Subject: Here's another one <g>
Date: Mon, 11 Jan 1999 18:27:15 -0000
From: "StormBorn" <STORMBORN@prodigy.net>
To: "Dianne Bugg" <LadyLC@ibx.net>Hi, Dianne,
Attached is 'La Voyeuse' which is semi-erotic . . . well, heck,
there's a sex scene or two in it. <eg>
Here's the legal stuff: The Forever Knight characters portrayed in this
story are the property of James Parriott, James Slan, Tristar and Sony. No
profit is being made from this story.
And the archiving stuff: permission to archive to www.fkfanfic.com. All
others please ask.
Extravagant praise or neutral critiques to stormborn@prodigy.net. No
flames, please, it's been a rather rough week.La Voyeuse (01/04)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1998Natalie stepped out through the French doors to the terrace, taking in a
deep breath of the fragrant midnight air. She'd never known just how much
fun shopping could be; but then, she'd never had a female friend like
Janette. She smiled, thinking of Janette's mode of shopping: sweep into an
establishment, lavish praise upon the designer, the workmanship, the décor,
the sales staff-then critique each and every piece presented to her. It
took hours, but that, the vampire assured her, was part of the experience.So, apparently, was the refreshment extended to the valued customer. She'd
never known that champagne was part of the "shopping experience", either.
She giggled to herself and stepped off the terrace, wandering the garden's
paths.She saw them before she heard them: under the full moon their skins glowed
with a luminescence that made them seem like paintings from a fairy book.
They sat on a stone bench under a line of orange trees. Nick's back was to
LaCroix; both had their heads tilted back to draw in the sensual fragrance
from the blossoming trees. Natalie paused in the concealing shelter of a
lilac bush, uncertain.Something gold glinted from Nick's wrist as he lifted it. "Thank you again
for the bracelet, LaCroix. It's lovely.""Ah, well. I'm glad you don't consider it too foppish. At our ages,
appropriate keepsakes are a little hard to find."Nick laughed, and leaned back, settling against LaCroix's chest. The elder
laid his hand gently on the round of his son's shoulder as Nick tilted his
head for a kiss. Nat froze.The kiss lingered, and deepened. Nick broke free long enough to turn,
straddling the bench so that he was facing LaCroix. "You," he said,
smiling, cupping the other's face in his hands, then drawing those hands
down LaCroix's neck and across his shoulders. The other smiled back, as
Nick started on his shirt buttons. "Shouldn't we go inside?""No. It's beautiful out here. And Nat and Janette are too busy unwrapping
their purchases to wonder about us."LaCroix leaned into another kiss, his own fingers busy at Nick's shirt
front. The younger vampire was ahead of him, though, and LaCroix's silk
shirt dropped from his shoulders. Natalie stifled a gasp; the sight of the
formidable vampire master uncovered seeming shocking, somehow.Their embrace was becoming more passionate: Nick divested himself of his own
shirt, then wrapped himself around LaCroix, clutching at that pale flesh,
gasping. "Shhh. Easy, now.""No. No. I don't want to take it easy--"
She wanted to flee, to turn around and shut her eyes and return to the house
as if she'd never left it. If she moved now, though, they'd surely hear
her. She assumed the only reason that they hadn't picked up her heartbeat
or breathing yet was their absorption in each other. There was more that
disturbed her than the simple evidence of what she already knew, though.
For years she had thought of Nick as LaCroix's victim, that whatever they
had been to each other in the past was at LaCroix's behest and that Nick had
been a reluctant participant.Yet she saw the passion in Nick's face, heard it in the sounds he made. It
was he who was clinging to LaCroix, wrapping them in a tighter
embrace-practically crawling up LaCroix's body. And LaCroix--His touch was gentle--no, more than that: tender. He was handling Nick as
if holding something very precious. Natalie watched as he touched Nick
expertly, subtly building the other's arousal, strong and sure.LaCroix knew she was there; it was only Nicholas' carelessness that
prevented him from knowing, too. He carefully kept the knowledge of the
watcher out of their link. Let her watch, he thought savagely. Let her see
how much he loves me. He loves me!And now Nick was going after LaCroix's fly, fingers fumbling in their haste,
while LaCroix waited patiently. Finally he whispered, "You, too, Nicholas."
