I was embarrassed for him and for myself. I couldn't tell him what I had just seen and how it forced me to feel the need to strike out at him. Christophe blinked again and rubbed his forehead. "You are svetocha and you need to use all your skills to win, when winning is most important. However, I'm not sure what the reason is today, do you?"

Leaving the malaika behind, I slowly strided over to him and kneeled to the mat to face him. I gently touched his forehead where the red area was already turning purple at the edges. He flinched to the right a little. "I am so sorry Chris. I just had this urge to hit you with all I had. Are you mad?" I used my most apologetic voice.

He glared at me while his aspect waved across his body, turning his hair blondish. The bruise turned a darker shade of purple. "Dru, I'm alright, however that was… interesting." He started to grin. "I have not seen that passion in you in quite some time, ever since the battle with my fath…er."

I blushed as he said the long drawn out word. "Christophe, what happened between you two? You said you'd tell me about those scars on your back one day. When can you tell me how you got them? I want to know."

He thought for a moment then looked me straight in the eyes. "I will share with you tomorrow tonight if you join me for dinner, little bird?" I agreed with a Cheshire smile.

Nat helped me get dressed in black fitted pants with a chiffon blouse over a strappy lace camisole. She brushed and pulled my hair back into a low chignon at the nape of my neck. A wisp of my brunette hair hung naturally to frame my high cheekbones. Studying my bloomed face was an exercise in amazement. I still can't believe that this is the face that I'm going to have for…ever. Not the worst thing that could happen, I guess. I was growing to like my looks these days. I felt more at home in my body, which was lean but also curvy in the right places. I couldn't complain about anything really.

I sometimes walk by a mirror, glance at the reflection and scare the shit out of myself. A few times I thought it was the ghost of my mother staring back at me. I miss her so much. I wish I had the picture that used to be in Dad's wallet. It was my favorite. She was sitting in a field of wildflowers on a summer morning when Dad snapped that one. She was wearing a blue strappy cotton dress with her shoulders bare. Her dark brown wavy hair was flowing freely around her face and down her back. She was not really smiling but her eyes were laughing at something Dad said. Her mouth was closed while her lips were slightly pursed. She was being slyly playful with him. She was so gorgeous.

Christophe knocked at my door at midnight as expected. Nat quickly handed me a pair of silver hoops to accessorize. "Well milady, you're stunning as ever. Ready to roll?" I nodded, gave her a hug and caught the familiar scent of her floral cologne. "Where are you and Reynard headed anyways?" I paused and looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Um, some supper club that plays live jazz, I think." Nat looked surprised. "Huh, I didn't think you liked jazz, chickadee." I had to wince at the pet name that came out of her mouth just then. "I don't really, but Christophe is trying to cultivate me." I fingered quotations in the air when I said the word "cultivate".

"Quaint." Nat winked and ran to open the door. Christophe was waiting patiently with his hands behind his back and his head tipped downward. He was staring at his boots and then he looked up at Nat nervously. He was wearing a white sweater with dark jeans. "Evening Reynard," Nat spoke in a very proper way with him tonight. "I hear that you are taking Milady to a jazz club in the City?"

Christophe smiled, showing his stark white teeth with the djamphire trait of lengthened incisors. "I thought we'd try something that svetocha hasn't done before. It will give her a chance to say whether she likes it or not. There's so much to see when you have a long time to live." Christophe smiled and held out his right hand to me. "You look beautiful, moja ksiezniczko. I returned his gesture by extending my arm and placing my fingers in his palm. He gently turned my hand over to expose the palm then brought my wrist up to his lips, kissing it lightly. A shiver went up my arm. The scent of spiced apples filled me up. I tried to say something sensical but I ended up mumbling something about being hungry. "I'm-uh-so-uh-good-to-go-eat."What the hell did I just say? Was that even English? That was so not cool, Dru.

Christophe didn't say anything in response to my mumbo. He kept on smiling smoothly and looked into my eyes, or was that my soul? I'm sure he was getting a kick out of my reaction to his unexpected kiss. He was such a sick bastard sometimes.

