This message sent by: "StormBorn" <stormborn@prodigy.net>Standard disclaimers: the Forever Knight universe and its characters are the property of James Parriott and Sony/Tristar; no profit is being made from this piece of fiction.
Archiving permission: www.fkfanfic.com, ICS, JADFE Comments and critiques to stormborn@prodigy.net.Note: This is the fourth story in the Breaking Day series. The other stories are, in order, When You Don't See Me, Breaking Day, and La Voyeuse; the story Unbreakable Bond, can be considered a prologue of sorts. These and other stories are archived at my website, http://members.tripod.com/~StormBorn/fk.htm
Special note to the UF: yeah, this is another of my famous I-haven't-finished-writing-it-so-I-don't-know-how-many-parts-it-has things. <g> And while there's no *explicit* sex in this part, it's um, suggestive.
This story is dedicated to those much-appreciated folks who wrote and asked for it.
Breaking Glass (01/0?)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999Because she had worked the night shift for so long Natalie had fully expected, when she accepted LaCroix' invitation to travel with his reunited family, to become as nocturnal as they. In fact, she found the opposite happening. The time she had to herself during the daylight hours she cherished; it gave her quiet time to think, to reflect. It was also the barrier she had set up for herself, an invisible dividing line between her human self and the vampires whose lives she now shared.
Besides, she reflected grimly, the coffee cup warming her chill hands as she looked out at the gray sky mellowing the tall brown buildings on this secluded Paris street, they made it hard to sleep sometimes. Natalie's intrinsic fairness forced her to admit that they didn't intend for her to hear them. Nick's room was between hers and the others' and Janette or LaCroix rarely joined him there. But... they were vampires. They were, in the heat of passion, forgetful of the power and timbre of their voices. The sounds they made in their coupling often aroused her, and sometimes terrified her.
Nick had tried to be discrete at first. So, too, she believed, had the others. Time had passed, though; they were used to her being there, and they had grown careless. Janette and LaCroix together--she could care less about that. The nights that Nick shared Janette's bed sometimes made her weep, though Janette had been nothing but kindness to her; in fact, they had grown close, to the surprise of all.
But Janette and Nick rarely made love. With great tact, Janette had made a few oblique references to their history. Nat had grown to understand that their past together had been so tempestuous that, while they still cared for each other deeply, the passion had all but burned out.
She gripped her cup more tightly as a faint animal sound reaching her ears. No, it was not so much Janette that troubled her. It was *him*. Natalie wanted so badly to hate LaCroix, and she couldn't.
To join their household, she had to occasionally permit LaCroix to take a little of her blood, and to drink a small sip of his. The idea had repelled her from the start, but it was necessary. The exchange marked her as LaCroix' to any other vampire; as a member of his household, under his protection. She shivered, remembering the encounter she and Nick had had one night with an insolent vampiress.
-----------
"Who's the thrall belong to? She ain't yours, even if she does look at you like she just want to eat you up."
Nick stepped in front of Natalie, shielding her even as he held onto her arm. He looked into the black woman's emerald eyes. "I don't know you. Whose get are you?"
"Eloise is my mistress. And whose 'get' are you, pretty boy?"
His mouth curved in a wicked smile. "My name is Nicholas. Give my regards to your mistress; it's been a long time since I've had the pleasure of her company."
They walked on, but the molasses-smooth voice followed them. "Best tell LaCroix to get his thrall under control, Nich-o-las . . . "
-----------
LaCroix and Janette had paid a call on this Eloise, an old friend of the family who had rebuked her child. It was the first time she had heard the word thrall, though, and when Nick reluctantly explained it to her, she was sickened. A thrall was a human servant; virtually a willing slave, often a concubine, sometimes a convenient source of emergency
sustenance. Though her status in Nick's family was far different from that, the knowledge had opened up dark undercurrents for her in Nick's world. For so long, while she'd been trying to find a cure for him, she tried to shake his conviction that he was a monster. She'd managed to convince herself until she saw him as an exceptionally long-lived human with a sort of drinking problem. As she had encountered more of the vampires of Toronto, she had almost begun to take them for granted. People with fangs and an affinity for darkness, that was all.Now she knew better. They were something far different from humans.
They were not monsters, either. Her previous encounters with LaCroix had been tense, hovering on the edge of confrontation. He had been her adversary. She wanted to hate him.
How could she, though? In the relaxed confines of home and family, in gracious rooms surrounded by his children, she saw him as she'd never seen him before. Playing chess and computer games with Nick; the two of them making music together, conjuring aural cathedrals from a violin and a piano; bantering with Janette. He was genial, he was a witty and intelligent conversationalist, he was a gentleman. Hell, she thought with disgust, even her cat liked him.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden feeling that she was being watched and had been watched for some time. It was still daylight and she was under LaCroix' protection, but still the feeling made her uneasy and she scanned the street below. It was empty, except for a stocky man with thinning dark hair turning into the cafe a few yards down the street. My overactive imagination, she thought. Pouring the dregs of
her coffee over the balcony she moved to go back inside. Lambert, you need a hobby.As she crossed the hallway into her room something tickled the edge of her hearing, a voice raspy with desire chanting French endearments. A moment later a roar echoed through the house, then cut off. Nick's orgasm, come to fruition in the fount of his master's blood.
Quickly closing the door to her room she sat on the edge of the bed and hugged her pillow to her chest. She had discovered Nick's return to his family when she had entered the loft unannounced and found he and LaCroix lying naked together, asleep. At least, Nick had been asleep, curled against his master's chest in blissful abandonment.
