I have never experienced it before where I actually pick up new reviewers as a story goes on. Normally I lose people, so this is a very exciting change for me. Feeling very blessed by all the support. As such, special thanks to Maggie Potter, I'm a BJ fan, sise87, Korzy Potterwell, guest reviewer, and Naruto Loves FemKuubi.
Note the first: If you read the last chapter right after I posted the first time, make sure to reread the ending in the attic as I changed it. If you already read the chapter titled version 2 you're good to go :)
Note the second: Bit of a filler chapter this, but I wanted to incorporate some of the ideas you guys mentioned as I loved them so much. It does have important information though and a sexual scene (You've been warned). Next chapter will be hugely important and heavy, so I thought a light one was in order ;)
Chapter 9
There was a dagger in the waistband of his jeans. Cold metal pressed against his lower back. It had been blessed by an elder, and Chris planned on using it to vanquish Lamia tonight. It's why when the demoness raked her hands down his bare chest, moving to slip them around his back, he quickly intercepted them, pinning her arms above her head and pushing her roughly into the cavern wall. Why he firmly, thoroughly kissed her trying very hard not to think about the physical response he was starting to have at the feel of the scantily clad woman's sensuous body against him. How her tongue was doing incredible tricks in his mouth.
Fuck this was not going to be as easy as he'd planned.
Lamia purred in his ear, "You've quite the talent, Young One." Her foot ran up and down the back of his leg while she sucked on his neck. Hot breath on his ear sent a shiver down his spine for several reasons. "If you want to save your brother, you better finish what you started, though."
Chris went rigid. Without meaning to reveal so much, he couldn't help but pull back in shock. Remembering what Bianca taught him about dealing with demons, he quickly schooled his features. His voice revealed nothing as he remarked, "What makes you think I have a brother?"
"Oh, Young One," the demoness smirked. "You came to me for my power. Did you really think I wouldn't find out who you really were?"
"It doesn't matter anyway," he coolly replied.
It did matter. It mattered a lot. No one was supposed to know who he really was. If his family found out, it would ruin everything. They'd become clingy and overprotective, which meant he'd never get anything done. If other demons discovered he was a Halliwell, he'd be too busy fighting off threats to find the one after Wyatt. Not good.
Lamia's violet eyes sparkled with challenge. "I can think of a great many you wouldn't want knowing the truth. Especially the one who seeks to destroy your sibling. After all, he does kill you for trying to stop him."
Chris' grip on her wrists slipped, lips parting at the news. "You saw my death? I die?"
Instead of immediately answering, the demoness draped her arms over his shoulders tracing lazy patterns on his shoulders and running her tongue along the edge of his ear. She paused to breathily reply, "Break my curse, and I can save both you and your brother."
The idea of dying wasn't pleasant, but he'd considered it could be a sacrifice he'd have to make to save the future. She obviously knew who turned Wyatt, so he could roll with this. The plan would work. He was prepared this time, so there was no way she was going to manipulate him again. Besides, what was a little foreplay in exchange for the lives of millions?
Teasing her jawline with butterfly kisses, he reached her ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth before huskily agreeing, "I'll give you what you want, Lamia." He sucked on the tender flesh of her neck then finished, "You tell me what I want to know, and I'll give you the angelic child you need to be free of Hera's magic."
Lamia smiled, grabbing his hands and pulling him over to the bed. She took a seat, pulling him between her legs by a belt loop. Deft fingers undid the button of his jeans then slid down the zipper. The dagger shifted against his back.
Shit. He couldn't grab it without being obvious. Plan B. Distraction. He stopped her hands, pushing her flat on her back and mounted her. Pinning her hands above her again, he forged a trail of kisses down her neck and chest, pausing at her breasts. Catching the neckline of her negligee with a finger, he pulled it down just enough to reveal a supple mound. Somehow managing not to gag at what he was doing and with whom, he expertly worked it over with his lips, tongue and teeth until she was writhing underneath him.
