Unable to return to sleep, William decided to go downstairs for a cuppa tea. This was something he could never do if others were awake to witness him doing it. Drinking tea was what Rupert did. It was far too nancy a thing for William, even though he secretly enjoyed a nice sip of Darjeeling now and again.
When he came downstairs, however, he overheard voices in the kitchen. The sound sent prickles of chills up his neck as he recalled with disjointed clarity the contents of his dream. He crept to archway of the kitchen, straining to put names to the voices he heard.
“Maybe she isn’t wrong,” one of the voices said. That one was easy: Xander. Someone else spoke in a tone too hushed to hear. William listened a moment more before giving it up. Better to be on the dropping in side of the eavesdropping, was his theory.
He stepped into the kitchen. “Maybe she isn’t wrong what?” he said, off-handedly. He went straight for the cupboard, took out a cup and turned around to find Willow and Xander seated knee to knee at the breakfast table. The collective bewilderment on their faces made the whole morning worthwhile.
At first, neither seemed up to sharing. Xander watched William with the usual unleavened distrust. Willow picked at her nails. After a moment’s thought, she said, “It’s Kennedy. She thinks the school should take a more offensive stance against the forces of evil in London.”
William leaned on the counter. This was not at all what he had expected to hear. “Well,” he said. “Way to re-enforce the militant lesbian stereotype,” he mused. He flicked a glance at Willow. “No offense, Red.”
Willow shrugged. Her face pinched up in thought.
“And Blindey the Pirate here agrees, I take it?” William said.
Xander cringed. He splayed his hands on the table, restraining his urge for pre-dawn violence.
“It’s not that I agree with Kennedy. Assface,” Xander said through clenched teeth. “It’s just we know Big Evil is out there. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let the girls log field time.”
William thunked the teacup against his thigh a few times, thinking. He said, “Girls are green, give you that. But Buffy does have a plan.”
“Which you’re all privy to, and we’re not?” Xander asked.
It was William’s turn to shrug. “Can’t say as I am,” he said. He turned to the teakettle. “Is this hot?”
Willow’s eyes slitted. She muttered, “Temperis solem,” Then, “It is now,” she said.
William poured a near-boiling cupful of water. He went to the pantry, plopped in a teabag and returned to face Xander and Willow. They stared at him, speechless.
“What?” he said, copping nonchalance. “It’s for Buffy.”
Willow straightened her shoulders. “See? She has a plan. And Giles has a plan. So Kennedy should just stick to said plan.” Willow rapped her knuckles on the table. “So should we.”
A door opened and closed upstairs. The three of them paused, listening to the muffled sounds of footsteps in the hallway.
Xander pushed his chair back. “All this fighting talk makes me hungry,” he said, changing the subject. “Who’s up for bagels?”
William took that as his cue for leaving. He didn’t get out of the kitchen in time to avoid Dawn, who was followed closely by Andrew.
Andrew was saying, “And we could even update the web site to reflect our findings, if we wanna get Wiki with it...”
Dawn pinched the skin on Andrew’s elbow.
“Ow,” he said. He looked around the kitchen. “Right. Hey, look at all the Ben Franklins. Except Spike, you’re probably a late-to-bed type, huh? Did you guys slay any vampyres on last night’s patrol?”
“Sure. We did,” William said, sounding non-convincing. “We got one,” he admitted. “Night was slow.”
“Oh,” Andrew said. He deflated slightly.
“Hey Dawnie,” Willow said, stepping in. “Xander’s making bagels. You guys want to partake?”
“Sure. Hey, is Giles awake yet? He said we’re going through our findings from the archive tonight,” Dawn said.
William chose that moment to exit stage left. He intended to go forthwith and share his findings about Kennedy with Buffy. That was his plan, but sometimes things go awry in wild ways...
~*~
Buffy was sleeping.
He crouched beside the bed, whispering her name. He held the teacup in his left hand. With his right, he stroked her face.
“Buffy,” he said. She didn’t stir. He tried again, nudging her this time.
She reached for him then, bringing her mouth to his, twisting her hands in his shirt.
“Bmfffx,” he said. William wasn’t sure she was even awake, was the thing. He struggled, mainly to keep his balance. He pulled away, but she was Slayer-strong and clearly out of her head.
“Buffy,” he said, louder. “Concerned now. Pet?”
Buffy opened her eyes. There was a wild look there, took him by surprise. She kissed him again, harder, with more purpose. She drew her legs around him, pulling him down with her. Lucky for them both, he managed to set the teacup on the bedside table before they tumbled to the floor.
