I hadn't been here in months. I know that would probably come as a surprise considering the previous nature of the relationship I had with the owner of the house. All right, house is an understatement, a derogatory term, if that, when it comes to this description. Anyway, all that matters right now is that I'm walking up the front steps and having the door held open for me by a waiting ghoul who shows no surprise at seeing me. Maybe it's because I was so familiar here before that seeing me will never be strange.

Or maybe he just doesn't care either way.

I'll go with the latter.

It's quiet downstairs, and as I slide out of my coat I find I'm listening with finely tuned senses for any other sounds. Of course I don't hear a thing, so why am I surprised? What did I expect, after all? But even as I ask myself that ridiculous question I already have the answer. I expected strewn clothing trailing up the staircase and littering the railings, coming to a halt at a hastily slammed pair of mahogany doors, punctuated by muffled sounds that could not be mistaken for anything but what they are.

But, I chided myself, just because they aren't here doesn't mean they aren't somewhere else. Her place, I thought, yes, that must be it.

Of course.

These thoughts kept me company as I went up the stairs, down the familiar hallways, and came to a sudden halt outside a pair of doors. Yes, those same damned doors. Mahogany, and closed. For a long moment I listened for any sound of movement, listened with the finely tuned senses I'd been given, until I realized there was none. No one was in that room.

No one at all ..

I must be a masochist. Either a masochist or completely insane. Only a masochist would open the doors to the bedroom of their former lover, and only a complete lunatic would actually walk into that room.

Correction. I was both.

The room was surprisingly just as I remembered it. No, I shouldn't be surprised by that, because he never wanted to take the time to change anything around. He had always liked things just the way they were, because that was the way he had planned for them to be. But that didn't mean he wasn't spontaneous. No, he had his spontaneous side, and plenty of spontaneous moments. Like at the Haven ..

Bad idea.

I slapped myself mentally from that train of thought and focused on what I could see. Everything was in its perfect place, as though it had been sculpted and molded there, and as I trailed slowly around the perimeter of the room I found for the first time I was afraid to touch anything. Not so much afraid, but wary. And even wary was an understatement. I didn't think he'd notice I'd been in here at all, so perhaps there was another reason. Another reason I wasn't admitting even to myself.

Because she's been in here.

Yes.

That was exactly the reason. I thought that if I dared to touch anything I'd know she'd touched it as well. That she'd been here after I had left - how soon after? - that she had touched something - anything? everything? - in here, and ..

Looking back, I don't know how it happened or why I did it. I'll hold the masochistic lunatic within me accountable for everything that happened, because otherwise I'd have to try and come up with a plausible explanation as to why I had jerked the doors to the wardrobe open and was now scrutinizing the contents. What was I looking for anyway? Love letters? Hotel receipts? I felt like a wife who knew her spouse was having an affair and only needed the proof to confront it.

But you were never a wife to him, the nasty little voice in my head chided. You were never anything to him at all, were you? That voice really needed to learn when to be quiet. I didn't want to listen to it, but it wouldn't stop talking.

Never .. anything .. at ..

Oh, be quiet!

I slammed the wardrobe closed with that thought, pressing a hand to my forehead as though I were trying to keep my mind together. It wasn't doing much good. When I opened my eyes I was still in the same place, and my thoughts were still spiraling down the same track.

I was really starting to hate this.

But there was one more thing I had to do. One more place I had to look, to check. And until I did it, I'd never be able to stop thinking about it.

The bed was perfectly made as always, with the covers smooth and the pillows poised delicately. How many nights, how many times, had I seen it otherwise? How many nights had we climbed those same stairs together, hand in hand or arm in arm - or lips against lips, at that - and made our way to this very room, to fall together into this same bed? Sometimes it had been quick, punctuated by frantic kisses and rough touches ..

The doors slammed closed with the pressure of my back against them, and my legs locked around his waist as he lifted me higher, forcing me up against the wall further. His lips were in my neck, burying there, which kept mine from being able to reach his, but I compensated for this by quickly unfastening the buttons of his shirt. His jacket and tie had been lost somewhere between the front door and now, as had my heels. I felt the chill of the wall press against my bare back - he had made short work of my dress, which was now on the floor as well - but his hands remedied that quickly, smoothing in harsh, quick touches that weren't meant to be soothing. I didn't care.

My hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders and down as I raked my nails along the muscles of his back. He growled in response against my neck and I felt the twin brush of teeth - not quite enough to break the flesh, but enough to get a reaction - and I hissed a pleased reply.

And then we were moving again, moving at his direction as he half carried, half threw me onto the bed. I landed lightly against the covers, my head on the pillows - he was always careful of that - and he landed nearly atop me, catching himself on his forearms as he hovered above me.

For a moment I saw him, saw the dark, burning want - need - in his eyes, saw all the masculine perfection that he was, and that moment was all I needed for clarification. Reaching up I threaded my fingers through his hair and drew his lips to mine for a kiss. His arms slid beneath me, his chest pressed against mine, and I shivered once with anticipation. I felt him growl again in response to this, a low, dark sound in his throat, and then his lips were at my neck again, this time skimming back to allow his teeth to sink into my neck, and all at once both he and his teeth were inside of me and I was lost in sensation - in heat and incoherent thoughts and pure sensation ..

Really bad idea. Really .. not a good idea.

My tongue was against my teeth now, a familiar sensation washing itself through my body, and I curled my hands into fists, letting the fingernails bite roughly into my palms. That feeling helped me to draw from my train of thought and back to the present moment.

There, you see? I told myself. You can do this, it isn't so bad. Just .. look.

