The summons came shortly after sunset, as Rebecca was sipping tea quietly in the kitchen and trying to shake off the lethargy of oversleep. She had been awake for almost two hours, but couldn't seem to get going today -- something about sleeping twelve hours, after the strain and fatigue of the night before. She didn't know whether Vladimir had been exaggerating about how dangerous her chill had been, but he was an EMT, and he had seemed serious... She shivered reflexively and put it out of her mind.
Alice came into the kitchen, her eyes going immediately to Rebecca. "Good, I thought you might be here. Ezra would like to see you in the main study -- she said whenever it's convenient." Her wry look confirmed Rebecca's thought; "convenient", when it came to a meeting with the Regent, meant "as soon as your feet can get you here". Rebecca finished her tea in a gulp and stood, nodding gratefully to Alice when the older ghoul took her mug to the sink.
Walking down the darkly elegant halls, she wondered what Ezra wanted. It would be a formal matter, certainly -- otherwise Ezra would have been in her rooms, or would have sought Rebecca out in person. It might be about last night, though why Vladimir would have brought it to the attention of the Regent, she had no idea. It would have been Vladimir, not Steven; Steven was sure she was all right now, and would have kept the matter quiet to satisfy his intense need for privacy. Was there something Vladimir hadn't told them?
She knocked on the door of the main study, and opened it when Ezra's voice asked her to come in. The room was large but comfortable, furnished in the same impeccable taste as the rest of the chantry, from the patterned throw rugs on the floor to the glint of the crystal lamp depending from the ceiling. Paintings and a few books adorned the walls, and a large tapestry hung from hooks in the ceiling on the far side, lending a richness far beyond paint.
The room was dominated by a large, dark wood desk, its polished surface bare save for some old-fashioned quill pens, an inkpot, and a bankers' lamp, whose green glass shade gave enough light to illuminate most of the room. Ezra sat behind the desk, hands folded, clad in one of her brightly-colored silk kimonos. Her expression was neutral as she gestured for Rebecca to take a seat.
Her soft, deep voice seemed to merge with the grey shadows beyond the lamplight. "Vladimir tells me you took a bad chill last night. Are you all right?"
"Yes... I feel fine, thank you." The formality of the setting seemed to compel politeness, and Rebecca was reminded of the days when she had known Ezra only slightly. These days they often chatted like old friends, the Kindred's taste for "girl talk" making it easy to forget that she was older than the twenty-something years she seemed. That easiness was absent, now, the mantle of the Regent an almost visible attribute on Ezra's shoulders.
"I'm glad to hear it." There was an intentness in her features as she leaned forward, her elbows slipping forward onto the smooth wood. "What happened?"
Rebecca blinked. Was this why she had been called here? "Steven was performing a ritual, and he needed my assistance. It was in the basement; I wasn't wearing much, and I got kind of stiff from the cold. We went back upstairs, and Vladimir caught us on the way up."
Ezra raised an eyebrow. "He seemed to think it was a bit more serious."
Rebecca shrugged, acutely aware that she shouldn't prevaricate with this woman. "I wasn't really aware of much at the time, but I figured that it was mostly fatigue -- the ritual went on for a while. I didn't think it was that bad, but if Vladimir says it was, he's probably right. I'm no EMT."
Sitting back, Ezra sighed. "And Steven was oblivious, as usual." When Rebecca seemed about to respond, she raised a hand and added, "I know -- he just gets so wrapped up in what he's doing that he forgets about everything else. But that's not always a good thing. This is a prime example." She regarded Rebecca with sympathy. "I'm sure Vladimir read you the lecture already, so I won't give it to you now. But do remember that Steven won't necessarily think about the fact that you're a living, feeling person if he's got his nose in something. You'll have to remind him."
Rebecca nodded, frowning slightly at her feet as she wondered whether she would be able to stand up to him. She wasn't so sure -- an odd feeling for an independent, assertive businesswoman. It echoed the line of thought she had been following over her tea earlier.
Ezra looked at her a moment longer, then said, "That's all. You can go."
Rebecca stood up and paused, weighing options quickly and finally giving in to impulse. "Can I ask you about a personal matter?"
"Of course." Frowning slightly, Ezra seemed to give her another look, trying to see anything wrong. "What's on your mind?"
"I've been thinking." She shifted, suddenly reluctant now that she had to explain. "I thought -- maybe you can tell me what's going on, because I don't know much about the blood-bond... and I don't know exactly where this is coming from."
Patience was something that Ezra had in abundance. "Where what is coming from?"
"I... I'm a little confused about how I... react... to Steven. It's come up a few times, and I want to know what's going on. I like to think that I know myself fairly well, and the way I act with him just doesn't seem like me. I thought maybe it was the blood-bond, but I'm not so sure anymore, especially since the description I hear of the bond seems different. I don't know."