~*~
“Well,” Kennedy said when Buffy opened the front door to Summers School. “Look who’s showing up almost on time.”
Buffy, nonplussed, walked in removing her raincoat and gloves. “Well, you know. Those bill thingies. Apparently you have to attach checks to them and mail them in.”
Kennedy was already dressed down and warming up.
“We have some time before the girls arrive,” she said. “What say you and me give it a go? Been a while...”
Buffy eyed Kennedy, sizing her up. “All right,” she said. “Let’s do that.”
Kennedy continued to stretch her shoulder muscles. Buffy was feeling extra spunky thanks to her pre-breakfast work out with William, which she had yet to fully to explain to herself. She crossed to the center of the studio to stand opposite Kennedy.
“You ready?” Kennedy said.
“Been ready,” Buffy said, cracking her neck.
Kennedy took the first shot, aiming high as she always did. Buffy sidestepped, answering with a swift elbow to Kennedy’s ribs. Kennedy was fast though. She dodged enough to get a graze.
“You’re awfully spry,” Kennedy said, whirling around.
“Had my Wheaties,” Buffy said.
Kennedy kicked, low and solid, connecting with Buffy’s hip. It stung. Good hit.
“Guess you did too,” Buffy said, trying to hide the wincing.
Kennedy hopped back, bouncing on the balls of her sneaker feet.
“I’m just getting started,” she said.
Buffy struck a ready stance, fists up. Kennedy swung again, going for the high shot. Buffy ducked, dropped, swept shins. Kennedy jumped, too late. Buffy’s foot struck shinbones. Kennedy spat a curse, danced back.
Buffy spun, kept close to the ground. She rose in a swift arc, turning, guarding. Kennedy backed off.
“This’ll rankle,” Kennedy said, catching her breath, “so I’m just gonna come right out and say it.”
“Go on,” Buffy said, keeping her defense up.
“I took the girls on patrol last night,” Kennedy said.
Buffy blinked. Her hands dropped, but Kennedy held her ground.
“You did what?” Buffy said, flatly.
“Just four,” Kennedy said.
“Which four?”
“Rita, Carmen, Renee and MK.”
Buffy actually felt her jaw unhinge. “MK?”
Kennedy made a lame attempt to keep up the workout act by rabbiting a weak punch at Buffy’s shoulder.
Buffy swiped Kennedy’s elbow. Hard. She turned in, gripped Kennedy’s shoulder and threw her down to the mat. Kennedy landed on her ass, but sat up, laughing.
“I said it’d rankle...”
“MK is 13,” Buffy bit out. “She should be at home lip-synching to Hilary Duff and playing with dollies.”
“She’s a Slayer,” Kennedy said. She bounded to her feet, arms out-stretched. “Like us.”
Buffy resumed her on-guard stance. “She’s a kid. And not a frontliner. And you had no right to make that call.”
Kennedy scoffed. “That’s great,” she said. “Just great. Your name’s on the sign outside, Buffy. But I’m one-half of the decision making in this school. And I say they’re ready.”
Buffy shook her head. “You are not one-half,” she said.
Kennedy leapt in, fists a-flying. Buffy blocked, pushed her back.
“Not one half?” Kennedy said. Her dark eyes flashed. “You think you’re the one calling all the shots, Big Girl? You’re the Power?”
“No,” Buffy said, playing cool. “I’m not one-half either. There are ten of us at this school. We’re all one tenth. One tenth, Kennedy.”
Kennedy’s nostrils flared. Buffy got set. Kennedy windmilled. She was playing her size and strength, but Buffy saw her from a long way off. Buffy caught her leg, bent it the wrong way and tossed her back.
And now Kennedy was pissed.
“Rita took out a vamp,” she said. “By herself. First time out. They want to be in on the action.”
Buffy advanced, feinting two swift kicks to get in close, followed by brisk strikes to the collarbone and neck. It was kinda pretty. Well, not for Kennedy. She blocked, or tried to, but Buffy was rolling.
Buffy said, “They will have all action they’ll ever want and more. They’ll have carnage enough to choke on it. You are so hungry to have all that power. Are you ready to have their blood on your hands? Are you ready to call MK’s parents, or her Watcher, to let them know the little girl they entrusted to us was slaughtered?”
Kennedy drew her body to full height. The muscles in her arms and legs flexed. Her jaw clenched tight. Her eyes sparked as she curled her hands to fists. She flew at Buffy, throwing her weight around. They rolled. Buffy crashed to the hardwood, her breath bursting from her lungs. Kennedy pinned her. Buffy broke the hold, then butted Kennedy’s seriously hard head.
