The House of the Rising Sun, Chapter Twelve

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: House of the Rising Sun
Fandoms: a cross over between Marvel's X-Men(to some degree) Universe and the Anita Blake Universe
Rating: no one under 18. there will be blood and gore, sex and violence. dirty language and whatever else i feel like tossing in here.
Warning: as i said, sex and violence and dirty words. said sex will include, but not be limited to, M/F, M/M, M/F/F, F/F, M/M/F and probably any other combination i can work out. weak stomach, not my fault. you have been warned.
Disclaimer: i do not own anyone from the Marvel universe. i do not own anyone from the Anita Blake universe. i don't even own Gin. i'm lucky to own myself. i swear i'm not making any money from this. i just do what the sick voices inside my head tell me to. i write purely for my enjoyment. and possibly the comments. please don't sue, harass or bother me. i have no money to pay you, but i do have a really nasty temper. and i know some good cuss words.

Author's Notes: moved things forward again. just a smidge. only by a couple of weeks this time.

The House of the Rising Sun: The Index

"Come on. Time to go." Gin looked up at the sound of Jason's voice to find him standing over her. She hadn't heard him approach, nor had she sensed him. She must have been lost deep in her thoughts for something like that to happen. Frowning, she gave him a look.

"Go where? I still have a couple of hours to my shift here," she replied, taking a moment to close the notebook before her. She had several notebooks that she used for taking notes from callers. It kept everything straight, neat and organized. But the notebook before her was used for something other than Coalition calls and case notes. This notebook held her thoughts and feelings, kind of a journal or diary that chronicled her day to day life. She'd started it to deal with the confusion that had come with a new place to life, a new group of friends and a new, startling change to her life. Maybe some day she'd share what she'd written in the notebook but for now, she preferred to keep it secret.

"Obviously you didn't get the memo," Jason said, mostly to himself, then sighed. His smile slipped from being bright and almost blinding to being chagrinned. "One of these days, we're going to break Jean Claude of that habit. He's throwing a party tomorrow night to celebrate a new act being worked into the lineup at the Circus. Big party. Everyone is invited. And everyone is getting fitted for the proper party attire. This means you, too."

Gin's gaze slid from Jason to where Micah sat, deep in conversation with someone else. He hadn't said anything to her about it. Had he been told or was this going to come as a surprise to him? As if sensing her attention on him, his head lifted and those kitty cat eyes of his caught hers. Micah smiled and gave a nod of his head. Apparently he did know.

Gin returned his smile with one of her own. There was still that moment of fear when he looked at her, her entire body tensing for a few seconds before she made herself relax, but it wasn't nearly as strong as it once had been. Just the other day, she'd been able to stand it when he'd laid his hand on her shoulder as he'd leaned over that same shoulder to read something she was writing down in reference to a case. The last she'd heard, it was likely that she would soon be able to spend the full moon in the trees outside Anita's house with the rest of the pard. She was apparently making leaps and bounds in her assimilation.

"Well, then. We mustn't keep Susan waiting." She returned her attention to Jason and flashed him a full smile. Tucking the notebook away, she collected her personal items and rose from her seat. After waving good bye to everyone, she followed Jason out of the building to his car. He helped her into her seat before crossing around to the other side so that he could climb in on the driver's side. She waited until he had the car in gear and on the road, pointed in the direction of the Circus, before she spoke again. "You said everyone is invited to this party. Does that mean...?"

Her voice trailed off as he flashed a grin at her. "Yes. It means that Jo and Remy will be there, too. You'll get to see one another. But only for one night. Jean Claude still isn't ready to put you all back together."

"He doesn't trust us?" Gin asked, then frowned and shook her head. "Jo's still acting up, isn't she?"

He chuckled. "She keeps him on his toes. But I think her antagonism has died some. She doesn't seem quite as angry as she was when she first got here."

"Really? I wonder what brought that on? I've never seen someone keep longer, better grudges than her."

Her words saw Jason laughing, a warm and openly friendly sound. "She's been spending a lot of time with Amanda. She's learning how to throw knives."

Gin frowned. Knife throwing? How had Jo managed that without earning Jean Claude's ire? She knew her friend well enough to know that Jo wouldn't want to learn how to do something so dangerous and destructive if she didn't have a reason. And there was only one reason Gin could think of that would make Jo want to learn such a skill. Goddess above. That was like giving a pyromaniac a lit match in a room full of paper and gasoline. Shit was going to burn.

How had she gotten it past the master vampire? Surely he would have said no, would have seen that she was using it as a means to learn how to kill his kind. Because that's what she was doing. Gin knew it, could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Did she dare tell anyone? If she did and Jean Claude put a stop to it, she'd explode in rage. Jo would no doubt find another way. She always did. It was who she was.

Gin sighed and wondered if she had a right to take something like that away from her friend. It was the other woman's way of taking control back. After every indignity they'd suffered, didn't they both deserve something some kind of security? "How is she?" she asked, pushing aside her misgivings. That was something she'd take up with Jo and Remy in private.

"She's surprisingly good. Amanda says she seems a natural. She spends what time she isn't with Asher or Amanda practicing. If Jean Claude could see some of the wood work..." Jason shot her a grin to let her know he was teasing about that. "Don't worry. She's been keeping out of trouble."

That was what Gin was worried about.

Conversation seemed to thin between them. For the duration of the ride, he questioned her lightly about how she was fitting in with the leopards, as she'd been spending more and more of her time with them. The first change had been filled with shock and confusion. Her only saving grace had been that she'd known what was coming and had remained relaxed when she'd felt things shifting around inside. The next one would be easier, but she'd still be confined to the safe room. Micah had said that, barring any hitches, her third full moon would be seen from between the trees. She was kind of looking forward to being able to interact with the pard.

That seemed an odd thought now, after the fear she'd felt when she'd first arrived in St. Louis. And there was still some fear there. It flared at odd times, though it was distant. But she could spend more time with Micah and the other members of the pard. Her other senses had come in handy, allowing her to read each and every one of the lycanthropes she'd come into contact with. Never once had she gotten off of them the kind of vibe she'd gotten from Belladonna's leopards. She was hopeful that soon, there'd be no fear left at all.

