Chapter Ten

"Champagne, miss?" Startled out of my train of thought – currently, how the royal family of Delora ever got any privacy, since almost every wall I'd seen was made of semi-frosted glass or floor-to-ceiling windows – I looked up to see a diminutive woman in a black-and-white maid's uniform not unlike the one I'd worn on Isis, brandishing a silver tray of champagne flutes in my face. For a moment, all I could think about was how much those stupid shoes on Isis had killed my feet, and felt an overpowering wave of sympathy towards this woman I didn't even know.

But then, after a tense and awkward moment, I remembered where I was now, and who I was supposed to be. "Thank you," I said somewhat overly graciously – my one concession to knowing what it was like to be a have-not surrounded by the bright and glittering have's – delicately plucking a glass. I had no intention of actually drinking more than a tiny sip for politeness' sake, but I also knew that declining would draw more attention to me than it was worth. And drawing attention to myself was the last thing I wanted to do.

In the past few weeks, I had learned quite a lot of little tidbits like this – how to fake your way into a high society ball (it's all about the confidence; act like you belong, and no one else will question it), how to mingle unobtrusively and become part of a group while leaving no impression on anyone's mind, the best ways to silently and secretly disappear into private places and make away with valuable things that no one would know were gone until you're light-years away. In fact, I could probably write a book when this was all over – High-Class Cat Burglary for Dummies. The thought made me laugh.

It was easier, I had found, to think about what I was doing that way – as if it was happening to someone else, some other girl's life I was merely watching through a glass wall. That wasn't me sneaking into the library and appropriating piles of spell books with the power for unimaginable things; no, it was a facsimile, devoid of a conscience that would scream and shout at her for daring to take things that she held no claim to.

Thinking of things that way had also helped my interactions with Baltor. If the person aiding and abetting him wasn't actually me, then it was easier for me to lock my emotions behind that glass wall, and interact with him only perfunctorily. Because there were emotions – strong, almost violently conflicting ones – and I had no idea what to do about them.

No matter how hard we tried to deny it, everything had changed since Popularis. Gone was the easy, familiar camaraderie, the sarcastic mocking meant with no real harm; in its place was a strange sort of stilted imitation, comparable to before like a cheap knockoff to a real designer handbag. (Oh come on – I lived with Stella for three years. Some of it was bound to rub off!)

Head spinning, I took an uncharacteristic gulp of champagne, feeling the bubbles tickle and fizz on my tongue. My head suddenly felt too heavy for my neck to support, and I shifted the exquisite diamond pendant that hung from my neck, as if the dizziness was something I could physically remedy. The cool stone felt satisfying against my suddenly hot skin, as I recalled exactly how I had come to be wearing such a beautiful thing…

I applied a final coat of clear lip gloss and stared at my reflection in the mirror, happy with what I saw. Blue eyes rimmed with smoky dark eyeliner and volumes of mascara, skin glowing and naturally clear, lips filled in a matte deep rose pink and topped with clear gloss for shine. My hair (in the auburn shade I now preferred to wear it – the closest I could get to my natural red while still in disguise) was curled, pushed back from my forehead with a slim gray headband, and tied into a shoulder-dusting side ponytail.

This was the fun part, I reflected, dusting some powder over my cheeks and forehead to prevent shine later in the night; the dressing up, putting on makeup, twirling in a pretty dress and heels and imagining what the night could be like. Before reality sets in, and I have to conceal stacks of priceless spell books in my handbag while making polite dinner conversation.

Stop, I mentally chastised myself, flicking a stray hair off my shoulder and spritzing my wrists and neck with perfume. Regretting things isn't going to undo them. Just stop thinking and get on with tonight's job. With that mentality, I shrugged off the complimentary fluffy white hotel robe and slipped into tonight's gorgeous creation – silvery-gray satin, strapless with an empire waist that had crystal beading trim, and a floor-length full skirt that still managed to be long and slinky and hug my hips while retaining its formal fullness. It fit like it had been custom-made (which it had – for some other girl).