We took a cab across to Manhattan and entered a divey bar that had a small stage in the center of the room. The quartet had been playing for hours and they were nearing the end of the night's set when the bassist caught Christophe's eyes and nodded. Apparently Christophe was somewhat a regular and he coaxed them into playing for another two hour on our behalf.

We left the club around 3:30 AM. Christophe's left hand was holding my right. "Well, what did you think about the music, Milady?"

"I liked it. I didn't think I would, but I really did." He seemed pleased with my reaction. "Thanks for sharing this with me, Christophe. I never knew this side of you existed. Is there more of the unexpected from you that I can look forward to?" Christophe looked at me like he was a bit surprised. He smirked, causing his beautiful eyes to twinkle under the dim streetlights. "Well, that depends on you." He kept on walking by my side but stole some sideways glances every few moments.

"Christophe, you promised to share something about your past with me. I'm ready to listen if you're ready to speak." Does he even realize that his inability to share with me is one of the major reasons that I've not been open to him? Well, come to think of it, Graves hasn't really either, except for the time he talked about his mom getting hit by boyfriends and him feeling helpless while watching. But Graves I understand. Christophe is a total enigma.

"Let's find a café to talk, milna. I will tell you what you need to know." We found a cozy boutique coffee house in the East Village and sat in the corner so we could see the street and anyone that might approach the front door. The décor was simple but comfortable - very European. I could see that this place put Christophe at ease. He brought me a latte with 2% milk. He blew gently into his black tea while we settled in.

"Moj ptaszku, I'm going to tell you about my childhood in Livonia." I was silent with anticipation. Maybe I would finally understand Christophe and his strange ways. He sighed. Then he spoke in a soft tone, leaning forward over his cup. "My given name was Louis Goleg Krystof II of Bohemia. I was born in what is known now as Budapest in the year 1506. I am over 500 years old, skowroneczko moja. My mother was French and my father…Hungarian. I lived to the age of twenty. At least that is what I needed others to believe. My mortal death was handed to me in 1526 in a great battle attempting to conquer the Turks in the name of God. I was born djamphire as you know, so I saw this opportunity to make my exit from the human world to live in the Real one. It was difficult but also relatively easy to disappear into history." I was speechless and glued to every syllable that came out of his beautiful lips. I tried to be cool and not seem freaked out about his age.

"My mother Anne was not only brilliant but also extremely beautiful. Everyone respected her because she was not like other women of the time. She was smart and cunning and powerful. My father was in love with her until the day she died at the young age of 22." Christophe continued on in a sullen tone, "My mother loved me with all her heart. Unfortunately she was not strong enough to survive the complications of childbirth. The medical advances at that time were primitive so she could not be saved even with being a royal. She died three weeks after giving birth to me. My father never really forgave me for what I had done."

I gasped in horror and sadness of his story. "But you were an infant. How could Sergej blame you for your mother's death? It wasn't your fault at all, Chris." He looked at me with thankful understanding in his expression. "No, it wasn't, milna, but he took it out on me regardless. He became very depressed and went into reclusion for months afterwards. My father hated me and he often beat and lashed me for being 'disobedient'. However I did things that all children do like drop a glass water on the floor by accident, laugh too loudly in the morning, smile the way my mother used to…" His voice trailed off. I could tell he was visualizing the abuse he suffered. "So, Milady, you have seen the scars on my back. Those were incurred over many years as a boy djamphire, as early as I can remember.

"Oh my god, Christophe, I'm so sorry." My eyes began to tear up just thinking about the awful, lonely and painful memory of what he lived through as a child. I fought back the touch,which attempted to take flash over. It wanted to show me the abuse that Christophe had seen and felt. I shook my whole head and let my long hair come loose out of its pins. It felt good to release the tension and shake off the memory that tried to take over. Christophe was quiet again. He looked up at me from his cup of tea and held my gaze.