She hadn't realized she was so deep in thought until the car came to a halt. Gin blinked and looked around, only mildly surprised to find them parked in the lot behind the Circus of the Damned. Jason smiled and climbed out, slipping around to open her door fro her. Gin gave him a smile in return, then let him escort her to the back entry. The door opened for them, a big man with big muscles holding it wide. Jason thanked him, then turned Gin down the steps.

It was fairly quiet in the lair this time of day. The vampires were still sleeping and most of the lycanthropes were out. They crossed the room, then made their way up one of the many hallways to Susan's work room. Gin knew the seamstress had a shop outside of the Circus, but she kept a room under it for the occasions when she had to do work for Jean Claude. The woman was waiting at her door for them with a smile. "Good to see you again, Gin. How goes the fight?"

"Things are fine. I really enjoy my work with the Coalition. How about you? Having any problems on this end?" Gin asked as she followed Susan into the room.

"Nothing beyond the usual. Fortunately, Jean Claude's sudden parties are easier when I have everyone's measurements already written down. Then its simply a matter of cutting and sewing." Susan was already sifting through several garment bags, obviously looking for the right one. She finally lifted one off the rack with a triumphant cry. "Ah ha! Here we are. Out of your clothes. You can leave the bra and panties. This shouldn't take long."

Gin shot a look at Jason, then shook her head and stripped out of her clothes. He only smirked at her and settled in a chair to watch. When she'd rid herself of her dress slacks and blouse and stood only in her underwear, Susan unzipped the bag and brought out a hanger. It held what appeared to be a dress, but there wasn't really enough material to truly call it that. "Am I really supposed to wear that? It doesn't look big enough to cover a Chihuahua." Susan handed it to her with a smile.

"There are still some pins, so careful," the seamstress warned. She stood at the ready in case Gin needed help getting into it. But the dress was frighteningly simple and only needed to be pulled over her head. When it was in place, Gin glanced at herself in the wall of mirrors and frowned. It wasn't much by way of an actual dress, but it was pretty.

The material was black satin, with a hint of blue to it, and had been cut in an asymmetrical pattern. There were two pieces to it, a top and a skirt, which were connected by a single ring under her right arm. The top had one shoulder strap on it, rising up on the left hand side. It ended just under her breasts, leaving the broad expanse of her belly bared except for that one ring. Connected to it on the bottom was the skirt, a wrap around number that clung like a second skin. The hem was high on the left side, and it angled down to a point on the right so that the skirt formed the same general shape as the top. Gin thought it served to make her look a little taller.

Susan caught her by surprise when she wrapped a choker around her throat, something that was red satin with thin black lace on it. After studying the whole thing for a minute or two, Susan made a couple of adjustments, then nodded her head and indicated that Gin should take it off. "I don't know where a straight man gets off having that much fashion sense, but I have to admit. He knows his stuff."

Gin lifted a brow in surprise. "Jean Claude picked this?"

Susan laughed and shook her head. "Honey, he designed it."

Gin gave her a skeptical look. "And you're sure he's straight?" Susan just gave her a look in return, then began helping Gin out of the dress. While Susan returned it to its garment bag, Gin began pulling her clothes back on. Jason was there to open the door for her when she was ready to go. Out in the hallway, he caught her elbow with his hand and steered her back in the direction they'd come. There was purpose in his step.

"Jason?" she asked him.

"We're going to go catch some lunch. And we're going to talk about sex." Gin blinked at him. Well. That was a surprise.

~*~*~*~*~

"She's really come a long way since you started," Kimberly said as she watched the tip of the blade bury itself in the target board. Amanda nodded and turned to watch Jo make ready the next knife. It had become a kind of afternoon tradition. Kimberly would leave her office to join Jo and Amanda in the arena, where Jo's lessons were taking place. Talking would be sporadic, mostly between tosses and during the breaks when Jo would do arm exercises to help keep her arm muscles from cramping up on her.

"She's got natural talent. That's what my papa would say. I've seen guys who traveled with the circus every day of their life that never mastered the knife throwing like she has." Amanda shook her head, then chuckled softly. "I'm starting to wonder if I had family out there that I never knew about. Because she was born with it."

"Its because I'm so damned good," Jo replied, then let her next blade fly. The three of them watched as it turned end over end before hitting the wooden target with a solid 'thunk' of sound. Amanda nodded her head in approval.

"Yeah. At being a pain in the ass," the redhead told her with a smile. Kimberly tipped her head forward to hide her own smile. Jo just laughed and crossed the floor toward them. She mopped at her forehead with the towel she kept slung around her shoulders, wiping the sweat away. Amanda made it look so damned easy. Jo ran with sweat every time she got started. She flexed her throwing hand to loosing up the muscles. At least she didn't have hand cramps anymore.

"You know it, baby." She took a seat on the seat below them, then sprawled on her back and allowed the coolness of the bench beneath her seep into her spine. "So when am I ready for the big time, boss?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Jo. There's a difference between tossing that knife in front of me and Kimberly and doing it in front of a real audience. If you froze up or mishandled a knife..." Amanda began, but Jo waved her off with a hand.

"Relax, chica. I did a stint as the singer in a band when I was in high school. I know how it goes." Jo told them, which earned her stares. She stared right back. "What? You think I just woke up one morning and decided I was going to be like this? I've been cultivating this look and attitude for years. I've perfected it and made it an art form."

"You know, I should really expect her to say things like that, but they still surprise me when she does. Its like a train wreck. You know its going to be bad, but you just can't seem to look away," Kimberly said.

"I've gotten used to it," Amanda shrugged. Then she grinned. "Though the look on Jean Claude's face last week when she told him to suck her dick was kind of priceless. And I really hadn't expected it."

"Gotta keep the master of the undead on his toes." She tossed them both a look. "Can't have him thinking he's got me tamed already. That would be bad for my rep."

