Chapter Eleven

The dog Angelus acquired for Drusilla was a silky King Charles spaniel. He was a little old, and very sweet tempered, and when Dru brushed him he would stand, shivering a little, his tail sweeping back and forth. Willow kept him fed and watered and took care of walking him to do his business. Dru named him Mr. Buttons, because his eyes looked like wet, shiny black buttons.

He let Dru tie ribbons in his hair, dress him in her doll clothes, carry him around slung over her arm, and sleep with him under her chin. When he saw Willow he tended to chase at her, latching onto her skirt to yank on it.

Ingrate, Willow thought as he grabbed her skirt, shaking his head back and forth, a low growl vibrating in his throat. She gave her skirt a tug. “Stop it!” she hissed at him.

Mr. Buttons bared his teeth and tugged harder.

Lucius stopped down gracefully and pinched the little dog’s ear hard. He relinquished his grip with a yelp, and raced back down the hall to fling himself against Dru’s closed door, scratching at the wood panel and whimpering frantically to be let in.

“Thank you,” she said to the vampire, who had since risen to his full height.

She didn’t expect a response, or receive one, and continued, down the steps. William had made good on his threat to burn her clothes, and a new wardrobe had been procured. She was wearing a yellow morning dress that gathered below her breasts and fell straight to the ground. He watched her. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned left and disappeared from view.

Watching was permitted. He could even speak to her if he wished.

Before he had died, he had thought himself past any desire to hurt her, but he was a vampire, and hurting people came second only to killing them in the order of things he desired. He knew he was not alone in this. Some of the other minions could hardly look at her without their thoughts showing. Lucius liked to think he had a bit more control than that. He liked to watch her. He liked to talk to her. The slight degree of discomfort she had around him wasn’t fear, but it was pleasant to witness and feel responsible for creating.

In the midst of a change so profound that Lucius occasionally found himself staring into a middle distance, entranced by the heady feeling of power he now had, the house had a rhythm and demands that had to be met, and he remained a part of that. The four vampires who were lodged on the second floor were at the top of the hierarchy. The minions, of whom he was one, were allowed to sort themselves out with interference that was deliberate, playful, or accidental from above—you could never really tell.

How the girl fit in was that she was off limits, and you had to be careful about ignoring her. Paulus had learned that. She had asked him to carry something for her out of the library and into the salon. The former footman had stared at her for a long moment and very deliberately walked away.

The message was very clear. They were vampires. She was not. They did not have to do anything at the biding of a mere mortal, and would not.

Paulus had disappeared for a day and a half into the dark hole below the kitchen, denied the hunt. William had beaten him, without giving any reason for it, which should have been understood to be unusual. William was nothing if not direct. Darla and Angelus were subtle and cruel. William was brutal and direct.

The way Lucius saw it, they wouldn’t ever actually say that the girl had some standing that required respect, obedience, or loyalty. She was human. She was prey. But, at the same time, there was the real possibility of provoking William if he was in a mood to be annoyed, and there was always the possibility that the girl was intent on some task that Darla or Angelus set for her.

Andreas found himself before the Master explaining his failure to render some minor assistance to the girl. Andreas had pointed out that the girl had not told him that the task she had undertaken was on his behalf, and Angelus’ attention had switched to her.

“Is that true?” he demanded.

“Yes,” she conceded.

“Then how was Andreas to know?” he asked.

She considered that for a moment. “Without asking? Sounds like a riddle to me,” she observed, making it clear that she would not make it her problem.

It was the precision in which she spoke that made her position perfectly clear. She could not compel anyone to do anything with a politely worded request, but if they failed to comply they took the risk that they were failing, not her, but the Master. She neatly implied that there was an out—they could ask a relatively simple question before deciding how to proceed. Still, Lucius half expected Angelus to punish her for this, but he simply laughed at her logic and dismissed her with a wave.

Willow made herself a pot of tea and opened a tin of shortbread that had mysteriously appeared. Long before the family had arrived, arrangements had been made with local merchants for the regular delivery of food, wine and liquor, coal, firewood, ice, and other necessities that reflected the function of a household of the size their numbers indicated. Most of the food left the house to be dispensed to the poor. Twice a week men from the synagogues in the Jewish quarter arrived in the early hours of the morning to take away items that she left for them.

There was a certain amount of danger in this, which ensured that the activity would be conducted with discretion by all involved.