God, how she wanted to hate LaCroix! She had been attracted to Nick the first time she laid eyes on him, when she had unzipped the body bag and seen the mingled innocence and weariness on that face. She'd fallen in love with him; in his way, he loved her, too. All too soon, she had realized the depth of his relationship with LaCroix. Father and child, master and slave; all this--and yet more. For all he railed against LaCroix, he kept a picture of him in his desk. There were more pictures in his loft. He listened to the Nightcrawler's radio show obsessively and near the end he had sought out his counsel, his aid, and his companionship. It was not Janette who was her rival, it was LaCroix. Nick's desire for his master had never left him.
The horrible fact facing her was that now she could understand that desire all too well. The blood exchange still disturbed her, only now the reasons were different. She had begun to look forward to those monthly rituals, when LaCroix came to her room and rolled up his shirt cuff, then bared her throat. It was matter-of-fact, but at the same
time almost unbearably sensual. His blood tantalized her with glimpses of complexity far beyond her experience; his drinking from her made her feel dreamily languorous. His cool hands on her flesh gave her shivers of pleasure.Part of it *was* the blood; she had been assured that hers was a common reaction and she wasn't to be disturbed by it. She knew, though, that it was more than that. In LaCroix cool elegance mingled with powerful intensity to give him a compelling sexual magnetism. It drew Nick to him with a hunger that could be assuaged but never fully sated, and it was drawing her to LaCroix also.
So when she heard the moans, the snarls, the muffled words of love and the final cries, it wasn't always Nick that she thought of. Nat had found herself wondering what LaCroix was like in bed, had found herself craving the body beneath the civilized clothes.
There were more voices now, clearer, of Janette and the men exchanging cheerful greetings as they met in the hallway and started downstairs. How long had she been sitting her? Once she would have looked at her watch; now she looked out the window for confirmation. It was dusk.
<end part one>
Breaking Glass (02/0?)
Laughter. Music. And for Natalie, a few more cocktails than she thought she should have had.
"Ha!" Janette waved a fistful of bills in LaCroix' face. "Admit it; I have a gift."
"What you have, my darling, is the ability to seduce any man within sight of you."
With a smirk, she tucked her loot into her evening bag. "Well... whatever works." All her dark charm was on high wattage tonight; winning excited her. She brushed her hand against LaCroix's lapel and beamed at the others. "Why don't we take a little detour on the way home--through the Bois de Bologne?"
"The Bois de Bologne?" asked Nat. "Isn't that supposed to be dangerous after dark?"
Against Janette's ripple of laughter, LaCroix told her, "Not for us." The subtlest difference in his face and his voice, transformed him. A shiver brushed her yet she stared at him, fascinated... the protest that rose in her died unspoken. A firm hand gripped her arm. "I think we'll pass," said Nick. A sardonic smile curved the corners of his master's full lips.
"As you wish, Nicholas. Shall we, Janette?" With a purr of assent she took his arm. Nick watched them until they faded into the crowd.
Turning to Natalie, he said, "You should eat something. I think I know a little place that's open late--if it's still there." The familiar charming smile was back on his face as he hailed a cab, but she could still see the cloud underlying it. The taxi ride was strained. Nick looked out the window, lost in thought or memories while she fidgeted,
not knowing what to say or how.Finally, abruptly, she broached the subject. "They've gone to hunt, haven't they?"
"Yes."
"Why? It's not as if they need to."
"Sidney can live quite well on canned cat food, but it doesn't stop him from hunting birds and tearing one apart if he catches it, does it?"
"Good God, Nick."
"It's what they are, Nat. What we are."
"If I wasn't there," she said slowly, "would you have gone with them?"
The muscles in his jaw tightened. When he answered her it was from somewhere far away. "Yes. But I wouldn't have wanted to..."
She turned to look out her own window, at the ancient and vibrant city passing by. Still my Nick, in so many ways. He wouldn't have wanted to go--and yet, he would have anyway. It was too seductive, this vampire world. Thinking of LaCroix, she added, for both of us.
------------
A hotel room.
"Man, oh man! I can't believe we're here. That's really Paris out there."
"Isn't it great, honey?"
"It sure is. Have I told you just how proud I am of you?"
"Only about a million times."
"Well, I am. Damn proud. You know, when you started with this beauty thing I thought, you know, that's nice. Get her out of the house, give her a little money of her own. I never dreamed you'd do well enough to earn a trip to Paris."
"I would worry that you'd be bored while I'm at the convention activities, if I didn't know you'd be off playing detective."
"He's here, I just--feel it."
"He could be anywhere."
"Yeah. But that weird family of his, they're French. And when I asked him where he was going he said "Europe" before he caught himself. He must be here."
"Maybe he doesn't want to be found."
A restless silence, then:
"Then he should have sent a postcard or something. He shouldn't have told me to forget about him. We were friends, honey--friends don't just up and leave like that! Natalie, too. Do you know what it means for a woman that young to be M.E.? She must have worked damn hard for it, only to just up and leave."
"You're going to look for him no matter what I say, so the only thing I'll say is, be careful."
"Sure. 'Course. I gotta go out for a while, honey; I'll be back as soon as I can."
-----------The cafe was still there, and still open; over a double espresso and a pastry they relaxed, chatting about Paris now and the Paris of a hundred, three hundred, five hundred years ago. They would travel soon, Nick thought. He wanted to show Natalie so much.
"If the others are agreeable, how about Italy next? It's amazing, Nat! Beautiful little villages, grand palaces and cathedrals. Each city is different, each a jewel like no other."
"That sounds wonderful, Nick."
It wasn't far to the house, so they walked arm in arm down streets slowly emptying as the night wore on. They were chatting so happily when they turned in at their door that neither of them noticed the stocky man in the shadows, watching.
-----------
He couldn't sleep, not with the sensations thrumming along his link with his family. When Nat was there to distract him, he could shove them back, but now they hammered at his nerves. The last few moments of the hunt... closing in on the now frightened prey, closing fiendishly slowly, and then--
Nick clamped his eyes shut, even as he felt his fangs drop. Arousal crept through him, stirred by the echoed bliss he felt as first Janette, then LaCroix, took their kill. Blood, living blood, fresh and hot and full of life! He moaned softly.