The Regent smiled, slightly, then hid her amusement behind a hand. Rebecca flushed, not fooled, but she had no other way to know than to ask. That didn't diminish the embarrassment.
Regaining her composure, Ezra gestured gracefully. "Have a seat." She waited until Rebecca was settled, then asked, "How do you 'react' to him, then?"
She considered a moment, trying to recapture the feelings and put them into words. "I love him -- I did before, really -- and I want him to be happy... More than that, I want him to be pleased with me in particular. I want to serve him... I've heard that's the bond, but it seems to go deeper than that. I do what he says, not because I fear him or want to please him, but because it just... it never occurs to me to refuse. I find myself wishing that he would tell me to do something, give me a command, just so I could do it... I feel like an eager dog or something, waiting for master to throw the stick. It just isn't like me."
Ezra's eyes gleamed softly from beneath her lashes as she listened, her expression speculative. After a few moments, she said, "Can you refuse him?"
"Yes... if I think to. If it even crosses my mind." Rebecca's mouth twisted. "It's difficult."
"I see." Leaning forward on her elbows, Ezra laced her fingers and rested them against her lips. "Do you feel that way with anyone else?"
Rebecca avoided her gaze, feeling it examine her. "No. Just him." Her color deepened.
Ezra paused for a minute, thinking, then asked abruptly, "You want him to command you, but not for any particular thing, simply to feel his control. Am I right?"
Startled, Rebecca looked up. "I guess so... It sounds right."
A slight amusement crept back into Ezra's features. "Do you want him to do anything else?"
Rebecca was speechless for a moment, taken off-guard, then blushed full crimson and averted her face. She heard Ezra's low chuckle. "I see. And he probably indulges you occasionally, too, knowing him. Lucky you."
She said nothing, feeling the heat in her face. She had known for a while that Ezra was aware of Steven's feelings, as well as her own, but it was still sensitive -- especially her addiction to the Kiss, which she had never managed to quite come to terms with. For Ezra not to take advantage of that discomfiture would be unlike her; she played with people's weaknesses like a cat with its prey, and for many of the same reasons. It seemed to be a Tremere trait, but Ezra had it honed to satisfying perfection.
Her color was starting to fade again by the time Ezra spoke. "It was not simply an idle question. You want him to take control. Do you want him to do anything aside from giving you orders verbally? Look you in the eye, maybe, or touch you... restrain you..."
Rebecca had mastered herself somewhat, and started nodding as Ezra finished. "He touches me occasionally, or looks at me, and I just stop. It feels strange, but I want it, I think... I don't know."
After a few moments of silence, she looked up again. Ezra had a knowing, somewhat smug smile, but still said nothing. Rebecca prompted her gently. "What is it?"
The smile broadened. "The answer to your question is: yes and no. Yes, it could be simply the blood-bond, though that seems unlikely unless it is particularly strong. Does he give you vitae often?"
Blinking a bit, Rebecca murmured, "Um. I don't know what you mean by often -- every couple of weeks, usually. Sometimes within a few days, if something happens..."
Ezra waved a hand. "I was thinking every day or two. It could still be the bond, then -- but not completely. It would also be something else."
Rebecca waited, but Ezra only stood and stretched. Losing patience, Rebecca finally demanded, "What? What else?"
The secretive smile remained. "I have a theory, but I need to test it. Do you trust me?"
Mental alarms started going off; red flags surfaced. Warily, Rebecca responded, "Last time you asked me that you scared the bejesus out of me."
Ezra came out from behind the desk. "I won't try to scare you this time, I promise. Do you trust me?"
In for a penny.... Rebecca nodded, cautiously. "Yes."
Ezra returned her nod, and glided past her. Nervous, Rebecca fought the urge to watch where she went, nobly forcing herself to look forward. Trust...
A touch at the back of her neck made her jump. Warm fingers slid along the join between neck and shoulder, a thumb on the other side. They started to knead the muscles, and almost in spite of herself, Rebecca began to relax. She hadn't had a backrub in a long time, and Ezra was skilled, even with one hand. The sleepy bliss of massage precluded questions, banished thought.
The fingers worked up her neck, to the base of the skull, then laced themselves into her hair, working out the knotted muscles around her spine. She hummed a little under her breath and leaned forward, closing her eyes.
Abruptly, the fingers laced in her hair gripped it, firmly and skillfully, and pulled her head back. Startled, Rebecca's breath caught, and she tried to pull away; the grip tightened and pulled further, forcing her to arch her back. Confused and frightened, she began to pant, staring blindly at the ceiling as she felt Ezra bend down next to her. "Submit," Ezra whispered in her ear, "surrender yourself to me."
Panic reared briefly, and Rebecca struggled, trying to straighten her back and get out of the uncomfortable position. Ezra held her firmly in place, and said with soft authority, "Stop."
She did, forcing herself to calm down. Her breath came short, restricted by fear and the curve of her neck.