Drusilla consumed nothing but blood. Angelus and Darla enjoyed wine, brandy, sherry, and might sample other luxury goods if the mood struck. William liked to nibble, though his tastes tended to revolve around things that might accompany a good English styled tea. She was the only person in the household that actually required food, and most of the time eating was a chore for her. There was the bother of preparing food for one person, and then the consumption of food that was a constant reminder of the continuation of a life cycle that she was ever conscious of her desire to end.

She took her tea into the library and retrieved the mail placed on a silver salver in the foyer. Wafers were removed to be placed in a section of the rosewood tray where her writing supplies were stored. The mail was then sorted into categories. Calling cards and invitations were stacked for Angelus and Darla to read. The bills from trade people were read over, and the sums entered into the ledger for the household expenses and then bundled for the estate agent to deal with.

Her meticulous attention to this task was a way of extending it to consume another chunk of her day.

Invitations to parties had started pouring in immediately after the family had arrived. Angelus and Darla liked to move amongst the best circles. They took subscriptions to the opera and theatre, and Angelus maintained a voluminous correspondence with people he had met and deemed useful over the years.

At mid-day the household began to stir to life. Angelus joined her in the library, and she rose to pour a glass of wine for him, which he sipped while he read through the mail she had set aside for him and wrote the replies that he indicated that she would address for him. Dru wandered in with Mr. Buttons slung under her arm and she dumped the dog in Willow’s lap, his sharp toenails digging into her thighs. Angelus frowned at the dog, and at her for her role in saddling them with the dog, and told her to walk the mutt.

She was in the foyer putting her outerwear on when William came down the stairs. Mr. Buttons, in a demonstration of doggy discretion, made sure to put himself on the opposite side of Willow, inadvertently tangling his leash around her skirt, under her coat.

He untangled the leash for her and finished buttoning her coat until the fur collar was snugly secured, the silky fibers tickling her jaw. “When you are done with your walk, I’ll expect you upstairs,” he told her.

She walked Mr. Buttons. They had a predictable route, twice around the square with a visit to the small park. He was well behaved on their walks, trotting beside her with an eager air of interest in the familiar surroundings that she was unaware that she mirrored, smiling shyly at the accustomed sight of a nanny from one of the neighboring houses whose charges paused to pet Mr. Buttons before going back to their games. Dog walking was a task usually left to servants, so the odd English girl walking her dog had not gone unnoted, and in fact, at times she was observed with great attention by at least one young man who made a point to always walk the park at certain hours of the day.

The temptation to create an opportunity to speak to her was tempered by the presence of his companion. To the casual observer, they were a young man in his mid-twenties, who moved with determination and a pronounced limp, aided by a cane, and a man, perhaps a decade older, who stood ready to offer assistance that was never asked for. The limp was very real. It was the result of a near fatal encounter with a Fiyarl demon in Berlin six months ago in what was meant to be an anthropological exercise that had gone badly when he had gotten too close to the demon he was observing.

He was supposed to have learned a lesson in caution from the experience, but his older companion was ruefully aware of how lightly it was regarded. The girl really wasn’t their quarry, but Harry was simply fascinated by her. She had been spotted in Paris and Lisbon, but it was Harry who figured out that she was the same woman, and back tracked through records and notes to find that she had been spotted with the four vampires they were watching at different times, in different places, going back at least six years. She was undeniably human, and possibly, a witch unless her patronage of magic shops in Paris and Lisbon was on behalf of one of the vampires, possibly the mad woman that was rumored to have stunningly accurate visions.

She had rather abruptly disappeared from view about three months ago while the Scourge of Europe was idling in Portugal, and the most obvious conclusion was that she was dead. The four vampires were the Watcher’s Counsel’s particular interest, so her absence was noted without further inquiry. Once the vampires had been traced to Prague, the two Watchers had been dispatched to observe them.

It was a dangerous business. Other Watchers given similar assignments had disappeared in the past, and for nearly forty years, the Counsel had sealed the records on the Scourge, They moved around too much, and there were more dangerous Masters controlling the vampire populations of major European and Asian cities who demanded more attention. It was believed that the Scourge sprang from the line of Aurelius, headed by a truly ancient and powerful Master vampire who had headquartered himself in London for a century. They represented something of an anomaly, living amongst humans, a quartet loyal only to each other. The minions that they created were simply tools, discarded when they were no longer useful. Building a power base seemed to have no interest to them. They lived like birds of prey, constantly on the hunt, leaving carnage in their wake.