He felt them when they came in, heard Janette's voice sultry with satiated bloodlust, bidding LaCroix goodnight. A moment later, his door opened. "You should have joined us, Nicholas. The hunting was superb tonight."
"Don't. We agreed when I came back that I wouldn't have to kill again."
Shutting the door behind him, his master sauntered closer to the bed. "Ah, so we did. You know I will not press you on it, my son. You are far too dear to me to risk losing you again."
His defenses melted at the words. Nick didn't move off the bed, he just looked at LaCroix, but his eyes said everything. He drank in every movement of those cool hands as they undid the tie at his throat and dropped it to the floor, as they undid the shirt studs fastening the snowy linen to reveal the snow-pale flesh within. Unconsciously, he licked his lips... LaCroix had killed tonight and he could sense it
within him.When the other had stripped completely he paused, a question in those piercing eyes.
LaCroix had killed tonight. LaCroix had killed tonight. LaCroix had killed tonight.
Nick answered; he turned back the coverlet to let him in.
<end part two>
Breaking Glass (03/0?)
His master's urgency sparked his own; no time wasted on play, not now. His mouth was not so much kissed as ravished as LaCroix' hands moved roughly down his back to grip his hips and shift him into position. The excitement brought on by the hunt and the kill he remembered all too well; he understood LaCroix' need to take, to devour, his lover. Magnificent predator, he thought, as he grasped at the powerful body.
Yesss... Eyes aglow, mouth curled in the vampire rictus, LaCroix shoved Nick's knees back hard, spreading them wide as he did. Then with the snarl of a jungle cat he struck, ramming his cock home. An answering roar burst from Nick's throat as the iron phallus pierced him; his rectum grasped the welcome invader in a grip equally as brutal, drawing another snarl from his master. LaCroix' hand knotted itself in Nick's hair, forcing the boy's back into a deliciously painful arch.
No tenderness, no endearments--neither wanted that right now. Only the ruthless slam, the violent submission, the sounds of beasts in a mating frenzy.
--------
In the next room Natalie lay in a cold sweat. Years ago, in a back room at the Raven, she'd seen Nick's beast, heard its throaty lust in her ear. "What's in it for you...," the memory echoed in her mind, "...sexual thrill?" Anger had given her the strength to step away and turn on him, but there had been a moment just before the anger... My God, I can't live like this! Into the welter of her emotions stole a small cool voice: ah, but you have to, don't you?
She knew it for the truth. There was no way out; Nick would not kill her, but LaCroix might. Even if she made her escape, once she was no longer under the ancient's protection--no longer his thrall, she thought bitterly--the others would close in on her. Layers upon layers...and beneath them all, the danger that came not from the vampires surrounding her, but from herself: the very real possibility that the seduction of the night was already complete, and she did not even want to tear herself away.
--------
Only this--only this! The relentless thrusting, the scent of the blood that slicked their bodies, his fingers clawing desperately as hunger and lust drove him mad. A divine madness, elemental as the life. Heedless of the woman in the room next door, he roared and thrashed on the ruined bed as he took all he could get and strained for more. His red-gold eyes fixed on gleaming fangs; then swift as a striking cobra his master wrenched his head to the side and struck. He convulsed in pre-orgasmic
throes; the other's cold seed flooded his ass in final, triumphal possession and then, only then, was he allowed to feed. He screamed silently into his master's mind, a tribute exacted and paid as ecstasy flooded his mouth. With crystal clarity he felt the threads of the sheet against his back, the aching of his nipples and thighs, the stony flesh against his body.At last they fell apart. LaCroix stretched his powerful body, sated, and Nicholas was struck anew by his intense physical attractiveness. Beautiful? No; the face was a little too fleshy for that. Handsome, yes--but so much more than that. He lay silent, letting his strained nerves calm themselves. Their lovemaking did not often require submission from him; LaCroix was more often tenderly sensuous, deriving his pleasure from pleasing Nicholas. At times, they played at it; very occasionally--such as when he'd returned to LaCroix--his master's honor demanded it. This time, though, for the first time in how long, his submission had not only been willing but eager. He had wanted to be LaCroix' slave, his possession. He was at peace with it.
He became aware of LaCroix' eyes, their normal pale blue, resting on him. Tentatively, a cool hand reached out to brush his cheek; smiling softly, he turned his face into it and kissed the palm. "Are you angry?" his lover asked.
"No. Can't you tell?"
A wry smile. "Not always." The hand curved around his neck and slowly drew him closer; with a contented sigh he dropped his head on LaCroix' chest.
Overcome with the need to put his feelings into words, he murmured, "You are everything to me." Silence met him, and he looked up to see LaCroix' face for once unguarded and vulnerable. Tears glistened in the other's eyes. Nick kissed his lover tenderly, then smiled against his mouth. "And you make me incredibly horny."
Tension broken, LaCroix chuckled. "By that I take it you're ready for another round, my boy?"
"Oh, yes. Slower this time. Much slower. In fact, I can't think of a better way to spend the whole day."
---------
She dressed. She fed and cuddled Sidney. She went for a walk, in the calm of the early morning. The watcher followed her.
He hadn't been there all night; he'd lingered long enough to see Nick and Natalie come home, arm in arm and laughing. As soon as his wife had left for the convention, he'd come back. He wished he could have gotten more information before proceeding, but he didn't speak French and he was totally unfamiliar with how to obtain records on this address, or on Lucien LaCroix. So when Natalie came out of the house, he followed.
She only walked a few blocks, to a cafe not yet busy with the morning rush. He waited until she took a seat at a small table next to the window. The waiter had just served her coffee, she looked up from the menu when he approached, and her face went white with shock.