Both men got to their feet just long enough to rid themselves of trousers
and footwear.She caught her breath at their beauty. She'd never seen Nicholas nude. He
was perfect, save for the faded scar on his thigh. Male beauty in its most
harmonious form. For God's sake, Lambert, she scolded herself, at least
close your eyes. But she couldn't. Slowly, reluctantly, they turned to
LaCroix. He'd been a general, she knew that, but never equated it with the
harsh realities of soldiering. It was a body that spoke of power and
control, capable of whatever its owner demanded of it. And his skin was
like marble.A flash of red broke into her reverie. LaCroix had Nick's hand to his
mouth; he had bitten his son's fingertips and now held them dripping over
his cock. "Do you want this?" he asked. "Here, now? Are you sure?""God, LaCroix, yes!" Nick was nearly sobbing with passion. Natalie heard
the rasp in his voice and strained to catch a clearer glimpse of his face.
His eyes glowed amber against the garden's darkness and his face was
contorted in the vampire's rictus, fangtips gleaming. She shivered
involuntarily, the primal response of mankind alone in the savage night.And then Nick--*her* Nick, her friend-was mounting LaCroix's cock, impaling
himself with a sudden sharp cry. They rocked together on the narrow bench,
joining closer as their cries became more feral. Then Nick was striking,
guided by his master's hand, and LaCroix buried his own fangs in his son's
neck. They might have been made of stone, so still they were, so intent
upon the sharing of their blood.She fled.
<end part 1>
Here's the legal stuff: The Forever Knight characters portrayed in this
story are the property of James Parriott, James Slan, Tristar and Sony. No
profit is being made from this story.
And the archiving stuff: permission to archive to www.fkfanfic.com. All
others please ask.
Extravagant praise or neutral critiques to stormborn@prodigy.net. No
flames, please, it's been a rather rough week.La Voyeuse (02/04)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1998One hand idly toying with his glass, smooth lids dropped over ice-blue eyes,
Lucien LaCroix studied the board. The very picture of a civilized
gentleman, thought Natalie, as an elegant hand moved his queen's knight with
a decisive click. Then he leaned back in his chair and took a sip of what
was *not* wine, and she suppressed a tiny shudder.He caught it, of course, though he deliberately chose not to acknowledge it.
"Your move, Doctor Lambert."She turned her attention back to the board, and frowned. She'd always been
dismal at chess--why she'd taken LaCroix up on his offer to teach her, she
didn't know. Her hand hovered over her queen's bishop and she looked over
at LaCroix. He took another sip from his glass. Hmmn. Bad move, then.
The rook? She slid the little tower forward."Check."
"Damn!"
"Why you protect your pawns at the expense of your more valuable pieces I do
not understand.""I'm not protecting them! They just can't do anything!"
He chuckled and she gave up the game. "You must admit you have an unfair
advantage, LaCroix.""Centuries of experience, Doctor?"
"That--and you said this was a war game, didn't you? You've been in a war
or two; I haven't.""True," he said shortly. She considered him for a long moment. So cool, so
carefully guarded--she leaned forward on her elbows. "What was it like?"
she asked.He met her gaze, surprised. "War?"
"No. When you were brought across--when you became a vampire. Nick told me
that everything changed for him, but he didn't exactly elaborate."He was silent for a long time, staring into his glass. He won't tell, she
told herself. He won't tell you or anyone anything about himself.But then he looked up, gazing off down the long centuries. "Everything does
change," he said. "Or seems too. It can be . . . difficult . . . to find
one's feet, to remember--or discover--who one is.""What do you mean? How do things change?"