"Do you really hate him?" Kimberly asked the question, though Jo was sure that Amanda was just as curious about that as she was. She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes, buying herself time to figure that one out for herself. Both women waited anxiously for her answer.

"He's kept out of my face so far," she began, still turning the question over in her mind. Did she hate him? Or had Amanda been right? Was she allowing her hatred for a few really bad vampires to blind her to the entire group? Wasn't Asher different than those she'd first known? And Jean Claude spoke to her only rarely, as if he had too much to do and not enough time. Or she was an after thought. She supposed she could be an after thought. Regardless, he hadn't made any unwanted advances toward her. "As long as he leaves me alone, I can deal."

She had to admit that things were getting easier. She didn't seem to tense up as quickly when the vampires were near. In fact, just the other day, she hadn't shrugged Wicked's hand off of her shoulder when he'd settled it there while talking to her and Amanda. Not that she was ready to play footsie with them by any stretch of the imagination. But she was starting to see that maybe, just maybe, she'd been wrong about the vampires here in St. Louis. Maybe Jean Claude wasn't the bad guy she'd thought him to be.

Still, roles and all. "The sooner he gives me back Remy and Gin, the better things will be for everyone involved."

"Does that include me, cherie?" Asher's voice washed over her and saw her jerking in surprise. Which landed her on the floor, rubbing a bruised posterior and muttering a curse under her breath. Damned vampires and their silent as death footsteps. She shot Asher a grim look. He actually smiled at that, then reached a hand down to her. Jo took it, perhaps a little reluctantly, and allowed him to help her up to her feet. She found herself standing so close to him that their bodies almost touched.

"I'll let you know later. I suppose I should get back to practice. Amanda is a slave driver and she gets pissy when I take potty breaks. You never know what she'll do to me if I stop to chat with a friend," Jo told him before shooting a wink toward the other woman.

"So I am a friend?" There was a curious note in Asher's voice that she couldn't pin down. Jo shrugged and gave him a look.

"You're the only one who seems to want to put up with me other than the girls. That fits the definition of a friend, doesn't it?" All three of them gave her an odd look. "What?"

"Is that what you think a friend is?" Kimberly asked.

"You don't?"

"That's a pretty sad definition of a friend," Amanda replied. Jo shrugged again.

"Up until now, Gin was the only one who didn't fit that definition." She turned away from them before they could question her on it, intent on going back to throwing knives at a large piece of wood that she imagined was Darious' chest. Belladonna's face. She really wasn't in the mood to have to explain it. But before she could get anywhere, Asher's hand stayed her steps and she found herself facing him.

"The lessons for today are over," he told her.

A prickle of nervousness tingled along her spine. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Of course not, cherie," Asher assured her. His smile became something a touch less public and much more private. She had to fight off the shudder the look brought to life within her. "You have a fitting that you must attend."

"How many times do I have to tell that over grown peacock that he can't buy me with clothes? I'm not going to wear them. Ever. He should just give up."

"This is for a special occasion, Jocelyn," Asher explained, his tone even and filled with patience. "There will be a party tomorrow night. To celebrate the opening of a new act here in the Circus. Everyone is required to attend. This means you. So you will be fitted for proper party attire. As your master, it is Jean Claude's prerogative what you can and cannot get away with. He has allowed your clothing rebellion thus far. Do not think to test him in this matter."

It was the first time ever, since that night Asher had gone to the mall with her, that he'd thrown that bit of information in her face. She didn't like it one bit and hated that part of her felt betrayed that he would do something so hurtful to her. "Of course. Because everyone likes a well trained, well dressed pet to show off at their events. Oh, wait. I only hit on one of those, don't I?"

He sighed at her display of temper and she thought she should feel bad. It wasn't his fault, after all. He was only delivering the news. And there was that old adage about shooting the messenger. "Jocelyn, there is no need..."

She shook her head and turned for the steps. "Never mind. Let's just get this over with. I'm sure to have a huge crowd at the tent tonight and I'll need to clear away the negative energy before I start reading or it'll creep into my cards."

She could practically feel the displeasure at her back. And it wasn't just from Asher. Kimberly and Amanda were not happy with her reaction. Maybe they liked having people dress them like Barbie dolls. She didn't. Belladonna had seen to that. She wished she'd had the opportunity to burn all of those clothes Belladonna had had made for her. Of course, she wanted to burn that bitch to ashes, too.

She was at the top of the steps when Asher caught up to her. No doubt he'd made excuses to her friends. And they were her friends. Or he'd just told them she was a bitch and a pain in the ass and left it at that. Probably he was right. But it was her thing to deal with and maybe, if he hadn't spoken to her like she was Jean Claude's play thing, she wouldn't have been such a horse's ass about it. She was still trying hard to work on her knee jerk reactions. Apparently, she needed to work harder.

His hand curled around her arm and brought her to a halt. When she met his gaze, as best as she was able, he was staring at her with a frown on his face. "I do not understand why you fight him in this one thing. It would no doubt please him to see you wear the clothes he ordered made for you."

"No doubt. Just as I'm sure Belladonna had a hell of a time playing dress up with me. I didn't have anything that was my own while I was there. I came to despise that she picked my clothing for me. I had to make the right impact, be attractive and alluring to the helpless victims." Back was the bitterness and the hatred. She'd thought she'd, at the very least, put it away to the back of her mind so that it didn't interfere with her day to day living. Apparently, she'd been wrong. "I'm doing my best here, Asher. I really am trying. But I'm not a toy for him to play with. I'm not a doll for him to put the newest fashions on. If he doesn't like it, he can take a flying leap. I'm sorry. But that isn't something I'm ready to let go of yet."

Asher only stared a moment, then sighed. One hand reached up to touch her cheek, fingers grazing it lightly. "I understand why this is hard. Will you do this for me? Will you allow Susan to fit your party clothes and then wear what she creates for me? Pretend I have given you such finery as a gift. Forget that it comes from Jean Claude."