"Schanke!"
<end part three>
Breaking Glass (04/0?)
Play this one cool, Donny-boy, he told himself. Not only was she not expecting to see you in Paris, from the look on her face she wasn't expecting to see you again in this life. Grinning disarmingly, he plopped himself down in the chair across from her. "I thought that was you I saw around here yesterday. Hey, what a surprise, huh?"
He's got to get away from here. He's got to, before he sees Nick, before he gets drawn in--like I did. "Don, what are you doing here?"
"You remember Myra's Skin Pretty business, right? Man, she's some sort of regional distributor now! They're having a convention here in Paris. They let her bring a guest--lucky she chose me instead of her sister, aren't I?"
"That's--that's incredible. You must be really proud of her."
"Absolutely. But hey, enough of that. You and Knight up and ran off to Paris together, huh? I knew something was going on between you two." Good old buffoonish Schanke; she didn't even notice the sharp glance at her ringless hand, the way the soulful brown eyes watched every nuance on her face. "So, when's the wedding?"
"Whoa, Schank, slow down!" She waved the waiter over to take Schanke's order, when they were comfortably settled she continued. "I was getting burnt out, Schank. My entire life revolved around the poor stiffs that just kept coming in, night after night. All that waste..."
"I know how it is, Nat."
"Yeah, I know." Smiling, she reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "When Nick said he was rejoining his family; when he asked me to come to Europe with them, I thought, why not? What kind of a life do I have here?"
Nice story, he thought. It rang true, too, as far as it went. But it didn't account for the look on Nick's face when he said goodbye and it didn't explain why his partner had told him, "Do me a favor, Don. Forget about me. I can't tell you anymore than that."
The waiter came. Casually Schanke fussed with his napkin, his coffee. "So when do I get to bawl him out for taking off so sudden? Guess he's sleeping now, huh? I got it--Myra's got some sort of cocktail party tonight; she won't mind if I bow out."
Again that frozen look on her face. Gotcha, he thought. "I--uh, gotta check with Nick, Schanke. Look, why don't you give me the number of the hotel and I'll call you as soon as he wakes up?"
"Hey, sure. Great." He steered the conversation into 'catching up' then: how Jenny was doing, what Grace was up to, all the minutiae of human existence. She drank it in eagerly. They parted with promises; as she hurried up the street he stood looking after her.
Gotcha.
------------
The Zen of lovemaking, Nick mused contentedly. He'd never really forgotten how good LaCroix was at this, but his memories and fantasies had been too desperate, too urgent. Now, though, with all the time in the world, they were free to indulge themselves. So LaCroix was this day; he'd just spent the better part of an hour caressing his son's throat, and now was concentrating his attention on a small area of
Nick's shoulder, just above the blade. One, and only one, sharp nail was scratching the skin in deliberate patterns, with slowly increasing intensity. The acute focus was masterful; Nick hovered in a space of deliciously suspended arousal, nerve endings from his scalp to the bottom of his feet tingling.A tongue replaced the fingernail. Soft and wet --Nick could almost taste his own skin, feel the texture of it, through LaCroix. A moan rose involuntarily from him; he could sense his master's smile. A gentle nip in the tiny patch of flesh made him moan louder, then a fang delicately pierced him, sucking at the drop of blood that oozed forth from the wound. Nick shivered. "LaCroix, please."
"Shhh." His hair was ruffled, then the bed shifted with LaCroix' weight. Agonizing, the suspense, until he felt fingertips on the back of his left knee. Light as butterfly wings, they stroked upward an inch at a time, tightening the arousal in him. By the time they reached the sensitive place just below his buttocks he was moaning helplessly; his
buttocks grinding of their own accord. LaCroix leaned over him to breathe in his ear, "You have no patience, mon esclave, mon tresor.""It's what you do to me," he gasped.
"Hmmn. Perhaps it's time we advanced to another level." Strong hands eased him over on his back; he gazed up at his master through glazed eyes. The cool face was as serenely impassive as ever, only his erection revealing his own arousal. Nick knew from long experience that an erection, for LaCroix, did not automatically signal an imperative drive to orgasm. Kneeling between his protege's legs, LaCroix spread
Nick's thighs to drape the over his own. Grazing over the hard cock presented to him, his fingers slid to the opening waiting for him. "Let's see," he murmured. "Shall we prepare you with spit, my love, or with blood? Or, no, better yet: why don't I enter you dry this time?"Irrationally, Nick sucked in a lungful of air with a tremor of apprehension. It would hardly be the first time they'd gone without lubrication; yet, with LaCroix in his present mood, he felt sure the experience would be far different than any before.
A finger pushed into him; his asshole throbbed in response. "Yes, I think so..." Another finger joined the first. It burned, and burned still more as his master moved them inside him. LaCroix found Nick's prostate and pressed, gently at first, then more firmly, until Nick cried out. "Very good, Nicholas. And now--"
The head of LaCroix' cock against his tenderness, waiting. It would hurt, he knew it would hurt and yet he wanted it so badly. When at last it penetrated him he snarled, and reached up to grasp his lover. "No, no," chided LaCroix. "Will you lie still, or shall I have to hold you down?"
"I--I--"
"Very well, then." With a patient sigh, LaCroix grasped Nick's wrists and pinioned them over his head. "No, mon esclave, don't close your eyes. Look; look at what I'm doing to you."
He could not disobey that soft command. Lifting his head from the pillow he watched the long phallus as it impaled him, saw the rim of his asshole stretched tight over his torment, his desire. "God!"
"*I* am your god, Nicholas."
"Please..."
"More?"
"Please!"
"Hard and fast, Nicholas? Or slowly? Choose."
"Now! Oh, God, please, now!"