"It is as if you've never seen the world before. Everything around you is
deeper, richer, more intense. Everything that one has taken for granted is
seen with new eyes, a new perspective."He shifted in his chair, as if to go, but she laid a hand on his--oh, so
cold. "What do you miss about it? Being mortal, I mean?"He smiled his shark smile at her, and rose. "Not a damned thing, Doctor
Lambert."She sat staring at the door for a long time after he'd left.
|88888888|===================>
They were walking along the Seine, she and Nick, her arm tucked comfortably
through his just like in the old days in Toronto. She couldn't think of him
now as that creature she'd seen in the garden with LaCroix, just as Nick,
her friend, whom she'd teased and watched movies with and thrown popcorn at.
"It must have changed a lot since you saw it as a mortal.""Unrecognizably. But then, I've always come back here, so that I barely
remember what it looked like 800 years ago.""Do you remember what LaCroix was like, the first time you saw him?"
He laughed. "Terrifying. And fascinating . . . You and he seem to be
getting along much better than I'd hoped."Her answering laugh was a little rueful. "Oh, he still terrifies me. One
moment I see him as this sophisticated, charming gentleman--and the next he
says or does something that reminds me just what he really is."Nick's face closed down suddenly; he looked around, then drew her across the
street into a late-night café. Once seated, with cups of coffee steaming on
the table, he told her quietly, "You have to be careful what you say in
public, Nat.""You're joking. On a deserted street near midnight?"
"Voices carry. Especially human voices."
"You mean . . . ?"
"Paris," he said, "is crawling with our kind. So is London, for that
matter. New York; any place large enough to feed us and entertain us."Her eyes were huge. He felt sorry, suddenly, for opening them. He took her
hand. "I don't want you to be afraid. Just--careful. OK?""Am I in danger?"
"You're under LaCroix's protection," he said. "And mine." He hoped his
smile reassured her."LaCroix," she said, and sighed. "I'd feel a lot better if I could just . .
. I don't know . . . communicate somehow.""Find out what makes him tick?" Nick teased. "Not a chance, Nat. You will
never be able to pin him down.""Doesn't it drive you crazy?"
"Yes. Are you finished with that? Let's go, then."
Out into the night and down the street; she felt strangely happy, just
walking down the street with him. Then his pace slowed a little: ahead of
them under a streetlight was a hooker. She was dark and beautiful and as
they passed she spoke in a voice of magnolias and Spanish moss."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 . . . ""Home," Nick hissed under his breath as he picked up the pace. "Now."
"Who is she? How did she know--"
"Shhh!" And they were silent until they crossed their own threshold,
hurrying into the softly lit warmth. To her embarrassment, she began to
shake almost uncontrollably."Natalie! Nicolas! What is it, what happened?" Janette hurried to the
mortal woman's side as LaCroix looked to his son, raising an interrogative
eyebrow."One of Eloise's children," Nick explained. "She was waiting for us."
"She threatened you?"
"A threat, maybe. Maybe just testing the limits. I've never seen her
before: a black woman, American, from the South.""Hmmn." LaCroix poured them each a glass. "Eloise always chose her
children for their looks, not their intelligence.""She knew I was yours. That Natalie was yours."
"Of course she did: Eloise has no doubt made sure that her progeny have a
basic knowledge of the Community's genealogy. Since she couldn't sense you
in Doctor Lambert, she assumed that the doctor was therefore my thrall.""Thrall? What do you mean by thrall?" He just looked at her with those
cold eyes. "What are you keeping from me?"He finished his drink and set the glass down. "I think I shall go extend my
regards to Eloise and her family. Janette, my dear, will you accompany me?""I should go, too."
A snort of amusement came from the older vampire. "If you're concerned for
our safety, Nicholas, I am gratified, but you should know that it's not
necessary. If it's the social niceties you're concerned with, I'll make
your apologies." When his son started to object, he glanced toward Natalie.
"Stay with her, Nicholas."He saw them out, then turned reluctantly back to face Natalie.
"Nick."
"Calm down, Nat. You're not in any danger."
"Don't avoid the question. What's a thrall?"
"It's a . . . servant. Of sorts."
"LaCroix said that there was a precedent. Wanna tell me about it?"