I reached back to pull up the zipper, then groaned when my fingers brushed against gaping, trailing ribbons. Because, of course, the dress wasn't sensual enough (it fit like a freaking glove); no, the dressmaker just had to give it a corset-style lace-up back. I twisted my arms, trying in vain to tie the ribbons in some semblance of bows, then finally heaved a giant sigh and dropped my arms, wracking my brains for a spell (because how else was I going to get it tied?).

Unexpectedly, I felt the back of the dress tighten, as slim satin ribbons were pulled taut and tied. Gentle fingertips brushed against the exposed skin of my back, and I instinctively stiffened, back arching until my spine was ramrod-straight.

In any other scenario, the silent arrival of another person in my room while I was half dressed (which could only mean bad news) would have instigated screaming, kicking, and plenty of Dragon Fire energy aimed at said unlucky soul. But as I inhaled, I caught a whiff of the smoky, spicy scent that had become as familiar to me as the scent of smoke and wood (Mike) or dirt and flowers (Vanessa), and my heartbeat relaxed. There was no need to panic or transform; I wasn't in any physical danger.

My body, however, stayed exactly as it was.

"Baltor." I tried my best to keep my voice even, to keep at bay the overwhelming torrent of emotions that threatened to tumble out after weeks of distance both physical and emotional. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you get ready, Princess," he answered lightly – in measured, controlled tones that matched my own, I couldn't help but notice. The fact that he was putting up a front now too didn't make me feel any better, although I wasn't quite sure it should have either.

It was the sensation of the cool stone against my skin that startled me out of my thoughts. I looked down to see a stunning diamond pendant resting on my sternum, where I was positive there had not been one a minute ago. I reached up to touch it, as if it maybe wasn't real.

"Don't do that – you'll smudge it." Only then did I realize that a) the necklace had to have gotten on me somehow, and b) Baltor was touching me again. Tiny tingles raced down my spine from the place at the back of my neck where his fingers were, and I sucked in a breath of air.

This was not supposed to be happening.

The clasp lay flat against my skin, but his hand was still there. I suddenly found that I was having trouble breathing. Glancing at the mirror, I caught a glimpse of our reflection – his hand anchoring my neck, my head fitting into the curve of his shoulder like a puzzle piece, our faces perilously close. All I had to do was turn my head the slightest amount and…

It was that thought – the sudden, uncontrollable longing for a repeat of what had happened on Popularis – that finally made me see reason. Trying hard not to make it look like I was running away (when in fact that was exactly what I was doing), I gently extricated myself from his grip and made my way over to the other corner of the room, where my shoes waited. Wincing in anticipation of the pain I'd be feeling later tonight when I took them off, I started to fasten the buckles, but not before managing a quick, inconspicuous look backwards.

To see a flicker of something that looked a lot like regret pass through his eyes.

I was thoroughly unnerved at the memory, and quickly swallowed the rest of my champagne, trying to chase it away. All that did, though, was make the world start to spin in front of my eyes. That coupled with the torture devices also known as stiletto heels made even standing precarious. Thankful for an excuse to sit down, I quickly made my way towards a small room set off from the main ballroom, where I knew there were couches and chairs for exactly this sort of predicament.

I'd moved maybe seven steps when the orchestra struck up a waltz. Another two steps and then there was someone in front of me. "Excuse me, miss, but a beautiful young lady such as yourself should not be sitting out a dance."

I was all ready to dismiss whatever poor sap had come to ask me to dance – it happened way more often that I would've been truly comfortable with – until I looked closely and saw something strange. His eyes, which were a bright green, suddenly appeared to be gold. Another blink, and they were back to green.

My would-be dance partner grinned a very familiar grin. "Come on, Bloom. It's an offer you can't turn down." He took my hand in his, the disguise vanishing (in my eyes, at least).

