200 years ago…
"I don't really care all that much what he thinks, Bastian." I let the exasperation I feel edge into my voice and pinch the bridge of my nose. It has been years since I've experienced a headache but old habits are hard to break.
"Santana, be reasonable…" My eyes flash open and before he can blink, I'm across the room. I let him claw futilely at my hand as it lifts him off the ground and pins him to the wall.
I can hear your heartbeat pick up as you sit very still in one of the chairs by my desk. I let the enticing sound of the blood whooshing through your veins feed my anger and I hold Bastian a little longer than I normally would.
"Reasonable? You want me to be reasonable?" Squeezing once for good measure, I release his neck and let him drop with an audible thud to the floor at my feet. "Darling, I am being reasonable. In fact, I am almost sure you don't want me to be any more reasonable than I just was."
His raspy voice whispers into the room as I turn to face you, winking once for good measure as he speaks to my retreating back. "No, no. That's okay."
Your face is a mix of nerves and something else I can't quite place. Tuning my senses to you, I try to read whatever it is that has your cheeks flushed, the warmth a tease to my ever present hunger. Despite your blush, you meet my gaze with a steady look of your own and it's only my excellent sight that allows me to pick out the hummingbird beat of the pulse against your neck.
Walking over, I turn and drop gracefully into the chair next to you and open my mouth to speak. The grunting and rustling from the floor closes my mouth with an audible snap and I start to rise. A soft touch to my arm stops me and I freeze halfway out of the chair, looking over at you as you stand up from your chair.
"Let me speak with him, Santana." You smile at me as you head over to where Bastian is trying to lift himself off of the floor. Leaning back in the chair, I run my tongue along the growing points of my teeth as I admire your lean frame beneath the fabric of your simple dress.
I watch as you offer your hand to pull him up, angling your body so his glare is cut off by your silhouette. "Bastian, I understand that this is trying time for all of you but if you could just try and understand where she is coming from…"
Closing my eyes, I let the soothing tones of your voice ease the tension creeping around my shoulders. I let my mind drift as I once again examine these growing feelings I have for you…
When you first showed up at the doorstep of my inn over a year ago, I'll admit I was prepared to dismiss your interest in employment without a second thought. You didn't look strong enough to hold the door open, much less carry a tray. Never mind that the position I was looking for would have been better served by a familiar, not some stranger showing up in the dead of night.
A beautiful stranger with skin the color of moonlight and eyes like a spring sky. But a stranger nonetheless.
I watched as you sat by the fireplace, the blonde curls of your hair inviting the firelight to slip and slide along its length. Your hands remained steady on your lap and it was only my heightened senses that allowed me to see the tremors that ran in uneven intervals along your slender body. It was intoxicating and I had to force myself to listen as my inn manager spoke to me about you.
"…she claims she heard about the opening the next town over but honestly, it's not that well known. Only a few familiars have been told and she doesn't bear their crest. I don't trust her and I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable to have her show up like this. Let me handle the situation quietly for you, Santana. I'll send Declan to town to see where the information might be coming from to see if her story is true."
He must take my silence as agreement because he turns and signals for Declan to come forward. My eyes haven't left you and it occurs to me that there is an easier way to find out the information.
"No, Robert." He stops with Declan at his side and they both watch me. "Bring her to my office. I'll speak with her and find out all we need to know."
With dual nods, they agree and move towards where you are sitting. Without giving them another thought, I head upstairs to my office to await your arrival.
A few moments later, there is a soft knock at the door and instead of calling out for it to open, I walk over and open the door myself, knowing it will be easier to read you if I keep you off balance.
"Welcome…" I pause and wait for you to state your name, my senses tingling before you even speak.
"Brittany." At the sound of your name, something shifts hard inside me and I feel the door handle cracking under my hand. My face never shifts from the polite smile I have fixed there and I force myself to relax.
"Santana." Replying with my name, I reach my hand forward and clench my jaw as your hand slides into mine in greeting. In that instant, everything becomes clear and the only thought I can settle on as emotions rush around inside me is...finally.
We stand like that for a few seconds, long enough for me to read the play of emotions over your face. I can tell that you can sense this connection as well but there is fear shimmering around the edges of this recognition and I make a conscious effort to gently release your hand and take a step back.
Indicating the chair closest to the window, I direct you to sit down as I walk over to lean against the glass. Letting the backdrop of the night sky soothe my senses, I lean against the windowsill and address you.
"So, Brittany. Tell me why are you here." Your hands are still clasped in your lap but your chin rises as you answer me and despite my good intentions, I feel sneaky fingers of lust tickle along my skin.
"It was my understanding that you were looking for a helper for the inn and I am looking for work," your eyes drop from mine at that and I lean forward, sharpening my senses even further.
"Is that so? How did you know my inn was looking for someone? We haven't posted our banner yet declaring our need for someone here." I hold my breath as I wait for your answer and I realize that I am hoping what falls from your lips is not a lie. I don't understand this instant spark between us but I'm reluctant to see it end so soon by you not being honest with me.