The voice whispered again, "Give in. Give yourself to me. Now." The force of her will pressed down, the familiarity of the sensation eroding Rebecca's resistance, leading her to relent almost automatically. Fear caught her, and she hung on desperately to her control, trembling with the effort.
Ezra's voice was firmer this time. "Yes. Submit. Stop fighting, Rebecca."
There was another soft tug, and Rebecca's will crumbled. Fear released her, and she relaxed, lying bonelessly in the Kindred's grasp, feeling the helplessness tingle along her nerves and clear away all thought. She waited, breathing quickly, anticipation and a kind of desire filling her, but leaving her passive, pliant.
Ezra chuckled and leaned down to her ear again. "Exhilarating, isn't it? I could do anything I wanted to you, and you wouldn't resist at all. Would you?" When Rebecca didn't respond, she added, in caressing tones, "You like this, don't you?"
Rebecca nodded slightly, and felt Ezra's amused smile. "So. I was right." Fingers, soft as feathers, traced the line of her throat, along the collarbone, up behind the ear. "You, my dear, are a first-class submissive. You are attracted to people with dominant personalities, and they can take control of you, especially if you surrender to them first. Not surprising Steven is one of those people, as am I; Kindred are dominant almost by definition." She stroked the soft skin of Rebecca's throat. "To submit is your nature. You shouldn't fight it -- relax. Enjoy it."
She caressed Rebecca's cheek, Rebecca trying to think within the lethargic blankness of obedience, trying to understand. Ezra's grip had gentled, and she offered no resistance as her head was tipped to the side, Ezra's fingers tracing patterns on her neck. A wisp of breath touched the skin under her ear, and she inhaled sharply, trembling with anticipation. Ezra's fingers stopped, and after a moment's pause, Rebecca felt another breath on her neck, closer, warmer. She shivered and made a small involuntary sound, trying to breathe.
"Ah." There was a wealth of satisfaction and wonder in the word. "That's right -- you crave the Kiss, don't you..." Ezra's hand settled under Rebecca's chin, and the sensation of the Kindred's lips nuzzling her neck made Rebecca whimper. "He still gives it to you, too. Is this the side he uses?" Lightning-swift, Ezra tipped Rebecca's head the other way, and whispered, "or is it this side?"
Desire heated her blood, as Ezra returned to the left side of her neck and drew back a little. Rebecca could hear the amused smile in Ezra's voice as she said, "You want it. You want it very badly, and you know I can give it to you." Leaning forward, she whispered in Rebecca's ear, "Should I?"
Rebecca fought to draw breath, her blood thundering in her ears. Her body screamed at her for the ecstasy, the passion of Kindred teeth, but something stopped her. Struggling for control, she breathed, "No."
Ezra paused, and said mildly, "No? Why not?"
"I -- it..." Rebecca shook, pulling her thoughts out of chaos. "It wouldn't feel right. Not... not from you. I... no." She subsided, her cheeks flushing with shame at her need.
"I see." Ezra straightened, and there was a long pause. Finally she withdrew, with a lingering caress. "So Steven gets to take you. I envy him." Dimly, Rebecca sensed Ezra settling into the seat behind the desk again, and closed her eyes, sorting out the storm of emotions. The Regent gave her time, saying nothing as she brought herself under control.
When Rebecca's breathing had slowed and she had unknotted somewhat, Ezra spoke gently. "Feeling better? Good. Here, give me your hand."
Tentatively, Rebecca looked up and slid her hand across the desk. She flinched a tiny bit as Ezra took it, but the Kindred only opened it up, revealing the crescent-shaped marks of fingernails bitten deeply into the palm. Ezra examined it with a small frown of concern, then began to massage it gently with her thumbs, loosening the tendons. "You shouldn't fight yourself so much," Ezra said softly. "You'll hurt yourself."
Still uncertain of the situation, Rebecca said nothing, unnerved more than she would like to admit by Ezra's actions. Kindred were asexual, but Ezra herself was always sensual, and the sheer intimacy she had displayed -- now as well as earlier -- made Rebecca extremely uncomfortable. She was accustomed to cool, polite relations with Kindred, perhaps warming to friendship, but not semi-sexual advances or sensual massage. She was forced to admit that a good part of her confusion stemmed from the issue of gender, though a larger part had to do with Ezra's nature. It was still an uncomfortable thought for one who liked to consider herself fair and open-minded.
Ezra placed Rebecca's hand back on the desk and gestured for the other one. Rebecca complied, but stayed alert, wary this time. She needn't have bothered; Ezra demurely worked on the taut muscles, then gave the hand back, and looked at Rebecca across the desk. Her expression was neutral, showing no more than polite interest, but Rebecca returned the look cautiously, trying to predict what would happen next.
The Regent sighed. "So, I believe that was all?" At Rebecca's nod, she stood up. "Good. Let me see you out."
