Discourse, Part 2 of 3
It is not just my shoulder that I press to him…I lean my cheek against his jaw and rest my free hand over his, and his slips an arm under my shoulders, supporting me. The agony gives me some small defense against the pleasure of his Kiss, along with the blood bound knowledge of Ashley’s fury if he takes so much as a drop from me, and I am able to whisper urgently in his ear a simple warning:
“You shouldn't.”
I feel the slightest tremor pass through his upper body before he withdraws his fangs and licks the wound closed.
“Just a bite,” he promises me. “I would not take. Then it would not be a gift."
I hear the words but my head is still spinning as if he has drained me, and the burning sensation lingers where I still have my face pressed against his. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and my breathing is quick and shallow in response to this pain that is not pain, and I feel more alive than I have in months.
“"Thank you,” I whisper into his ear, not trusting myself to frame any thought that cannot be expressed in monosyllables, still clinging to his coat as if I might drown. I wait for him to extricate himself, because I dare not risk offending him by breaking contact, nor in fact, do I wish to. But instead of pulling away he sinks to one knee, keeping his cheek firmly pressed to mine, his arm falling from behind my shoulders to rest over my bare forearm as it too begins to smolder and crumble
"You do not want me to let go."
There is an analytical tone to his statement, a sense of scientific wonder, as I am some rare species or unexpected result that does not fit his hypothesis.
"No," I admit with frank honesty, sliding my hand from his jacket to his neck, and the sensation of hot coals filling my hand washes over me as his head bows slightly at my touch. “But if you stay, I think you will end up owing more than a bottle of lacrima,” I breathe, though I make no move to pull away. The truth is always the strongest bait.
"Perhaps...I am not entirely sure you are not correct.” He sighs into my neck. "Your thoughts?"
I am quiet as I consider his question, still half lost in the sensations that do not dull over time, as one expects pain to, and the feel of his cool breath against my skin when he sighed, a marked contrast to his touch. I laugh chuckle softly at myself.
"Not many," I admit. "It's hard to think when you're....distracting me." I turn a little, pressing my lips to his ear, despite the instinctual urge to pull away when they feel seared. "Stay?"
It is something between a plea and a promise, and even I do not know which.
“Here? I think a conference room may not be the best choice to spend the day.” It is a weak attempt to break the spell we have put each other under, though there is faint amusement in his voice, and I think he must have an excellent sense of humor when he is free to use it. "How do you know I will not harm you?"
His tone is subdued, inquisitive, and his fingers curl slightly around my forearm, as if to lend threat to his otherwise honest query.
Because you can’t afford me, I think automatically, though I know this is not the answer he wants to hear. I tear myself away and look him in the eyes, the skin my face cooling and solidifying with a rapidity that leaves me nerves on scrambling with confusion.
"I don't," I tell him, searching his gaze, wondering what hungers lie unsated within him. "But you won't kill me. That's all I really need to know." Because I have born far more hurt than you could possibly inflict on me, so all the remains is death…spared that, what have I to fear?
And then I kiss him, deep and searching, though I gasp at the sensation of my face falling away, and it is briefer than I intend, though he returns it and his fangs clip at my lower lip as I pull away. He rocks back slightly, putting some distance between us, and I wonder at the sudden barrier.
"All right....I will stay." He flashes me a feral smile, the full force of his Beast behind it, and I cannot help but be grateful for his foresight. “No promises on what happens but there is no way either you or I are going to tell Ryhnn. Agreed?"
"Rhynn?" I ask, blinking stupidly as I try to place the name, and startled at the sudden introduction of another person into the conversation. "Starley's twin?"
"Yes. She will react...poorly."
His tone tells me he’s just made a tactful understatement, and so I resist the retort that Rhynn is insane, and instead take the opportunity to point to the gorilla in the room.
"I know. I won't tell her, but I cannot make promises for Ashley. You will have to pay for her silence, Brogan…” I place it before him as matter-of-factly as I can, grateful again for the space between us so that he cannot cry coercion, though his hands stills rest over my forearms, my bones reduced to embers.