"I get now why you don't talk about it, Chris. You know what it's like to grow up without a mother who really loved you, just like me?" I reached out and placed my right hand to his cheek. He allowed my thumb to brush along his chiseled cheekbones. His eyes stayed locked to mine. "I do, milna."

The touch was showing me in a dream, a scene from long ago, maybe a hundred years ago. I was there in the throne room but not in a way that anyone could see me or I could smell the air as if I was present. At first I couldn't identify the faces but then I heard the voices. "My son, let us talk of our future – the rulers of the djamphire and nosferatu worlds, tak?" Sergej spoke in a sickeningly sweet tone that made my ears want to vomit. His luminous claw-ish hands were poised on his lap, fingers interlaced. Christophe had been questioning his father's trust in him for many years now and he was at the point of rebellion.

Today, he watched Sergej from across the darkened throne room with skepticism. "Ojciec, I have done everything you have asked of me in order to earn your love and maintain the trust. I conquered many foreign lands to increase our title. I took Mary of Habsburg as my wife to broaden our kingdom. I followed your every request including denying the love of a woman I once cared for, and her child. I have been at war with djamphire in your unholy name." Christophe paused and looked at the stone floor. "Many great men and women, and even children died at my own hands to satisfy your will." Christophe walked across the room until he was an arm's reach from Sergej's sitting place. "Since you have forced the issue, you must know…I can no longer justify killing my brothers in your name."

The hate in Sergej's face clarified. Blue veins rose to the surface of his perfectly terrifying expression. "It seems Louis that you have been thinking about this for some time." He paused before allowing his true feelings to vocalize. "I knew that I could not hold your loyalty forever. I am surprised that you have done my bidding for this many centuries."

Christophe's face flushed the color red as the anger surfaced. "Father…you used me to do your bidding?"

Sergej was expressionless for a moment and then opened his mouth slightly before displaying a crooked smile. "Of course, my son. You are my greatest creation and you, my offspring, are my biggest threat. I have kept you close to my undead heart because I always knew your human side would betray me for some sense of honor. Your mother was a gift to me and she served her purpose as well. I did love her at some point. However I was ridiculous to think that her love would bring me happiness. Love was a game. I was a fool for believing in her. However she was the greater fool for thinking that I would give up my power and control of our kingdoms just for love."

Sergej's face became icy and hardened. "If you are unwilling to follow in my ways, then you shall not live among either Kind." He pointed in the direction of the hissing and writhingnosferatu lurking along the walls of the room. "My lieges, kill him!" The fangs of the nosferat lengthened and their claws extended from white undead fingers. They lunged toward Christophe with hatred filling their black pupils.

My eyes opened with a snap. I was in my bed. Sweat was making the sheets stick to my body. My forehead was wet with the realization of what I had just seen in a vision of the past. My mother's locket adhered to my breastbone from the perspiration. "Oh my god, Christophe." It was 10 AM and the clouds were shading the sun, casting a haze over the gardens outside. I threw on yesterday's jeans and a black tee and yanked on my Docs before bolting out the bedroom door.

Shanks was outside and started running after me to keep up. "Dru, where are you going? Please stop and tell me what is up?" I was frantic and needed to find Christophe. "Not now Shanks. I just need to do something alone. Please leave me be."

"Oh hell no, Dru. I know that look on you like the fur on my nose. You're not losing me so easily." His muscular legs kept up with my lean strides. Shanks was strong but I was faster. I gained on him just a little as I ran through the corridors looking left and right. "Fine, suit yourself, Shanks." I continued searching obsessively while my heart thumped loudly in my chest. I could feel the blood pumping up to my skull and I was feeling light headed.

We ran past the main hallway of the Scola looking in both directions as we passed the front doors. I ran through the empty Caf, the library and then past the djamphire professors' offices. I needed to find Christophe to tell him that I knew. I found the main stairway to the lower levels. I heard that some of the djamphire slept in chambers on the lowest floor, below the wulfen dorms.