Buffy sent Kennedy sprawling. She got up again before Kennedy regained her footing.
“They’re not ready,” Buffy said. She stood over Kennedy, looking down at her, arms crossed over her chest. “You’re not ready either.”
Kennedy unfolded her body with slow, deliberate motion. Her nose was swelling and bloody.
“I’m not ready?” she said, laughing darkly. “I’m the next wave, Buffy. You unlocked the Slayer’s power, spread it all around. You’re part is done. We can take it from here.”
“Really?” Buffy said, sneering. “’Cause looks like all you’re taking is an ass-whipping.”
“Go ahead. Be flip,” Kennedy said, circling. “Admit it: You’re tired of the fight. You’re in a comfort zone. You’d rather be taking in a midnight show with Captain Platinum than out on patrol.”
Buffy sputtered. “I... would not,” she said. “It was a 9:20 show. And we patrolled beforehand...”
“We can take this fight to the next level, Buffy,” Kennedy said. “I’ve already talked with Willow...”
“Willow?”
“We could clean this city by Christmas,” Kennedy said. Her voice rose with almost palpable excitement. “We’re an army, Buffy. A force! A power! We just need to push...”
Buffy pushed. She shoved Kennedy full force. Kennedy sailed backward, colliding with the mirror wall. Several cracks spider-webbed across its length from the impact. Kennedy didn’t fall. She looked over her shoulder at her fractured reflection and grinned. Buffy’s reflection grew larger as she walked toward her, giving yet another little speech.
“You’re all about the pushing,” Buffy said, keeping an even tone. Inside, the uncomfortable bitterness of anger wrenched knots in her belly. “You’re bloodthirsty. I’ve seen it before. But just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should. Less blood. More thirst. You have so much more to learn...”
Kennedy drove her elbow into Buffy’s stomach, then uppercut to her chin. Buffy staggered. Her feet tangled and she sat down hard. Kennedy planted her hands on her hips and strutted over to Buffy.
“I think I’ve learned enough,” Kennedy said. “You’re older, not wiser. You’re weak. You’ve lost your edge now that you aren’t the One and Only. You don’t have that anger any more. We’re gonna take down every vampire in this town, in this country. And then, we’re going Continental.”
Buffy gingerly pressed her fingers to her stomach. She smeared blood from her chin. Kennedy was lording over her, gloating. Buffy tasted the vinegary bile of real hate toward Kennedy.
“You think you’re the first Slayer to wage a war against all demonkind?” Buffy said. Her voice sounded gravelly and gruff with exhaustion. “Other Slayers have tried. Just ask Joan of Arc. Wait. You can’t. And why’s that? She was betrayed and burned at the stake.”
This gave Kennedy a moment’s pause. She stared down into Buffy’s face, mouthing soundless words.
“Yeah,” Buffy said. She drew her legs beneath her like she was getting ready to stand up.
Kennedy was saying, “She was one Slayer. One. Our ranks grow stronger every day...”
Buffy slammed her heel into Kennedy’s ankle. It made a grindy sound. Kennedy crumpled. She swore. She rolled onto the floor, clutching her foot.
Now Buffy was the one looking down on Kennedy.
“They are gonna die, Buffy,” Kennedy half-groaned. “We can’t save them. We have to be ready. Step up their training.”
Rita, Carmen and Renee walked in. They exchanged looks of surprise, but didn’t venture even a good morning greeting.
Quietly, Buffy said, “Giles and I have a plan, Kennedy. We will be ready. We always have been. If you’re not on board, walk out now. We do this my way, or you do it not at all. Got me?”
MK came in behind the others, sneakers tied by shoestrings and slung over her shoulder.
“Good day, mates!” she said brightly, oblivious to the fightiness of her teachers.
Buffy turned to them, brows wrinkled in grave consternation. “You four: You think you’re ready to patrol? We’re about to find your limits, so step up.”
~*~
Buffy came in ready to jump into the shower. Her frantic yet fleeting sexual encounter followed by brutal cattiness with Kennedy set her up for an all-day GI Jane training fest. As she entered the room, she heard the shower shut off.
William.
Buffy grinned. She closed the bedroom door and reclined against it, waiting, ravenous...
He entered, not seeing her, toweling his hair, wearing only his not-yet-fastened jeans. Half way up the length of the room, he paused.
William looked up. He chuckled, lightly.
“You know, you have that look again,” he said.
