A Study in Greens and Other Dangerous Hues

Michelle Sagara is the real author of the Cast series and owns all the rights to those works. This is a non-commercial fair use derivative. I own nothing. Sagara owns these fascinating characters and this intriguing world. And Sagara's books are high-jacking my mind, so who really is the one to blame here, huh?

If you opened this story because you got an author alert, I'm so sorry, I'm a tease because THIS IS NOT a Hollows fic! This is my first attempt at a CoE fan fic. I've never written outside of the Hollows before, so bear with me. And I figured, if I'm going to take a risk anyway, I should do it all the way, so it's a Kaylin/Nightshade fic, and yes, it's rated M for mmmmm smut, though I did try to make it nice smut…

Everything is fair game for spoilers, but this is mostly inspired by Cast in Secret and Cast in Chaos since those books contain my favorite Kaylin/Nightshade scenes. I've read Cast in Ruin, but am not currently incorporating it into this fanfic.

*I just realized after I wrote it that I used first person =P Well crap, but that's how I am used to writing fanfic, you can thank Kim Harrison for that. Because yeah, I can't do Kaylin's voice or Sagara's style, but where else are you going to find an M rated CoE fic?

"Erenne, Erenne," his voice whispered in my ear, but I felt it more than heard it, felt it like when he spoke inside me, felt it like it was my name, even though I hadn't told him my true name, yet.

Carlarnenne, I called back to him, daring, but there was no anger or shock. He sighed above me, the lavender cast of his eyes bright and hypnotic in the soft shadows of one of the bedrooms in the Castle. Well, I guess it was my bedroom, since this was the space outside the Long Halls Nightshade chose for me when I was in a situation to require it. Though I never would have thought this would be one of those situations.

My breath hitched, caught in my chest when he moved too suddenly, thrust a little too hard. He'd felt it as soon as I'd cringed, and his hips stilled. Nightshade's hands were warm against my skin, his long fingers plying feathery strokes over my shoulders, up the side of my neck, soothing, promising. His perfect Barrani lips moved against me, tracing the line of my jaw, brushing my lips softly before claiming them. We both felt my body relax, felt the darkness driven back down. My hands traced desperate patterns on his back as his hips began to move slowly once again. He was being so soft, so careful with me, and I was grateful for it, knowing there was something in his tender touches that kept the dark waves of memory from rolling me over and drowning me in nightmare depths.

I knew I shouldn't have let him touch me that first time, that it all started to change then. But it had been a terrible, crappy, long day. And then his guards had been waiting outside my apartment, ready to escort me to him, apparently he had something to tell me, something that couldn't wait and couldn't be conveyed through mirrors, no matter how miserable my day had been. But that's no surprise. Barrani only consider it an inconvenience when they're the ones being inconvenienced.

I snapped and moped as usual, walking that fine line of annoying him to the point of actual danger. But seeing the sharp blue in his eyes always felt like a small victory, knowing I could get to him, that I could pick away at his perfect, aloof exterior. But he'd surprised me then, and I surprised myself.

I always know where he is in a room, even when I didn't watch him, even when I try to pretend to ignore him. And he came up behind me, close enough to touch, and I refused to acknowledge it even though I wanted to push my back into a corner, glare and spit at him like a spooked cat.

I must have thought it too clearly. I felt the smile pull at his face even though I knew those eyes would still be a dark, dangerous blue.

Then his hands were on my shoulders, I jumped, moved to pull away, and instead of gripping or releasing me, his hand glided down, his thumbs circling and pushing into the tense, painful muscles in my back. I gasped, not in pain or fear, and Nightshade chuckled, the sound moving through me like his touch and raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

I shut up and let him do it, not bothering to pull my too-short hair aside. His long, graceful fingers stroked, pulled, pushed along my skin, and I had to fight to keep my legs from shaking, to keep the little noises vibrating in my throat from escaping my lips. I let the fieflord touch me, and under his caresses that insistent tension lodging under my skin melted away.

It was wonderful and awkward and I fled from him soon after that without even hearing what had been so important that had required an escort of his guards to be waiting for me outside my home.

I never thought it would be him. Sometimes, on the bad days, I never thought it would be anybody.