Standing, Rebecca wondered for an instant why she wasn't simply being dismissed, then dropped it as Ezra came around the desk and moved to the door. Rebecca joined her, but Ezra didn't open it, looking at Rebecca with a hooded gaze and taking her hand again. "Well," she purred, "do let me know if you change your mind." With a slow smile, Ezra raised the hand to her lips and kissed the palm lightly. Rebecca shivered, half with desire.
Ezra paused, still holding Rebecca's eyes, then, with an almost imperceptible movement, bit her at the base of her thumb. An unexpected wave of ecstasy almost made Rebecca lose her footing; she whimpered as it soothed away the sharp ache of need, then moaned as it filled her. She put what little concentration she had into trying to keep her knees from folding. She couldn't even tell whether she succeeded.
The Kiss was brief. Rebecca came to herself again, leaning against the wall, her breath sobbing in her lungs. Her nerves tingled, and Ezra still had her hand, though she had lowered it and was rubbing it lightly. The Kindred's voice was salacious. "Apparently I heard right. You are a moaner."
She looked on with satisfied amusement as Rebecca blushed, then said, "Rebecca."
Rebecca looked up, finding Ezra sober again, her expression concerned. Her voice was very gentle. "Don't be ashamed of your nature. Accept it. Enjoy it." Letting go of the hand she held, she stroked Rebecca's cheek, almost tenderly. "You can bring a lot of pleasure to yourself and others by allowing yourself to let go once in a while. Believe me."
Not knowing what to think anymore, Rebecca just dropped her eyes. Ezra moved to the side and opened the door, and Rebecca stumbled out, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be alone to sort out her thoughts. She paid no attention to the door once she was through it, and headed directly up the stairs, thinking of nothing but getting to her room and away from her confusion.
She reached sanctuary and folded herself up on the bed, her mind a jumbled morass of emotions and reactions. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on breathing, the words of one of her old teachers coming back to guide her. "Basics first -- the most basic need is air. Breathe well, and many things will follow with little effort."
Bless old Sei-Chang; the Chinese herbalist, while not providing a full education in Eastern Medicine, had added depth to her learning, in more than just herbs. Her breaths calmed and deepened, and her head began to clear.
She had managed to get beyond her confusion and start work on organizing her thoughts when she heard a perfunctory knock on her door, then the almost noiseless creak as it opened. She opened her eyes as Steven strode in, his normally cool manner shot through with some small tension. After pausing to shut the door, he walked over to where she was curled up, his brows drawn together in a tiny frown -- whether of concern or preoccupation, she couldn't tell.
His voice showed the same slight strain. "What did she want?"
"Ezra?" She saw him nod, and tried to gather a reply. "She... asked me what happened, and I told her we had been doing a ritual, and I got cold. She told me to be more careful, and to... remind you if I need something, since you may not think about it if you're busy." She watched his expression, but it didn't change. Apparently he didn't consider the last part to be an insult of his ability to take care of her; she had been afraid he might take it wrong.
He studied her for a few seconds, almost absently, thinking. "I see." His eyes hooded as he considered, then his frown deepened. "You were there for a while; was that all?"
Rebecca's mind raced -- what to say? "Everything she wanted me for," she replied, hoping he wouldn't press her. She had no desire to talk about the rest.
His head cocked, curious. "What else was there?"
"Just a question I wanted to ask her. Nothing much." She tried to keep her tone casual.
"What about?"
Don't ask, Steven... "A personal matter. Nothing important."
His eyebrow cocked, and he seemed nonplussed. She nearly held her breath -- he seemed willing to leave it at that. Almost as an afterthought, he asked, "Did it have anything to do with me?"
She hesitated for a split second, caught. "Not really," she hedged, and felt his gaze sharpen. His tone was less casual this time. "What was it?"
She closed her eyes again, keeping her calm, then looked at his shirt where he stood before her. "I wanted to know more about the blood bond."
He was silent, and she hoped he would let it be. She hadn't had a chance to sort out events in her own head, let alone come to terms with them enough that she would feel comfortable telling him what had happened. She didn't worry that he might be angry -- she hadn't done anything wrong -- but he might not be very understanding. He might even laugh, and she hated feeling the fool.
When he spoke, it was in a voice much more like she was used to. "She told you what you wanted to know?" Rebecca nodded, and he added, "Then she dismissed you."
Dropping her eyes, she nodded again. It was simpler to leave it at that, really; he didn't need to know the rest.
His hand came in under her chin and raised her head, his touch lacking its usual tenderness. Startled by the rough handling, she looked directly at him; his eyes were hard. "Is there anything you're not telling me?"
She started to shake her head, tell him "No", but the word died on her lips. She was suddenly frightened, shaken by a deep conviction that he would know if she didn't tell him the truth. Frozen, she saw his eyes narrow, and his hand tightened on her jaw. "What happened?"
