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Not guna be able to update until I can get word again.

CHAPTER NINE

He cried for hours after he returned home, and all the while he berated himself for his foolishness. Sebastian had never led him to believe he was anything more than mildly fond of him. He had amused Sebastian with his naiveté, nothing more. He had laid his heart bare, and Sebastian had scorned it, and him. He would not humiliate himself in such a fashion again. And he would marry for love, or he would not marry at all, clinging to that thought he fell asleep.

The maze rose up in the night, a twisting wall of greenery that separated him from the rest of the world. Drawn into its heart, he collapsed near the statue of the bronze wolf. He drew a deep breath and was filled with the scent of roses. Only then did he notice that they were no longer red. Dozens of blooms grew on the trees, but they were all black.

Curious, he picked one, gasping as a thorn pricked his finger. A drop of bright red blood oozed from the wound, and suddenly Sebastian was there, his dark eyes ablaze with an unholy light as he took Ciel's hand in his and slowly licked the blood from his finger…

"No!" The sound of his own horrified cry roused him from sleep and he sat up, glancing wildly around the room. "Only a dream," he whispered as he snuggled under the covers again. "Only a dream." The familiar words hovered in the back of his mind.

"Only a dream…"

He closed his eyes but sleep eluded him. With a restless sigh, he sat up and gazed out the window, his mind filling with images of Sebastian as he had seen him last, his fathomless black eyes filled with torment he was lonely, so lonely. Why? He was a handsome man. A wealthy man. Why did he not marry and raise a family? Why did he live in that cold, lonely castle? Why had he sent him away?

He had learned much in the four years he had been away. He had, on occasions flirted with young women. In Paris, he had learned the power of a shy smile, a come-hitcher look, he knew when a woman or man wanted him. And Sebastian wanted him. He had wanted him from the beginning. Why, then, had he turned him away? Why had he bought him in the first place? He had assumed Sebastian wanted him to warm his bed. He wondered now if he had been bought simply for companionship. But surely a man like Sebastian had no need to purchase companionship. He thought about all the strange rumors he had heard about him, about his peculiar habits. Since returning home, he had overheard other things, stories told in hushed whispers that hinted at evil, at bargains made with the devil. Was it possible that the people of this town believed such outrageous tales? His friends and neighbors were a humble, superstitious people, frightened of what they didn't understand, of what couldn't easily be explained.

Snuggling under the covers once more, he closed his eyes. As much as he had loved Paris he was not going back. This was his home. This was where he belonged, and he would not let anyone, not even the master of Castle Rayven, chase him away.

The next day was market day, with his mother's list in hand, Ciel took the carriage Sebastian had brought for his family and went into town. It was good to see familiar country faces again. Because of Sebastians' generosity, he was able to purchase fresh bread, prime cuts of meat, and a bottle of fine red wine. He was sitting in the window of a tearoom, wondering if Sebastian would haunt his thoughts forever, when he saw Viscount Druitt. He saw Ciel at the same time. Tipping his hat, he crossed the road, a broad smile on his face. He was as handsome as he recalled. Several women turned to stare at him, their gazes admiring. "Good afternoon, Sir Phantomhive." He bowed over Ciel's hand. "May I join you?"

"Please do."

"It's been a long time." Druitt said. His gaze moved over Ciel, warm with affection and approval. "Your stay in Paris seems to have agreed with you."

"Thank you, my lord." Ciel replied, acutely aware of the admiration in his eyes.

"I was sorry to hear about your father," the Viscount said. "Is there anything I can do for you or your family?"

"No, thank you. Lord Sebastian has been most generous."

"Indeed." the Viscount sat back in his chair. "Are you returning to France soon?"

Ciel shook his head. "No. As much as I loved Paris, I've decided to stay here. It's home after all." And Sebastian is here

A slow smile spread over the Viscount's face. "That's good news indeed," he said. "There's a new play at the theater. I'd like very much to take you."

"Would you?"

The Viscount chuckled softly. "If you'd like to go. And if you think you could tolerate my company for the evening."

"I should like that very much indeed." Ciel replied. In truth, it would be no hardship to spend time with Viscount Druitt. With his light blonde hair and blue eyes, he was quite the most blatantly handsome man he had ever met, and he had met many during the last four years. "Good. I shall pick you up Saturday at six."

"I'll be ready."

"Very well." Rising to his feet, he took Ciel's hand in his. "I hate to leave you, but I have a business appointment." He kissed Ciel's hand. "Til Saturday next, Sir Phantomhive."

"Til Saturday."

Viscount Druitt arrived at six o'clock sharp. Ciel grinned openly as he introduced him to his family. One and all, they stared at him, hardly able to speak coherently as he bowed over their hands. Even his mother seemed awestruck. "I'm sorry about my family." Ciel remarked later, in the carriage. "They've never met anyone quite like you. My sister asked if you were a prince."

"And what did you tell her?"

"Why, I said you were, of course."

Druitt laughed softly as he took Ciel's hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Hardly that."