He quirks a brow slightly as he considers my statement, and then shakes his head at me.
“I do not say this out of malice or to be cold, but if she cannot protect her property by simply remaining discrete she does not deserve your employment."
I can hardly bear to hear his criticism of Ashley, and I want to leap to her defense, drawing breath to protest that he doesn’t understand…but I cannot fault his logic or his sentiment. Greed is her vice, not mine, and she has trusted me to negotiate on her behalf. This includes knowing when to make concessions. Besides, I am the one who does not deserve her, sitting as I am in a situation I know she could exploit to greater profit than I have heart to, suddenly nauseas from the toxin of the blood bond that floods my system at the thought.
"It is I who do not deserve her...but as you say, Brogan,” I concede softly. He holds my gaze for a moment, emotion playing through his iridescent irses: desire, restraint, a flash of sadness who source I do not understand.
And to distract myself from the unhappy thoughts of Ashley’s ire and Brogan’s melancholy, I rest my forehead against his so that my brain turns to ash in my skull, closing my eyes and taking a moment to steady my breathing, though I can do nothing to slow the pounding of my heart.
"I understand." He lifts his hand from my arm to touch my cheek, and I startle because I do not see and thus do not expect the sudden disintegration of my face, and he mistakes the gesture, asking in a grave tone: "Is this something you want, Lexie?"
I’ve wanted you for so long…
I pull far enough way to meet his gaze, unwilling, to speak anything but the truth.
"Yes." The word falls heavy between us, and I can see his own want, but also a calculating wariness. He knows I am the rabbit hole. “Does that....do you...” I am caught out by my own honesty, suddenly uncomfortable with the unnaturalness of the truth. “I never expected to see you again," I offers softly.
"And now that you have?"
I cannot resist the Cheshire grin that spreads across my face.
"Do as you will."
It is a promise, not a request, and by the invitation in my tone I know that he knows that I know that what he wills may not be entirely nice things, and I feel another thrill travel down my spine. I see the gears of his scientific mind processing my words, before he meets my gaze pointedly.
"You are going to get me in trouble."
His tone is quietly amused, but also enriched with honesty, and I resist the urge to join him in his mirth, for the down the end of the rabbit hole there are tears sooner or later, though one side of my mouth lifts in amusement.
"Are we to stay here?" he asks with a glance to the austere décor of the conference room.
“No...we can go...I have an apartment."
I hesitate. I know that I have him, but some part of me cannot bear to have him under any pretense, if there are any doubts. I know, instinctively, that I have the power to cast light into his shadows…or plunge him into darkness entirely. He waits for me, watching the emotions playing across my face.
"I'm not free, Brogan,” I finally summarize, knowing he is cunning enough to discern the multiple interpretations of the phrase. He chews on his lip in thought for a moment, and I once again mark the tell. His eyes flicker back and forth, as if he reading some unseen text, though I keep my own face carefully blank. The flickering stops abruptly and his eyes focus on me, narrowing just slightly as emotions that I can discern pass through them, though his features remain pleasant.
"I see. Is this an arrangement where I would have to seek permission or...?"
"No...but you have to know there is a price. I will not bait you into it." My voice is laced with both integrity and vanity, for we both know that I could bait him if I chose to, hook him until he was in too deep to back out without creating a mess. "My time is Trivial enough,” I say, then hesitate, disliking the word choices available to me. In the end I settle on the same one he used. “But if you intend to hurt me, then you should probably compensate accordingly."
He nods as he traces a finger along my cheek, and I lean into the trail of ash it leave down my face.
"I am glad you told me before hand. I do not think I would have taken kindly to the concept otherwise." There is a dark undertone to his quiet voice that reminds me, despite his tender touch, he is a creature of blood, fang, and claw. That reminder combined with the pleasure of his touch elicits a deep shudder from within me as he continues, “I do not intend to hurt you. Regardless, a small price to pay I suppose.”
“Give me a moment?” I ask huskily.
"Of course," he acquiesces easily, withdrawing and settling back into his seat. I nearly fall out of my own, so unexpected is the sudden absence of his touch, and I take a moment to collect myself. I clear my throat and pick up the phone on the table, dialing my personal assistant.
