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Chapter 10: Playing Around

Previously: The Scooby/Angel/Vashkan/Dru group had managed to infiltrate Scarletta’s party without being seen, well, most of them, anyway. Dru had snagged a reluctant Franco, and they danced…

***

Tierre was bored. He had tuned out everyone’s incessant chatter, and had rudely walked out on some of the guests who came up to him for business proposals, or somethingorother. He was tempted to snarl at them that this was supposed to be a benefit, and that they should be pouring out cash, not seeking to fill the glass again.

He glanced at the orchestra. He toyed with the idea of going up to them and requesting Aerosmith’s Livin’ on the Edge. Only they prolly had no idea what Aerosmith was. They prolly considered anyone who didn’t compose his music deaf, or at the age of five, as heretical.

He had to leave, or he would go crazy. To Tierre, there was no such thing as a decent party without beer.

He looked over at Franco, but the man was dancing with a slender woman in a red dress. Something about her seemed familiar. Tall, slim, with pale skin …

… and long, straight, dark brown hair. Lots of it. Glinting like silk …

Something grabbed his chest. Tierre gasped softly. With supreme effort, he forced himself out of the past and back to the present. He looked away from Franco without ever seeing the face of his dance partner, and started walking away.

“Leaving so soon, Master Tierre?”

He didn’t bother to spare the speaker a glance, “Yes.”

“But the party …”

“Is boring.”

Tierre felt the person following him. Annoyed, he turned around, “Don’t follow me,” he bit out.

~*~ *~ *~


Scarlet …

Had to be. Why else would he address Tierre as ‘Master’? This one wasn’t from Mercury, but his face was still vaguely familiar. Still, he had completely given Angel and Buffy the slip. They didn’t even know he was there, even though he was dressed like a guest and they had spent most of their time since getting here checking out the guests. Buffy wondered if Angel’s seen others milling around.

“Buffy, Dru’s got Scarletta. I think he might be a little glassy-eyed now,” Willow said eagerly.

“Are you inside the house?”

“Just beyond the front door.”

“All right, Angel …”

“Scarlet, lots of them. Scattered everywhere,” the vampire with a soul said.

Buffy felt nervous, “You think they’ve noticed something?”

“I don’t think so. They seem to be enjoying themselves.”

“Where’s Wolfson?” Seyhan asked.

Buffy looked around, “Oh, crap. He’s gone. I heard him say he was bored and leaving.”

“He’s what?” Seyhan couldn’t believe it, “Slayer, we have to find him! He might have noticed something after all and has left to organize a counter attack!”

“He said he was bored.”

“Maybe that’s a code!” Willow exclaimed.

Buffy didn’t believe that, but she’d already made up her mind to follow him anyway, “Okay, you guys. Sit tight. Wait for Dru and just follow the plan. I’ll find T―… Wolfson.”

“I don’t think I like that idea, Buffy,” Angel began, “I …”

“I’m going, Angel. You stay here and look out for the others.” She loped off before he could say anything else. She didn’t care if he couldn’t see her leaving; he must feel the distance now when she refused to respond.

But Tierre was already gone. Buffy cursed to herself, and then headed for the parking lot. Tierre can only leave the island by car. Or boat. Or plane.

Aaaarrrgghh!!

As she sped through the party again, Buffy did her best not to hit or step on anybody. She saw the guy who had called Tierre master, talking to a woman, and quickly changed direction before her path inevitably crossed with his.

The Slayer left the party behind, zooming straight for the parking lot. It was her first guess. If he wasn’t there, she’d start looking for an airstrip.

The Scarlet member paused in his conversation with the lady and looked up with a frown, “What is it?” his lady companion asked, wondering why he suddenly got distracted.

“Hmmm? Oh, nothing, I just thought I felt someone looking at me,” he said easily, “You know how it goes.”

She smiled and nodded, accepting his explanation. He raised his champagne to his lips and casually let his gaze sweep the surrounding area. But he saw nothing.

Well … almost nothing.