Unable to look away, she stammered until he lost patience and cut her off. His gaze penetrating, intent, he said harshly, "Tell me."
Words spilled out, and she found herself unable to stop them; the question she had asked Ezra, Ezra's "test", the offer, Rebecca's refusal. She managed to keep from blurting out the exchange at the door, or even Ezra's massage of her hands, but Steven absorbed every word up to that point with a face like stone. She stopped, trembling with stress and effort, and his eyes became thoughtful, remote. "She stopped when you refused her."
"Yes." Her voice was a whisper.
"Did she do anything else?" His voice was impersonal, and she shivered, feeling very alone; she was grateful that he had dropped his grip on her jaw, which had gotten very unfriendly. Very slightly, she nodded, and he asked coolly, "What?"
"She -- asked for my hand and... massaged it. Both of them. She said that I shouldn't fight myself so much."
"Then?" He kept his composure, pulling it out of her piece by piece. Rebecca trembled again. "She got up and went to the door. I... followed her... and she took my hand and kissed it. She told me to -- to let her know if I changed my mind." She felt her face color again with the memory, but Steven didn't appear to notice.
"And?"
She began to sweat. "Then... she opened the door, and I left."
He absorbed this, and his eyes narrowed again; she had no chance to react before he moved, his hand like a striking snake, and seized her by the throat. Shock paralyzed her as his face came within inches of hers, and he said, with terrifying quiet, "Don't lie to me."
She held completely still, barely breathing, though his grip was not tight -- her only thought the small voice that said, Don't hurt me.
After a few long seconds he drew back and released her. She dropped her eyes and shivered, thoroughly shaken by his ruthlessness. His voice was calm as he continued, "What happened after she told you that?"
Rebecca closed her eyes, unable to fight any more. Her head bowed, she murmured, "She looked at me, and... bit my hand. I..."
Steven's voice was sharp. "She bit you."
"Yes -- I couldn't stop her, she just... I couldn't do anything." She stopped herself and drew breath, trying to fight the urge to justify her helplessness. He said simply, "Go on."
"She stopped, and... she made a comment, then... told me that I shouldn't be ashamed. That I should relax. Then she let me go."
He prompted, "You left?"
She said quietly, "Yes."
There was a long silence. She looked up; he had turned away slightly, and wore a dark, brooding expression. Still frightened by his quick violence, she didn't move, hoping he wouldn't strike at her.
He turned back and caught her watching him warily; he blinked, and lost some of his remoteness. Almost gently, he said, "Stay here." Then he turned and left, his step quick and decisive.
Lost and shaken, Rebecca slumped, then curled up again on the coverlet. He had gone to speak with Ezra, no doubt, though she had no idea what he had to say to her. He couldn't want to simply verify what she had said -- he caught her when she tried to lie, with the utter certainty that had to be backed by Aura Perception. He knew she had told the truth, so he must want to talk it over with Ezra. She shivered; he would probably not be easy to deal with, from his expression. She hoped Ezra would go gently with him.
Ezra sat at her desk, hands folded, waiting. At a rap on her door, she smiled slightly, and called out, "Come in."
Steven entered, his manner stiff and formal -- suppressed rage, no doubt. He approached her desk and said, "May I speak with you?"
"Of course." She, in turn, was formally polite.
He spoke carefully. "May I speak with you on a personal basis?"
Her eyebrow rose, and she leaned back, her amusement hidden with expert care. "As you like. What's on your mind?"
"I think you know what's on my mind." Steven regarded her levelly. "Rebecca refused your offer of the Kiss -- and you went right ahead and did it anyway."
"Is she all right?" Ezra's voice was solicitous.
"She is... upset." His voice held a wealth of meaning -- including the fact that Rebecca's upset was not the cause of his indignation. That in itself was to be expected, knowing Steven; Ezra was not in the least surprised. He leaned forward, resting his fists on the table, as his anger began to show. "You had no right."
"Don't you want to know why I did it?" Her humor emerged, ever so slightly, to match his anger.
It did not improve his mood. "I'm sure you would delight in telling me."
She leaned forward, looking up at his dour expression. "I did it to demonstrate a point, Steven. To help her understand what I was trying to tell her. It did her no harm, and it should do her some good."
"Not to mention giving you a chance to toy with her." His voice was acid. "I know how much you love that."
"She wanted it -- needed it, and I had offered to fill that need." She sat back, spreading her hands. "I have never been one to go back on a promise, however implicit."
"She said no." His voice was flat.
"But her need said otherwise." She was intent. "Have you so repudiated your human heritage as to forget that sometimes, what the mind says is not what the body -- or the soul -- craves? Can you no longer tell when her desire needs to be satisfied? I couldn't let her go without filling that need, at least a little bit."
He waxed sardonic. "Whether she wants it or not."
"But she did want it. I simply gave it to her -- a small part." She allowed her tone to shift, becoming more gentle. "What she really wanted was to get it from you. She still does."