She looked up at him for a while, allowing his feelings to wash over her. Nothing she felt led her to believe that he was being anything but honest and sincere. Maybe he understood her feelings and was looking for the best way to solve the problem. Finally, she gave a slight nod. "For you. Because you asked. Not because of him."

Asher said nothing in reply, but his happiness radiated off of him so intently that she felt it. She found it odd that she could read him. Almost all of the vampires she'd ever dealt with had liked to keep their emotions bottled up and hidden away. Either he didn't think he needed to bother with her or he did. Either way, she was glad she'd made him happy. Though she really didn't want to think too deeply on why making him happy gave her such a warm feeling in her belly.

They made their way across the Circus in silence. He was a presence at her back, but he made no further attempts to touch her. She wasn't sure if she was happy about that or not. The moment she reached the steps leading down to the lower levels of the building, she stopped thinking about anything and simply paid attention to her surroundings. It wouldn't do to take a nasty fall down the stairs. And then Asher's hand was back, holding her elbow as he escorted her down the steep steps, and she had to fight off the thrill that ran through her at the contact.

They went to his room instead of hers. It was some place they'd never gone before. She had a moment of discomfort, just a moment, but it died quickly. In the entire time she'd been there, every time she'd been in his presence, she'd never worried that he would try to hurt her or do anything to her. She didn't think he'd start now. So she pushed the discomfort aside and followed him into a lush room that was homey and welcoming. And so totally Asher.

The bed was old, with thick corner posts that held up a canopy of silk dyed a shade of blue that was somewhere between the paleness of his and the darkness of Jean Claude's. The duvet was the same shade, though the pillow cases matched his eyes perfectly. The carpeting under their feet was cream and plush. She could imagine that it would be soft and luxurious against her bare skin. His furniture was all wood, all stained dark colors, and upholstered in silks and satins in gold, almost perfectly matched to his hair. She turned to look at him, ready to say something about the fact that Susan wasn't there, when there was a knock on the door.

As if knowing what she'd been thinking, Asher offered her a smile and moved to the door. Susan came bustling in with a garment bag tossed over her shoulder, fingers curled around the hook on the hanger, while her other hand held a bag filled with her sewing supplies. Susan threw her smile at both of them, then set her things down in one of the chairs. Asher shut the door, then drifted over to stand against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at them. Jo watched Susan bring items out of her bag and lay them out, then she was pulling the zipper on the garment bag.

When she turned to face Jo, she held the hanger in one hand. Something in black satin. With hooker hoops. Susan's eyes raked over her and shook her head. "Off with your clothing, girl. Do you expect me to fit this over tattered jeans and a flannel shirt? Really?"

Jo frowned and lifted a brow. "Do you expect that to cover any of me? Really?"

Susan laughed. "It'll cover you just fine. So long as you aren't wearing anything else. It was cut to the measurements I got from you before. Unless you've put on weight since then, all I really need to do is make sure it actually fits the way its supposed to."

Jo slid her gaze from Susan to Asher. He was actually smirking. "You know, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask. You didn't need to go to all of this trouble." When he said nothing, simply continued to smirk at her, she gave her attention back to Susan. "Men."

There was no hesitance in her when she began unbuttoning her shirt. Getting naked for men had never been a problem. And Susan had seen her in nothing more than her bra and panties before. It wasn't like this was going to be something new for anyone. The flannel hit the floor, followed by her jeans. She kicked out of the denim, as well as her shoes, so that she stood there in bra and panties. Susan clucked her tongue. "Panties can stay. The bra has to go, though."

"Perv," Jo accused while reaching back to unhook the bra. The hooks let go easily and the garment was on the floor in short order.

"Careful of the pins. I haven't finished stitching everything yet," Susan reminded her as she handed the thing that was supposed to be a dress over. Jo began working her way into it.

"What's another hole? I've often considered getting something obscene pierced."

Susan laughed. "You've got a quick answer for everything, don't you?"

Jo shot her a look as she wriggled her way into the thing. It was easiest to step into the dress, and the satin was cool against her bared skin. When it was fully in place, Susan walked around her in a circle and gave her creation a critical eye. "Over to the mirror with you. It'll be easier to make adjustments while I can see the whole thing."

Susan picked up a few things and followed Jo over to the floor length mirror in the corner. The seamstress' hands pulled up the zipper on the back of the skirt and the top, then fiddled with the hem. Jo took the opportunity to see her garment was supposed to look like. Seeing herself in the mirror, she had a hard time believing that it was her.

The dress was a stunning creation. And it was a dress, though it had been split into two parts. The actual skirt was short, barely coming down to mid-thigh on her. The satin it had been made from clung to her curves, the material a rich onyx with faint hints of blue running through it. The top was of the same material, with a band that ran around her body just under her bust. Wide, halter style straps rose up from the band to encase her breasts before crawling over her shoulder and down her back to meet up with the band again just at the lower edge of her shoulder blades. There was enough of a plunge to show off some cleavage. The two pieces were held together by two metal hoops. one in front and one in back, that shone blue in the light. It was sexy while still covering everything vital.

"Now. One last touch. Let's see how this looks." Susan brushed Jo's pony tail aside so that she could wrap a red choker around her throat. The choker was wide, in the same satin as her dress, with a touch of black lace at the top and bottom hems. It was held in place with hooks and eyes and fit snugly against her neck. "There. What do you think, Asher? Belle of the ball or what?"

"She looks quite lovely," the blonde vampire agreed in a dark voice. Jo shuddered slightly at the sound of it. Then Susan was all business, adjusting the way things fit and repinning hems where it was needed. Most of her changes were minor and cosmetic. She'd been right. The damned thing fit Jo like a glove.

A few more minutes of fussing saw the fitting complete. Susan helped her from the dress and the choker, putting them both back on the hanger and into the garment bag. While she was returning everything to its proper place, Jo picked up her bra and put it back on. She was acutely aware of Asher watching her every single move, and her hyper-awareness of him made her actions slow. Mildly disjointed. She was still hooking her bra when she felt his hand touch her back. She shivered at the contact, the cool feel of his power washing over her, and tried to remember just what it was she'd been doing.