Shit, shit, shit! I had to tell Christophe that I knew he was betrayed and used… by his own father. Christophe was manipulated by his own blood. All this time everyone has thought him an ephialtes because he freely chose to kill his own kind. It simply was not true. I can't imagine the level of guilt he feels everyday. If I did, I would probably never sleep, never eat, never stop pushing, and probably never forgive myself. Christophe probably has some crazy need to prove his worth to everyone. It must be overwhelming. Suddenly I felt the urge to hold and comfort him and tell him that I understood.

Shanks and I bolted down three flights of stairs until we reached the basement. It was colder there and the lighting was made of bright fluorescent tubing which made my eyes hurt. I squinted to see. "Shanks, which is Reynard's?" He pointed to the doorway at the end of the hallway with the symbol of a sheep on the doorknocker. I took a deep breath and strode up to the door. I lifted the animal figure and knocked gently two times. There was no answer. I knocked again but it remained silent. "Let's come back later, Dru. Maybe he's sleeping and doesn't want anyone to bother him?"

I shook my head and looked at the doorknob in front of me. "No, he doesn't sleep, he won't. I know him well now."

I took a deep inhale and gripped the doorknob. It was cold. I turned it to the right and it opened. "Dru, Milady, this is not cool. We shouldn't go in. Reynard would skin me if he found us here in his den. How do you know he's not in there?" I looked back at Shanks like he was my little brother discouraging me from taking another cookie out of the jar. "For fuck's sake, Shanks, quit being a wuss. We're not going in anyways, just me. You can wait here and if anyone comes down, try to distract him. Besides I'm sure Christophe isn't in. He would answer if he sensed it was me at his door."

I entered the dark room and had to adjust my eyes. There was a faint smell of cologne and cinnamon lingering in the atmosphere. There was a lamp on a drafting table on the left side. The walls were painted white and the furniture was also white. It was immaculate. That's Christophe for you, anal as ever. There was a closet with, no surprise, all black sweaters with the exception of one white. His shoes were lined up in rows – boots in the front, loafers in the back. The bed was low to the ground with only the box spring and mattress on the floor. It was perfectly made without a wrinkle in sight.

There was a small round mirror on the wall with a piece of paper on it. I moved closer to see what it was, I gasped at the realization. It was a photograph… of Elizabeth, my mother, the same picture from Dad's wallet - the one of her wearing a blue cotton sundress, while sitting in a field of flowers. "What the…hell?"

Outside I heard Shanks' muffled voice on the other side of the door. I knew it was Christophe coming this way. I was too angry to pretend like I had any reasonable excuse for being in his den. I stood with my back to the door staring at Mom's photo. I held it in my hands and tears started to form in my nose and into the corners of my eyes. The door opened slowly and the essence of apple pie filled the room. It was silent for a moment. "Moja ptaszku, I did mean to tell you that I had that." I spun around to face Christophe. Another tear rolled down my left cheek. "Don't give me that 'my little bird' crap! You lied to me, again Christophe."

He swallowed before speaking calmly. "I know that belongs to you, Dru. I've been trying to figure out a way to explain how I came by it and why I was still holding onto it in a way that sounds logical."

I was more than angry now. I was enraged. "Christophe, try me. Why don't you start with the illogical reasons and I'll be the judge of the truth? Wait, let me just start you off… how about the fact that you are still in love with my mother and can't bear to let her go. She left you for a plain old human. You couldn't have her so you went on a quest to seek out her offspring and, well, you found me. So now you're obsessed with the woman-you-love's daughter. How's that for something logical, Chris?" He was quiet and his look was remorseful. "Well, are you going to attempt to make something up or is the truth the best strategy here?"

He looked into my eyes and bowed his head deferentially. Finally his mouth opened. "Dru, I came by the photo because it was with your father's dying body. I took it and meant to give it to you when the time was right." He winced as he spoke the word 'right'.