"I… you… why did you do that?"

"Entertainment," Baltor smirked. It was one of the (now rare) reminders of how simple this used to be.

"Your idea of entertainment sucks," I muttered under my breath. He gave a dark chuckle, and I crossed my arms over my chest. "What do you want?"

"Didn't I just say I wanted a dance?"

My eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"

He shook his head, smirking lightly. "Catch? Why does there have to be a catch?"

"There's always a catch with you," I said, my voice suddenly soft.

His smirk disappeared completely, and I mentally cursed myself. Why had I done that? Why did I say things like that when I knew now how he would react?

I opened my mouth to apologize (something I'd been doing a lot more of recently), but before I could, two gloved fingers pressed against my lips. I looked up at Baltor – despite my three-inch heels, I still came up short next to him – and saw that he looked almost… amused. "No catch this time," he said softly, extending his hand. "Just… humor me for a few minutes."

"I… I can't dance."

"That didn't seem to be a problem at the Millenium Ball on Eraklyon."

I arched an eyebrow. "And how do you know that? Were you spying on me?"

He smirked again. "Maybe."

So distracted was I at the thought of Baltor looking in on my personal moments with Sky over the last year, I didn't even realize I was dancing until I was spinning around the ballroom in Baltor's arms – when, of course, it was far too late to do anything about it without causing a scene and drawing attention to us. Then I couldn't help but notice every little detail – how close we were together, the heat of his hand on my waist, the way my cheeks were starting to flush from his proximity…

He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "See? You dance fine."

I made a point to step on his foot then, giggling as he hissed in pain. Letting my proper posture fall slightly, I removed my hand from his and connected them loosely around his neck. "Yes, apparently I can."

"I blame you for the blisters I will undoubtedly have tomorrow."

I sighed, leaning forward and resting my head in the hollow of his collarbone. A little part of me couldn't help but notice that it fit perfectly. "You're a wimp."

If my sudden proximity alarmed him, he didn't show it, wrapping his arms around my waist to keep me close. "For once in your life, darling, just shut up."

I have no idea why, but I listened. For the next minute or so I stayed locked in his arms, letting my arms wind tighter around his neck. Lazily, I fiddled with the lapel of his burgundy jacket (though I doubt it looked like that to anyone else). Where did you get this old thing anyway? I asked in my head, technically following the 'no speaking' rule.

I felt his chest rumble in slight laughter. It's a long story, if you're truly interested.

That's your excuse every time I want to know about your past.

Have you ever considered that I say that because I don't like to share?

My eyes flicked up to his face. He was staring out into space, looking deeply lost in thought. I felt the weight of the necklace on my neck and wondered for a moment if this had anything to do with it.

Before I could catch myself, I reached a hand up and tucked a few stray hairs behind his ear. Apparently, it was enough to bring him back from wherever he'd gone. His eyes lowered to me, and I felt my heart stop.

The notes from the orchestra came to a dramatic close. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face, lips descending downward… He was going to kiss me. He was going to kiss me and I was going to let him…

But when our lips were only centimeters apart, one of the ribbons lacing up the back of my dress got caught in some woman's hair. I was yanked back from Baltor, losing my footing and almost tripping over my own skirt; if it weren't for his hands on my waist, I would've fallen to the floor. The other woman gave an apologetic smile and helped untangle me, before applauding politely at the orchestra. Trying to slip back into cover, I did the same.

"Did you get it?" I asked quietly under the applause, leaning in so only Baltor could hear me. Our hands were still interlocked.

Again, I saw that split-second of disappointment, before it was back to a cool detachedness. "Yes."

"Then can we leave?"

I would've sworn I saw him frown, except that it vanished – like every real display of emotion I'd ever seen from him – too quickly for me to be sure. "As you wish." He dropped my hand and started cutting a path through the crowds of people.