"Asher?" she asked, turning to find him sucking lightly at the tip of one finger. Bliss had settled one his face even as his eyes filled with heat. Such a normal action shouldn't look so seductive.

"One of the pins scraped your skin. I merely wiped away the blood," he explained.

"Oh." Her voice came out as a breathy whisper. She watched his eyes shift over her, stopping to stare here and there before moving on. When he'd had his fill of the front, he moved around to take in her back. The feather light touches of his fingers sent shivers up and down her spine.

"So many scars. Are all of these from Belladonna and Darious?" he asked softly. There was a trace of anger in his voice. She shrugged a shoulder as if it wasn't important.

"Doesn't matter anymore, Asher. That part of my life is over. They're just scars. Scars can't hurt you." Anything else she might have said died when she felt his mouth brush her skin, along her shoulder and up to her neck. Jo stilled, trying to figure out what was happening. He'd never, ever hinted that he was interested. And even so...

"You don't have to do this, Asher," she whispered, trying to fight the urge that filled her. The one that said she should turn and throw herself into his arms. "I know you're just being nice to me."

His mouth was by her ear when he spoke, his breath hot against her skin. His body moved closer to hers, his hands sliding slowly up her arms. "But I find myself attracted to you, Jocelyn. Deeply. And I know that you feel the same. I have sensed the desire on you many times." One hand shifted so that he could bring it up to cup her breast. Her nipple tightened under his palm and she sighed. "You desire me as much as I desire you. You know this is truth. Why fight it?"

"Because I know it isn't real," she replied. She didn't know where the words came from. Saying them was stupid. But it was the only defense she had. He was right and they both knew it. The attraction to him had grown steadily, starting with that very first night. It was confusing to her and she'd done her best to resist. But with him standing behind her, his hands touching her so tenderly, so sensually, she was having a hard time remembering why she was supposed to resist him. "I know he asked you to be nice to me and pretend you were my friend. I know that this is all a game."

"Perhaps it started as a game, but that is no longer the case," Asher replied, his words teasing heat up her spine. "Who says I am pretending? You have seen me as a man. You have looked past my scars and seen me for the person on the inside. You have never seen me as one of the monsters. How can I not be attracted to such sweetness?"

Jo forced herself to pull from his hold so that she could pace away from him. She needed to think and she couldn't do that if he was touching her. He followed her, though, his gaze hot and hungry. "Asher..."

"What? What, cherie? Do you think I find you repulsive? I assure you, I do not. You are a beautiful, vital young woman. And you care for me more than you wish to admit." He stalked her as she backed away from him, his body inching closer and closer to hers even though she kept moving. Until the wall brought her up short and he was just suddenly there, standing before her with such heat in his eyes. His hands came to rest on her hips, holding her in place even while he pressed closer to her so that his body touched hers and she could feel his erection prodding her skin through the material of his trousers. "Does this feel like pretend, Jocelyn? Does this feel as if I am pretending?"

She blinked up into his eyes, a mistake, and felt him wash over her like the waves roaring onto the beach. He was hard for her. Because of her. What had started as a joke had grown and changed and... She could feel him inside of her and around her, the weight of his power beating against her skin and her mind. It was wrong. In so many ways. But she didn't care anymore. Maybe she never really had. "No. It doesn't." Her voice was a harsh whisper in the silence of the room.

And then his mouth was on hers, his lips crushing hers while his tongue shoved into her mouth. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, held him tight as he kissed her. Stole her breath and her senses. When he pulled away, when he wrapped his arms around her and carried her toward the bed, all she could do was sift her fingers through his hair and drop tiny kisses against his cheek.

He laid her out on her back on the bed and stared down at her. "Tell me." His voice was low, rough with desire. She shivered at the sound of it stroking her skin. It was wrong. Everything was wrong. She couldn't do this. Shouldn't do this. There was someone... The weight of his gaze grew heavier against her mind and she felt like she was drowning. "Tell me."

"I want you."

Those three words started a fire storm of need. She couldn't be sure if it was his or if it was hers. All she knew was that it was consuming her, eating her up from the inside out. She needed to feel him inside of her so badly but she couldn't make her limbs move so that she could draw him to her. She couldn't make her mouth work to beg him. All she could do was stare up at him and hope that he took pity on her.

The tips of his fingers grazed across her skin, soft as silk and abrasive as sand paper, drawing gasps and moans from her throat. She felt them as they touched her shoulders and caught the straps of her bra up between them, then pulled and tugged until the offending garment was sliding down her arms and peeling away from her breasts. He left the bra caught around her arms, her pale breasts exposed to his view, and reached for her panties. The thin scrap of material tore easily under his strength. He threw it to the floor, forgotten.

She didn't know how long they stayed as they were, Asher standing between her spread legs, staring down at her with eyes gone glacial with need while she simply laid on her back and watched him. Waiting. Part of her expected that it would be like it had with Darious, that he would simply fall on her like a ravening beast, that he'd fuck her and take her blood and leave her too weak to move. But Asher made no move to touch her. Instead, he let his eyes rake over every inch of her while his hands worked slowly at the clothing he wore.

He tossed the cream colored jacket away after sliding it off, his hands returning immediately to slowly work the buttons on his shirt from their holes. She watched him, unable to tear her eyes away, as he unveiled every inch of his chest one section at a time. It had nothing to do with vampire powers and everything to do with him. He could have made her want him with a look but he hadn't. He'd left her will in tact, left her rational so that she knew this was something she wanted. So she watched, waiting to see the rest of the scars that she knew covered his body.

The silk shirt went to the floor with a whisper of sound, leaving Asher standing in only his trousers. Jo let her eyes memorize every inch of his chest. One side was absolute perfection, the skin unblemished and begging to be touched. The other side was a ruin of melted flesh that had been frozen forever in ridges and valleys forged from pain. She wanted to go to him, wanted to touch every inch of his body so that he knew she wasn't repulsed. But he wasn't done yet. There was more to see, more he had to show her.