On an empty space near the dance floor, two small patches of grass were bent at an odd angle. There was only one way for grass to be crushed like that, and that was if there was a heavy weight on top of it. But there was no one there.

Then the grasses slowly sprang back up again and the man smiled into his glass as another patch was bent … and another … and another.

Steps. Someone was walking.

He looked up and scanned the dance floor. Scarletta was there, dancing with someone vaguely familiar. They turned in a graceful circle and the man saw the woman’s face.

Drusilla. Bingo.

He smiled for real. This party just got interesting.


~*~ *~ *~


A DeSoto.

Buffy had to bite her lip to keep from crying out loud at the sight of the old car. It wasn’t parked anywhere near the other cars. It rested beneath an old tree on top of a small rise of grassy land, mostly invisible. But she saw it. Immediately, as if her eyes had been drawn to it. When she spied its make snuggled in the shadows, her heart almost stopped.

She didn’t dare go near it. She was afraid it would disappear if she touched it. Was it some kind of a ghost car, out here haunting all the Volvos and BMWs and Porsches? Or was it here to haunt her? She didn’t know. She didn’t even know if the car was real, or if her fevered and severely taxed subconscious had brought it into being.

The only thing she did know was that Tierre was still here.

Buffy’s feet moved towards the car. Her subconscious strikes again. Her fingertips hovered over the smooth, black metal. Where was the dent in the bumper? And why was it clean?

And the windows weren’t tinted. They should be!

There were no long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, no strong hand shifting gears. No slender frame filled the driver’s seat. If she managed to open the window and stick her head inside, would the interior smell like whiskey and cigarettes? Or would it smell like new leather?

The DeSoto was still, suffering her touch in silence. And then she noticed something sitting on top of the passenger seat. Moonlight was reflected off it in slivers of silver.

Sunglasses. In the dark, they looked black. But Buffy knew they were dark blue.

Tierre.

Buffy leaned against the car ―Tierre’s car. A DeSoto, how’s that for a joke?

On one side of the DeSoto was the parking lot, and beyond that, the party. On the other side was a clear view of the ocean, and not much else.


~*~ *~ *~


Little waves rolled lazily to shore and then pulled back before they actually touched the fine, cream-colored sand, like a shy boy trying to steal a kiss from the girl he liked.

Tierre stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the painfully beautiful sight of the wide, dark sea. It wasn’t officially summer yet, but already the weather here was perfect for a beach outing. Even at night, the water seemed peaceful and inviting.

But he didn’t feel the same old urge to conquer the sea anymore. He remembered the first time he’d been on a beach, how he’d dived into the depths, cutting the surface with knife-strokes. The sun had warmed his bare skin, its light giving the water its ethereal sparkle. Water everywhere, surrounding him, enfolding him. A warm embrace that he never wanted to leave. The sea tasted salty, and good. He remembered loving the taste of it so much that he had drunk it, only to get sick afterwards. Maggie had lectured him and forbidden him to go back, like he was a disobedient ten year old who couldn’t be counted upon to stay out of trouble.

And the next day, the two of them had raced each other, surf boards held high.

But he hadn’t spent all his time on the beach during the day. Or with Maggie, neither. There had been other times.

“The sea is a woman,” the keeper of his heart had once whispered to him, while the two of them lay on the sand, the water seeping beneath them, tickling their bare skins. Above, the stars shone down on them, jealous that the warmth that remained of their lovemaking wrapped around them and them alone, shutting out the world, even the universe.

“How’s that, love?” he asked.

“It’s infinitely deep, filled with secrets. You never know what lies beneath. Its colors are ever-changing,” she murmured.

He’d joined in, then, loving the sound of her voice, the intimate yet light nature of their conversation, “It’s different from the earth, the sea is. The earth is dark and hard and unyielding. The sea is a gentle lover, her gifts are caresses and kisses.”

“Unless of course, you catch her in a bad temper,” she’d teased, slender fingers tracing seductive patterns on his chest, “Then she can drown you.”