He poured himself another glass and took a seat by the fire. "Vampires keep
human companions, sometimes. As servants, usually; the same process by
which you joined our family serves to assure us of more trustworthy servants
than mere money.""Usually. OK. And less usually?"
He laughed ruefully. "No wonder he likes you. You don't give up, do you,
Nat?" He met her eyes. "As concubines, sometimes.""What?!"
He took a hurried gulp from his glass, and looked into the fire. "A thrall,
if one is careful, can be kept for some years as a concubine."She was shaking; not from fear this time, but from anger. "Have you done
that, Nick? Kept a 'concubine'?"For a long time there was silence; she broke it. "My God, Nick."
"It was-exciting. When I was younger, and had not begun to hate what I
was." His voice was remote. "But I could never keep them, for very long."<end of part 2>
Here's the legal stuff: The Forever Knight characters portrayed in this
story are the property of James Parriott, James Slan, Tristar and Sony. No
profit is being made from this story.
And the archiving stuff: permission to archive to www.fkfanfic.com. All
others please ask.
Extravagant praise or neutral critiques to stormborn@prodigy.net. No
flames, please, it's been a rather rough week.La Voyeuse (03/04)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1998They sat in silence, Nick brooding into the fire, and Natalie in no mood to
stop him. Monsters, she thought. Charming, intelligent, fascinating . . .
monsters. You go along, thinking they're not so different from humans,
after all-that they are still human, in a way-and then the monsters come out
of the woods. She thought of LaCroix sitting over the chessboard, perfect
picture of a European gentleman, until he drank from his glass of blood.
And Nick-how many times had she told him, and in how many ways, that he
wasn't evil, that he wasn't a monster? All the people he'd killed over the
centuries she'd managed to rationalize away. Why was the knowledge that
he'd kept slaves so abhorrent to her? Kept them to feed upon, an evil voice
whispered in her mind.Unbidden, the scene she'd witnessed in the garden rose before her. Nicholas
and LaCroix, unnatural bodies gleaming in the moonlight, fangs bared and
eyes glowing . . . snarling like animals as they coupled. Tearing into each
other's throats. Feeding on each other.She wanted out of this. She wanted to go back to Toronto, to walk into her
office at the morgue and pick up right where she'd left off. Wheel in the
next dead body, please-and make sure he doesn't sit up on the table and look
at me with a child's wounded eyes. "Nick-" she said softly."Does it matter," he asked, "if I told you it was a long, long time ago?"
She found herself standing beside him, reaching out to touch that golden
head. I love him. And if I did try to run, LaCroix would kill me. God help
me, she thought, which is it that keeps me here?The door opened then, letting in Janette and LaCroix; Janette was laughing
softly. "Oh, I do like Eloise! But it's so much fun to see you torment
her!""Now, my dear, I was the soul of politesse," he chided, smiling. "You're
not to worry, Nicholas, Doctor Lambert. Apparently the one who threatened
you-Hyacinth, I believe her name is-is one of Eloise's more troublesome
children. I believe a reprimand is awaiting her.""I'm sure Eloise was glad to see you." Nick smiled wanly at the other.
"I believe so," LaCroix said, a trifle smugly. "Of course, she still sighs
after you-you're lucky she's younger: she may have entertained thoughts of
taking you by force, otherwise."Janette laughed again. She sounded a little tipsy. "But it was enjoyable,
socializing with our own kind again. We must do it more often. And now I
think I shall retire."They said their goodnights, her father and brother kissing her off to bed.
"You, too, Nicholas."
Nick regarded him with wary eyes. "LaCroix . . ."
"Go to bed, Nicholas. Doctor Lambert and I have a small matter to attend
to." When the other hesitated he stared him down. "Good night, mon fils."He went reluctantly, looking back at Natalie as he left them.
LaCroix seated himself on the couch, one arm thrown over the back, all
elegant menace. "Come here, Doctor Lambert; sit with me.""Are you going to kill me? Because I think I'd rather stand up for that, if
you don't mind.""Don't be absurd, Doctor. But the effects of my blood in your body seem to
be wearing off, which means it's time to do it again."Great. She thought back to the first time he'd done it-they'd done it-in
Nick's loft, with Nick holding her. "Why did you send Nick to bed?"His eyes bored into her. "For my own reasons," he said shortly. "Come."