Marcus sent me to him for information. Severn was supposed to go with me, and I really wanted him to come with me. Severn's silences could fill the deepest of spaces, but I knew him, loved him on some level, and trusted him to have my back, something invaluable in the fiefs. But he was still in the infirmary, and I had to go to Nightshade, alone.

It had been weeks after the difficulty with the portal, but he felt me coming, and was waiting for me, his dark form before the portcullis drawing the gaze like a black star absorbing every last modicum of light.

"Lord Nightshade." I wanted to hide behind the awkward formality, but just thinking of last time made me blush. I'd go to my grave without telling anyone I'd let the gods-cursed fieflord give me a backrub. I blushed further, seeing green creep into his eyes, though he kept his perfect face blank.

"Kaylin," he nodded at me, and I tried not to shudder. He'd said my name, but I'd heard…no, felt, something else entirely. I tried to ignore it, but I did argue when he didn't want to let me walk through the portal. He wanted to carry me instead. As was usual, when I argued with him, I lost.

He picked me up gracefully, and I was as graceful as I could be by dropping my protests. After our somewhat-bungled kiss, and then after I'd let him touch me, willingly, it was harder to keep the distance I wanted. Carrying also violated that distance, as did any touching, most speaking, and any eye contact when his eyes were anywhere near a green hue. I felt safest nowhere near him, where I could pretend the mark on my face was just a silly tattoo I'd foolishly acquired after a night of drinking with Teela and Tain. I looked up at his face while he carried me through the not gut-churning fall-down and want-to-puke passage. His eyes were way too green for my comfort. Even without the usual nasty side-effects, I wasn't sure which way was best to enter the Castle. Sure, I hated that portal, but I was doing it again, letting him touch me…

I had to remind him to put me down. The green of his eyes didn't retreat an inch. He'd been down the hall already, a good distance from the portal, and I'd bet halfway to the room he usually used for entertaining/interrogating/feeding/touching me. But in the Castle, things changed, constantly, and I'd gotten used to assuming I'd never know my way around it.

In this open, artful, and perfectly cool room I seemed to find myself in far too often, Nightshade waited for me to take a seat. I sat on the farthest side of the couch from him; it was where I usually sat. And Nightshade sat across from me, not bothering to hide the smile he routinely offered my discomfort.

"Why has your Sergeant sent you to me?" His voice was pleasant, but cold, a sharp contrast against what his eyes said.

I felt my cheeks burn. Gods take it, I hadn't forgotten, I hadn't! There'd be no other reason for me to be here. Marcus had knocked me off my regular beat while Severn recovered…and he'd sent me to Nightshade for…

Nightshade laughed. His lips never moved, but he laughed and left his seat to come and sit beside me.

I wanted to pull away from the touch of his cool, dry palm on my cheek, but I could see his hands at his side. There wasn't a hand on my face, but telling myself this did not change the sensation. I looked away from him, trying to ignore it and find enough calm to gather my mind and remember why the hell I was here in the first place.

But he didn't stop touching me, and it wasn't just the hand caressing his mark. Something, him I was sure, moved along my marks, the writing on my skin that made me "Chosen". Whatever that meant. I gritted my teeth at the feel of it. But it wasn't a bite, there wasn't the usual sharp pain and numbness that magic triggered in the markings on my skin. But it was something, something warm and tingling, and I didn't like it. I turned to tell him just this, but was frozen by his eyes.

I'd seen this color before, and I'd been smarter that time and pulled away. Ended it quickly, though not cleanly since I'd spilled milk everywhere. But this time my reactions were slower, I wasn't thinking clearly, and I stayed still for him as he slowly closed the distance between us.

"Could it be then, little one, you came for your own reasons?" Nightshade asked, his words a warmth against my ear. I tilted my head to look up at him, and that was my undoing. His lips came down on mine, his hands carefully but resolutely catching my face. But I didn't squirm, didn't try to stop it.

"Erenne" he whispered, and I shuddered against him, and let him pull me in closer. His warmth, his closeness, his touch were all mingled in that one word, and it kept me there, with him, and not the nightmares another fieflord had left me with. He scooped me up again, carried me from the room, and I didn't even try to protest this time.

This is a one-shot, but I might add chapters, not related in plot but in theme, as my Nightshade cravings go unanswered until next August.