“She can drown you anyway. Whether in a storm, or on a perfectly peaceful day, you could fall into her depths, and never make it back. You drown forever,” he turned to look into the bottomless pools of her violet eyes, “But it doesn’t matter. Whether gray, black or blue, violent or serene, she will always, always, be beautiful.”

Always beautiful. Heartbreakingly so.

But no matter how inviting she can be, Tierre no longer went into the sea. He just didn’t feel the same way anymore. Now, when the sight of her used to fill him with unbearable, child-like excitement, she calmed him instead. A deep, all-encompassing calm which is what he needed in order to survive.

He bent down and picked up a flat pebble, pulled his arm back and let it fly. The pebble skipped the surface four times, before sinking into the bottom.

At the bottom forever. Drowning forever.

He didn’t know how long he would have stayed there before giving in to either one of the two strongest temptations plaguing him now: the urge to walk away, to leave. And the other, the desire to run into the ocean, let the water close over his head, and … drown. He didn’t know which option to take.

Something in the area, the faintest hint of life. Aside from him, that is.

Someone was watching him.

He smiled. It looked like the decision had been made for him after all.


~*~ *~ *~


She had no idea how she knew she’d find him here, but right now, Buffy really didn’t care.

Tierre stood by the water’s edge, the slight breeze ruffling the soft waves of his hair. He was barefoot, his shoes a little ways away from the water. She saw him bend down and pick a pebble, then skip it over the surface. An air of calm clung to him. He seemed more relaxed now that he was here than when he was at the party.

Buffy crept closer. Slayer stealth would keep him from knowing that she was there. She saw that his jacket was unbuttoned and his tie was loosened.

And then another feeling came to her; came to her in such a rush and with such clarity that she almost forgot she was supposed to stay invisible. She was just watching his face, saw him briefly close his eyes. When he opened them again, a chill descended in Buffy’s blood.

Death. The ocean. And Tierre.

No … please … don’t

I’m not going to let you die.

And then Tierre tipped his head back, and the moonlight kissed his beautiful face.

It was over.

But just as Buffy was starting to breathe easier, just when her heart started to go back to normal, Tierre suddenly said, “Find anything interesting?”

He turned around. His sapphire gaze was locked right on her own.


~*~ *~ *~


Willow was in awe.

Drusilla came up to the house, her hand on Franco Scarletta’s arm. Seyhan sounded suitably impressed when he said, “He’s properly enthralled!”

Drusilla said, “So, why don’t you give us a tour of the house, Franco?”

“But you’ve been here before, Drusilla.” Franco replied.

“What?” Willow demanded.

“But you didn’t give me a tour even then,” Dru pouted, “And I was so looking forward to it.”

No one can resist that lip, as both Willow and Seyhan soon found out. For a few minutes, Scarletta led them around a few of the impressive rooms of his home. Then Dru said, “It’s beautiful, luv. Now show us your latest conquest.”

Don’t rush it, Dru, Willow thought. She and Seyhan had opted to remain invisible, just in case Scarletta was faking.

“What conquest?” Scarletta asked innocently.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Dru purred, “You finally have it, don’t you? The one you’ve been working towards all these years?”

In the back of Franco’s mind, a silent alarm rang ceaselessly. Drusilla could only be talking about the Balancer. She wanted to see it; wanted him to bring her, and her invisible friends, to where it was now.

But he couldn’t do that, he thought fuzzily, looking down at Dru’s beatific and cajoling smile. On the other hand, how can he say no? How can anyone say no to Drusilla?

But that alarm just wouldn’t stop.

“I’ve never let anyone near it, except for those who brought it to me, a couple of experts for the decryption and Tierre , of course,” Franco said, “It’s very important to me. I’ve spent my entire life―”

“Is he refusing?” Seyhan sounded surprised.

Dru didn’t blame him. She was surprised, too. How can Franco still have the ability to say no to her?

“Who are you?” Franco suddenly demanded, “Who are these people with us, Dru?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Dru saw a blur of color. D’Harken was getting impatient again. Don’t even dare, she mentally snapped at him, I can take care of this.

Hurry up.

Of course, your High-Ass.

Guys, please! Focus, remember?