It seared through him like a brand of fire, filling him, stretching him, pushing him to his limit. He could feel the head lodged at the entrance to his guts. He struggled against the iron grip on his wrists, tightened his thighs to grasp his master. "Shhh... easy, there's a good boy."
He wanted to come. So badly, so badly! Surely LaCroix would let him come soon! The cock in his ass withdrew slowly--then drove back in, ruthlessly. He knew he was screaming because he could feel it in his throat.
"That's it, Nicholas. Yes, give it to me."
What gibberish he was chanting he could not tell, pleas and threats mixed in with his sobbing cries as LaCroix repeated the pattern of slow withdrawal and brutal thrust, increasing the pace subtly.
LaCroix watched his son bucking wildly under him. So sweet, raw emotion and wanton sexuality. Oh, sweet, to show Nicholas over and over how much he craved this. His own climax was dangerously close, he fought it down with all the control he had, waiting for the perfect knife-edge moment...there! He unleashed his wrists and braced himself as the maddened boy struck, driving white-hot fangs into his master's throat. As Nick's come splattered against his belly, his arms wrapped around his
beloved and he bit into the sweating flesh.Together they rode the tide of blood. Only ever in these moments did LaCroix' analytical brain shut off, choosing instead to give himself over to pure experience.
At last he lay the sobbing boy down, holding him gently. "Shhh," he said once again, as his hands gentled the other. "It's all right, then, it's all right."
"I love you. I love you."
"And I you. At last you know that."
"Yes. LaCroix?"
"Oui, mon fils?"
"You called me your slave."
"Ah? Did I? I am sorry."
"No, I don't mean--what I mean, is... Master. I don't mind it now. I'm
glad."<end part four>
Breaking Glass (05/0?)
With frantic haste she locked the door behind and ran up the stairs. Automatically she went to Nick's door, but as she raised her hand to knock the thought occurred to her that perhaps LaCroix was still in there with him. Backing off, she turned down the hall to Janette's room. Either or both of them might be with her instead, but while intruding there would not be pleasant, it was a great deal more preferable than breaking in on Nick and LaCroix.
She rapped. "Janette!"
"Un moment, Natalie, je viens." The door opened on the vampiress, hair tousled from sleep. "What is it? What is the matter?"
"He's here--Schanke. He's here, in Paris!"
"He saw you?"
"Yes! He cornered me in Armand's just now."
"Calm down. Come in, while I dress." Grateful for Janette's cool poise and pragmatism, Nat followed her inside and collapsed onto the chaise. The Frenchwoman discarded her hastily thrown-on peignoir and opened the armoire, pulling out lingerie. As she sat on the bed to pull on her stockings, Natalie's attention was caught for a moment by the long pale legs. Shoving away the thought before it could fully form, she asked, "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to consult with LaCroix and Nicolas." She crossed to the other armoire, the one that held her dresses, and chose an elegantly tailored day dress. A quick brush of her hair, an application of lipstick and a dab of perfume, and she was ready.
Nat followed her back down the hall, hanging back as Janette rapped briskly on Nick's door and entered at a quiet word from inside the room.
Her brother stirred sleepily and smiled at her. His face still bore the traces of wanton satiety. LaCroix disentangled himself from the other. "What is it?"
"Do you remember Nicolas' "partner," Detective Schanke? He's here; Natalie just encountered him in the cafe down the street."
With her words Nick's complacent expression had been replaced by one of dread. She glanced at him, but addressed her words to their master. "She's frightened, almost panicking. We'll wait for you in the drawing room."
As she left to escort their mortal friend downstairs, LaCroix sighed. Once. It was his only indication of his emotions; he rose from the bed. "Get dressed, Nicholas," he said, and padded off to his own room, carrying his discarded evening clothes with him.
For a moment Nick could only lay on the bed, hands raking through his hair. He'd tried to protect Don by telling him to forget about him, and it had backfired. Clumsy! For all his average-Joe demeanor, Schanke was a good detective. Not only did he have a sharp mind, he had the tenacity of a bulldog. My fault, he thought miserably; all my fault. A chill knotted his belly: if he couldn't handle this, LaCroix would.
As he entered the drawing room Janette handed him a glass. She had one of her own, and Natalie was huddled on the couch with a brandy. Steps behind him, LaCroix also accepted a glass from Janette before settling himself in a chair facing the couch. Nat cast a desperate glance at Nick, who took her hand and squeezed it. "It'll be OK, Nat."
"Will it, Nicholas?" LaCroix raised an eyebrow at him. "May I ask just how you're going to solve this little problem?"
"Natalie said that he wishes to meet with Nicolas this evening. Perhaps it would be best if we stayed out of it, LaCroix, and let Nicolas handle it."
Less than an hour ago he had been murmuring endearments to his beloved; now, his tone was acidic. "I'd agree, my dear, if he didn't have such a bad track record of 'handling things.'"
"You won't hurt him," Nick said sharply. "I won't let you."
"He's our friend," Nat added.
"Detective Schanke is a part of a world that neither of you belong to anymore, Doctor Lambert. And as for you, Nicholas, may I remind you that I have had ample opportunity in the past to do damage to the good detective, and have not." He sat down his glass and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Now, I'm ready to hear your plans."
"I have to see him, LaCroix; he'll never give up if I don't. I just don't know what I can tell him."
"Certainly not the truth of the matter."
"No, of course not." He sighed. "I would have made a poor general, I'm afraid; I can't really know what to say until I talk to him."
Those pale eyes softened; LaCroix rose and crossed over to Nick. Ruffling his son's hair, he said, smiling, "I can think of at least one general who might have said the same thing: Alexander. Make arrangements to meet your friend, my son." Glancing at Natalie he added, "Alone."
Nick had left to meet Schanke; Natalie wished Janette was there to keep her company while she waited but the other woman had gone off to visit friends from the Community. She cooked dinner and ate, then curled up on the couch hoping to distract herself with the latest Elizabeth Peters mystery. She'd reread the same page three times when she heard a light footstep and looked up to see him. Her heart gave a vicious pound.