She walked reluctantly around to the couch and sat beside him. "Nick told
me. About thralls.""Did he? Unfortunate word, I think, particularly in this case. You are not
a servant, and if I wished you for a concubine that would already have come
to pass.""Whether I wanted it or not?"
"Yes." She knew, then, knew that he'd sensed her watching he and Nicholas.
And how much else did he know, had he sensed? More than she'd admitted to
herself. She recalled his body in the moonlight, pale and powerful, and
shook her head to chase the image away.His eyes were holding her. His hands came up to hold her face. They were
cool, and strong. She felt her breath quicken, as if it were someone
else's; clinically she noted her rising pulse. He was talking again, but
his words faded into a river of soothing sound. He was pushing her back
against the couch; instinctively she fought, but he bore her back.She felt his body over hers, just a breath between them.
Then his fangs were piercing her neck and she was arching towards him, her
fists knotted in his suitcoat. No, she thought, not him, I'm not feeling
this way about him . . . But her nipples were hard and she was wet, oh so
wet, and she didn't want him to stop; she wanted him to feed upon her, to
take his fill . . .Then he'd withdrawn. She was frightened: what had he read in her blood?
His face gave no sign. He shrugged off his coat, unbuttoned his cuff. He
bit into his own wrist and, supporting her head on his arm, gave it to her.
"Drink."A hundred places, a hundred lifetimes in his blood, and they swirled like so
much flotsam on the deep dark eddy that was pulling her in . . . she clung
to him until he pulled her gently away.Natalie turned her face into the back of the couch, tears running down her
cheeks. "Shhh,' he said, stroking her hair. "It's all right.""What's wrong with me? What's happening to me?"
"Shhh. It's all right," he said again, and lifted her in his arms.
(end part 3)
Here's the legal stuff: The Forever Knight characters portrayed in this
story are the property of James Parriott, James Slan, Tristar and Sony. No
profit is being made from this story.
And the archiving stuff: permission to archive to www.fkfanfic.com. All
others please ask.
Extravagant praise or neutral critiques to stormborn@prodigy.net. No
flames, please, it's been a rather rough week.La Voyeuse (04/04)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1998He carried her upstairs to her bed and laid her down. Had he removed her
clothes as tenderly as a fairy-tale prince or ripped them off like a
maddened animal, she still would have opened herself to him, and the
knowledge of it shamed her further.Instead he calmly removed her shoes, filled her carafe with fresh water, and
pulled the covers over her. At the door he paused, not quite looking over
his shoulder. "You're a braver woman than you realize, Doctor."Nicholas was standing by the window in their room, catching the last of the
paling sky before he would have to draw the curtains. He studied the planes
of that mobile, expressive face as it turned towards him. "Did you hurt
her?" his son asked him, dread hoarsening his voice."You know I did not." He joined Nicholas at the window, a corner of his
mind absently noting the activities of their neighbors. He looked out at
the empty street. "But perhaps this was not as clever a solution as I
thought, Nicholas. Some of the traditional aspects of the thrall . . . are
making themselves apparent in her. I confess I had not expected it, given
the situation."Nicholas' mouth quirked in that wicked slanting smile. "I hadn't noticed
her becoming particularly submissive."LaCroix just looked at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It did; his
son was far from stupid. The smile vanished quickly. "You don't mean . .
."He reached up to pull the drapes. "Yes. She is becoming attracted to me."
Nicholas turned away abruptly. "What will you do?"
It was always a source of fascination, watching his mercurial son at moments
like this, never quite sure which way he would jump. He could feel dread
through their link, and jealousy. Nicholas did not want his master and his
friend to become lovers, that much was clear. But was it his master he
wanted to keep for himself, or his friend? LaCroix wasn't sure the answer
would be the one he wanted, but it was not in him to run from the question.
He lay his hand on the other's shoulder."Will you," Nicholas swallowed, hard, "go to her?"