He was silent a moment, apparently taken off guard. When he spoke, he sounded somewhat mollified, though he tried to maintain the appearance of righteous indignation. "She said no. You should have respected that."
"Perhaps." She half-shrugged. "But do keep in mind that I was acting in her best interests, Steven. I didn't do it to hurt her -- quite the contrary. And I think you may appreciate that in time." She paused, and looked at him. "I do believe that finishes our discussion, does it not?"
He rallied. "As long as you decide not to seduce any more of my ghouls against their wills."
"Very well." As he was turning to leave, she said, very softly, "She's waiting for you, you know."
He regarded her coldly. "At least she knows who she belongs to -- something you might try to remember in future."
Ezra let him have the last word, and watched him walk out of the room, then sighed. Difficult, he was, unwilling to admit that she might not be playing tricks, might be looking beyond her own interests. He would see the results soon enough, if she had played things right -- if he didn't, she had miscalculated somewhere. And even if he would never let himself admit that she had been right, that she had helped him, he might come to see that her interests paralleled his.
Meanwhile, they played a dance, and she was never one to forego such an entertainment. She smiled slightly. There was time enough for understanding later; for now, let him believe that she was the enemy. It was what he wanted, after all.
She can't think I'm that stupid. Steven went over the interview in his mind, and snorted again, mounting the first few steps of the main staircase. He didn't buy her excuses for an instant; she had known what she was doing, and known the exact ramifications as well. She herself was anything but stupid.
Nothing more to do about it now; he had made his arguments, she had remained unrepentant, and it hadn't changed a thing. Damn her for treating them all like her playthings. Steven shook his head to himself, reflecting that while Ezra had her good points, she wasn't very easy to live with.
He arrived on the third floor irritated and cynical, but no longer angry. For Ezra to mess with people was to be expected -- he could hardly justify being surprised. The knack was in anticipating the next move in her games, which would probably take involving himself in them at some level. He wasn't sure that would be worth any advantage it gained him; he felt no pressing desire to try.
He came to his own door, paused, and walked on. As Ezra had said, Rebecca was waiting for him, and he wanted to make sure she was all right before he returned to his own pursuits.
She was where he had left her, curled up with her chin on her knees; she looked up as he entered, then unfolded and sat on the edge of the bed. She said nothing, and he spent a minute studying her.
Expression neutral but expectant, nothing glaringly obvious; her posture betrayed uncertainty and subservience, but no fear. She wasn't afraid of him, but there was something there, some wary nervousness that he couldn't place. He walked toward her, watching as her expression lost its earnest edge, became tense. Frowning, he placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "Are you all right?"
She was breathing rather deeply, fairly vibrating with tension. "Yes," she said quietly.
Was it him? Hoping to soothe her, he stroked her face and hair. She didn't move, either toward or away from him, her body trembling ever so slightly. As his hand came down behind her ear to cup her jawbone, she finally came out of her paralysis, leaning into his touch as she usually did when he petted her. She moved with his caress, then sought his hand, rubbing against it gently, then more insistently, growing stronger and almost wild under his touch, until she nearly flung herself away, hiding her face in her hair. Her hunched shoulders shook with tremors.
He had seen her like this before, if he could just place when... "Rebecca."
Her head drew back and she drew a deep breath, like a drowner gasping for air. "I'm sorry." Still shaking, she made a visible effort at self-control, her hands clenched in her lap.
Steven blinked. "What is it?" Almost without realizing, he reached out to touch her shoulder.
At the brush of his fingers, she stood abruptly, coming to rest a few feet away; her back was to him, but he could see her hugging herself tightly. Her voice was choked. "It's nothing. I'll be fine."
He was silent a moment, suddenly struck with rage. Ezra had hurt her in some way -- he would have her head for it... He got a hold of himself then, and quelled the fury, thinking. Some time ago, they had been talking, and Rebecca had pushed him away... In this room, after court...
Yes. When she had been thinking over her options, before she agreed to becoming a ghoul -- she had dropped deep into thought, and he had put his arms around her. She relaxed, had even burrowed into his arms, then flung him away, trembling. She had mentioned that she loved him --
He stopped, then looked at her behavior, trying to keep calm. The tension, her seeking for his touch, her rejection of it.. so similar. What was it?
Deeply concerned now, he got up to stand near her. "Tell me what's wrong."
"No. It's my problem, Steven, I won't burden you with it."
He paced around to face her, tried to see her expression, failed. Deliberately, he brought fingers up under her chin, raised her face to the light. Her breath was ragged, her jaw clenched. He spoke her name again, and finally her eyes came up from his shirt, to meet his gaze. He read pain there, and shame, and a fierce anger; he realized after a moment that the last was directed at herself.
"Your problems are my concern," he replied, the gentleness of his tone softening his businesslike words. "As your domitor, I am responsible for your well-being. Tell me."