There was a Master in Prague, and the presence of the cadet branch of the Aurelius clan in her territory was a challenge that she had backed away from for the moment, which was bound to cause problems.

Finding the girl in Prague had been a surprise. It suggested that there was more to her presence in the household than the obvious. Harry had immediately posted to London a plan that they take the girl and spirit her to London to be questioned. London had yet to offer a reply to that plan, so they watched her without being too obvious about it. A complete lack of curiosity or attention would have drawn as much attention as not, so it was a fine line they walked as Harry stepped aside on the gravel path, tipping his hat to her as she passed with her dog.

She ducked her head, murmuring a bland greeting in German. The dog’s tail wagged and he gave a sharp bark, eyeing Harry’s cane with an unmistakable gleam of interest before he lifted his leg.

“Mr. Buttons!” she moaned, mortified, trying to tug the dog away.

Harry laughed heartily, standing slightly behind him, David smiled reassuringly.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, having slipped into English, and then realizing her lapse, repeating the apology in German.

“Please don’t feel that you need to apologize,” Harry said in English, cocking his head as he smiled at her. “It is such a pleasure to hear someone speak English that your dog may consider my walking stick his to—“

“Mr. Wyndham!” David said reprovingly, playing his role perfectly.

“Oh, dear,” Harry shook his head, “Now, I’m afraid I must apologize,” he said. “I most humbly beg your pardon, dear lady,” he said gravely, adding a little bow.

She looked a little flustered, either by the fact that she was talking to two men she had not been introduced to properly, or simply by the fact that she was talking in English. It was hard to know.

David gave her a small bow, “M’am,” he said, and she took the moment to urge the dog to move and continued on her way past them.

Harry limped over to a bench to sit for a moment, trying not to look as exhilarated as he felt at having made contact with her. “Pretty little thing,” he said blandly, cutting his eyes at David, who looked very annoyed and didn’t bother hiding it.

“You ass,” he said. “For all you know, she’s not to talk to anyone and you are going to get her killed,” David Giles told him.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. He still had hopes that London would agree to his proposal to take the girl alive and interrogate her.

Once Mr. Buttons' leash was unsnapped, he took off at a trot, his nose in the air as he sought out Drusilla. In the salon, Darla lifted her head from a book she was reading to watch the former Cook not offer any assistance to Willow as she removed her outerwear. It made him nervous as he wondered if he should take the girl’s coat and gloves while his demon rebelled at the notion.

She hung her things up and went up the stairs without taking any notice of his discomfort. She let herself into her room, finding it almost as she left it that morning. The bed was neatly made. A book she was reading rested on the table on what she thought of as her side of the bed. On her pillow was a velvet box.

“Curious?” William asked, his arms sliding around her from behind.

She hadn’t heard him come up from behind her, which was deliberate. He liked scaring her like that.

It would have surprised both of them if they knew that the Watchers were speculating about the possibility that they had placed her in any kind of danger by speaking to her.

She looked at the box. From the size and shape of it, it appeared to be jewelry. “Are we going out this evening?” she asked.

He laughed. “Probably. Might take you with us, too,” he added, steering her out into the hall, his fingers working the cloth covered buttons at her back until he had loosened them enough to gain access to her exposed back. He steered her down the hall, past Drusilla’s door, and through the slightly ajar door to Angelus’ room.

“We’re bored,” he told her as she took in the sight before her.

Angelus was sitting in an armchair, naked with Lucius on his knees in front of him, sucking his cock, his hands bound behind him.

Matilde was there too, standing off to one side, watching them. She had that hungry look that minions always seemed to have. William kicked the door shut, making Willow flinch at the sound.

She unbuttoned her sleeves while William finished unbuttoning her dress, smoothing it off her shoulders to slide to the floor. The dress was so loosely fitted that she had not worn stays. William removed her half boots and rolled her stockings down to slip over her feet. She raised her arms to help him take her chemise off. Once she was naked, he kissed the palms of her hands and brought them to his body. By the standards of the day, he was hardly dressed at all, no coat or waistcoat, just a shirt, loosely knotted cravat, braces, trousers, and socks. She worked the knot loose and unwound the cravat.

He took it from her with a thoughtful look, folding it lengthwise between his fingers.