I watched him go for a moment, dumbstruck, before my brain caught up and I started politely hurrying after him, the wide skirts of my dress swishing. My heart beat rapidly at a pace that surely couldn't be normal, and although the room was fully air-conditioned, my skin burned.

This was insane. I wasn't sure how much more of this up-and-down, hot-and-cold routine I could take.

I didn't normally drink, but right now, I had a feeling I could use one.

Over the course of the next hour and a half, a few things became apparent. First off, Baltor seemed to think the solution to all problems lies in alcohol. Second, after finishing off two of the remaining three wine bottles from Tides, it was obvious that despite his slightly inhuman ability to go without sleep and food, Baltor could still feel the effects of alcohol. Even though he insisted that he was fine, I could tell by the look in his eyes he was far from sober. And though I felt like I had things under control, I had a feeling that I was too.

So what were we to do in our hour of less than… reasonable judgment?

"And suddenly, the duck drops down from a hole in the ceiling and lands on Icy's head."

Share incriminating stories about the Trix, of course.

Baltor was sitting (okay, more like draped – how could he do that even when he was drunk?) on one of the leather armchairs of the suite's sitting room, a half-full wineglass in his hand. "If there's one thing I wish the six of you would've done, it's bring that duck back."

I shrugged. "We lost track of him."

He shook his head, taking another long swig of wine. "That's a shame." I giggled, and his gaze fell to me. It may have been the alcohol, but it seemed like there was something lingering behind those gold eyes.

"What?"

"You're an easily amused drunk."

Baltor smirked. "Look who's talking. Whatever happened to 'I'm too young to drink'?"

My eyes narrowed. "Do you blame me?"

I watched the smirk slide off his face. After a moment, he stood and walked over to the table, re-filling his glass. The room was eerily quiet.

Then: "If you think this is all my fault, you're sorely mistaken."

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline at the tone of his voice. "Excuse me?"

Before I could even blink, Baltor was moving towards me at the pace of a man with a serious plan, his eyes narrowed slightly. Something in that gaze scared me a bit, and automatically I started backing up until my back met a wall. Even then he still kept walking until he was practically pressed against me. It was oddly reminiscent of Popularis – besides our blood alcohol levels, of course.

"I said," Baltor repeated, his voice dangerously low, "if you think this entire situation is my fault, you're sorely mistaken."

I gulped. "S-situation?"

"Don't be coy. We both know exactly what you were thinking. It comes with the whole reading minds deal."

The thought of Baltor reading those thoughts made my cheeks redden. "The one thing I can't understand," he continued, leaning his face closer to mine, "is why it's you. Of every person in this universe, why did it have to be you?"

We both knew the meaning of that sentence. "There were the Trix–"

"Please," he cut me off. "You're joking, right?"

I shrugged, trying to smile. "Worth a try."

Baltor shook his head. "I tried everything possible to get you out of my mind. And nothing ever worked. So you know what I've decided? I'm not putting up with it anymore."

I was going to ask what he meant, but about three seconds later I got my answer.

Namely, that he kissed me.

The second his lips met mine, every sense in my body started tingling, like the Dragon Fire was singing "Hallelujah" or something. It was not at all unpleasant, and I closed my eyes, my body melting into his arms as I opened my mouth to him, deepening the kiss.

It was like I had never been kissed before. Certainly, none of my experiences with Sky or Andy had ever come close to producing this intense euphoria, this all-consuming passion that now flooded my veins. When mixed with the vast quantities of alcohol I had consumed over the course of the night, it made for a heady sensation.

Like Popularis all over again… except at the same time, not. There was a new sort of urgency to this kiss, a deep-rooted desire behind it that suggested things would not end the same way – unless I made him stop, like a good girl.

"What… what are you doing?" I managed to get out, sucking great gulps of air into my lungs in a fruitless effort to clear my head. His lips moved down toward my neck, planting butterfly kisses along my exposed collarbone that sent shivers down my spine.