She pounced. “I know,” she said.
Pants off. Mostly.
Shirt, torn. Hers.
“Dammit, I liked that one,” she whispered.
“Me too.”
“What is it with us?” she said. Breathing, ragged. “We’re alone three seconds and we... paw at each other like rabid wolverines.”
Pants in the way. Hers. He tugged.
“Panic response,” he said.
She nipped his ear. His eyes rolled back.
“Huh?” Breathless.
Pants off, bra off. Thong... He admired the thong.
He shook his head. He felt all hazy. It felt great.
“It’s panic response,” he said again. Against the wall now, hands on her hips. “Big Bad out there somewhere. We’re sorting out tension. Done it before.”
Arms around his neck. Body around his, containing him, consuming him.
“Yay us,” she said, kissing him. “Finding creative outlets for stress.”
“We should...”
“No talking,” Buffy said. “Just...”
She closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of his arms, the blood in his neck, the way he trembled.
“Oh God,” she whispered against his skin.
Someone chose that moment to knock on the bedroom door.
“Ignore it. Ignore it,” he said.
Buffy bit her lip against a fit of giggles.
The someone knocked again. The someone, being the Dawn someone, was very persistent.
“Oh balls,” Buffy said. William bent his head to her shoulder, trying the not laughing and failing.
“Buffy?” Dawn said. “Buffy. Giles is here. We’re going to show off all our relicy texts from the archive.”
“Coming,” Buffy said.
William quivered, again with not laughing. “Well, not quite,” he said.
She pinched his shoulder. “Stop it stopit stopit.”
“Buffy?” Dawn said. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Buffy called. “Be right out.”
On the other side of the door, Dawn turned to Andrew.
“Do they honestly think we don’t know what’s going on in there?” Dawn asked under her breath.
Andrew said, “They are so Mulder and Scully...”
For Buffy and William, the moment had passed. At least they were still smiles.
“What say we put clothes on, pretend to be interested in musty old scrolls, then toddle out for a nightcap patrol,” William said.
“On board,” Buffy said. “Except for the clothes on part.”
William sighed. “I know. It was a nice way to bookend the day, but...”
Buffy lay her head on his chest. “Day’s not over yet,” she said, quietly.
“We’re crazy, you know that?” William said. “Desperately bag-buggered, carrying on like this when who knows what is out there and we know it.”
“Panic response,” Buffy said. “Enemy as yet sight-unseen, and bigger beyond comprehension. All we have to go on is the appearance of the Nephil-ladies. So, yeah. How else are we supposed to carry on?”
William’s breathing rose and fell, gradually coming under control. Buffy felt all muzzy and serene – not even a tiny bit panicked. She didn’t want to move from this spot, where things were safe and made some semblance of sense. They had been here before, exactly here, when she was busy avoiding the scary side of life.
Kennedy had been right about some things. Buffy was in a comfort zone. She looked up into William’s face, but his eyes were closed. Looked like she wasn’t the only one shacking up in the zone. Buffy knew – at that moment she knew – they were full on headed for trouble.
~*~
Downstairs was like a party. Dawn, Andrew and Giles cracked open their canvas bags full of books and spilled the crumbling things across the dining room table. Xander and Willow brought in nibblies – carrot sticks, biscotti, cashews, and lahvash pinwheels made with fresh rosemary, red peppers and soy cream cheese.
“So when’s the big unveiling,” Xander said, snagging a pinwheel. “And what’s the big unveiling? Did you find a giant map leading to the lair of the bad guys with a huge X on it marking their weakest point of entry?”
“Wow,” Dawn said. “That was drawn out and specific. But, you’ll just have to wait and see.”
Andrew sipped from a juice box, anticipation barely contained.
Giles hovered near the table, hands on hips, overseeing. He was not so secretly proud of their find, and of Andrew and Dawn’s enthusiasm for the whole endeavor. Granted, on the way to Amesbury, he began to have serious doubts about including them when the pair got into a slappy fight over a game of rock-paper-scissors. Giles actually heard himself say, “If I have to pull this car over, you are both going to regret it.” But upon arrival, they became suitably reverent and sober. Giles began to feel that the new Watcher’s Council might at least be in eager hands.
There was a feeling of grandness in the air. It was so infectious that no one noticed when Buffy and William came downstairs to join. Buffy could feel her face going sheepish, and she knew without looking that William wore the mask of Smug Man. But it mattered not. Nothing could douse the buoyant spirit of Dawn. Not even Kennedy, who remained behind in the kitchen noisily unloading clean dishes from the dishwasher.