“Take your hair down, pet,” he said.

She removed the hairpins with one hand, holding them in her free hand. His hands moved over her, lightly, fingertips grazing her breasts, skimming over her ribs, one hand slipping down to the apex of her thighs to brush against the soft nest of auburn curls there. When she removed the last pin, he took them from her, put them in his pocket, handing her the folded cravat.

She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to do with it, so she waited. He ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp, making her shiver as her scalp tingled with the pleasurable pain of having the weight of her hair shifted. His lips brushed her ear. “Cover your eyes,” he ordered.

It was the most likely and least frightening of many possibilities. She lifted the cloth cover her eyes and tied it behind her head, tightly, without further instruction.

“Now, finish undressing me,” he commanded.

It required concentration and thought. She closed her eyes behind the blindfold, trying to remember exactly what he was wearing. When she had a good mental picture, her hands moved over his chest, seeking the waistband of his trousers, finding the buttons that held it closed. When the waistband was open, her hands moved back to his shoulders to push the braces over his shoulders. She followed their decent on the left side of his body to find the buttons at the cuff of his shirt, unfastening them. His right hand brushed her inner thigh and she automatically opened her legs to him. When he didn’t follow up on that she started to bring her feet together, and his foot nudged her leg back.

Her hands moved over him searchingly, finding his right arm, and the brace that had slipped to his upper arm, she move that down to his wrist, slipping it free before returning to his wrist to find the buttons to the cuff of his sleeve while his left hand cupped her breast, his fingers pinching and tugging on her nipple. When she freed his right wrist his hand slid between her legs, his middle finger penetrating her without any preliminaries. Just as abruptly it was gone and the finger he had pushed inside of her was brought to her lips to trace the outline of her upper and lower lip.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he warned her, watching her chest rise and fall unevenly.

Even with his mouth full of cock and his nose buried in the musky, intoxicating scent of the Master, Lucius could smell the rich perfume of the girl’s cunt. His cock twitched. The cock in his mouth twitched.

She finished unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it free and sliding it over his shoulders. Having completed that task successfully, William cupped her face in his hands and kissed her mouth lingeringly.

She finished unbuttoning his trousers, pushing them down over his hips, using his body to support herself as she sank to her knees to free one leg from his trousers followed by the sock he wore, and then the other.
“You did that very well, pet,” William told her, his hand falling on her head. “Stand up,” he ordered. “I want you on the bed. It’s behind you. On your knees, with your head down. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice very small, almost childlike.

She found the bed in three steps feeling around as she arranged herself according to his instructions.

With a twist of his hips and a grunt, the Master spilled himself in Lucius’ mouth. He waiting impatiently while Lucius swallowed and then licked his semi-hard cock clean, and then pushed him away, snapping his fingers at Matilde, who brought him his lap desk, paper and pencils. William, naked, his erect member bobbing, took a sip of whiskey and lit one of the cheroots he was so fond of, watching his lover. There was a hint of anxiety in his expression.

Angelus glanced at Lucius, who was still sitting at his feet. “Fix me a drink,” he ordered in a bored tone of voice, picking up a pencil.

Deprived of sight, Willow tried to make sense of the sounds she heard in the room, which seemed unnaturally loud as she tried to stay still. With her head down, she knew that her ass would be thrust out, her cunt clearly visible to anyone who was in the room. She had lost track of William. Once Matilde and Lucius started moving around, it became too difficult to figure out where everyone was in the room, and for all she knew, Angelus was moving too. The vampires could move with undetectable speed and stealth.

She dug her fingers into the counterpane below her.

The buds of her toes were curled up. Angelus started there, with her cute little feet, slim, with pretty arches, and the curled up toes, indicating a certain amount of tension. He made a mental note to pay attention to her feet as he sketched her in different positions this afternoon. When he got a rough outline completed, he nodded to William who grinned and took a last draw on his cheroot, chased by a mouthful of whiskey.

He pushed her over on her back, an instant later, sliding inside her with a feral growl, braced on his arms, the muscular planes of his chest gleaming in the gaslight, making Lucius’ mouth go dry. He had allowed his face to change, amber eyes glowing. To free his hands, he knelt, with his legs under him, his hands lifting her hips. Lucius watched the glistening length of his cock slide out of her, and then disappear within her as his hands forced her back to arch more.