He bent to remove his shoes and socks, allowing her to see that his back hadn't suffered the same fate as his front. When he stood, he shook his hair from his face even as his hands worked at the zip and single button at his waist. She couldn't recall a single time that he'd willingly allowed her to see the scars that marred his face. But he was going to show her every inch of him so that she could see everything.

His trousers hit the ground and he stepped out of them, carelessly kicking them away so that he stood nude before her. She managed to prop herself up on her elbows and found that the scars continued down below his waist. She took in every inch of him that she could, letting her eyes skim down his legs as far as they could go until no further. Only then did she bring them back up so that she could stare at the proof of his desire for her.

Seeing him naked and hard woke something inside of her. Jo struggled to sit up so that she could reach out and touch him. All of him. But her actions were limited by her bra. When she tried to shrug out of it, Asher's look stopped her. For whatever reason, he wanted her to keep it on. She'd be able to hold him when he was close to her, but she wouldn't be able to move with ease. A sliver of pleasure and fear tripped its way up her spine. "But I want to touch you, Asher," she whispered.

"There will be time enough for that later, cherie," he promised. He joined her on the bed, easily repositioning her until her head rested upon the plump pillows piled against the headboard.

"How can I hold you when you're inside of me? Please, Asher. I want to be able to put my arms around you." He stared down at her for a few moments, then smiled and took pity on her. His hands reached for her bra and pulled it apart easily. She sat up, his hands there to help, and pulled the ruined garment from her arms, then threw it to the floor. Without another thought, she reached out and laid her hands against his cheeks, pulled him toward her, and took his mouth with her own.

Asher responded with a soft sound at the back of his throat, his hands and body pushing her back until she was once again on her back against the mattress. She could feel his need and his urgency, as if he thought she'd change her mind if he took his time, so she encouraged him with hands and mouth to do as he pleased. She wanted what he wanted. She needed him as badly as he needed her.

Their hands stroked and touched while his mouth ate away at hers. Jo shifted her thighs apart, allowing him to settle his hips between them while she stroked the curves of his ass and up and down the backs of his thighs with her feet. Her hands tugged at his hair or caressed his spine in an effort to transmit to him just how much she needed to feel him inside of her.

He pulled back so that he could look down at her. His eyes held a question, wondered if she was ready for him. She only nodded, arching her back against him in an effort to convince him to fill her. Asher smiled and dipped his head, wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked. She gasped softly, shuddered at the feel of his fangs grating against the soft flesh. A nip rocked her with waves of pleasure, the stinging pain flowing along her nerves to leave her hungry for more.

There was no warning. His hands found her hips as he went up on his knees between her legs. Then he was plunging himself into her almost violently. Jo cried out in shock and pain and pleasure. Her legs wrapped around his waist and held on to him as he pumped his hips into her again and again. She'd been ready, but she hadn't quite been ready for this. The friction was so sweet and so intense, her body clinging tightly to his as he thrust into her and pulled back.

There was a sense of control in his actions that she'd known would be there. After their trip to the mall that first time, Asher had taken her to a place that only took customers by appointment. He was apparently such a good customer that such a rule didn't apply to him. But she'd seen, in the darkened interior of that shop, the kinds of things he liked. And she'd known ever since that he was a man who liked to control things. She lifted a hand and it trail lightly over the scars on his right side. He had every reason to be in control.

His hips moved against hers hard and fast, driving himself deep into her body with each forward stroke. Her breasts bounced each and every time, something his eyes watched intently. Eyes that were filled with need and heat that seemed out of place in normally arctic climes. It thrilled her that he watched her. Not just the way her breasts moved, but the way her mouth fell open to gasp for breath and moan softly. The way her hands slid up his arms and her nails raked his skin on a particularly hard thrust or sought out the scars that so defined who he was so that she could touch them and caress them.

His fingers bit into her hips on occasion, applying just enough pressure to add the enjoyable kind of pain that made the pleasure so much more intense. Pressure that was more than enough to see tiny orgasms bursting inside of her. Each one left her hungry for more and she urged him on with her moans and groans and the occasional dirty word that saw him lift an eyebrow at her. But he never argued, simply complied and added that small touch of pain. There would be bruises later, but she didn't care. The here and now was all that mattered.

But such things weren't meant to last. His hips moved faster, his actions becoming more needy and uncontrolled. When this happened, she said nothing, simply reached between them so that she could rub her clit in time with his thrusts. It only took a handful of strokes to see her falling to pieces around him. He paused when she came, a soft murmur of French talking her through her release. His hand stroked her gently, tender touches that built the fires back to fever pitch.

Asher gave her a few moments to collect herself before his hands pulled her up into a sitting position in his lap. There was no need to tell her to do anything. She simply wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her legs up so that she was on her knees as well. When she was ready, his hands held her hips tightly and his hips began thrusting in earnest.

He pounded his cock into her, driving himself fast and hard as he worked himself toward his release. She pressed kisses to his chin and his lips, to his throat and shoulder. He was on the cusp, only needed the right encouragement to go over the edge. Lifting her chin, she dropped a kiss under his ear, then whispered into it. "Finish it, Asher. I know you want to drink. Do it."

There was no argument. He didn't stop to ask her if she was sure. He knew better. He knew that no one would bite her without her permission. And, up until that moment, Remy was the only one who had been allowed that privilege. Her heart kicked up a few notches. Remy. What was he going to...

She never finished the thought. Asher's fangs sank into her throat and his mouth sealed against her skin. She heard his groan when her blood flowed into him, felt his hips stuttered briefly before he slammed himself home and let himself go. His power washed over her then, cold and deep as the ocean, and filled her with such pleasure that she came with him. The cry she let go echoed loudly around the room. After a handful of sharp, short, shallow thrusts, Asher was spent and simply held her against him.

His mouth lifted from her throat, tongue reaching out to lick over the puncture wounds he'd left behind. Blood loss was always a dizzying rush, but with the added bonus of a climax brought on by his power, her head was spinning. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and concentrated on just breathing. His hands stroked up and down her back. "Are you alright, cherie?" he asked, "I have not hurt you, have I?"