Okay, she was thoroughly distracted, so it was working . . . except for the part where she was grinding up against him, and he was having a noticeable reaction. Great. How the hell was he supposed to strategize when the blood he needed upstairs was heading south? Why the hell did this have to be so hard? He mentally groaned at his own pun.
Seeing her eyes were closed in pleasure, he adjusted his grip to keep her hands pinned with only one of his. The other went around to his back to grab the dagger. He was about to make his move when violet eyes popped open, and Lamia used her supernatural strength to simultaneously free her hands and flip their positions. His right arm and the blade were now trapped under his back. Shit. Shit. Shit.
The demoness slid down him, yanking off his jeans in the process and tossing them to the floor. Then from between his legs, she eyed him like a piece of meat she was about to devour, nails gliding up his inner thighs. He hated how he involuntarily shivered at her touch. She pulled down his briefs before running her hands back up his legs and sliding them around to grab his ass. Then, to his horror, she lowered her mouth and took him all the way in it.
Chris fisted the white sheets with his left hand, throwing his head back as she moved up and down, sucking and licking. Loathing himself for doing so, he couldn't help but moan in pleasure. Repeatedly. Couldn't stop his hips from bucking either. Because even if she was a sick, twisted, evil bitch, she knew what she was doing. If she kept doing this, he was going to get swept away again. His mind was already growing fuzzy with lust. Fuck. Bianca had warned him, but he'd been so arrogant and desperate and . . . Bianca.
Bianca's soft brown eyes sparkling just for him. Her smile, radiant and rare. The way she flipped her hair and frowned when she was irritated. Her touch. Her kiss. The way it felt to be with her - nothing compared.
He wiggled his arm free, keeping only his hand behind his back to conceal the weapon. One move and he could have it at her throat. Only partially forcing the breathless quality to his voice, he told her, "I'm ready. Let's do this."
The corner of Lamia's mouth twisted up as she pulled back. Slowly, seductively, she positioned herself above him, violet eyes dancing with gleeful anticipation.
"Tell me who's after my brother," Chris pleaded, his hands sliding up her thighs. "Tell me who wants me dead, and I'll make this the best night of your very long life."
Lamia arched back at his touch, sharply inhaling. "Mmm, a man of great power is already watching your brother. One who has easy access to him." She gasped as he brushed against her ever so slightly. "You tease me, Young One. Enter already."
"Give me a name."
"I don't know his name," she half-whined, trying to position herself against his fingers. "I know where he is and what he is. That he is invisible to you and a squeaky floorboard will be your only warning."
Chris ran his hand back down her thigh, further from where she wanted it. "What is he?"
Pouting, Lamia grabbed his hand and forced it back up. When he obliged her with a skilled finger, she gasped, eyes going closed as her hips jerked in response to what he was doing. "An old one. Far stronger than you. You should flee instead of fight or your death knell with be the sound of chimes on the air."
Pulling his hand back, trying to ignore the nausea generated by the moisture on his finger, Chris frowned. "What does that mean? Who could be more powerful than a Halliwell?"
Lamia pushed a finger against his lips. "I've had enough teasing. No more until you have spilled your seed in me. That was the deal."
When the demoness began to lower herself, Chris whipped his hand out from behind his back, plunging the dagger hilt deep into her chest. As violet eyes went wide, he gave the handle an extra shove, sending the demoness toppling to her back.
Lamia stared down at the blade in her chest in disbelief, hands shaking. "What have you done?"
"I've never been one for subtle breakups," he quipped. "It's my way of saying you're really not my type."
Lamia screamed as blue sparks spread through her body from where the sacred dagger pierced her. Convulsing in agony on the bed, red hair fanning out around her ever paling face, she narrowed her violet eyes in seething rage at him. "You've sentenced your brother to misery and yourself to death with this betrayal."
Chris snatched his pants from the floor, throwing back, "Yeah, well, pretty sure imminent death beats having sex with you. As for Wyatt, at least I have a lead now. You? You've got nothing. You're going to die completely alone and unmourned."
Sounding betrayed, she cried out, "How, Young One? Tell me this much before you leave me to die."