"When is the right time, Christophe?" The tears kept rolling off my face onto his once spotless floor. He stepped a little closer. "Dru, please try to understand that I'm not still in love with Beth. I have my regrets but she made her choice and I accepted it. I kept the picture because… it reminds me. Your mother was my savior, aniol, my angel.

I cocked my head to the right and gave him a look of apprehension. "Angel? I don't understand Christophe. Why didn't you give this to me when we met? Why do you still have it today?"This better be good.

Christophe came even closer still. "This may sound strange, Dru, but I kept the photo because it never lets me forget about her sacrifice. It's a daily reminder of the fact that she made me the man I am today, and that I am better for knowing her. Beth was someone special to me because she was compassionate. I had not experienced, in all my centuries of living, this type of kindness and understanding. I was her mentor but it really was the other way around. She taught me more than I was able to give to her." I looked into Christophe's face and saw emotion in his blue eyes.

He opened his arms to me. I leaned in and allowed him to embrace me, his lips near my left ear. He continued talking but in a whisper. "I took her death into me. I did not want to live after I learned of what Sergej had done to her. I failed to protect our biggest asset, hope. I mourned about all my failed attempts to kill Sergej. If I had only been successful, your mother would still be here and you would not be alone. Kochana, knowing of your existence gave me a reason to believe again."

Hearing this, I pressed my eyes into his chest and felt his heart beat as the emotions overtook me. I cried into his body, releasing all of my years of anger, frustration and loneliness. My legs went limp and I slumped to the ground. Christophe held onto me tightly as he gently lowered us to the floor of his room. His right hand stroked my hair as he continued whispering. "It's okay, milna. Uwolnienie, just let it go." I cried so hard and so long that I faded into unconsciousness.

I heard breathing that was not my own. I opened my eyes. I was lying on my side and I was not in my room. Where the hell am I? I was in Christophe's den still. It was dark and serene. A candle in a glass hurricane was lit next to the bed. I didn't see Christophe but could smell his scent. It was comforting to know he was there, someplace. "Christophe?"

The sound of someone breathing right next to me came into my awareness. I moved my right hand behind me and contacted denim. I brushed my fingers against the material and felt a pocket. It was Christophe, but he didn't move. Was he asleep? I became aware that my hand was on his ass. Not a bad thing at all. I rolled on my back and over to the right side to face inward. His back was to me and he was actually sleeping. What the hell happened and what time is it? What does Shanks think of me? Should I sneak out? No, that would be really rude. You don't just cry your heart out on a guy, pass out on his floor and then slip out of his room without saying "thanks" at least.

I felt different now. More relieved, more informed and god damn thankful. There was so much that Christophe was still withholding from me about my mom, my dad, about me and about himself. It pissed me off that he always seemed to have the upperhand when it came to details. At least with Graves I knew what I was in for.

Graves. Oh shit. Why hasn't the asshole written to me? Here I am waiting around for him to do his thing and he can't even drop me a line? Who made him the king of me? I don't have to take his crap, you know. Maybe he forgot about me? After all it's been 18 months since he left the Prima and only one letter. Fuck him. Where are you Graves?

I extended my hand to touch the hair at the back of Christophe's head. It felt soft and fine between my fingers. I glided my hand down his left shoulder across his deltoid to rest on his bicep. I scooted my body closer to him and nestled my knees behind his, curling my left arm under and around his middle. I touched his stomach and felt the definition resting there in his abs. I breathed into the space between his shoulder blades and took a long drawn inhale. He smelled intoxicating - a little spice, yesterday's cologne and a bit of lavender. His body felt good next to mine. Why can't he be this vulnerable more often?

Christophe's left fingers interlaced with mine as he pulled my arm further around his waist. He was awake now. I stayed silent holding my breath, not wanting to ruin the moment. I exhaled through my mouth slowly. "Are you awake?"

Christophe released my arm and gracefully rolled over to face me. "Yes, Milady." I love it when he speaks to me in a deferential way.

I grinned at his sweetness. "Christophe, I need to tell you why I came down here to see you."