She shook. "I can't--" She closed her eyes; when she spoke again, her voice was steadier. "I don't want your help."
Rebuffed, he drew back a little, his tone colder. "I was not offering help, I was requesting that you tell me what your problem is. Which you will do, whether you want to or not." He caught himself, then went on more gently. "Tell me. Please."
Rebecca seemed to fold inward, hunching over and backing away a step. After a minute, she whispered brokenly, "I'm sorry... I thought I could fight it, deny it... I thought -- I didn't want to bother you with it, and I didn't want to admit..." She stopped, catching her breath.
"Admit what?" He was ready for just about anything.
"I -- when Ezra offered, I refused, and I thought I was all right, but then she bit me and I can't ignore the need anymore... I..." She sobbed once.
All at once he understood. "You need the Kiss."
She looked at him, her eyes almost frightened; his expression apparently didn't hold what she was looking for, as she sobbed again and fell to her knees before him. Startled, he stared at her a moment as she prostrated herself like a slave, saying ragged apologies to the floor between his feet.
Shaking off his paralysis, he knelt and brought her to her knees again, hands under her elbows, fighting her tendency to curl up on the ground. What she was saying was audible, now, as she sobbed, "--didn't want to ask, impose on you, and I thought I could deal with it... I'm sorry."
"Why didn't you ask me?" He was simply surprised; he had honestly thought she would come to him if she needed it.
"I don't want to be a bother... You're busy most of the time, and I don't want to take your time just to deal with my weakness." The last words were full of self-revulsion.
He tipped her head up. "To need something isn't a weakness."
She tried to hide her face; he didn't let her. "Addiction is -- psychological addiction is a weakness of will. I've tried so hard to break it, but I can't fight anymore... I'm sorry."
"Look at me." She met his eyes after a moment, and he searched for words. "It's all right to ask me. You need it, and I don't consider it a 'bother'. Let me decide how to spend my time."
She looked away and muttered, "It's my problem."
"People with strong wills have become addicted to the Kiss; it's not your weakness." Rebecca said nothing, and he sighed, looking for an argument. "Kindred encourage addiction in herds, and it's not difficult -- a lot of people do become addicted. It gives them a rush better than drugs, better than sex, and it's hard to give that up. It's best just to accept it."
She shivered. "The need -- it's frightening."
Very gently, he put his hand on her cheek, raising her chin with his thumb. "Give in to it. Enjoy it. The point of the Kiss is to give pleasure; it's nothing to be ashamed of." He caressed her and her breath quickened. "I am responsible for your welfare, and this is necessary for your happiness and peace of mind. If you need it, I will give it to you."
Steven paused and looked at her. Her eyes sought his, and he could see desire burning in them, veiled in stunned disbelief. After a moment he rocked back on his haunches and stood, offering her a hand, then helped her up.
He led her to the bed, and she sat, curling her feet under her and looking up, her expression a little lost. He sat down next to her and continued his caresses, watching her respond with growing ardor. She pulled away, shaking, and he slid his hand along her shoulders, then gripped the back of her neck and squeezed slightly. Very softly, almost casually, he said, "Stop fighting. Give in to it."
She shook her head as best she could. "I can't--"
He tightened his hold, and she whimpered, though his grip was painless. "Let go."
With a soft sigh, she went limp in his hand, and he released her carefully. His fingers on her jawline, gathering her hair, provoked a shiver and an almost inaudible moan. He smiled slightly.
He unbuttoned her shirt, and as he finished, he felt her reach for him, drawing him with her as she lay down. She threw her head back, exposing the smooth white skin of her throat, and her back arched slightly. The barest touch of fingers guided her head to the side, and she moaned slightly as he tensed, hunger and desire washing over him as he extended his fangs. He felt her blood-heat under his fingers.
She gasped as he struck, stiffening in shock and pain, then moaned a little as the pleasure hit. He repositioned himself, coming to rest on top of her, nuzzling at the blood on her neck.
Her hand crept up to rest on the nape of his neck, and she writhed slightly under him; her soft moans added to his own pleasure as he drank. After a minute or so, he felt her gasp, then shudder, as her body responded to the ecstasy in the only way it knew. He smiled again and continued, the warm drops sliding down his throat, sweet on his tongue.
Orgasm shook her twice, then again; the last time, her back arched against his weight, and she whimpered again, then went completely boneless. He could feel her breathing under him, but she made no sound, and didn't stir. With only a small pause, he closed the wound on her neck and raised himself up on one hand, taking his weight off of her chest. She was unconscious, unresponsive. He sighed.
After a few seconds of stroking her cheek, she moved slightly, then took a deep breath. Even though this time he had known what had happened, seeing her revive was a relief. "Rebecca."
She muttered and rolled her head to the other side. Her eyes flickered, then opened, and she murmured, "Steven?"
He brushed the back of his hand along her cheek. "Are you all right?"
