you if the battle finds you. Now, you really must go."
“What do I have to do?”
“Think of them, Penelope. Think of all the people you love. I suspect there will be someone pulling you back, and if you reach out, you will feel it too.”
Penelope turned to go when Helene grabbed her hand and held it.
“I am sorry. I am sorry I could not share with you my reasons for sending you away. I am sorry I was not strong enough to live on after Lucien was gone. I am sorry I was not there to protect you and Julianna. I have made more mistakes than I ever thought possible, but I always, always loved you.”
“I know.” Penelope gently pulled her hand away and turned towards the trees, then stopped and looked back at Helene who was almost invisible for the bright sunshine that haloed her.
“Grand-mama?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Were you with her? When she died?”
“Yes.”
“She was not alone?”
“No.”
“Tell her I love her.”
“She knows, ma toute belle, she knows.”
Penelope walked into the forest until she could no longer see the rays of the sun streaming through the branches, and all was shrouded in darkness.
*"Give me your word that you will do it personally."
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Chapter 21- Recovery by nicola71
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Sorry that it has been so long! Summer has taken hold of me and has been reluctant to let me go. I hope everyone is well!
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"We have to get her warm, guys. Off with the clothes."
Castor and Pollux looked at each other, then back at Anita.
"What?" The brothers questioned in unison.
"You're shifters aren't you? For crying out loud, take your clothes off and climb into the bed with her, she needs your body heat!"
The brothers did not move, but Pollux spoke aloud a conversation that seemed to have begun inside their heads.
"Brother..."
"She belongs to him, Pollux."
"So do we."
Anita did not have the time or patience to analyze their odd exchange, focusing instead on getting them naked. She started to take Castor's jacket off when he finally seemed to get it and began to disrobe himself.
Jason and Steven had taken the first shift, but even their heat was not enough. Jean-Claude figured that hyenas might be the better choice, seeing that they were Asher's animal to call. Whatever they did, it had to be now. Penelope's temperature had risen slightly, but she was still colder than Jean-Claude, who had not fed yet. Which made her pretty damn cold.
Anita had replaced the ring on Penelope's finger, and as soon as that happened she began to rally. Jason and Steven were snuggled around her, but her lips were still blue. They had been trying to warm her up for what seemed like hours.
"Jason," Jean-Claude motioned to him as he slipped out of bed, allowing Pollux to take his place.
"Yes?"
"I need to feed."
Jason offered his wrist. Jean-Claude needed blood, and it was not the time for a slow comfortable feed.
"Here, take as much as you need."
Jean-Claude looked at his servant.
"From both of you."
Anita blinked. Jean-Claude never asked to feed from her unless it was a dire situation. Sure, she let him take blood when they were having sex, but just a feed? It had taken her quite some time to get used to the idea of how much Jean-Claude enjoyed taking her blood when they were making love. Although he did not indulge that desire often, Anita now never refused him, and often begged him to take her blood when the moment got really intense. But Jean-Claude had never asked to feed from her for sustenance. Despite that being Jason's primary duty, Anita was still opposed to being used as what she still thought of as 'cattle.' In her heart she knew this request was quite different, but her nature made her question him.
"Why both of us?"
"I need the strength and power of your blood to help her cross over."
"Cross over from where?"
"From where she is, ma petite."
Anita sighed. He was being enigmatic, and she was not in the mood.
"And where exactly is that?"
Now it was Jean-Claude's turn to sigh. "Somewhere between here, and somewhere else."
Jason piped up. "I don't care where she is, I just want her back, so take my wrist, ankle, earlobe, whatever, just do something because I don't want to be here if Asher wakes up and Penny is..." He couldn't bring himself to say the words. Jason had seen Asher go from bitterness to elation and knew that he would never survive another devastating loss.
Anita looked from Jason to Jean-Claude and rolled up her sleeve.
"Well get on with it if you're going to feed, don't just stand there staring like I have five heads."
Penelope was the one girlfriend Anita had who didn't judge her, and who completely understood her lifestyle without question. For that she could spare a pint or two. Actually, the thought of watching Asher go through losing Penny terrified Anita. She'd felt and seen too many memories of Jean-Claude's to want either of them to go through that again, if she could help it.
Afterwards, Anita stood there watching the twin puncture marks heal. She no longer put bandages over the fang marks, even though it was difficult for her to see those marks and forget that they would have sickened her just a few years ago. But she had gone through a few important changes recently and realized how hurtful it was to her vampire friends. To Jean-Claude especially.