"I've experienced true love, Lamia," he answered, zipping his pants. He found his shirt over in a corner and grabbed it. "Your parlor trick can't compare." Tossing his shirt over his head he finished, "Thanks for the info about my brother, though, and have fun rotting in the demonic wasteland."
"Kit? Hey, Chris, did you hear me?"
Startled, Chris jumped in his seat. Shaking his head to clear the last vestiges of the memory, he turned to find Wyatt standing next to him with a brown bag in one hand and a cardboard holder with three cups of coffee in the other.
"You really are hopeless without your morning coffee," Wyatt teased. His brown eyes belied the lighthearted tone. They were like melted milk chocolate, cloyingly concerned. Lips went into a thin line too like they always did when his brother was worried or upset.
The confrontation with the family had been a few days ago. To Chris' relief, Wyatt didn't mention it. Didn't bring up anything about Lamia or the rape. Made sure to leave a lot of extra space between them too, never making a single attempt to touch him at all. But every night he said the same thing: I'm here if you need me, Kit. Love you. Sleep well. It was nice. Supportive without being overbearing. So very Wyatt-like.
"Kit, your hands are shaking," Wyatt said, his whole face showing his concern now.
Chris squeezed his hands into fists several times, trying to get them to stop tremoring. He took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out in a long stream. It still didn't completely dispel the sensation of Lamia's mouth and hands on him. The image of the violet eyes that plagued every second of his life.
"I don't want to pry," his older brother prefaced, "but you're scaring me a little."
Ignoring his brother for the moment, Chris decided to try his other self's trick. He focused on his fledgling affection for Bianca. Thought about her eyes, supportive and loving. How they lit up when she smiled. How bright her smile was, and how it made his stomach flip every time he saw it. Her long silky hair shining in sunlight. Her dry wit. Her toughness and spunk.
"Chris, please say something. Anything."
At least a temporary calm restored, Chris confessed, "I think I had a vision."
Wyatt took a seat on the opposite side of the table, setting the coffees and bag in the middle. "What did you see?"
Grabbing one of the cups of coffee, the younger brother didn't fail to notice how it was from his favorite place in the city. His mouth turned up. Taking a drink, he savored the rich flavor and relished the way it immediately warmed his insides. He reluctantly set the cup down to avoid downing it all at once. "Other Chris seducing Lamia for information. It felt like I was there doing everything he was doing. Even heard his thoughts for the first time."
His older brother frowned. "Now, you're being forced to relive his life? I don't like the sound of that. Not considering what he went through."
Chris scoffed. "Not exactly been a cakewalk this go around, Wy."
"I'm so sorry," Wyatt blanched. "I didn't think. I just-"
"Stop it," Chris ordered. "You don't need to give yourself an aneurysm every time you stick your foot in your mouth. Am I super screwed up and damaged? Yes. Do I want you to treat me any differently than you normally would? No. So knock it off."
His older brother gave a thin, unconvincing smile. "Okay. I'll try."
"Besides," Chris said, reaching into the bag and grabbing a croissant, "it was helpful in a way. Other Chris was a badass. For the most part, he was in control and actually toying with her. Then he nearly vanquished her. Actually, I'm not sure how she survived. It looked lethal."
Grabbing a croissant for himself, Wyatt took a bite, thinking as he chewed. Swallowing, he concluded, "I don't think it was a vision. Your powers are all related to moving things with your mind. Is it possible you projected?"
Tearing off a piece of buttery bread and popping it in his mouth, Chris frowned, considering it. "Maybe. It's awfully rare, though. I think the only other witch who ever had it was that old friend of Aunt Phoebe's. Bobbie or Becky or something? The one who betrayed our family and nearly got everyone killed. What was her name?"
"Billie," Wyatt supplied.
Chris snapped his fingers. "Right."
"Our family line is the most powerful," Wyatt pointed out. "If another telekinetic were to get the ability, it would make sense for it to be you."