Drusilla placed her hand on Franco’s arm and stepped in close, very much invading his personal space. She looked up at him with big, brown, puppy eyes. A cheap little girl trick, in Drusilla’s opinion. She’d rarely used it ever since regaining her sanity. But she was more than willing to do anything now, as long as it worked, “Please? I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Who―”

The vampire stood on tiptoe, her lips almost brushing Franco’s earlobe, “Franco … you’re in my world,” she whispered, “And you’re surrounded by my people.”

“I thought you’ve become sane now.”

Drusilla laughed, “Only in the morning,” her eyes became heavy-lidded, “At night … the stars call my name. Can you hear them?”

And there he goes, back down the rabbit hole, Willow thought giddily, as Franco Scarletta fell headfirst into the thrall once more. Dru was formidable, it didn’t even really matter what she said. As the four of them started up the grand stairs to where Willow hoped the Balancer would be, the thought of how Scarletta had almost broken out of the thrall that first time intruded in her happy thoughts.

But Dru had him in control now, the redhead reassured herself. No need to worry.

It’s here, Seyhan suddenly whispered to her, I can feel it.

Well, good, Willow replied, Because I don’t wanna stay here any longer than we have to.


~*~ *~ *~


Angel was wondering whether he should follow Buffy or Drusilla, when developments began to arise.

Nasty developments.

He had been keeping an eye on all the Scarlet members he’d spotted so far. There had been five of them all in all, but there must be more, just lurking around. He’d turned to look at a pair of new arrivals for just a second.

When he turned back, there were only four Scarlet members.

Alarmed, Angel began scanning the crowd for the missing sheep. What if he’d gone up to the mansion?

And then he noticed there were only three. Still no sign of where they disappeared to.

Willow, Dru, the vampire began to send an urgent telepathic message, Be careful. I’ve lost sight of the Scarlet thugs I’ve been watching. Where are you guys, anyway? Do you have the Balancer?

Buffy? Buffy, where are you? Come back now! I think I’m going to need your help!

Shit. No time to wait for Buffy. Angel had to make sure that Willow, Dru and Seyhan were safe. He skirted the dance floor and took off for the mansion at a full run.

Angel? What did you say? You think Scarlet’s on to us?

Angel was relieved to hear Willow’s mental voice. I don’t know, but they could be. Get out of there, now! Send a message to the Slayers. Tell them to get ready!

Angel, where is the Slayer? Seyhan demanded. This guy seemed to be incapable of formulating a polite question.

I don’t know, Angel replied grimly.


~*~ *~ *~


“The library? You’re very confident in your own abilities, Franco. I would never dare to put treasures like these in such an obvious place,” Dru had lost her little-girl pout and her pretty-please demeanor. In its place was a brisk, business-like attitude, “On the other hand, if you’re known to own real treasure vaults in various parts of the world, who would think that your most valued possessions are in a li’l ol’ library?”

“It’s not so little,” Willow protested, “This place is bigger than the one we had in high school!”

Drusilla reached out to take the scroll lying next to the glass-encased crystal.

Seyhan materialized beside her. He grabbed her wrist before she made contact, “Drusilla, wait,” he ordered. She looked up at him questioningly.

“Back home, we have sealed our most dangerous treasures inside a cave. There is a mine that surrounds the cave. If you get past that, the cave itself is coated in ice. It gets colder the farther ahead you walk. At the end of the freezing journey are three tunnels. If you choose the wrong one, I guarantee you, you will not survive it.”

Drusilla pursed her lips and gingerly took back her hand, “My mistake.”

They turned back to the man in question. Scarletta was looking at Seyhan thoughtfully.

“You must be Seyhan D’Harken,” he said, “Tierre told me you might be coming. I should listen to him more often. But it’s so hard to figure out when he’s kidding, and when he’s not.”

“Franco, please let us have the Balancer back.” Dru said.

“And the scroll,” Willow hastily added. She thought about showing herself like Seyhan did, then decided not to. She felt edgier now, after receiving Angel's warning.

Like an obedient pupil, Franco Scarletta went over to stand in front of the stolen crystal. He said, “Show the lines.”