"So, now what?" Anita shrugged.
Jean-Claude's eyes were closed as he felt the warmth of his Pomme and Servant pulse through him. Their blood together was both intoxicating and powerful, and made him quite warm to the touch.
"Her temperature is rising," Castor announced, the discomfort in his voice undisguised. Clearly he wanted out of that bed as soon as possible.
The brothers had Penelope tightly snuggled between them to the point where her body was completely encased in their muscular flesh. There was nothing sexual in the way they touched her. Their natural shifter instincts allowed them to cuddle her into the heat of their bodies without crossing that line. But Anita noticed that Pollux was far less fazed by this than his fairer sibling.
There was no great resemblance between them other than their eyes. Both had the same hazel eyes. Castor still sported a shaggy dirty blond haircut, whereas Pollux's much darker brown hair was neatly clipped in what was commonly referred to as a 'Caesar' cut. He also sported a closely trimmed beard. Both were deeply tanned, and beautiful, in a rugged masculine way.
Jean-Claude sat on the bed and reached for Penelope's hand. The ghostly pale had started to lift from her skin telling him that it was now time for him to act. His own hand was like summer heat to the winter chill of hers, and for a moment he was drawn into the softness of the palm that had once so tenderly adored him. The moment was intense, but he pushed it away, as he did most of his memories of her, and focused on what he was about to do. Which curiously everyone in the room wanted to know.
"What are you doing?" Jason, Anita, and the brothers asked in unison.
Castor looked to his brother a warning glance. The private conversation they seemed to be having continued, and ended abruptly with a growl from Pollux. Anita made another mental note to investigate this little oddity further once the crisis was over.
Jean-Claude sighed at their human need to know everything that was happening at a given time.
"I will invade her mind and attempt to bring her back to us."
"Why couldn't you do that before?" Anita had her hands on her hips in her classic WTF pose.
"Because she was not here, ma petite. She was somewhere I could not go. But now that some color and warmth have returned to her body I believe I can reach her. She is on her way back. I am just going to show her the path."
Jean-Claude closed his eyes and seemed to fall into a trance. Jason was the only one who dared to speak, his nervous energy needing an outlet. In this case, his mouth.
"I sure as hell hope where ever she's been sucks, so she wants to come back."
Anita glared at him, then rested her eyes on the bed. Silently, she thought, so do I, Jason. So do I.
********************************************************
Penelope came through the trees as the day seamlessly slipped into night. As she stepped through to another meadow, the moon had replaced the sun and was sparkling along the ripples of the small lake that rose before her. The night air was warm against her skin, and she looked down to see that her gown had changed. She was now clothed in a soft silver robe. She stopped and let her bare feet feel the blades of velvety grass underneath them, breathing deeply of the scent of exotic flowers and clean, fresh air. Kneeling in the distance she she saw a man. A man with hair the color of ebony.
Jean-Claude.
She walked towards him slowly, not knowing if this was a dream. And not caring. She stopped when he was at her feet. Suddenly he reached for her and pulled her down and tightly to his body.
He is so very warm, she thought as she nuzzled her face into his shoulder.
"Is this a dream, Jean?" Penelope remembered talking with her grandmother. She remembered leaving the sunlit meadow. She remembered her grandmother's embrace, her words, the curve of her smile as she said farewell.
"A dream? I suppose it is. I thought it would be more difficult to find you."
"I wanted to be found, Jean-Claude." She clasped him as tightly as she could, afraid he might disappear into the mist.
"And I am very glad of that, ma belle etudiant. Very glad, indeed." He paused, thinking about all the things that he could and wanted to say to her. As was his usual practice, he pushed away those things until they were merely echoes in the back of his mind. But despite winning the battle with his memories he still found himself uttering the smallest of white lies.
"We should linger here for a moment. Your body is not quite ready for you to return."
Jean-Claude was confident that she would survive, but he selfishly wanted to take a few moments totally alone with her, in a way that was almost impossible in their reality.
"Okay," she sighed and sank into his arms, reconnecting with the other side. She thought how strange it was that, although on their side Jean-Claude was considered dead, here he felt more alive to her than anything else.
He pulled her in tightly and, as he felt the breath ease in and out of her body, began to think about the possible consequences of her actions. Although he knew he had pushed her in this desperate direction, he could not hold back the anger he suddenly felt. It was not only her life she had put in jeopardy.