“Wow,” Buffy said, when she saw the plethora of dusty books heaped on the table. “Again, with the wow. There must be like a hundred books...”
Andrew jumped in. “Just the tippiest part of the treasure,” he said. “There are, like, a gazillion more. You should see it.”
“I can’t wait...” William said. He sounded bored but in a put-on way.
“No, you really should,” Dawn said, beaming. “I mean, I was like a geek in a comic book store.”
“And I was like me in a comic book store,” Andrew said.
Buffy and William stood with Xander and Willow in a loose circle around the archway that led into the dining room. Buffy could tell that Willow was just waiting for the signal to jump in and start a Translate-a-thon.
Buffy decided to take the lead. She stepped into the room and picked out a random gray volume. Its leather cover felt bumpy under her fingertips. She flipped it open to a yellowed page that contained the faded diagrams to an ancient floating temple. Its design was unlike anything she had ever seen.
“Where?” she said, genuinely curious. “And how?”
Giles started to speak, but Dawn took the floor.
“Giles found it,” she said, excitedly. “It was mentioned in a Watcher’s diary, and he, with the research and the help of the Seers at the Coven, he found it.”
Buffy lay her hand on Dawn’s arm. Dawn vibrated with teen zealousness.
“Yes, well,” Giles said, going humble. “Harold Damas was a Watcher in the mid-1600s, during a time when the church had declared outright war on magic users. He collected together all of this,” Giles waved his arm over the table, “and hid it away in a sealed archive...”
“And - best part,” Andrew said, wide-eyed, “it’s under Stonehenge.”
“Get out,” Xander said.
“Circle of permanent protection,” Willow said. “Makes perfect sense. But, then, how were you able to open it?”
Giles lowered his eyes. “W-Well,” he stammered, “That part was tricky. There were Celtic markings, Druidic symbols, all very difficult to decipher, but I managed...”
“And so what?” Dawn said. “We’re in. And you should just read what some of these books contain. Here.”
Dawn sorted through a few of the books on the table. She plucked a fat, weathered book bound with an engraved wooden cover. Its pages fanned out as though it had suffered water damage.
“This one is a whole book of prophecies concerning the weather,” Dawn said. Her excitement brimmed, but everyone else stared at her.
“Like, um, a Poor Prophet’s Almanac?” William offered.
“Well, sort of,” Dawn said, wrinkling her brows. “Okay, the gist: Get used to wearing layers.”
“Hmm,” Willow said, and Buffy nodded concurrence.
Seeing that they were not exactly dazzled, Andrew selected another book and slid it over to Dawn.
“Oh!” Dawn said. “This book.” She lifted it, teacher-like, to display it. A silver skull snarled on its cover, with scores of blocky, slashy characters embossed above it. Dawn opened it. The pages were dull black with darker black letters, probably written in blood.
“This book,” Dawn said again. “It should never again see the light of day. Very dangerous. Should be titled Demon Summoning for Dummies. Some idiot upper school Goth queen could be pulling the likes of D’Hoffryn from the Umbra in just one short chapter.”
“Keep that one far, far from me,” Xander said. Then, pointing to Andrew, “And far, far from him for good measure.”
“Actually,” Giles said. “We were hoping you and Willow could help us on that point.”
“We?” Willow said. “A project involving we?”
“Due to the sensitive nature of so many of these texts, we are going to need a vault to house them. A locking vault, protected by magic...” Giles told them.
“Yeah. We could do that. Build it. Hide it,” Xander said. “Hide it where, exactly?”
“Why not here?” Buffy asked. “We already have major magics protecting the place. Plus two Slayers, a Wicca, a Watcher and a...” she turned to William, “what are you?”
William shrugged.
“Not here,” Giles said. “Even with all of our combined strength, it’s too risky keeping all of it in one place.”
“Too many eggs, not enough basket,” Willow said.
“The Watcher Headquarters?” Xander offered. “Beneath it, I mean. We’re still in rebuild status. We could renovate the basement, turn it into a first class Ancient Text Storehouse. We could call it ATS for short, for secret agent-y, stealth purposes.”
“And we could use retina scanners for identification, like in X-2,” Andrew said.
Giles was nodding, thoughtfully, pointedly disregarding Andrew. He said, “Perhaps. It would be a useful addition to our resources. When agents of the First exploded the former Watcher offices, we lost so much that can never be recovered.”
Buffy said, “Well, the biggie question is: Do you think this archive will help us? Will it give us information about whatever it is we’re up against next?”