I keep my eyes on Brogan as I speak.
"Clear my schedule. I'm out for the night. Tell Ashley I'm entertaining a client."
“You shouldn't.”
I feel the slightest tremor pass through his upper body before he withdraws his fangs and licks the wound closed.
“Just a bite,” he promises me. “I would not take. Then it would not be a gift."
I hear the words but my head is still spinning as if he has drained me, and the burning sensation lingers where I still have my face pressed against his. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and my breathing is quick and shallow in response to this pain that is not pain, and I feel more alive than I have in months.
“"Thank you,” I whisper into his ear, not trusting myself to frame any thought that cannot be expressed in monosyllables, still clinging to his coat as if I might drown. I wait for him to extricate himself, because I dare not risk offending him by breaking contact, nor in fact, do I wish to. But instead of pulling away he sinks to one knee, keeping his cheek firmly pressed to mine, his arm falling from behind my shoulders to rest over my bare forearm as it too begins to smolder and crumble
"You do not want me to let go."
There is an analytical tone to his statement, a sense of scientific wonder, as I am some rare species or unexpected result that does not fit his hypothesis.
"No," I admit with frank honesty, sliding my hand from his jacket to his neck, and the sensation of hot coals filling my hand washes over me as his head bows slightly at my touch. “But if you stay, I think you will end up owing more than a bottle of lacrima,” I breathe, though I make no move to pull away. The truth is always the strongest bait.
"Perhaps...I am not entirely sure you are not correct.” He sighs into my neck. "Your thoughts?"
I am quiet as I consider his question, still half lost in the sensations that do not dull over time, as one expects pain to, and the feel of his cool breath against my skin when he sighed, a marked contrast to his touch. I laugh chuckle softly at myself.
"Not many," I admit. "It's hard to think when you're....distracting me." I turn a little, pressing my lips to his ear, despite the instinctual urge to pull away when they feel seared. "Stay?"
It is something between a plea and a promise, and even I do not know which.
“Here? I think a conference room may not be the best choice to spend the day.” It is a weak attempt to break the spell we have put each other under, though there is faint amusement in his voice, and I think he must have an excellent sense of humor when he is free to use it. "How do you know I will not harm you?"
His tone is subdued, inquisitive, and his fingers curl slightly around my forearm, as if to lend threat to his otherwise honest query.
Because you can’t afford me, I think automatically, though I know this is not the answer he wants to hear. I tear myself away and look him in the eyes, the skin my face cooling and solidifying with a rapidity that leaves me nerves on scrambling with confusion.
"I don't," I tell him, searching his gaze, wondering what hungers lie unsated within him. "But you won't kill me. That's all I really need to know." Because I have born far more hurt than you could possibly inflict on me, so all the remains is death…spared that, what have I to fear?
And then I kiss him, deep and searching, though I gasp at the sensation of my face falling away, and it is briefer than I intend, though he returns it and his fangs clip at my lower lip as I pull away. He rocks back slightly, putting some distance between us, and I wonder at the sudden barrier.
"All right....I will stay." He flashes me a feral smile, the full force of his Beast behind it, and I cannot help but be grateful for his foresight. “No promises on what happens but there is no way either you or I are going to tell Ryhnn. Agreed?"
"Rhynn?" I ask, blinking stupidly as I try to place the name, and startled at the sudden introduction of another person into the conversation. "Starley's twin?"
"Yes. She will react...poorly."
His tone tells me he’s just made a tactful understatement, and so I resist the retort that Rhynn is insane, and instead take the opportunity to point to the gorilla in the room.
"I know. I won't tell her, but I cannot make promises for Ashley. You will have to pay for her silence, Brogan…” I place it before him as matter-of-factly as I can, grateful again for the space between us so that he cannot cry coercion, though his hands stills rest over my forearms, my bones reduced to embers.
He quirks a brow slightly as he considers my statement, and then shakes his head at me.
“I do not say this out of malice or to be cold, but if she cannot protect her property by simply remaining discrete she does not deserve your employment."