"You didn't hurt me. Let me just sit here a bit until my head stops spinning," she whispered.

He chuckled and shifted them so that they were reclining against the mattress. His head was on the pillows while hers rested on his shoulder. Sighing, Jo reached out to trace her fingers over the middle of his chest, grazing scarred and unblemished flesh alike. Asher held her close to him, one hand resting almost possessively on her hip.

Somewhere at the back of her brain, behind the haze left behind by the pleasure he'd given her, lurked a kind of slowly dawning horror. She couldn't put a name to it or why she should feel that way. Not yet. But she knew, when everything cleared away, that she'd know what her brain was trying to tell her. For now, though, she didn't want to think about it. For now, she wanted to enjoy her partner's company. "What now, Asher?"

"Now, Jocelyn, we can spend the entire night doing whatever you like." There was dark promise in his voice that saw her shivering in anticipation. Whatever she liked? That sounded like heaven to her.

~*~*~*~*~

"Jean Claude wants to see you." This from his relief. Remy looked at the other man for a second or two, then nodded his head and slipped out from behind the bar. He could hear several of the women cluttering around it groan in disappointment as the other bartender took his place. What was it tonight? More lessons? When would the teaching be over? He was eager to see the girls again, eager to feel their skin against his own. He hadn't realized how long a week was until he'd been forced to spend one without them after arriving here. A month had been torture. How many more nights could he go without them?

When had they become so damned important to him?

Pushing such thoughts aside, he stopped before the office door and took a moment to ready himself. Soon, he told himself. It had to be soon. He'd go insane if it wasn't. Lifting one hand, he rapped a pair of knuckles against the door, only pushing the door open after her heard the other vampire bid him enter.

The office hadn't changed, with exception of the young woman sitting in one of the chairs before the desk. Laying on the couch behind her was a garment bag, while another bag sat at her feet. Susan. The seamstress. They'd met the first night he and the girls had been in St. Louis. Remy had seen her a few times since. But never with the tools of her trade. Both Susan and Jean Claude offered him a smile. The vampire motioned to the empty chair. Remy crossed the room and sat. "You want to see me?"

"Yes. I will be holding a party tomorrow night at the Circus. You will be attending the party." The way he spoke said it didn't matter if Remy had anything planned for the next night. Even though he didn't, Remy was ready to pick a fight when Jean Claude continued, as if he hadn't just mandated that Remy be there to put himself on display. "You will be escorting Ginette and Jocelyn to the party. All of you have been working hard and you deserve a night with one another."

"Dat why you call me here?"

Jean Claude smiled and shook his head. "Of course not. Susan is here to ensure that the clothing you will be wearing tomorrow fits as it is supposed to. I trust that I can leave the two of you alone?"

"He'll be a perfect angel, Jean Claude," Susan said before Remy could even open his mouth. The other vampire made some sort of sound in the back of his throat, too soft for the woman to hear, that said exactly what he thought about Remy being an angel. Remy smiled. At least they understood one another there. But the man said nothing more. He simply rose from his seat and exited the room, leaving Remy and Susan alone.

"Clothes. Off. Now. And don't be shy. You don't have anything that I haven't seen before," she ordered, her tone all business. Remy smirked at that and stood to his feet, then began working himself out of the leather vest and skin tight leather pants he'd worn for work tonight. He was really hoping that his clothes for this party would be something other than leather. He was starting to think that it was the only material Jean Claude used for anyone other than himself.

As he rid himself of his work attire, Susan busied herself with removing clothing from the garment bag she'd brought. He was surprised to find that she carried with her two hangers. One had a shirt on it, the other a pair of leather pants. At least the shirt would actually cover his skin instead of show it off.

He was comfortable in his nudity. Susan was in full seamstress mode and didn't seem to notice that he had absolutely nothing on. Instead, she handed him the pants and urged him to slip them on. He wondered idly where the baby oil was to make such a task easier as he carefully pulled them up his legs. When he had them on, she handed him the shirt to put on.

While the pants were leather and fit him like a second skin, the shirt she'd handed him was of silk and in a shade of crimson that matched his eyes perfectly. The buttons only went up to the middle of his chest and there was a faint billow to the material that he didn't know if he'd get used to, but it fit him so perfectly that he knew it had been crafted exclusively for him. Since it was a fitting and not the actual event, he didn't bother to tuck the shirt in.

His fingers found the raised ridges down the sides of his legs, bringing his gaze to the outside of his thigh. Thin strips of leather in blue ran down the sides, from waist to ankle. It was a subtle mark of Jean Claude's ownership over him. A slight clink of metal on metal caught his attention and brought his eyes up to Susan. She was holding a belt that was little more than short strips of leather between rings that were larger than his wrist but smaller than his fist. The rings were metal and in a deep, midnight blue. "I think this is the right length, but try it on to be sure. Just don't wrinkle the shirt, please."

Remy took the belt and, after a moment's thought, put it on under the shirt. Once the belt was secured, he removed the shirt and handed it back to Susan. The rings rested low on his hips and waist, another mark of ownership. Susan walked around him, eyeing him critically. "I think it could possibly use a little more length. How does it feel?"

"It fit fine de way it is," he replied, hands slipping over the belt just to be sure. "It hang any lower and dis poor old Cajun gon' worry about de family jewels."

Susan laughed at him and shook her head. "If you say so. I don't think you need any adjustments. Go ahead and take it off."

He gave her a smile, but did as she'd instructed. She'd already put the shirt away and waited on the pants and belt. That was handed over as soon as he released it. As he peeled the leather from his legs, he gave her a look. "You fit de girls already?" He asked the question softly, to keep his emotions from showing.

She lifted her head and gave him a look. "I have. Gin earlier this afternoon and Jo just a while ago."