"If I chose, yes." The words came out of his mouth even as he cursed
himself for them. His damned obstinance, that he would bow to no will than
his own! Damn words, anyway, what were they but tools, and sometimes
useless tools at that.He turned Nicholas to face him. The celestial eyes lowered, refusing to
look at him, and he cupped Nicholas' chin in his hand, drew his thumb across
the sulky mouth. "But I do not so chose," he whispered. "Nicholas. How
often must you be told what you already know?" Drawing his beloved close
against him, he bent towards that mouth and kissed him. It was a gentle
kiss, asking, not demanding, but no less fiery for that.A moment's hesitation, then Nicholas' arms were tight around him, his mouth
ravening against LaCroix's. He broke free only to tear at LaCroix's
clothes, gasping in his haste. The protector in LaCroix wanted to soothe
his son, yet another part of his ancient soul reveled in this show of
desire. He waited for just a moment, gathering himself, then shoved
Nicholas onto the bed.He fell on top of him and kissed him again, hard this time, as strong
fingers made short work of both their clothes. Naked, LaCroix drew back to
look at his golden one. You've maddened me since the first night I lay eyes
on you, he wondered. He knew this body by heart, all its secrets of pain and
pleasure, yet had never tired of it. Some believed that the body was a
manifestation of the soul, and he could see the truth in that. He'd never
tired of the soul, either."Nicholas," he breathed against his son's throat. "Mon fils, mon amant."
Tender-rough hands were caressing his own shoulders, traveling down the long
muscles of his back. He let himself be drawn closer as he ran his tongue
over Nicholas' carotid. The responding moan filled him with a surge of joy.
Nicholas' thigh was sliding up his own; he reached down to gather it around
his hip.An impatient pause while they fumbled for the lubricant, then a harsh cry
from his son as he penetrated him. Tight, welcoming, eager--oh, so sweet,
so sweet, my beloved, my desire . . . Nicholas' hips ground against him,
urging him deeper; Nicholas' hands clutched at his buttocks; Nicholas' mouth
moaned against his as he seized it.LaCroix led them through the intricate dance of lovemaking with its rapid
steps and sudden pauses, quick turns and smooth glides; Nicholas' cries made
their music. He was barely conscious of his own voice and its desperate
endearments.Then, for one breathless moment, they stared deep into each other's eyes.
The moment stretched into eternity, then broke, as they drowned in each
other's blood. He held nothing back, nothing of his joy and despair in this
wayward child, nothing of the obsessive love that had carried and would
carry him through the centuries. Mine! his mind shrieked, you are mine,
mine! And heard Nicholas screaming back at him his blood-torn assent.Afterwards they lay quiet, each having retreated into his own thoughts.
Pain ahead, thought LaCroix wearily. More pain, for someone. Beside him
his son mourned for yet more damage to be chalked upon his soul. Nat, Nat,
I never meant to hurt you . . . Seeking comfort, he moved closer to the
other, nestling against his side. LaCroix lifted his arm around his child,
leaned his cheek against the blond head. "She'll be all right, Nicholas.
It will pass.""Not without marking her. She knows too much."
"And knowledge can harm as surely as deeds," LaCroix sighed. "Sometimes,
Nicholas, we must shield mortals from the knowledge of our existence as much
for their sake, as for ours."A small chuckle shook the body beside him. "Why, LaCroix, that's damn close
to being . . . compassionate."Full lips curved in a smile. "Hush, boy. How dare you besmirch my
reputation?"Nick shook himself free and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the
bed and reaching for the bottle on the night table. He poured them both a
glass, then asked, "Are you going to speak to her about it?""There's no need. As I told you, it will pass."
"That's the LaCroix I'm used to. Come on; she's used to hating you. You
have to admit it's a bit of a shock for her to find herself, er-""Wanting to do the dance of the two-backed beast with me? Thank you,
Nicholas, I'm sure if I dig hard enough I'll find there's not really an
insult in there somewhere."His son shook his head, laughing. "Very well, then, I'll talk to her. She
at least should know she's not going crazy.""Nicholas, she is a mortal living with a family of vampires. If she's not
going crazy now, she will be soon enough.""LaCroix."