He was silent. His face was beautiful, glowing in the candlelight. His blue irises reflected the small flame behind me. "Kochana, you don't need to say right now."

"Yes, I do. This is important for you to know." He complied, closed his mouth and waited for me to continue. "I have dreams, memories actually, that belong to others that are shown to me when I sleep. I had a dream about you, Chris. I saw what Sergej did to you the day you told him that you wouldn't be used anymore." He flinched as if the memory stung. "I saw what he said and how you stood up for yourself to him. Chris, I…know."

I could see that he was embarrassed because I not only knew the truth but also the fact that he was once so pitiful and wretched. "It wasn't all your fault. Sergej used your love and devotion to him against you, didn't he?" His eyes said it all. The corners of his mouth pulled into a half smile of understanding. He was acknowledging that I saw him for who he is not who he was or what he had done.

"You never cease to amaze, kochana." He paused for a moment before adding more. "You know that I am in love with you, don't you, Miss Anderson?" The intensity of his blue-eyed stare blasted down to my toes. The scent of warm apple pie filled my head. Crickets. What do I say to that? I don't really know how I feel about him. Is it possible to be in love two people at the same time? Am I being wishy-washy or just plain stupid and confused? You can't have your cake and eat it too, Dru-girl. Someday you're going to have to decide.

I leaned back and tried not to gulp audibly. Christophe's right hand rested on my left hip. He stabilized me and signaled that he did not want me to go anywhere so soon. "I'm sorry if that was too forward of me, Dru. Its been a long time since I have felt this way with someone and I'm afraid to say how long. Did I remember to tell you that I'm like 500 something years old?"

I laughed out loud at the fact that Christophe made a joke at the right place and at the right time. "No, really? I thought you were more like 18. You look pretty good considering the cobwebs and all…"

We laughed together breaking the stillness in his room. The silence came again but I quickly filled it with a whisper. "Christophe, if we had more moments like this, things could change between us, you know?"

His expression morphed from giddiness to seriousness. "Why do you allow him to come between us, kochana? Remember when I asked you why you make me compete with him? You didn't answer me then. I need to know if you feel differently about me now? About him? Hopefully less interested in the loup-garou?" He looked at me coyly. Just then he looked like he was 8 years old and asking for a pet goldfish. It was endearing.

"Chris, please let's not ruin the moment. Can't we just be…together without you needing to know stuff from me? If you can just be open and give me time, we'll see. Today was a huge step forward. I understand some things about you now that I didn't get before." He played with a wavy strand of my hair as he listened. "You told me about your feelings and you were unguarded. Let's keep doing this and who knows? Honestly Christophe, sometimes your biggest competitor… is not Graves. You said it yourself, you can drive certain people away with your...need for control."

He was quiet as he chewed on what I just said about him being his own worst enemy. Was I being too harsh?

I reached out my left hand and tugged on the belt loop on his jeans. "Hey, I have a question for you." I changed the subject quickly. He raised his eyebrows and the aspect fluttered through his hair. "What's with the black and the white all the time? Is that a statement or something about...?"

He smiled wide showing his long incisors among his pearly straight teeth. "Why the curiosity about what I wear? Is that stage one of a relationship – changing the other person's wardrobe?" Do I need it, my little bird? He nudged my chin with his thumb as he finished speaking.

I blushed at his comment about us being in a relationship. "Okay, now hold on Cowboy. We're not together…yet. Even if I agreed to be seen with you more maybe you could consider mixing it up a little - give the sweater thing a rest once in a while?"

"Tak, kochana. See, you are keeping me young." Christophe smirked and I could have sworn he also winked.

We fell asleep looking at each other while lying side-by-side, on top of his bed. He didn't push me or make me feel bad about...anything. When I awoke it was 5 PM and Christophe was already up and sitting on the side of the bed. "Good morning, milna. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on my cheek just to the left of my mouth. Is that it? I know I have morning breath and all... Christophe smiled at me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "So did we just have our first fight and our first make-up kiss, little bird?