"What I've tried to keep myself from doing for a long time now," was the only answer I got. I opened my mouth to say more, but at the same time he found a particularly sensitive spot, and I let out what sounded suspiciously like a loud moan, my back arching into his hands and head thrown back against the wall.

I could almost feel him smirk against my skin. "Don't fight it, love," he whispered in my ear, pulling gently on the roots of my hair. With that, he brought his lips back to mine for another bone-melting kiss.

My head was spinning, in equal parts from the wine and from the kissing. And though in some vague part of the back of my mind, I had a feeling I would regret this later, right now the rest of me just wanted to do exactly as he said.

Screw being a good girl.

Bracing my back against the wall, I folded my legs around his waist, cupping his face with my hands, never breaking the kiss. I felt his chest rumble with laughter as he wrapped his strong arms around my abdomen, supporting me completely, carrying me into the bedroom.

"You're heavier than you look."

"Shut up and kiss me."

My beautiful gray dress, which earlier tonight I couldn't wait to put on, now felt unbearably substantial; too many layers of fabric between Baltor and I. He must've had the same idea, because he reached behind my back and started tugging impatiently at the ribbons, pulling it down over my hips to collapse in a puddle of satin and tulle on the floor that would undoubtedly wrinkle. But I didn't care, reaching my hands up over his chest to slide them under that burgundy jacket, which quickly joined my dress on the floor, along with his shirt.

I placed my hands on his flat stomach, tracing his fine abdominal muscles and shivering at the scars on his skin. He looked as if he had been flayed; there were great ridges of seared, scarred flesh crisscrossing his torso and back.

"What happened?" I asked, feeling tears come to the corners of my eyes for reasons I couldn't exactly explain.

He smiled sadly. "Another life," he said simply, reaching down to kiss me again.

"Are they painful?" I persisted, tracing them gently.

"Not anymore."

But the tears that had been gathering started to fall anyways, slipping silently down my cheeks.

"Don't," he said, reaching up to catch one of my tears. "I can't stand to see you sad." I closed my eyes tightly and nodded.

"I just… they're… Now I can see why you don't like to talk about your past."

"Among other reasons." When he kissed me, it tasted like salt and sacrifice.

His boots and pants joined the growing pile of clothes. I felt the mattress shift with the weight of another person, as he crawled into bed next to me.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice sounding strained. I saw in his eyes how painful it would be for him to stop now, yet here he was, giving me one last chance to back out.

"I've never been more sure of anything," I replied, kissing him again.

And in that moment, I was. The alcohol had made me loose, set me free from those constraining inhibitions. Right now, this was exactly what I wanted.

I saw a flicker of what looked like regret cross his face, but it was gone before I could be sure it had been there in the first place. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, running his hands down my body. I shivered as he kissed me again – my lips, my neck, my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach, even lower…

And then it was all exquisite pleasure the likes of which I had never dreamed of, as I let him carry me aloft to an ecstasy that was beyond anything I had ever felt before.

Author's Note: Told you the wine bottles would come back! ;-D

Yes, things just got a whole lot steamier between our favorite couple. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to write that scene - probably since I first started writing this story. Parts of it did come from "Lost in Time" by Melissa de la Cruz, the new Blue Bloods book (if you've never heard of that series, shame on you! Go look it up right after you finish here). In case you're wondering, E and I split this chapter into bits - I wrote the beginning through the flashback, then she wrote up to the kiss, and I finished it off.

Bloom's dress is real, if you'd like to see it - go to prom-magics-dot-com (minus the hyphens, of course) and add the following:

/upfile/Prom%20Dresses/Plus%20Size%20Prom%20Dress/Silver%20Strapless%20Beading%20Band%20Satin%20Floor%20Length%20Plus%20Size%20Prom%

So... yeah. A lot happened in this chapter. Why don't you hit that little green button and tell us what you thought? ;-)

Toodles!

- Authoress and ember