"Great," Chris muttered. "Just what I needed. A new power to figure out." He took another drink of coffee, the bliss it brought overpowering his frustration with yet another problem developing in his life. When he set his cup back down, he remembered the third one still sitting in the holder. He gestured at it. "Is Mel coming over?"
The older brother shook his head. "Nope. I did one even better." The bell rang, and he smiled. "Right on time too." He got up to answer the door.
Turning in his chair to see who was there, Chris nearly dropped his coffee cup in excitement. As it was, he put it down too hard, and drops splashed onto the table as he hurriedly got up and rushed to greet his favorite person in the world.
"Hey, there, Chris," Victor Bennett greeted with a wide smile.
Without thinking, Chris tightly hugged his grandfather. For once, the contact did not spark any anxiety or panic. Perhaps, it was because the man smelled like spicy aftershave and peppermint, and for his grandson, it was the scent of fun and safety and unconditional love. It evoked memories of late night board games wherein he and Wyatt would magically help each other cheat until their grandfather caught on. Sleepovers at his apartment where they got to eat all the junk food their mother would never allow. Saturday afternoons talking about everything under the sun knowing there would never be any judgments made about what was said just sage advice.
"I missed you too, Kiddo," Victor chuckled, lightly patting him on the back. "Think an old man can get some air soon though?"
Embarrassed, Chris quickly disengaged, ducking his head. "Sorry, Grandpa. It's just been such a long time. I thought you were doing business in London until this summer?"
"Wyatt orbed by my hotel last night," Victor explained. "Said you were going through a bit of a rough patch."
Immediately panicked, Chris' head whipped around, so he could glare hotly at Wyatt, who was subtly shaking his head in the negative.
Victor raised his hands. "He didn't say anything about what was going on, Chris. Don't be mad. He just thought a visit from your awesome grandpa might cheer you up. That's all. I promise."
"I would never share your business without your permission," Wyatt concurred. "I just figured, I have to put in a few hours at the clinic this morning, so you might want some company. Then, maybe we could all grab some lunch when I get off."
Anger diffused, Chris nodded. "Okay."
Setting his own coffee down only long enough to grab his car keys, Wyatt said, "I actually need to get going, but I'll call you to finalize lunch plans." Giving his grandpa a quick hug and waving goodbye to his brother, The Twice Blessed headed out.
Victor pointed to the coffee cup still in the holder. "Mine I hope? The jet lag is killing me."
Chris smiled in amusement. "Yeah, Grandpa. It's yours."
"Thank god," the man enthusiastically declared moving to grab it. Taking a long drink, he hummed appreciatively. He edged a look to his grandson. "You picked out the java I assume? After all, I love your brother, but he has the worst taste in coffee."
"It's from my favorite cafe," Chris confirmed. "And unless it's strong enough to take paint off a car Wyatt doesn't think it's coffee, so no, I don't let him pick usually."
Taking a seat and gesturing for Chris to do the same, Victor eyed him warily, "So, Chris, your mom says you two still aren't talking. Same with Phoebe and Paige. They haven't learned their lesson yet?"
"I'm not punishing them," Chris replied, sitting down only to start picking apart his previously discarded croissant. "It's not about that. It's about them thinking they know me when they don't have a clue. How they never see their own flaws, and they think they can fix everything just by willing it to be so."
Victor nodded. "I see." Catching his grandson's eye, he said, "I know my girls are by no means perfect. I do. I also know for all their faults, they do love you."
"I can't forgive them right now, Grandpa," Chris said, sighing as he realized there was no more croissant to shred apart. He sucked in his lips, debating what to share. If he could bare to even hint at the bigger issue.
"Chris," Victor gently said. "You've always been able to tell me anything, so talk to me. What's going on with you? The boy I've known, that I'd like to take a little credit for molding, would never shut his family out like this. Family is the world to him. What changed?"
Chris swallowed, keeping his eyes locked on the tiny pieces of bread piled in front of him. "Something really bad happened to me." He raised a hand to stop any questions. "I can't talk about it. Please, don't ask me to. Anyway, while this bad thing was happening, they weren't there for me. My family, this all powerful, undefeatable legendary group of witches . . . they failed me. Never fail anyone else, but me? Guess I'm not worth their full effort."