“Most assuredly,” Giles said. “Damas’ writings suggest that the texts secreted in this archive are critical to understanding the end of...”
“So, Giles,” Dawn interrupted, still barely keeping the lid on her simmering enthusiasm. “When do we get to go back?”
“Yeah, and when we do,” Andrew said, “Let’s pack some playing cards or something. The license plate game bites in the UK. No states.”
“I would like to return this weekend. Opening the archive means that the texts have been exposed to the elements. The sooner we collect them into a safe, dry, hermetically-sealed environment, the better,” Giles said.
“What do you say, Buffy? Can we?” Dawn asked. Buffy thought her sister’s eyeballs might pop from her head and dangle on her cheeks like some over-wound Pomeranian.
“It’s official, Giles,” Buffy said. “You’ve now transformed my gawky sister into a book nerd. Congratulations. Of course you can go. And, I must in the obligatory way include the following statement: Keep up with your schoolwork.”
Dawn and Andrew squealed like, well, like girls.
Willow crossed her arms, all saucy. “Hey, some find that book nerds are the sexiest specie of nerd,” she said.
“I do,” Kennedy said, stepping into the circle. She cut her eyes at William and Buffy. “There’s lemonade and coffee in the kitchen, in case your thirst expands beyond that for knowledge.”
The crowd migrated to the kitchen, chattering amicably.
“Thanks, Kennedy,” Willow said. “Did you miss the whole show?”
“I caught enough,” Kennedy answered. “Besides, I’m a Slayer. Specifics are kinda lost on me. Just show me where to point the stake.”
Willow frowned. “It is exciting, though, finding this wealth of information? It’s like we stumbled upon the Lost City of El Dorado or the Holy Grail, only less golden-y.”
Kennedy wasn’t listening. She watched over Willow’s shoulder. Willow followed Kennedy’s line of sight to find William and Buffy talking quietly beside the potted fichus.
“Hey,” Willow nudged. “I’m the jealous type, remember?”
Kennedy shook her head.
“She’s unfit, Wil,” Kennedy said. “Look at her.”
“Not this again,” Willow whispered.
Beyond them, just audible enough for them to hear, William said, “Let’s be wicked and have chocolate for dinner.”
“Mmm,” Buffy said. “And then?”
Kennedy made a flabbergasted noise.
Willow tried again to soothe her. “They’re harmless, Ken,” she said. “See?”
Kennedy’s face blazed. “That’s exactly what we’re afraid of,” she said. Kennedy then made a dramatic show of storming from the room.
~*~
Thellian watched from the patio, drinking in the moonlight. Lalaine let the breeze lift her hair. She turned her face to the ocean, which looked to her like a sheet of black steel hammered thin. The lights of the villa behind them transformed the tropical foliage into dark cutouts against a star-stippled sky. Below, the beach was strewn with wreckage. The ship had run aground. It was unfortunate. But everyone aboard had survived. More or less.
“Where’s Morna?” Thellian said, coming up from his reverie. “She would love to see the beach tonight.”
“Morna is caring for the servants, Thellian. Telling them all their bedtime stories,” Lalaine said.
Thellian stood, stretching his long, white limbs. He wore embroidered robes of midnight blue silk that ruffled in the wind.
“You did well in India, Lalaine. The seeds are sown. So there will be no more hunger, and no more grief,” Thellian said. He moved through patches of moonlight and shade like a thing made of liquid and light.
“We have so many now, in so many places,” Lalaine said. “Have we balanced our scales yet?”
Thellian slipped behind her, lacing his arms around her lean frame. “Not yet,” he purred. “But soon. When we return to London, we’ll know more from Luxe about Angel, and the others. And we’ll give our gift to Angel.”
Lalaine’s mouth curved into a bloodless smile. “Poor Angel,” she said. “Poor fool.”
Thellian’s laughter growled deep in his chest.
“May I?” he said, dipping his face to her throat.
“Please,” Lalaine answered. She craned her neck to let him have her. She lay a cool palm against his cheek. “Drink, Thellian.”
His tongue found the marks he had made before. He did not want to scar Lalaine’s perfect, perfect neck. So he sank his teeth there, drawing slowly and with practiced tenderness. Her body stiffened in his embrace.
“Me next,” she whispered, forming the words with her lips pressed to his cold skin.
“Yes,” he said. He closed his eyes and drank her in.
Yes.
[Reviews - 65]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 2434 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
My apologies for the slow posting. I'm house-sitting for my parents and they have dial up. But, as always, thanks so much for reading.