Laser beams glowing a warning red appeared. They encased the Balancer and the scroll in a cubic form. Had Dru gone on with her attempt to just pick up the scroll, the beams would have shredded her hand to ribbons and she wouldn’t even know what happened. The brunette held her hand close to her chest.

A computerized voice from God-knows-where, requested, “Say the word.”

Scarletta obliged, “William the Bloody.”

As Dru stared at him in surprise, Scarletta reached for the scroll. The beams delicately made way for him. He took off the glass casing and retrieved the crystal.

Seyhan’s expression was one of joyous relief when he finally got the crystal back. Drusilla took the scroll and gave it to Willow. The witch instantly rendered it invisible.

Suddenly, Seyhan tensed, “Somebody’s here,” he said. He blended back into invisibility.

The double-doors to the library opened, then closed. Nobody came in.

No one visible, anyway.

“It’s just Angel,” Willow said aloud, “Angel what happened? Where’s Buffy?”

The sound of Angel’s footsteps let them know that he was heading for the spot where Willow’s voice originated.

“Angel?” Seyhan prodded when the vampire didn’t answer.

Drusilla’s eyes narrowed, and she reached out to hold Franco to her. Something wasn’t right.

And then she got it, “That’s not Angel!” she yelled. Willow screamed, and Seyhan’s running footsteps echoed against the floor. The familiar sounds of physical combat bounced off the walls.

“What’s happening? What’s going on?” Willow’s voice sounded funny and Drusilla caught the tantalizing whiff of blood. The vampire forced herself to ignore it.

“We’re not the only ones who have the means to become invisible,” she said roughly, “Run, witch! Get out of here!” She didn’t wait to see if any of her companions took her advice. “Come, my darling,” she cooed in Scarletta’s ear, “We’re going to the stars,”

With that, Drusilla made a run for the nearest window, carrying Franco like he weighed nothing. She crashed against the expensive glass and out into the darkness.


~*~ *~ *~


Buffy reacted on instinct. She quickly moved out of the way.

Tierre’s gaze remained on the spot she had stood on for a few seconds, before he moved as well, facing her. But his hesitation had been enough. He couldn’t see her. If she hadn’t stared at him like some idiot school girl/stalker, he probably wouldn’t have sensed her, either.

“Hey, now, that’s not fair,” he called out cajolingly, “Come on out where I can see you.”

Buffy’s only advantage was the fact that she was still invisible. She wasn’t about to give it up, no matter how badly it screwed with her sense of fair play.

Speaking of playing …Buffy grinned to herself.

The Slayer rushed her prey, then launched herself towards him in a flying kick.

Tierre sensed the attack instantly and dropped out of the way ―like she knew he would― and Buffy pulled back on her kick and dropped nimbly in a crouch, facing Tierre, her back to the ocean. She realized Tierre had already turned to face the ocean when he ducked, knowing that’s where Buffy would land. Although Tierre was practically blind, Buffy realized that she didn’t have the upper hand. Not by a long shot.

The two combatants were still for almost a minute.

And then, almost as if someone had fired a starting gun, they threw themselves at each other.

The first punch naturally belonged to Buffy. It caught Tierre’s chin, the force of it knocking him backwards. But he didn’t fall. He wildly lashed out, but didn’t get lucky. Buffy’s fist got him in the solar plexus. Tierre bent over forward, losing the air in his body in one violent gasp. Buffy raised her right leg, prepared to give Tierre Wolfson a taste of her shoes.

His hands caught her offending leg before it could even come close to making contact, “Gotcha!” he grinned, pulling at her leg roughly. Buffy landed on her back with an undignified squeak.

“Oh, now I know you’re not Faith. I don’t remember her squeaking,” Tierre laughed.

Buffy turned red. He thought Faith was better than her? What did he know? They only fought together once, right? Just once! Faith said so! Unless she lied and the two of them …

Buffy managed to roll out of the way of Tierre’s fist, closing her eyes against the explosion of sand that came after impact. She put her hands beneath her chest and pushed off so forcefully that her body went up high. She turned in an aerial back flip high above Tierre’s golden head. She landed behind him and threw a straight right, but he had already faced her. He instinctively moved out of harm’s way, grabbed her wrist and tugged it past him.