"Never fail anyone else?" Victor challenged. "Tell that to my daughter, Prue. Oh, that's right you can't. She was murdered by some damn demon, and nothing they did could save her or bring her back."
The grandson closed his eyes, guilt flooding his stomach. "Grandpa, I am so sorry. I didn't think." He opened his eyes to see the pain in the old man's. "I wish I could've known her. Aunt Prue sounded really cool."
"You're a lot like her," Victor remarked. "Headstrong, determined, passionate. I think for your aunts, they sometimes saw you as so strong and independent they thought you didn't need them. For your mom, well, I know it was hard for your mom. You reminding her so much of the big sister she lost. She never really got over Prue's death."
Chris frowned, wrapping his hands around his coffee cup, focusing on the warmth against his palms as he considered what his grandfather was saying. "So, you think her ignoring me wasn't about Other Chris? It was because I reminded her too much of Aunt Prue?"
"I think it was both," Victor answered honestly. "She was only starting to get to know the real him when suddenly Leo had to tell her he was dead. It was right after you were born, and it did something to your mom. She was terrified of losing you too. Didn't even leave the manor for months. I think she was scared you were fated to die just like her big sister."
"She kept me at arms length because she was afraid," Chris realized. "Didn't want to get close to me just to lose me all over again."
Victor shrugged. "It's my theory. I've tried talking to her about it many times over the years, but you know how your mother can be when criticized."
Chris snorted. "Yeah. Shrill."
The grandfather chuckled wagging a finger. "Got it in one." Smiling he said, "I don't expect you to work everything out with her overnight, but she is still your mother, Chris. Maybe you can at least think about meeting her halfway? Whatever's been going on lately . . . it's opened her eyes. I really think she's ready to listen. Phoebe and Paige too."
"They don't listen, though," Chris refuted. "Not really. I begged for some time and space, and they've consistently ignored me in favor of doing what they want instead of what I need. A few days ago, they confronted me about something extremely painful, and I told them stop, but they just kept going and pushing and digging, and I . . . I can't breathe around them, Grandpa."
Victor's brows furrowed, eyes full of worry. "You keep mentioning this horrible thing that happened to you, and I promise I won't ask you to talk about it, but tell me this much - are you okay?"
Chris tapped the table nervously, debating what to say. He'd never lied to his grandfather before. Anyone else was fair game, but not this man. Letting out a heavy breath, he answered, "No. No, I'm not okay, Grandpa. I'm not even sure okay is possible at this point. Just trying to take it day by day, you know?"
"Can . . . can I do anything?"
Looking up, seeing the love and fear in the old man's eyes, Chris smiled weakly. "You're already doing it, Grandpa."
"Well, if there is anything else," Victor went on, "and I mean anything else you need that I can do, you tell me. I love you very much, Chris. You hear me?"
Chris nodded, smile growing. "Yeah, I hear you, Grandpa." Uncomfortable with the emotional moment, he took another gulp of coffee. When he set it down, he not-so-subtly changed the subject. "So . . . I've been meaning to call you to tell you about this girl I met. Other me was engaged to her, and I met her a few months ago. We have our first date tonight."
"Pretty?" Victor asked wiggling his eyebrows, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
Chris laughed airily. "Oh, yeah. Definitely. Along with smart and sassy."
The grandfather nodded approval. "The trifecta. Where are you taking this perfect woman?"
"A dance at Magic School," he admitted, making a face. "I know. It's cheesy, right?"
Victor waved him off. "Nonsense. It'll be fun. I have a feeling you two will have a ball."
Chris hoped so. Right now, Bianca was one of the only things keeping him sane. He needed their first date to go well. He needed to feel like a normal guy again. Let himself dare to hope he could experience real love instead of the twisted version forced upon him for weeks. Dare to hope he could actually be okay someday.
He should've known Halliwells are never that lucky.
TBC . . .
