Once I understood his physical attraction to me it wasn't difficult to dazzle Magnus into infatuation. I'll confess to it; I was dreadfully flirtatious. At the same time, I found the more I'd gotten to know the man the less I needed to feign my interest. I was drawn to him and his exotic appearance. He hadn't many possessions to his name but he had such vast experience to speak of. He seemed to look at life from an entirely different perspective than the majority. This meant that we had differing opinions on most matters but in an odd way I found this complimented my own less accepted views. We were like-minded in our failure to be like-minded.

I was frightened, at first, with the ease at which I had come to take a liking to him. I feared letting him know how much I'd come to value his company. Magnus was like a gripping book which I didn't want to put down. He didn't react to me as other people did. He had a unique character I felt the need to dissect and understand. My interest was, at long last, peaked, after such a long time of finding all around me monotonous.

The danger in this, of course, is that people can use affection against you. Magnus was incredibly likable yet somehow, he wasn't well liked. The last time I'd grown fond of somebody the people in my circle disapproved of... Well I could hardly bare thinking of it.

Affection was dangerous business. Magnus, it seemed, had fallen for me fast. And I so wanted to reciprocate. But I cared too much to love him. If I'd loved him, they would have taken him from me. I knew it.

What then? He was immortal. I wouldn't even have been able to tell myself 'he was bound to die anyway'. Loving Magnus Bane could be a death sentence and was more selfish than I was willing to be.

I didn't confide these stronger feelings threatening to consume me to anybody but my subjugates. To Archer because he was so reliable; allowing me to prattle on about anything and everything at all. Never judgmental and always a comfort when need be. My strong steady pillar in a crumbling world. Walker I told to ensure that he knew where I was going of an evening and that there would be other men besides the one I lost. I felt cruel as he bore it through gritted teeth, but knew it was for the better. I had strung men along in the past and caused their hearts agony from having their love unreciprocated. But I cared for my subjugates like I supposed a Mother would. It was better to nip his feelings in the bud and cause as little pain as possible than to allow them to grow further.

He was still competitive though. I had taken Magnus back home with me one evening and the look Walker had given him while serving drink was venomous. I promptly dismissed him and made a mental note to reprimand him later.

Earlier on the Warlock and I had been enjoying a joke on the terrible card playing of some Mundane or another at Pandemonium; but now we'd fallen silent as he watched my subjugate leave. A tension seemed to hang in the air while he sized up the situation.

"They can get territorial over their Masters…" I offered by way of breaking the silence.

"I suppose he takes a disliking to all your company?" He was looking into his glass with an amused expression, his tone revealing he already knew the answer he was asking for. He seemed ready to enjoy a long process of drawing the desired reply from me. Not wanting to give him that satisfaction, I bluntly replied:

"He dislikes my lovers."

I smirked when I saw the look of surprise on his face. He wasn't expecting abruptness from me, it seemed.

I had been admiring the mantelpiece while I spoke to give the illusion I wasn't saying anything all that meaningful. When I looked to him over my shoulder I could see his mouth hung open slightly. He soon came out of his thoughts when he saw I was watching him watch me. He rose from his seat and came to join me by the fireplace, taking slow, deliberately casual strides and a drawling tone.

"What did I do to earn filthy looks from him, then?" He said as he pretended to be deeply interested in the carved mantlepiece He lifted a porcelain ornament I was fond of as if to inspect it. I covered his hand with mine and placed the antique back down. We lingered this way.

They say that Warlocks are unnaturally hot; I wished that I feel that for myself.

"I think it has more to do with what you could do than what you have done, Magnus."

He took a deeper breath than usual, replying to me with a simple "Oh?" As though that ever counted as a real question. He had managed to draw out the conversation much longer than I'd planned to allow him. Annoying.

"If you don't have anywhere else to be tonight, I wouldn't object to more... prolonged company," I finally voiced. He paused a few seconds more.

"I can't say I have anywhere better to be, Camille." He grinned back.

Bloody half-breed. I couldn't help but feel he'd won that round.

Waking up when you aren't truly alive is different to the times before you turned into a child of the Night. It's almost as though you didn't sleep at all. When you don't breath you don't get the awful dry taste it makes in your mouth, when your curtains block out all light nothing seeps in to dance across your closed lids and disturb you, but right from the moment you become conscious you're aware of every sound and scent around you. You can't laze in the hazy glow of waking; if you do it's artificial.

Had I been mortal still, I might not have noticed I was sharing my bed, instead I instantly recognized that there was another there with me, and memories of the night before came rushing back to me.

The victorious grin on Magnus' face when I proposed he stay the night. The passion in the kiss that followed. The way I had to stand on my toes to reach his soft lips and how his long arms wrapped around my tightly laced waist to support me there.

He unpinned my hair as I caressed his face. My gloves were off and I could see the contrast of my milky skin on his darker tones. I felt my heavy locks fall past my shoulders as I looked into his gold green eyes, sparkling in the flickering light of the fire.

Why I ever lit it I don't know, and in all honesty I was beyond caring. The fire was forgotten, as were are drinks sitting on the ancient coffee table.

I kissed him again, unable to resist the tempting buzz I got from the contact, and had made up my mind. I couldn't permit myself to fall in love him. But I could make love to him and I could make him feel loved.

That would be enough. A lover was something sexual; something they wouldn't bother to take from me. I could flaunt a passion in a way I couldn't show off a romance. It was the best way. They way it had to be.

It was the way we made it that night.

I turned to face him laid beside me, looking at peace and satisfied in his deep sleep. Much like a kept house-cat.

Something in that thought amused me in a rare girlish way I'd outgrown, and I giggled slightly, stroking his hair back. He stirred as a slow smirk crept across his face;

"You sound adorable when you do that", he rasped tiredly, still not opening his eyes.

"I wouldn't get used to it" I grimaced back. I was Lady Belcourt; Lady Belcourt didn't submit to childish chuckling.

He made a deep laughing sound somewhere in his throat and lifted himself up on his bare arms, stretching out. I just laid quietly appreciating his form. Magnus was quite something to behold.

When he did open his eyes he fixed his gaze on mine in an odd way, as if looking for something. It was strangely intense and bothered me, if only a little. I felt uncomfortable and sat up over the side of the bed. The sheet fell from me but from our present angles he couldn't see much but a silhouette; nothing profane.

I retrieved a silk nightgown and slid it on, the material so pale it might have been translucent had my skin been darker or had there been a stronger light source. Tying it closed - with ribbons above and below my breast, giving the garment it's empire waisted shape which had been popular in the Regency era - I glanced towards the source of light I hadn't noticed before. Candles had been lit but they burnt a sky blue.

I looked back at Magnus questioningly. He had laid back into a reclining position.

"We don't all see as well as you do in the pitch black", he snapped his fingers, creating more blue sparks as if to explain.

"The Warlock has some party tricks" I said simply, meanwhile drinking in the look of his uncovered chest. Sod the danger of fondness; getting this man into bed could be no bad move on my part.

"Oh plenty of them. But they usually only impress the Mundanes. I don't suppose you'd like to see me conjure up a card deck?" He asked bemusedly.

"Not particularly" I responded lightly.

"Or I could read your mind? Your favorite colour is... Green."

"Red," I corrected, and couldn't help that annoying giggle again.

"... Well I'm tired" he excused himself.

"If you say so darling."

And so I was the winner of round two.

Double-chapter here, because alone they just seemed so short, but because of that I may take a little longer to update next; I have something I want to insert before I can carry on posting what is already written.

Thank you to anybody reading this, I hope it was enjoyable.