To Tierre, the move was simply a precedent for a couple of other painful offensive blows. But Buffy immediately noticed a unique result to the whole maneuver.

Tierre had unwittingly pulled her close to him.

Very close. His breath was on her face; the warmth radiating from his skin caused goose bumps to rise in her own …

… and his lips were … right … there…

Tierre was ready to savor slam-dunking the intrusive little imp, when he suddenly savored something else entirely.

Something unbelievably soft and warm pressed against his lips. It was so brief a moment that it was more of a sensation than an actual touch. But he knew it happened. Her taste was all too real.

What the bloody hell … ?!

The small, but terribly strong body he thought he had under control twisted out of his grasp. An unmistakably feminine giggle floated out of her.

“Still so sure I’m not Faith?” came her teasing question.

If she had any hopes of pretending to be the dark Slayer, she just killed them. Faith’s voice didn’t sound like that. Faith’s voice was low and husky, intimate and secretive, with a natural seductive quality that can easily border on hypnotic.

Her voice … was like warm honey. It spoke of sunshine, light-hearted jokes, conversations of the heart. It spoke of strength ― and wasn’t that strange? He knew exactly what she would sound like when she knew she’d be heading into battle; knew the sound of her voice when she was in pain; in anger; in hate …

…In passion …

Tierre’s blood began to boil. He hated that the mere sound of her was so much more familiar ―and welcome― than it had any right to be.

He had known who he had been fighting all this time, of course. He had imagined the spark in her emerald eyes for every blow she dealt him, had seen the taunting curve of her lips, the sheen of perspiration on her silken skin. And her scent that had wrapped around him, that lingered wherever she had touched him…

His blood began to boil in a very different way.

Right, then. She wanted to play, did she?

Tierre Wolfson loved games. And he was more than happy to oblige.


~*~ *~ *~


Being light-headed and irrationally giddy was not a good condition for a Slayer to be in when fighting.

If that was the case, then Buffy Summers was totally screwed.

Her heart was still on overdrive, her skin so sensitive she thought she could actually feel Tierre as he stood several feet away. That was just her imagination, of course.

She ran her tongue over her lips.

That wasn’t imagination.

And it hadn’t been enough.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She had played this game before with … but no, he wasn’t the same man, was he? Remember that, Summers.

But the thrill was the same, even stronger. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there. And between the two of them, it was impossible to tell who was really in control.

And then Tierre moved. He raised his hands and easily shrugged off his jacket. He tugged off his tie, and Buffy’s eyes locked on the lazy play of those long fingers. She fought to keep herself in place, when what she really wanted was to go over there and take off the tie herself. And his shirt, and his pants …

Stop! Heel! Cease and Desist!

The shirt stayed where it was. It wasn’t such a bad idea. The damn thing was an arrogant piece of clothing ( and it should be! ). It probably wouldn’t allow itself to cover anyone else’s body but Tierre’s.

“No need for us to be so formal,” he drawled.

“Nope. Don’t need that,” Buffy said, a little too breathily. Her body fell into a natural fighting stance. Tierre might not act like he was about to attack, but the Slayer wasn’t going to take chances, “What’s the matter, Wolfson? Cold feet?”

Tierre shook his head, “I want to see you,” he said softly.

Buffy tossed her head haughtily, even though Tierre couldn’t appreciate the gesture, “Take me down and maybe you will.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Buffy’s eyes widened. She was totally floored by her own daring. First the kiss, now this?

Tierre’s smile was slow and decidedly predatory, “Promise?”

His voice was like velvet. Buffy stared, transfixed by that unexpected smile. He ran his tongue lightly over his white teeth, and she bit her own lip in response.

No. One chaste kiss would never, ever, be enough, “I promise,” she vowed.