He moved one of her hands to her breast and the other to the soft, springing curls between her legs. The Master watched them intently, his pencil moving, seemingly at random, long, curving lines and hatch marks slowly resolving into a coherent picture. He caught the elegant tension in her neck, and the way her hair fell around her as each thrust shifted her a little on the counterpane.

They weren’t quiet, hardly a revelation. The sounds of their coupling were heard in the house with predictable regularity. He was more direct, speaking to her, using his voice as well as his hands to stimulate her. She was less coherent. Color stained her face, from exertion and possibly embarrassment. Their bodies came together wetly, the bed creaked, the Master’s pencil scratched softly on paper, her breathless sounds measured out her rising pleasure.

It was monstrous and terrible, tender and beautiful. Nothing like he had imagined.

He felt the flutter of her cunt. Her fingers were rubbing her clit in a slow circular motion that was starting to take her beyond the awkwardness of the moment. She felt a little stiff in his arms, self conscious and worried about doing the wrong thing in front of Angelus. He slid his arms under her back, lifting her, kissing the center of her chest as she wrapped one arm around his shoulders, twisting her hips as she rode his cock with his help. He kissed the upper swell of his breast, his tongue stroking her skin. His fangs sank in, just breaking her skin to taste her, hearing her cry out his name as she came.

He had no more than a sip before he retracted his fangs and licked her broken skin, the sound of her heart beat loud in his ears. Finding the hand that had been working her clit, he brought it to his mouth, sampling the taste on her fingertips. Once freed from his mouth, her fingers tentatively explored his face.

His hands guided her hips, making her lift up and settle on his cock again, a soft sighing sound escaping her. He turned his face into her palm, kissing it, his lips moved to her wrist. He opened his mouth wider, face changing as he caught her wrist in his teeth, holding it lightly, without breaking her skin, a rumbling purr erupting from his throat as his tongue pressed against her pulse.

Her forehead fell forward, against his jaw, following the shape, her lips sought his throat, imitating his play with her wrist. His head fell back, releasing her wrist, the purr becoming a low frequency growl. She rose and lowered herself on him, getting one foot under her for leverage. One of her hands tangled in his hair, the other counterbalanced her weight, braced over his shoulder as she began to move more confidently.

In his fantasies, Lucius had assigned to her the chilly detachment of the whores that he had known, or the place of the women he had taken since his own change—passive and cringing, glassy eyed with shock as he learned that it was possible to fuck someone to death. His first kill like that had been a tender little redheaded girl that he had found hurrying home shortly after dusk. But, Willow was wanton, spreading eager kisses over her lover’s throat, sucking on his chin as she fucked him, the creamy white ends of the improvised blindfold tangling in the long hair William’s hands gathered and sifted through.

The sounds they were making had a certain coherency now. They were sounds each understood and responded to, with caresses and kisses, and changes in the tempo of their bodies coming together. She arched her back to bring her breasts into contact with his chest and his hand followed the arch of her back, resting on the small of her back above her ass, urging her to bear down on him harder with an impatient sound, muffled by their mouths as they kissed passionately.

The bed was the largest in the house, a massive four-poster hung with drapes that could be closed to make a small room. The counterpane was a rich gold brocade. The colors were an homage to the ivory and gold beauty of the true Mistress of the house, but it was hard to imagine that they suited anyone more than the girl wantonly fucking William for the Master’s entertainment.

It had become too much for Matilde. She was leaning against the wall beside the sideboard, her simple, drab brown skirt rucked up to her waist, her hand inside her drawers as she fingered herself. The Master paused in his sketching, holding his wineglass up to be refilled. Lucius’ hand shook a little, but he managed to pour without spilling a drop.

“You can leave us now, and take that,” the Master indicated Matilde, “with you,” he smiled. “Since she’s so anxious to be fucked, see that she is, by anyone who is willing to rut with her.”

Lucius crossed the room, replacing the wine decanter on the table. Suspecting that Matilde’s behavior had gotten them both ejected from the room, he wasn’t gentle about removing her, feeling cheated.

Angelus set aside his sketchpad and walked over to the bed. From the sound of it, the girl was peaking, her slim body shaking as she reached her second orgasm. William nuzzled her throat, nibbling on her earlobe as her mouth opened, trembling in a soundless cry of completion. He moved in behind his boy, his beautiful seemingly soft, boy. He had never known a creature in life or death that seemed more complete than William. He was willful, and stubborn, and led by his dick, but he drank more fully from life than anyone Angelus knew. He kissed his neck, feeling him tremble. His fingers pinched his nipples, twisting them.