"Mm. Yes, I think so." She looked up at him, still a bit dazed, then blinked a few times. A blush stained her skin. "I fainted, didn't I?"
"Yes. How do you feel?"
She looked away, and chuckled once, dryly. "Embarrassed." She took a deep breath, and amended, "I feel fine -- good, even."
Steven relaxed the rest of the way, looking her over just the same. She was still blushing, and he allowed himself an inward smile at her folly. He shifted slightly, and her response was subtle but immediate.
He traced along her throat, from her ear to her collarbone, and she lifted her chin, breathing deeply. He raised an eyebrow, feeling the heat of her desire. "Do you want more?"
She looked at him, startled. After a moment, she asked, stammering slightly, "Can you take more?"
He thought quickly. "A little. Do you want me to?" It was a rhetorical question; he knew the answer before she half-whispered, "Please."
He needed no encouragement; the lust still ran high in him, and he let himself down on his elbow. He hoped he could satisfy her enough that she could relax tonight -- she had needed it very badly, but he didn't want to risk taking too much, especially after Ezra's poaching. He toyed with options, then set the matter aside, to be dealt with if it came up.
The skin in the hollow of her shoulder was so pale as to be almost translucent, showing the blood vessels in tracks of green and blue. He bit almost tenderly, taking as little as possible, letting her lose herself in pleasure.
He was almost done when orgasm shook her once more, and he licked the wound closed as she relaxed. Her expression was satiated, dreaming, and he allowed himself a small amount of satisfaction at his skill.
Rebecca looked up at him and smiled contentedly. Her hand crept up and touched his face, the curve of his mustache. "You enjoy it."
His tiny smile broadened. "Oh, yes."
"I forgot... Maybe I won't feel so bad about asking." She smiled wryly.
He stroked her hair. "Ask. I don't mind."
She sighed deeply, nuzzling against his hand. He shifted again, leaning on the point of his elbow, and bit into his own left wrist, ignoring the stab of pain. Carefully, he angled it so that the elbow was next to her head with his wrist crooked over her, his right arm still free. Turning a little, she placed her mouth on the wound and began to suckle.
His body tingled as she drank from him, and he stroked her hair absently with his free hand. This wasn't as potent as the Kiss, but it did feel very good, and he savored it. Rebecca had, apparently, learned to slow down; she no longer gulped down vitae like she was starving, but drank, slowly, steadily. That could be due to either a loss of revulsion -- many people disliked drinking blood -- or an ability to think beyond the rush the vitae inspired. Drinking Kindred blood was much like a hit of some of the best drugs on the market.
He was just calculating how much she should take when, to his astonishment, she slowed, then stopped drinking. She licked it once or twice, then looked up at him. "Should I stop?"
Nonplussed, he raised his eyebrows. "What do you think?"
"I..." She frowned. "It just seemed like about as much as you usually give. I can't tell exactly... It's hard to think when it's happening."
He considered. "A couple of mouthfuls should do it -- unless you feel like you shouldn't."
She shook her head. "I feel normal." She looked at him again, then turned to his wrist. He was still trying to get over his surprise when he said, "Enough."
One last drop, and she stopped. He licked the skin whole again and decided that she must have learned to concentrate beyond the drug-effect. From her breathing and her tension, she still felt the high, though, and would probably gladly take more if she determined she could. He felt a small bloom of unexpected pride; she was no longer completely ignorant of how to be a ghoul. She had learned self-control.
It felt rather like training a pet. He stifled the thought.
He looked at her for a long moment, her face inches away. Her hand touched his face again, rested against his cheek; her voice was very quiet. "Thank you."
Slowly, he levered himself up, to stand next to the bed. She sat up and set to work buttoning her shirt, then tucking it into the waistband of her jeans. Her vest today was short and black, with no buttons at all. When she finished straightening her clothing, she levered her legs over and down, to sit on the edge.
Steven caught her eye. "How do you feel?"
She took a deep breath, then smiled. "Hungry. I skipped breakfast."
He raised an eyebrow. "Well, you've had plenty to drink."
She looked at him, startled, then giggled. He kept a carefully straight face, hiding his feelings; she was his, truly his, damn Ezra. It was he she had begged to fill her need, he whose vitae flowed in her veins, he who was training her to be a ghoul. He subdued the hot anger the thought stirred, and extended a hand to help Rebecca up.
Standing, she was still shorter than he was, especially barefoot. It made it easy to bury a hand in her hair at the nape of her neck, not quite pulling it into a hold, stroking idle fingers along the base of the skull. She relaxed, closing her eyes, abandoning herself to him without a second thought. It satisfied his need to possess, and he drew his hand out of her hair, stroking the top of her head until she opened her eyes again.
He dropped his hand and turned aside, inviting her silently to precede him out of the room. He would see her to the kitchen, then go to his room to finish the last of his reading. The night was young yet.