"How dey doing? Jean Claude, he tell me dey okay. But I don' trust dat one. Not completely." His hands reached for the leather pants he'd worn to work so he could wiggle his way back into them. She watched him for a moment before answering, as if she was weighing her words. He didn't know if he liked that pause.

"They miss you. They might not say it all the time, but they do. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you tomorrow night. The three of you will knock people's socks off, if I do say so myself." She tossed him a smile filled with pride, then turned to face him fully. "They're doing as well as they can. Gin is fitting in with the lycanthropes more and more every day. In fact, she's starting to relax around Micah and the rest of the pard. I think there's talk of letting her spend her third full moon with them on Anita's property."

Remy nodded, glad to hear it. "Dat good. And Jo? How she doing?"

Susan laughed. "She's opening up a little more to Amanda and Kimberly. I don't see her as much as they do, but she seems to be a pleasant enough person. When she isn't in a mood."

"When she not in a mood?" Remy asked, mostly to himself. Susan heard him anyway and laughed softly.

"She's been learning to throw knives with Amanda. What I hear is that she's pretty good with them. It keeps her out of trouble, though she still has the occasional run in with Jean Claude." Susan paused and gave it some thought. "I don't think she's doing it to be mean so much as she's just trying to keep him on his toes. He actually leaves her alone most of the time. And she still spends her nights with Asher. He takes her out and does things with her. I think its helped. I've seen her around Wicked and Truth and even a couple of the others. She isn't chummy, but she isn't ignoring them anymore, either."

It was a relief to hear that she seemed to be relaxing around the vampires. But the news that she was learning how to throw knives was worrisome. Remy had no illusions that she was doing it to keep out of trouble. Jo was trouble.

Susan reached out to lay a hand on his arm. "Don't worry so much. They're doing better than when you first got here. We've been taking good care of them for you. They'll be happy to see you tomorrow night."

He only nodded and watched as she gathered up her things. She was almost to the door when it opened and Jean Claude stepped into his office. He looked at her expectantly. Susan shook her head at him. "How many years have I been sewing for you? Do you really need to worry that I won't have it all ready tomorrow? When will you trust me? I need to make a few adjustments on the girl's dresses but Remy's all set. They're going to look hot as shit."

The seamstress reached up and patted the vampire's cheek before slipping out the door.

Remy stared at Jean Claude expectantly. There was an air about the man that said he had something he wanted to say. After several long moments, he tilted his head slightly and offered a slight smile. An empty smile. "I expect you to be on your best behavior tomorrow night. The promises I made that first night still hold now. If you attempt to run with them, there will be consequences."

"Where we gon' go? We got no home. And dey not ready for de public yet."

"I am glad that we understand one another. I am giving you this opportunity to see them because I feel you have earned it. Do not make me regret my decision."

Remy stared at him for a moment, letting that unique talent of his work for him. He saw a look of confusion pass over Jean Claude's face as his gift touched the other man and read him. It didn't take long, a second or two. But when he was done, Remy smiled and moved closer to Jean Claude. "You been wonderin' if dis a good idea since de first night we here. Since de night I kiss you."

For a split second, Remy thought he saw a touch of fear in the other man's face. But it was gone as quickly as it had come and there was no telling if it had really been there. Not for sure. What he was sure of was that Jean Claude wanted him to kiss him again. Wanted it and feared it. Remy wanted it, too. There was something highly intoxicating about the man, something he couldn't put his finger on. He knew that Jean Claude wasn't a real lover of men. He knew that it was a means to an end for the master vampire. And that was why he feared Remy and his kiss. Because he shouldn't want it. Shouldn't and did.

"Dere not'ing wrong wit' enjoying such t'ings," Remy whispered as he closed the distance. The urge was there, had been there since that first night. There was something about him...

It happened in a blur. Remy finished closing the distance and pinned Jean Claude up against the door of his office. Even before Jean Claude attempted to push him away, Remy had his mouth on the other man's. And he was plundering it.

He could feel the battle of wills within the other man as Jean Claude fought with himself. Part of him wanted to push Remy away. The Cajun knew it. But the other part wanted to drag him closer, wanted to turn them and put Remy's back to the door. Jean Claude wanted to control the kiss and be the one in control.

Their bodies pressed together nearly all the way down. There was no disguising the fact that Remy wanted Jean Claude. Just the feel of those lips under his had made him hard. It had been a long time since he'd wanted another man like this. And he wanted Jean Claude to understand that there were things the man would never be able to control. No matter what he thought, Remy would never be one of them.

Just like that, the battle was lost. Jean Claude's hands lifted and curled into Remy's hair while his mouth pressed harder and his tongue probed deep into Remy's mouth. In short order, Remy found his back to the wall, Jean Claude's lean frame pressed up tight against his own. And he could feel, much to his perverse pleasure, that Jean Claude wanted him with the same passion that Remy wanted him.

Remy shifted his hands lower, sliding them down until the rested on the other man's hips. He tightened the contact between them so that he could rub his erection against the other man's body. He'd be happy to throw him down and do him on that big desk if that's what the man wanted. And if Jean Claude wanted him on his knees, mouth wrapped around the length of his cock, Remy would be happy to give the man exactly that.

Their mouths moved against one another with less urgency but no less need. There was a growing hunger in the other man that made his kiss taste of desperation. Remy welcomed the feel of Jean Claude's tongue as it probed his mouth and delved deep. Trying to kiss away all his secrets. Remy's response was a low groan at the back of his throat while his hips thrust against Jean Claude again.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Jean Claude pushed away from Remy and, with a hand that trembled ever so slightly, began tugging his clothes back into place. In contrast, Remy didn't move. Simply stood there and stared at him. "You are dismissed, Remy."

With an incline of his head, he turned and strolled out of the room. The door closed soundlessly behind him. And the room beyond was filled with confusion and lust. No matter what Jean Claude thought or said. he was as turned on by Remy as Remy was by him. It wouldn't be long before the man would be putty in his hand. If there was one thing Remy was good at, it was charming the pants off of people.

Starting up the hall toward the main part of the club, Remy whistled a jaunty tune.

Dismissed? No fucking way.