Dru might have sired him, but Angelus had been the one to shape him since Dru was incapable of providing any guidance to her childe. Holding William firmly, with one arm wrapped around his chest, he pushed Willow off of him. William didn’t entirely release her, leaning against the arm that restrained him as he eased her down on the mattress, his cock slipping out of her.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her sweat dampened body twitching as his cock slid out of her. Angelus ran his thumb over her cunt, marveling at the heat she was giving off. He offered his thumb to William, who accepted it, his hands resting on his lover’s thighs to keep her from closing them. Angelus pulled his thumb out of William’s mouth, his hand moving to grasp the boy’s cock, warm and wet from fucking, pumping it vigorously as he dominated his mouth. With his other hand he cupped his balls, making him groan.

He pushed him down, towards the girl and William took the hint, bracing himself on one arm, caressing her breasts, kissing her mouth, his hips moving sinuously as Angelus stroked his cock with one hand. Reaching between William’s thighs, he fondled the lips of Willow’s hot, wet cunt, avoiding her clitoris, plunging two fingers into her channel. He moved his fingers, lubricated from the girl’s cunt, to William’s anus, pushing past the puckered aperture, finding the bulge of his prostate and massaging it roughly as he pumped his cock.

He came with a heartfelt groan, his semen erupting in spurts, splashing over Willow’s stomach and breasts as Angelus bit into his neck.

William leaned back against him, shuddering as Angelus licked and sucked on his bite mark, his fingers still pumping slowly in his ass. He slapped Willow’s hip, hard enough to get her attention. “Rest break is over, you lazy slut,” he said, sounding amused. “Get over here and make yourself useful.”

William reached out to her, his hands moving from her legs to bring her to him, sensing some of her confusion and uncertainty at Angelus’ lack of detail. His hands cupped her face and he kissed her mouth, his tongue stroking hers.

“That’s very sweet. Very romantic,” Angelus teased, reaching out to fondle one of her breasts.

William broke off the kiss to look at the older vampire. He smiled suddenly. “Baby? Just like you were when we started, on your knees,” he told Willow, pushing her head down towards his cock. Angelus’ hand tightened on his cock, nudging it towards her lips. “Suck my cock,” he ordered.

Angelus decided to accept the unstated invitation formed by the way the girl was kneeling as she took the head of William’s cock into her mouth. He moved around behind her, feeling her tense as he pushed her legs apart. William stroked her hair and her back, making soothing sounds he probably wasn’t even aware were coming from his throat.

Angelus eyed her ass, soft, white, beautifully shaped, firm, so, so tempting. He saw William’s eyes narrow. He knew better than to refuse him, but he looked angry. Angelus grinned at him, teasing him, though William couldn’t be sure of that. His hands gripped Willow’s hips and he pushed the head of his cock into her, feeling her seize up at his rough penetration. His cock was a bit thicker than William’s, and the unaccustomed girth stretched her, introducing an element of pain that he craved.

She was tucked up neat in her bed when he came home around dawn. Restless, he prowled around the room. She had hung up her yellow dress. In the bathroom she shared with Dru, her rinsed stockings and chemise were neatly hung to dry and the bathtub was clean. He went back into her bedroom and put another log on the fire, stoking the embers, watching the wood catch here and there.

He was feeling something . . . guilt, maybe. He had left her to go out with Angelus and the girls. Left her alone with a couple of resentful minions that would no more help her than . . . sew alter clothes. It didn’t feel right to him. He should have at least carried her back to her room, spared her the walk when she was probably barely able to manage it on her own after they’d spent the better part of the day fucking her.

The jewelry box lay unopened on the pillow she normally slept on. He heard Darla’s voice in his head taunting him about chocolates and flowers. He should have followed his own instincts. She gave sod all about jewelry. A box of chocolates, a wild flower next to her morning coffee, and a soft word went farther with her. He frowned at the fire and made himself go over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her cheek until her eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened.

“What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

“Dawn,” he said. “I just wanted to see you before I went to bed,” he told her. “Make sure you were alright,” he added.

“Oh,” she looked like she didn’t know how to begin to answer that. “I’m fine,” she said after a long pause.

“I could stay with you, if you like,” he offered.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded slowly.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be a few minutes,” he said.