"It's time," he told her simply, then turned. Obediently--and cursing herself for her obedience--she followed him upstairs. He stepped aside for her at the door to her room; as she sat on the edge of the bed he stood over her, casually unbuttoning her cuffs. She made no move to expose her throat. While she accepted the necessity of this, she would not appear eager for it.
Gracefully he seated himself beside her and eased her back onto the pillows. His hands were cool against her skin as he pushed back her collar, but the shiver that ran through her wasn't from cold. Nat tried not to look at him--it didn't matter, she was acutely aware of his sheer physical presence. Her breath caught as he leaned over her and she
braced herself, waiting for the quick pain of his bite.Instead she felt his lips against her neck, caressing her gently. Delicately his tongue touched the skin above her artery while one hand cupped her face. When his fangs pierced her she moaned. The languor that always accompanied the act pulled her down, but this time there was another note to it: the brightness of arousal. Whimpering she shuddered as he drank, as the fire swept from her throat to her sex. She couldn't
stop it. Withdrawing, he whispered, "It's all right," and held her as she came, her hands scrabbling at him.Ashamed, she tried to turn her face away from him, but he caught her chin in his hand. Holding her eyes with his he brought his wrist to his mouth and bit into it; the rich blood welled up from the wound, fascinating her. When he gave it to her she grasped his arm and sucked for all her worth.
"There, now, that's enough." As he drew his wrist away she stopped herself from grabbing it back. She could feel the pinprick of tears in her eyes and the lingering glow of her orgasm.
"I don't understand. What's happening to me?"
Calmly he replied, "We've discussed this."
"But it keeps getting worse!" She glared at him, trying to make anger take the place of terror and temptation.
"So it would seem. The act itself is a seductive one, but I wonder: is it merely the exchange of blood that lures you, or is it me?"
"How dare you!"
"As you know, Doctor, I was a soldier. My profession taught me--as I'm sure yours must have as well--that it is better to face the truth head on, no matter how distasteful, then to hide behind accusations." He laughed. "Come now. It is not egotism on my part to say that I am well aware that others find me desirable."
His words brought a painful remembrance to her. Sitting up, she scooted back to lean against the headboard. Facing the truth head on...he had something there. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at him directly. "You were with Nick this morning."
"Yes, and most of the day as well. That's why your desire angers you, isn't it? It must be difficult to find yourself attracted to the one you see as your rival."
Those cool hands, roaming over Nick's body... that full mouth, kissing him... that hard pale body entwined with his... She drew a deep breath. "Does it bother you when he's with Janette?"
"No. Not at all; which, I'm afraid, is not what you wish to hear. Both my children are...dear to me. As a mortal, I was not a jealous man, and as a vampire, jealously is idiotic. Besides," he shrugged, "she is a woman, I am a man--what Nicholas finds in each of us is something that the other cannot give him."
She turned that over in her mind, reluctantly finding sense in it. "Nick says he can't make love to me without killing me."
"Correction. Nicholas is afraid to make love to you for fear he will not be able to control himself and may kill you."
"Then mortals and vampires can make love?"
"Yes." With a smirk he added, "Although I'd put any thoughts of adorable blond babies out of your mind, Doctor. To the best of my considerable knowledge, we cannot breed."
"Have you made love to a mortal without killing her?"
A dark flash in those ice-pale eyes. "Yes. And I suggest you back away from *that* precipice, my dear Doctor. What prevents Nick from making love with you is that the boy is not, and never has been, adept at self-control."
Aloud she mused, "What am I going to do about you, though?"
"What is it that you wish to do? You cannot run away, back to the mortal world; I think you realize that now. And I will be frank, Natalie: I find you charming and enjoy your company, but I am not in love with you, nor will I ever find myself so. That being said--do you want me to fuck you?"
Startled at the vulgar word coming from such an elegant man, she burst into astonished laughter. "My God, LaCroix--you don't believe in beating around the bush, do you?"
His shark smile appeared as he rose. "I have no intention of courting you or seducing you. I think this is enough of this for right now, don't you?" Without waiting for a response, he left her.
<end part five>
Breaking Glass (06/0?)
Schanke thought he was prepared; he wasn't. Not for the familiar graceful figure, the mop of blond hair, the expressive face--and certainly not for those stricken eyes. His hearty greeting died inside him. Instead he simply said, "Nick."
The restaurant was one of those expensive places where one was paying for the privacy more than the food. Nick had chosen a table even more secluded than the rest; the conversation of the other customers was a mere murmuring hush in the background.
"You're not going to say it's good to see me, are you, Nick?"
Long blond lashes draped over those eyes. "I told you to forget about me, Schank."
"Yeah, I remember. Nice, pal, real nice. We were partners for what--four years? I thought we were friends, too. Then all of a sudden, it's so long, Don, I never want to see your face again."
"It wasn't like that!" Nick barked. Good, thought Schanke. Press Blondie's buttons a little. In a quieter voice his ex-partner added, "I said good-bye. You don't know how hard that was for me."
"Maybe I do."
Oh, no, thought Nick. It's not possible, it's just not possible. But it was; he knew that. It was entirely possible that Schanke had piled up all the clues over the years and come to the impossible but correct conclusion. His friend leaned across the table. "When you came to say good-bye, Nick, you looked like--oh, hell, I dunno--like you were being kidnapped or something."
He had to smile. "Trust me, Schank, I wasn't."
"LaCroix."
"What about LaCroix?" he asked through a throat that had gone dry and tight with fear.
"Your foster father, you said."
"Yes, that's right."
"Your lover?"