Your hands separate and fall, as fists, to your sides. Your eyes skitter across my face, lingering at my mouth briefly before settling on something far beyond the reach of the window. In a low voice, you answer me. "I was told."
"Told by whom? I've just informed you that I haven't released the banner yet."
I watch as you take a breath and I can sense the lie before it ever leaves your lips. Warningly, I address you, moving closer into your personal space and forcing you to look at me. "Brittany, I'm giving you this one chance. Right now. Do not lie to me."
Your eyes hold mine and I feel the arc of awareness in the space between us, the ochre starting to seep into my eyes and I close them against your scrutiny. Pushing the subtle change back, I keep my eyes closed a few seconds more until I can be sure that the brown of my eyes will be all you can see. I barely control the jolt as I feel you stand before me, bravely, or foolishly, placing your hand on my shoulder.
"I know what you are," your voice is barely a whisper but it sounds like a shout through my head. Without thinking, I grab your arms and spin you around, pinning you to the wall behind me, the frame of the window rattling next to us.
On a soft growl, I lean in to you, keeping my eyes on yours as I allow their color to turn fully. "Do you? Then you know you risk more than your life coming here tonight. Who sent you?" I let my gaze rake across your body, barely registering the shudder underneath my hands as my anger starts to stalk across the tone of my voice. "You don't look like one of his."
You hesitate a fraction too long and my rage snaps its leash at the thought that he may have sent you here.
I press you harder against the wall, my grip surely leaving bruises across your forearms as I let my teeth show behind a sharp smile. "Don't play with me, Brittany. I can hurt you in ways you cannot imagine." Leaning my head down, I let the sharp points of my teeth graze across your neck and suddenly find myself fighting back a moan as your body presses closer into me. Before I can even question your response to my touch, your hands are between us and I'm being shoved back against the chair, my quick reflexes the only thing preventing me from tumbling backward.
"I will never be his and I would rather die a thousand times at your hands than have my name spoken in the same sentence with his," your body is trembling and your fists are curled more for protection than aggression and despite my shock at your use of force, I have to acknowledge that among all the emotions racing through my system, there is a slow admiration that is building for you.
There is something to be said for someone who has the guts to physically provoke someone with my condition and it's that audacity that grants you a reprieve from retaliation. Deliberately, I slowly ease myself down until I'm sitting in the same chair you shoved me against, crossing my legs and folding my hands over my flat stomach as I relax against the high back of the chair. Inclining my head, I urge you to continue speaking.
"Very well, Brittany. Why are you here? I warn you though...bravado will only get so far. I don't tolerate insolence. Even from one as beautiful as you." I watch as you take deep breaths to steady yourself and with a sweep of my hand, I grant you permission to sit in the chair next to me.
As you move to sit in the chair, I let my eyes wander briefly over your body, resting lightly on the hint of cleavage between the ties of your blouse before glancing to your face. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I shake my head slightly at myself in reproach before fixing my face in a serious expression to match the one pulling at your features.
"It's true. I know who you are and...I...I know what you are. That's why I'm here. Lucas didn't send me." At his name, my lips curl and I see your eyes widen as my teeth flash dangerously. Swallowing hard, you continue. "My cousin travels with your Cian and he is the one who sent me here to find you."
Considering your explanation, I turn my gaze towards the window and look out into the darkness outside the window, letting my senses decide whether you lie to me or not. "Why didn't Cian send word himself that you would be arriving here to see me?"
"I don't know. My cousin's letter arrived only a few days ago with instructions to come here. He was on his way to meet up with Cian and had not mentioned my situation to him yet." The truth falls from your lips as I received word just yesterday that Cian had been traveling and was unreachable. At least, unreachable through normal methods of communication.
Turning back to you, I address the most important part of your explanation, my eyes drawn to the intensity of your gaze as you wait for me to speak. "What situation drives you to my inn in the middle of the night?
A shuddering breath sweeps through your body and despite my intentions to remain aloof and judge the honesty of your story, my hand reaches over and covers yours, the soft contact seeming to allow you to continue. "A few weeks ago, my family and I were traveling home from visiting a sick family friend when we were forced to stop at Dunn's Landing, two towns away from this one."
"I know of it."
"Our horse had thrown a shoe and my father decided it was a sign that we had been traveling too hard and rather than fixing it and moving on, we stopped for the night. He thought a night of good food in the presence of other people would be nice change of pace from the grumpy mood of our own company."
You pause here and I curl my fingers against your palm, no longer wondering at my need to comfort you as your other hand holds tight to my wrist. "Everything was as it should be for a night at an inn. People were relaxed and my family and I were enjoying the warm food and the silly jokes my sister insisted on telling anyone who would listen. It was just a normal night, Santana. How could we have known…there was no way we could have seen…"
Your voice cracks as you look to the floor and I'm glad your gaze is averted as I feel my anger start burn away the natural brown of my eyes. Gently, I remove my hand from your grasp and step over to my desk, pouring you a glass of water. Keeping my back to you, I fight to rein my anger in, not wanting to frighten you with its intensity as I recognize where your story will no doubt end up.
Softly, I prompt you. "What happened next, Brittany?"
"Hell. That's what happened."