"Why did you do it, Penelope, why? I blame myself for the rashness of your act, but I also must ask why you risked his life and happiness." His voice was edged with anger and he pulled back so he could see her eyes.
Penelope moved back even further until only their hands remained clasped.
"I could have severed our tie without hurting him. My old master taught me how to do it." She knew she was not answering the question.
"That is not what I mean!" Jean-Claude rose with fury and walked a few feet away from her. "True death would have been a mercy for him. Do you actually think he wants to exist without you?"
"He went on after..."
"Non! Do NOT bring her into this, Penelope. The only thing that kept him from meeting the dawn back then was my determination to save him. And after that, his perverse notion that the punishments dealt him from Belle were just. He wore the pain of awakening each night like a cilice*. Penance for bringing Julianna to the threshold of her death."
Penelope tried to rationalize, all the while knowing it was an argument she could not win.
"But he has you in his life. And Anita. He had found his worth here with you before I ever showed my face."
"Is that what you believe? That Anita or myself could take your place? Could ease Asher's sorrow if you died? I gave you far more credit for intelligence than that, Penelope. How could you say something so stupid."
Penelope's mouth fell open at the accusation, but before she could speak Jean-Claude had rushed and grabbed her arms, pulled her to her feet and shook her almost violently.
"Do you know what he asked me to do if you did not survive? Do you know what he made me give my word to do?"
She bowed her head, not wanting to hear the words.
"Kill him, Penelope! Kill him! And I would have done it, too, with my own hand, rather than have him wake one more night with a gaping hole where his soul should be. For someone who has spent several lifetimes as a human servant, you know little about how much you truly mean to your vampire."
"Master Socrates..."
"Socrates was a fool, for all his knowledge. A fool! He had you all those years, you and all those other women, and never truly saw you. Never felt you. Never loved you. Perhaps that was the price he paid for being able to create so many servants. But to us, to Asher, and me, a human servant is more than someone to do the bookkeeping or guard us during the day, or warm our beds at night. You ARE us. You are the living, breathing, beating connection to the world. More than a lover, more than any spouse. For three hundred years I wrestled with the thought that the worst disservice I ever did was not to kill Asher that night after your sister was murdered."
Jean-Claude softened his grip and found himself breathing heavily, his words flying at her like stinging barbs. But the dam was cracked now. The only thing he could do was hang on to her so that neither of them drowned in the flood.
Penelope tried to explain herself, tried to make him understand that what she had done had been out of love.
"I wanted to be useful, Jean. I want to protect him. I want to protect you. I want my life to mean something."
"Your life does mean something, Penelope. To Asher, to London. And to me. What comes from Marmee Noir or the Council or Hell itself cannot be stopped by you or me. Looking at you now, I have no idea why I pushed so hard to discover the secret to that charm. In the end, she will come no matter what we do."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Helene, grandmother, told me the charm will give you time, but it will not hold her off forever. The magic in it is waning. I am truly sorry, but I can only buy you time."
Jean-Claude thought about that for a moment.
"I think I have always known that."
The false security that the magic had given him was made painfully clear, and the true reason he had goaded Penelope materialized before him. If she did not disappoint him in some way, it would be too easy for him to fall into a comfortable position with her. A position that Anita would never understand, and one that might even be too much for Asher. To share her body was one thing. Asher would never deny him that. But to share her heart as they shared Julianna's? No.
Jean-Claude and Asher had spoken many times about his feelings on sharing Penelope with London. London loved her with his whole heart, and Asher could accept that because Asher shared his own heart between Penelope and Jean-Claude. He loved Jean-Claude, but he did not have similar feelings for London. But to again have the two most important people in his heart connected in the same way was not something Asher could accept. Not again. The first time had been too painful.
But even that knowledge could not break the connection Jean-Claude still felt for the woman in his arms. He had loved her. He loved her still, in a way. And that was something he was going to have to take to his final death. At least he hoped he could.
"I'm sorry, Jean." Penelope put her cheek to his chest and wrapped her arms around him.
"So am I, ma belle etudiant." He held her close, hoping she did not guess how truly sorry he was.
"Can we go home now?"
"Oui, home."
Jean-Claude tilted Penelope's chin up and leaned down to place a gentle kiss upon her lips.
* In modern times this word means a spiked metal belt or chain worn strapped tight around the upper thigh as a penance.
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