I can hardly bear to hear his criticism of Ashley, and I want to leap to her defense, drawing breath to protest that he doesn’t understand…but I cannot fault his logic or his sentiment. Greed is her vice, not mine, and she has trusted me to negotiate on her behalf. This includes knowing when to make concessions. Besides, I am the one who does not deserve her, sitting as I am in a situation I know she could exploit to greater profit than I have heart to, suddenly nauseas from the toxin of the blood bond that floods my system at the thought.
"It is I who do not deserve her...but as you say, Brogan,” I concede softly. He holds my gaze for a moment, emotion playing through his iridescent irses: desire, restraint, a flash of sadness who source I do not understand.
And to distract myself from the unhappy thoughts of Ashley’s ire and Brogan’s melancholy, I rest my forehead against his so that my brain turns to ash in my skull, closing my eyes and taking a moment to steady my breathing, though I can do nothing to slow the pounding of my heart.
"I understand." He lifts his hand from my arm to touch my cheek, and I startle because I do not see and thus do not expect the sudden disintegration of my face, and he mistakes the gesture, asking in a grave tone: "Is this something you want, Lexie?"
I’ve wanted you for so long…
I pull far enough way to meet his gaze, unwilling, to speak anything but the truth.
"Yes." The word falls heavy between us, and I can see his own want, but also a calculating wariness. He knows I am the rabbit hole. “Does that....do you...” I am caught out by my own honesty, suddenly uncomfortable with the unnaturalness of the truth. “I never expected to see you again," I offers softly.
"And now that you have?"
I cannot resist the Cheshire grin that spreads across my face.
"Do as you will."
It is a promise, not a request, and by the invitation in my tone I know that he knows that I know that what he wills may not be entirely nice things, and I feel another thrill travel down my spine. I see the gears of his scientific mind processing my words, before he meets my gaze pointedly.
"You are going to get me in trouble."
His tone is quietly amused, but also enriched with honesty, and I resist the urge to join him in his mirth, for the down the end of the rabbit hole there are tears sooner or later, though one side of my mouth lifts in amusement.
"Are we to stay here?" he asks with a glance to the austere décor of the conference room.
“No...we can go...I have an apartment."
I hesitate. I know that I have him, but some part of me cannot bear to have him under any pretense, if there are any doubts. I know, instinctively, that I have the power to cast light into his shadows…or plunge him into darkness entirely. He waits for me, watching the emotions playing across my face.
"I'm not free, Brogan,” I finally summarize, knowing he is cunning enough to discern the multiple interpretations of the phrase. He chews on his lip in thought for a moment, and I once again mark the tell. His eyes flicker back and forth, as if he reading some unseen text, though I keep my own face carefully blank. The flickering stops abruptly and his eyes focus on me, narrowing just slightly as emotions that I can discern pass through them, though his features remain pleasant.
"I see. Is this an arrangement where I would have to seek permission or...?"
"No...but you have to know there is a price. I will not bait you into it." My voice is laced with both integrity and vanity, for we both know that I could bait him if I chose to, hook him until he was in too deep to back out without creating a mess. "My time is Trivial enough,” I say, then hesitate, disliking the word choices available to me. In the end I settle on the same one he used. “But if you intend to hurt me, then you should probably compensate accordingly."
He nods as he traces a finger along my cheek, and I lean into the trail of ash it leave down my face.
"I am glad you told me before hand. I do not think I would have taken kindly to the concept otherwise." There is a dark undertone to his quiet voice that reminds me, despite his tender touch, he is a creature of blood, fang, and claw. That reminder combined with the pleasure of his touch elicits a deep shudder from within me as he continues, “I do not intend to hurt you. Regardless, a small price to pay I suppose.”
“Give me a moment?” I ask huskily.
"Of course," he acquiesces easily, withdrawing and settling back into his seat. I nearly fall out of my own, so unexpected is the sudden absence of his touch, and I take a moment to collect myself. I clear my throat and pick up the phone on the table, dialing my personal assistant.
I keep my eyes on Brogan as I speak.
"Clear my schedule. I'm out for the night. Tell Ashley I'm entertaining a client."