So I looked.

I let my eyes slide down to the bed, smoothing over it with my gaze, a smile curving one corner of my lips at the sight of the pillows side by side. How many times had one gone unused at night? I'd preferred him, letting my head rest against his chest and myself in his arms, especially after a different encounter ..

My eyes fell to a close and my body followed suit, gently lowering to rest against his. Strong arms wrapped around me immediately, cradling me against a muscular chest, and without opening my eyes I let my head rest against his shoulder, breathing an unnecessary sigh of contentment. His fingertips trailed little patterns along my back and the outline of my spine and I curled against him further, relaxing into the touch.

Tonight had been different, I thought, very different than before. When I had come back he was nowhere in sight, and the scent had been what drew me upstairs. The faint scent of rose petals lingered up the stairs and through the hallway, leading me through the doors and into the bedroom now awash with the gentle glow of candles. A bottle of wine stood on a glass tray, two wine glasses beside it, and my nightgown was already laid on the bed, perfectly smoothed.

He was nowhere in sight, I thought dimly as I set down my purse and coat, and then arms encircled my waist from behind, drawing me back against a strong chest. Kisses nuzzled into the back of my neck, and for once I yielded completely, surrendering any trace of control I might have possessed. Normally I would fight him a bit, just enough to pique his interest, but tonight was different, and we both knew it. Something tonight was different, and that single thought had echoed through my mind as we kissed and he kissed me, showering my flesh in worshiping, praising kisses and making love to me in a way that made my senses reel.

I thought back on all of this as I rested against him and could not suppress the smile that curved my lips. He lifted his head then, and I let my eyes meet his, reading the same expression from him.

"That slight smile on your face," he murmured, and I allowed the smile to blossom into a full one, leaning up to silence him with a kiss. I didn't want to talk, not now, and wasn't surprised to find that neither did he ..

Oh, damn it, stop already!

I was out of my mind, I thought, as I lowered myself to sit on the edge of the bed. Completely and utterly out of my mind. My vision was blurring and something inside me felt as though it were twisting itself into knots, but I had come this far and could not stop now. My fingers smoothed along the cover as I lowered myself down, letting my eyes close as though in preparation for what I would find. I could smell the scent of anyone - kindred or kine - and I would know if .. if she ..

Oh.

Not her, but him. His scent, as clearly as if he had just been in the bed. He hadn't, of course - that would have been impossible, right? - but his scent all the same, and for a long, aching moment I clenched my eyes closed and did nothing but revel in it. He smelled of strength - of strength and power and a distinct cologne he only wore lightly that complemented his natural scent so well. Another wave of memories surged over me and I felt the burning sensation rise up behind my closed eyelids.

No! Do not cry! I screamed inwardly to myself as I drew up again. What was this? What was I doing, what was I letting myself do? Me, who never shed a tear for anyone else to see in life, let alone now? But it was too hard now to keep composed - there were too many memories trying to resurface, and I knew dimly that I had to do what I needed to do and get out of here before I lost control completely.

I leaned down toward the other pillow, shutting my eyes again and opening my senses as much as they could be. Whoever had shared his bed .. whoever it had been, whoever it was, I would know. I knew there would be no trace of Alexandra since I myself had seen to the removal of that mattress and those sheets long ago, but I was still prepared for what I would find. Bracing myself once more, I allowed myself to smell.

And I smelled perfume.

Perfume mingled with a scent that was familiar, but not one I had smelled and accompanied with the mental vision of tearing its owner apart by her throat. This was not the scent I had smelled on her when we first met, nor when we had sipped wine both at the Haven and her home. She smelled of sandalwood and innocence, and this scent was not hers. It took me a moment to distinguish the owner of the scent, and once I knew the realization hit me so harshly I fell back to my forearms on the bed.

It was mine.

I knew it more clearly than I had known anything else before. The perfume was the only scent I had worn for years - more years than I could recall now - and I never wore anything but that. And when I eventually ran out I would search all over the world if needed to find that same exact perfume because my tastes were so particular.

But why .. ?

I felt my mind reel for the countless numbered time since I'd come in here, and then I was moving, pushing myself off the bed and toward the door. I felt my body collide with a chair and clutched onto the back to steady myself. Blindly I ran down the hall, the doors slamming closed behind me, and I threw myself into one of the other bedrooms - a spare that no one used, of course - and let that door slam closed behind me as well.

Pressing my back against the door I willed myself back into calm, telling myself that I had been ridiculous, that I had missed something, that I was wrong .. because of course I had been wrong.

Certainly someone had been in that bed with him besides me .. ?

But it doesn't matter anyway, the voice purred in the back of my mind, because even though she may have never been in his bed, you know for certain he's been in hers.

I felt that familiar blinding ache of pain again and then heard the sound of crashing glass. Looking down I saw my hand was bleeding from the palm and flower petals were plastered to my skin. Somehow I had broken a vase, and now the fragments of it and the flowers were scattered at my feet and on the wall of the room.

Idiot, I chided myself, searching for something to clean up the mess with, and realized I was holding something soft in my uninjured hand. Something caught in my throat as I looked at it, shutting my eyes again.

His shirt. Or rather, one of his shirts. It must have been on the back of the chair in his room. My eyes stayed closed as I lifted the shirt to my face, again inhaling his familiar scent. The burning behind my eyes surged forward again, and this time I didn't care enough to force it back. Sinking down onto the bed I drew my legs up beside me and let my body lay down, curling the shirt into my arms. I was just too exhausted to do anything else.

He'd never even know I'd been here, I thought dimly as my eyes began to close. He'd never even know ..