"Yes, Nicholas?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
|88888888|========================>
Nick invited Natalie to dinner at the finest restaurant in Paris. He
dressed like an aristocrat from generations of aristocrats; he brushed his
hair until it shone like spun gold. His jewelry was tastefully opulent.
Over the semblance of a handsome mortal man he laid every bit of the
vampire's glamour he could muster. Janette clicked her tongue at him from
the doorway. "She's already in love with you, Nicolas. Are you trying to
make this easier, or harder?"He kissed her, a little more than brotherly. "Shut up."
Natalie herself was a vision, in the deep blue that set off her eyes and
hair. LaCroix had discretely absented himself as they left.The wine and food were exquisite, or so he judged by Natalie's reaction.
She made the old trick of appearing to eat while not eating at all easier by
simply cleaning off Nick's plate. As always, conversation flowed easily
between them. It wasn't until coffee and brandy were served that she leaned
on the table and asked, "OK, Nick; what are you softening me up for?""I wanted to take you to dinner, isn't that enough?"
"Oh, sure. But there's something else, just the same."
"I think it's time we talked about LaCroix."
"Oh, great," she muttered, looking away. "I'm glad I ate first." Her
bravado sounded false, even to her own ears."You are . . . attracted to him-"
"Him! That evil, pompous, domineering-"
"Charming, charismatic, intelligent, handsome man."
"He's not a man."
He shrugged. "As much a one as I am." She was still looking away from him.
"Natalie, what you're feeling is nothing to be ashamed of.""It's not 'what,' exactly. It's that . . ." Why lie? she asked herself.
"Nick, it's so intense, so sudden."His smile was reassuring. "What if I told you that you are not entirely to
blame?""What do you mean?"
"It happens, with thralls. Something in the blood, our blood, I imagine.
One becomes focused upon the vampire from which one has drunk. Fascinated
with him."Concubines, she thought suddenly. Thralls-women-kept as concubines.
Remembering the intensity of her response to LaCroix, she thought: and I bet
each and every one of them went to their death eager to give more. She
shuddered. "Will it get worse?""I don't know. You may have to learn to control it, and for that, I'm
afraid, you must go to LaCroix." He held up his hands at her protests.
"Control is not my strong point, Nat, I think we can agree on that."But the discussion had opened a door to another discussion for her, and she
wasn't about to pass it by. "If it's in the blood, is that why he
fascinates you so? How he's kept you in his thrall all these years?""Nat, don't," he said, his eyes chilling. "We've been through all this. I
love him. I belong with him.""To him, you mean," she taunted.
"Yes." The answer was uncompromising. And there you have it, Lambert, she
told herself despairingly. His hand reached across the table to take hers;
she saw the bracelet LaCroix had given him glinting under his shirt cuff.
"Natalie, nothing will ever be perfect. Not for you, nor me, nor even for
LaCroix. Be happy. Seize happiness where you can, if you cannot have it
where you will.""Good advice?" she asked, as they rose to go. He kissed her temple. "Hard
lessons learned," he told her.|8888888888|=======================>
"Check and mate," said LaCroix, smiling into his son's eyes.
"Best out of three?" Nick suggested.
The other chuckled richly. "I think not. You should learn to tell when
you're bested, mon fils."Nick opened his mouth to retort, then shook his head, laughing. "I'll get
back to you when I come up with a reply to that." They rose, Nicholas
crossing to the sideboard for refreshments, pausing to look over his
sister's shoulder at the book on her lap. LaCroix stepped outside to join
Natalie on the terrace.Neither spoke for a while, then he said, "How are you feeling lately, my
dear?""Better. Thank you." She looked at him and a mischievous smile danced over
her face and into her eyes. "LaCroix? Are we enemies, or friends?"He considered. "Let's not find out too soon, shall we, doctor? It would
just spoil the game, don't you think?" He offered his arm, she took it, and
they went inside.<FIN>