It hit him like a blow; for a moment he didn't know which was worse, that Schanke might know he was a vampire, or that he knew of his relationship with LaCroix. He got a grip on himself, but he still couldn't meet those big brown eyes. "Yes," he whispered.
Leaning back in his seat, Schanke commented, "He's some kinda guy, isn't he? Powerful, rich... That whole DJ gig was some kind of front, just to get at you, wasn't it?"
"Yesss..."
"You don't have to stay with him, Nick!"
He started to laugh, quiet laughter in the face of the absurd. "No, Schank, I don't have to--not in any way you would understand."
"Understand? I don't understand any of this."
"And you don't have to. Schank--Don--I'm trying to protect you. You don't realize it, but you're putting your hand in a basket of cobras. You *are* my friend, one of my best friends. That's why I'm telling you again--leave it alone."
"No. You're in some kind of trouble."
"No, I'm not. You don't understand," he repeated.
"Then tell me. Cards on the table, Nick. I won't let go of this, you know that."
A slanting smile curled Nick's lips; a smile Schanke had seen only a few times before, and never directed at him. In a voice that made him shiver, he said, "I can outwait you, Schank."
"Maybe. But you won't enjoy it."
Nick was suddenly weary. What was he doing? He didn't want to threaten Schanke. The man cared about him, worried about him, and even if he was wrong to, he deserved better than this.
"OK," he said. "LaCroix is my foster father. He took me in, protected me, provided for me. But he has--has always had--definite notions of how a father should be..."
His mind drifted back, to one Father's Day when Schanke had had to write an essay for Jenny's class. LaCroix had read that essay. "He did his best, but I couldn't see it for a long time. I didn't want to see it."
"Does he, er, make you..." Schanke's voice trailed off, embarrassed.
Nick smiled at him. "No. He's never made me, not even at his angriest. He loves me, and I've finally realized how much. I love him, too."
"Fine. That's all fine and dandy and I'm really happy for you. But it doesn't explain why you ran off like that."
"If I want to be with LaCroix--and I do--then I have to live in his world. It's not a world I want you to be involved in, Don. I never meant to worry you; I was just trying to protect you."
For a long moment Schanke stared at him; Nick could feel the shock in him. "The sort of world a police officer couldn't be involved in?"
Great. Wonderful. Schanke now thought he was a criminal. Well, it was better than the alternative, he thought--until his friend exploded. "You dragged Natalie into this?!"
The blond head sank into his hands; stunned as he was, Schanke almost reached out to him. A realization burst in on him. "She knows, huh? About you and LaCroix?"
The words came haltingly. "When LaCroix and I...reconciled...she came over to the loft one morning. I wasn't expecting her. She came upstairs. We were asleep in the same bed; she saw."
"Geez, buddy. Oh, man."
"I didn't want to leave her hating me. She didn't want me to leave without her. So," he shrugged, "LaCroix suggested we take her with us."
"And she's happy?"
That disingenuous question struck him hard. Was Nat happy? He'd thought so; she seemed to enjoy Paris and the prospect of their future wanderings. Wonder of wonders, even, she and Janette were getting along like sisters. "I think so."
Schanke snorted. That homely, familiar sound disarmed him; once again, it was his partner and his friend sitting across from him. Gently, he said, "I'm not in any trouble, and neither is Nat."
"Fine. Yeah. Whatever you say, buddy." With a sigh he sat back in his seat. "So, maybe you'll send me a postcard every now and then? Hey, maybe even a phone call?"
So good, this warmth. LaCroix and Janette loved him, so did Natalie; he could count himself blessed. Here, though, sat the one person who had never made demands upon him, other than that he do his job. Schanke thought he was a weirdo, a freak, a criminal, and gay to boot--but his friendship hadn't wavered. Salt of the earth, he thought. "Yeah, I can do that." On impulse he reached across the table and gripped the other's hand. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"For looking for me."
-----------
Oh, so nonchalant, the way they were all waiting for him when he came in. Janette was merrily cheating LaCroix at backgammon, Natalie had a book propped on her knees and was eating ice-cream out of the carton. He laughed at them.
"What happened?" Nat demanded.
"Well, he thinks LaCroix, Janette and I are some sort of crime family, but at least he's not worried about me any longer. I promised to keep in touch; he went away happy with that."
"I don't suppose it occurred to you to do that in the first place?" LaCroix' tone was dry, but Nick could sense an easing of tension in him.
"You don't mind?" he asked his father.
"Don't be absurd, Nicholas; of course not. Just make sure you don't send him a picture of yourself twenty years from now." He turned his attention back to the game. "Janette, don't take my indulgence for stupidity."
Pouring himself a glass from the bar he sat on the couch beside Nat, who scooted over to make room for him. "I miss Schanke," she said softly.
"I know. He asked me--" he hesitated, conscious of the others. "He asked me if you were happy."
The unasked question hung in the air only briefly, before she snuffed it out. How could she not? It was only when she knew she could not bear to see pain in those little-boy eyes again that she realized how truly happy Nick was. "I'm fine," she told him. Was this how LaCroix felt, she wondered: as if Nick mattered above all else? Dear God, what was she going to do about LaCroix? "About Italy..." she began.
"Italy?" That infamous eyebrow rose.
"I thought perhaps we could move on to Italy next. I'd love to show it to Natalie. What do you think?"
"It would suit me; what are your feelings, ma fille?"
"Mmmm..." she purred. "You know how I love it there."
"Then it's settled. And it's getting late; I believe I shall retire. Nicholas?" The lack of subtlety was deliberate. Nick could sense LaCroix' blood in Natalie; they'd performed the exchange tonight, then, while he was meeting with Schanke--what else had gone on between them?
--------
By unspoken accord they went to LaCroix' room, not his. "All right, what happened? And don't pretend you don't understand me."
As blunt as he had been downstairs, LaCroix answered, "She desires me. She's just not sure what to do about it yet."