And then, just like that, Tierre was right in front of her. When and how he moved totally escaped the Slayer. She shrieked when his strong hands grabbed hold of her. Her feet left the sand and soon she found herself held high above his head.

“Tierre, no! What are you doing? Put me down, now!”

“You made a promise, love. To me. And I don’t tolerate welshers.”

“I’m not welching!” she tried to struggle, but her position was too precarious, “Don’t you trust me?” she pleaded coyly.

Too late, Buffy suddenly remembered something about Tierre that Angel and Faith told her.

Tierre Wolfson is a very playful creature.

“Only as far as I can throw you!” he cried laughingly.

Buffy sailed through the air, the cool wind whistling past her ears. She didn’t even have time to work up a proper holler of outrage, before her body smacked against the water.

She had been prepared for ice, so she was surprised when the water didn’t freeze her to death. Buffy kicked out, and her toes brushed sand. Less than four seconds after impact, and the Slayer’s head broke the surface. She gasped for breath and pushed the wet strands of hair out of her eyes.

The water only came up to her shoulders.

Buffy stared in cold, murderous fury at the man on the shore. Tierre Wolfson was having the laugh of his short life. He had his long arms wrapped around that disgustingly flat stomach, as if to keep his sides from splitting. Broad shoulders shook uncontrollably and it was obvious he was having trouble breathing. Buffy prayed he would choke. She forced her legs to wade back to shore, her mind already conjuring up lots of vengeful scenarios that all involved Tierre begging for mercy.

“Having fun?” she spat.

“At least now, I can see you,” he sputtered in response. Buffy saw that he was right. She was visible. The freak must’ve known all along how to startle her into breaking the spell.

“You are so going to die, Wolfson!” she swore.

Tierre was feeling very pleased with himself and wasn’t the least bit perturbed by Buffy’s death threat. He looked up, prepared to give her a hand, so when they fought to the death, she wouldn’t think he had no manners.

His breath caught in his throat at the vision in front of him.

A nymph rose up from the moon-kissed water. Long, dark hair that he knew was actually gold, was slicked back from her alluring face and spilled past her shoulders, curling against her wet skin. Fat droplets of moisture ran their merry path along the tanned expanse of her chest and arms. Lucky, lucky droplets.

Buffy’s dress was a pale gold number. Tierre didn’t know much about dresses, except that he liked this one. Especially when wet. It clung to her slender curves so perfectly, it could’ve been second skin. The hem only reached the top of her knees. Each time she moved, it outlined the sweet, rounded lengths of her thighs. He raised his eyes back up slowly. The bodice was pressed against her lean stomach, molded to her breasts. Her breathing was rapid and harsh, evidence of her anger. Her chest rose and fell with each act of respiration. Bloody hell, didn’t the woman know what she was doing?

It was with an extraordinary strength of will that Tierre finally brought his eyes to her face. That should be safe territory.

He was wrong.

Her eyes were blazing with verdant fire, her insanely kissable lips wet and parted. The intensity of her beautiful face, the way she locked her gaze on him, nearly did him in that very moment.

As Buffy stalked closer to him in a dangerously fast pace, Tierre moved away. Not physically, no. Physically, he still stood there, gawking at her.

Mentally, he was far enough away that this unusually strong shot of desire didn’t distract him so much.

Buffy Summers was here, inside the estate. They’d acted faster than he expected. The Slayer would never have come alone. Her loyal friends would have tagged along, too. The witch would be a problem, but the aging Watcher and the one-eyed whelp would not. He assumed the little Slayers might be lurking around. Again, not a problem.

But who else was here with his little blonde-haired beauty? Hmmm … he should find that out.


~*~ *~ *~


Her hair, her yellow, velvet sandals, her lemon chiffon dress … all … ruined.

Buffy’s pain was immeasurable. Death was too good for the Wolfson creature. No, a good, long, mind-breaking torture was in order. Yes, torture … mwa, hah, hah, hah!

Willow, Giles, and Andrew were all convinced that Tierre was very clever. Elsa would testify in court that he was some kind of genius god. Faith had rhapsodized about the cunning game he set for his Yorkshire hunters. Even Angel, in his frustratingly cryptic way, had admitted Tierre had a brain that can be counted on.