"What are *you* going to do about it?"
"My dear Nicholas, I have done all that I can, and all that I intend to. I answered her questions--"
"Questions? What sort of questions?"
"Whether I was 'jealous' of your intimacy with Janette. Whether a mortal could survive sex with a vampire-- Calm yourself, Nicholas! I answered honestly; she deserves that much respect."
"You like her."
"Please, don't sound so triumphant. Yes, I like her. I also made it clear to her that any congress she might have with me would be purely physical on my part, and then I left the decision up to her."
"If she decides she wants you..."
His master started to shrug, then stopped. His face tender, he raised a hand to Nick's cheek. "I would do nothing that would upset you, my love. For now, forget it, and come to me."
As natural as breathing--more natural, for him--to fold himself into that strength, the comfort of that embrace. Wordless, he raised his mouth for a kiss; wordless, LaCroix lifted him and carried him to the bed. Their clothes were disposed of quickly; naked, LaCroix lay down upon his son, his beloved. The softest kiss brushed Nick's forehead.
"I love you," was the whispered accompaniment. "I love you," repeated over and over as he kissed his way down Nick's body.He answered with his hands, with his quickening, with the gift of his body and his blood.
<end part six>
Breaking Glass (07/07)
"Mraou?"
"Aw, Sid, so you still love me, do you?"
"Mrmmp!" The cat climbed onto Natalie's lap, kneading and purring as she scratched behind his ears.
"I don't know, Sid. I always think there's going to be a happy ending, but I guess life just isn't like that. I should know by now, eh?"
Her hopes that she'd find a cure for Nick and they'd be free to be lovers had been shattered by the discovery that he'd returned to LaCroix--she winced, remembering the moment when she'd walked into Nick's bedroom to find him curled up against LaCroix' chest in blissful sleep. Then came the illusion that she could be happy just being near
him, the illusion that crumbled at the way his eyes lit up when he looked at his master, at the sound of his cries echoing from LaCroix' bed. Another illusion--that she could fit into this household of vampires and remain unchanged by them--had fallen also.She'd known that the moment she saw Schanke. Keeping Nick's secret for four years hadn't prepared her for the realization that, now, her whole life was of necessity a secret. The knowledge had in actuality been creeping up on her, one small crack after the other in this glass house of elegance and wealth. She'd discovered what a 'thrall' was...she'd found herself becoming friends with Janette...and she'd become reluctantly fascinated with LaCroix.
"Time to re-evaluate the situation, Sid." Like LaCroix, she knew that love wasn't in the picture. Did it have to be? She liked him, damn it, and he was undeniably sexy. The memory of his lips against her throat made her shiver: he'd be a good lover, no doubt. Was she hesitating because of Nick, and if so, why? He wasn't going to come to her bed anytime soon. No, it was the suspicion that Nick would be hurt if she lay with his master, his lover.
Well, damn him anyway, she thought. Why should I be so careful of his feelings?
A bustle in the hallway caught her attention; Nick and Janette must be leaving. They were going on ahead to make arrangements for the group's travels through Italy while LaCroix stayed behind to finish up a few matters in Paris. By default, she was being left in LaCroix' care; Nick and Janette could work faster without her. Lovely, she thought.
Amid the usual flurry of farewells she hugged and kissed both Nick and Janette. LaCroix, of course, did not. He stood erect as any Roman paterfamilias on the steps, watching until the black Mercedes pulled out of sight. Then he turned to her. "What are your plans for the evening, my dear?"
"I don't know. Wanna beat me at chess again?"
With a low rich chuckle he got out the board. As they settled in, he said, "You're really not hopeless, you know."
"Gee, thanks." For a little while they indulged in small talk while they played, then Natalie asked, "If we slept together, would Nick be hurt?"
He'd just taken one of her knights; he turned the ivory piece over in his long fingers. "To be frank, I'm not sure."
"*You're* not sure?"
"If I knew exactly what Nicholas was going to feel, say, or think at any given moment I would have gotten bored with him centuries ago. I remember that when he first joined Janette and I, it disturbed him when he was left to sleep alone. But that quickly subsided it and it may have been just a remaining vestige of his humanity."
It was her move, but she forgot the game and sighed, resting her cheek in her hand. LaCroix raised an eyebrow at her. That triggered the unburdening of herself. "I love Nick," she said. "But if he ever takes our relationship a step farther, it won't be for a long time. You're right, I am attracted to you, very much. But I can't hurt Nick... and
it infuriates me that, once again, I'm thinking of him first.""It is a gift Nicholas has, to cause people to care so deeply for him." He seemed about to say more, then took a sip from his glass.
"I'm never getting out of this, am I?" Her voice was quiet and steady. Nick was her friend, but LaCroix would give her the truth.
"Perhaps, someday. The odds are not good though."
"All roads eventually end, all towers crumble to dust..."
"I don't recognize the quotation."
"Neither do I. This is it, though--this is the way my life is going to be."
"Yes. How different is that from anyone's life, Natalie? There is an expression I've heard, that 'you play the cards you're dealt.' We all have constraints upon us; we all must choose how to live within those constraints."
"Even you?"
There was no bitterness in his smile. "Especially me."
---------
The train chortled complacently through the Italian countryside. The moon was not yet full, so the glimpses Natalie caught seemed cloaked in mystery. Rome, she thought, Venice. She felt his familiar presence leaning over her shoulder and turned her head to smile at him.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"A penny? Haven't you heard of inflation?" That little-boy grin warmed her heart. "I was just thinking how so much in my life has changed. How I've changed."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Neither. Both. It's just what it is, Nick."
He wrapped an arm around her waist and she leaned back into the comforting warmth of him, watching the world move by through the glass.
FIN
Molly/StormBorn
UF/FKPagan/Cousin/Inn-mate/Seducer/Ravenette
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