Buffy no longer believed them. Just how smart can this man be if he continued to just stand there instead of running for cover in the face of a Slayer’s wrath? At least he was no longer laughing. Good. His survival instincts must’ve kicked in.

“What’re you gawkin’ at?” she snarled.

Tierre just looked at her, and there was something in his eyes that cooled off Buffy’s anger and fired off a very different kind of emotion in her.

“Something I want,” was his smoky reply.

Buffy gaped at him, “W-what?” she sputtered, even though her hearing had never been more acute.

And then his fingers were in her hair and his lips were melting against hers.

All thoughts fled Buffy’s brain. There was literally not even a single morpheme knocking about in her noggin anymore. In that moment, she ceased being a sane, rational person, and became one full mass of feelings and sensations given the form of a woman. She knew only this moment, felt only the man who held her, and wanted ―no, craved― only his taste.

Buffy kissed Tierre back, matching his hunger with hers. Her hands slid from his chest to his back. One hand slipped its fingers into the softness of his hair. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and his thighs were pressed against hers. His warmth seeped right into her very pores, and Buffy’s heartbeat pounded against Tierre’s.

And still, he wasn’t close enough.

Tierre curved one arm around her tiny waist, pulling her closer. He, too, was uncomfortable with the non-existent distance between their bodies. His tongue boldly explored the sweet warmth of her mouth, before joining hers in a heated dance. Not enough, his mind ranted, more, more, more …

God, she tasted good. She felt incredible. Almost enough to make him forget.

Almost …

A whimper escaped Buffy when Tierre’s lips abandoned her own, only to grow into a sigh of ever-increasing pleasure as he kissed the delicate line of her jaw. His tongue teased her earlobe, making Buffy squirm. When his teeth gently nipped at the lobe and playfully tugged at it, the heat that swallowed Buffy now threatened to melt her down. She tightened her fingers in his hair, holding him even closer.

“Buffy …” he sounded as ragged and as helpless as she felt, “Buffy … what are you doing here?”

“Mmm? … came … for you …” Buffy tipped her head back, allowing Tierre access to the long line of her throat, which he suddenly found so delectable.

“The Balancer, you mean.”

“No. You.” Buffy was getting impatient with his shirt. Much as she liked the way it looked on him, she knew he’d look better without it. Her hands slipped to his front again, shaking fingers attacking the first helpless button.

He chuckled, a delicious rumble sounding from his chest. He caught Buffy’s lower lip and began to nibble on it, then lightly sucked it in. Buffy lost control of her hands, followed by everything else, when Tierre covered her left breast with his hand and his thumb brazenly flirted with the hard tip. A full-throated moan escaped her, as little bolts of electricity shot straight down to her core.

“Who else?”

“Hmmm?”

“Who else is with you, Buffy?”

Did he really expect her to think when he was doing all these delicious things to her? “Um … Angel, and … oh, yes, that, please … Seyhan …”

“And?”

Reality pulled a fast one on Buffy. It had a funny way of smacking her in the face and getting a good laugh at her expense. Only this time, no one was laughing. Not even Tierre.

He saw the second she understood what he’d been up to. She twisted out of his arms violently, even as he let her go without a fight. She stared up at him, and there was no mistaking the hurt that she felt.

There was also no mistaking Tierre’s reaction to it. He wanted to apologize; ease her pain. He didn’t understand what he was feeling. He shoved it back where it wouldn’t bother him so much. Why should he care if Buffy Summers got hurt?

And yet he was inwardly cheering for her when she pulled back her tiny fist and slugged him right on the nose. He felt like saying, That’s my girl, even as he grunted with the pain.

He was less cheerful a half second later when she grabbed him much in the same way he grabbed her before, and with a mighty heave, threw him into the sea.

Buffy stood shaking. How could she have been so stupid? She felt no satisfaction at all; only alarm, as Tierre disappeared beneath the disturbed surface. She had to warn the others, tell them to drop everything.

They’ve just been made.

TBC...





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