For a time, they rode in silence. The Viscount studdied the boy beside him. He was even more beautiful than he remembered. Four years at school had refined him, given him an aura of self-confidence that he had lacked before. He thought of little else during the play. There was only one drawback that he could see, and that was the fact that everyone in the valley knew Ciel's father had sold him to Sebastian, that Ciel lived in his house. Druitt didn't care a whit what the people of the Valley thought, but it would likely cause a stir should his family find out. But he would jump that fence when he came to it. After the play, he took Ciel out for a late supper. Ciel continued to charm him with his openness, his candor. Flirting came naturally to the boy; it wasn't something he had learned at school, or studied in front of his looking glass. By the time his carriage drew up outside Ciel's home, his decision had been made.

"Thank you for a lovely evening." Ciel said.

"It was my pleasure." Druitt replied gallantly. He kissed Ciel's hand and then, unable to help himself, he drew him into his arms and kissed him.

Ciel closed his eyes as Druitt's lips touched his. It was a pleasent kiss, gentle, tender. Unbidden came the thought that, while Viscount Druitt's kiss was pleasurable, it had no fire. Comparing Druitt's kiss to Sebastian's was like comparing the warmth of a firefly to the warmth of the sun. His arms tightened around Ciel breifly before he let him go. "Will I see you tomorrow night?"

"If you wish."

"Seven?"

Ciel nodded.

"Good night, Sir Phantomhive."

"Good night, my lord."

He came for Ciel promptly at seven the following evening, and every night for a week thereafter. They went to a ball at Lord Trancy's, to supper in the city, to another play, to the opera. As much as he enjoyed Druitt's company, he couldn't help feeling that he didn't belong in the crowed he associated with. They dined with barons and counts. On the outside he knew he looked as though he belonged. The outfits Sebastian had bought him were every bit as costly and fashionable as those of the other boys. Thanks to the training he had recieved at the convent, he knew how to behave at the dinner table, which fork to use with which course, but on the inside, he was still a country boy, unsure of himself, in awe of the highborn men and women who were Druitt's contemporaries. He said as much one night, at supper.

"Nonsense," Druitt exclaimed. "There's no shame in being born poor."

"But..."

"I'll hear no more of it," Druitt said firmly. He took Ciel's hand in his. "You're more beautiful than any of them, Ciel. You have no need to feel inferior simply because your father was a farmer and not an earl. Don't forget, Alois wasn't always an earl. Not all of us are born into our titles."

Ciel smiled at him, reassured, at least for the moment. "Will I see you tomorrow night?" he asked.

Druitt shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I've agreed to meet Trancy and Michaelis at Cotyer's."

The mere mention of his name caused a sharp pain in Ciel's heart.

"Is something wrong?" Druitt asked. "You look pale of a sudden."

"I feel a headache coming on," Ciel said apologetically. "Would you mind if we went home?"

"Of course not." He summoned the waiter, took care of the bill, and wrapped Ciel's cloak around his shoulders. Minutes later Ciel was comfortably settled in Druitt's coach. He closed his eyes to discourage any conversation and all the while, in the back of his mind, he heard Druitt's voice telling him he was meeting Sebastian tomorrow night. He wished he had the nerve to follow Druitt to Cotyer's so that he might see Sebastian again, if only from a distance. He bid the Vidcount good night and went into the house. Standing at the window, he watched his coach pull away. Overcome by a terrible sadness, he removed his cloak and went into the bedroom hannah. The Viscount cared for him. He might even ask his hand in marriage, but Ciel knew he would never love him as he loved Sebastian. Why had he sent him away? After living at the convent in Paris, he understood what it was like to be lonely, to be different from those around you. He knew, rfom the rumors he had heard, from things Sebastian himself had said, that he felt enstranged from society, though Ciel didn't understand why. Was there some incident in his past that made him feel inferior?

He told himself it didn't matter, that he didn't care. Sebastian had sent him away, first to Paris, and then away from the castle, sent him away and told him, nay, warned him, never to return.

So be it, he thought, blinking back tears he refused to shed. If Sebastian didn't want him, he knew someone who did.

At the invitation of Lord Trancy, The Viscount escorted Ciel to a masquerade ball at Trancy Hall the next week. Druitt dressed as Robin Hood, complete with bow and feathered arrived at eight, had supper at nine. It was after ten when Druitt led him into the ball room. A huge crystal chandelier cast soft candlelight over the dancers. The orchestra was partially hidden behind a wall of lacy ferns. He danced with Druitt, and with Trancy, and then with Druitt again. The Viscount flirted with him shamelessly, declaring his to be the most beautiful person in the room. His hand caressed his shoulders, his lips brushed his cheeks.

Light-headed from too much wine, feeling lonely because Sebastian had rejected him, he allowed Druitt to kiss him. He even kissed him back, telling himself it didn't matter. Sebastian didn't want him. He had even told Ciel to marry someone else. Why not marry Druitt? He was young and handsome and rich, and he adored him. He would never send him away. At the end of the dance, The viscount left for a moment to fetch Ciel a glass of champagne. Feeling suddenly warm, Ciel left the crush inside the ballroom and went out onto the balcony that overlooked a rather exotic topiary. A breeze ruffled his hair and cooled his cheeks. Away off in the distance, he could see the tall spires of Castle Rayven. In spite of his resolution to put him from his mind, he wondered what Sebastian was doing, if he ever spared a thought for him. A sudden chill caressed his nape, and with it the sense that he was no longer alone. Ciel whirled around, gasping when he saw a tall man standing in the doorway. He was dressed all in black save for the stark white maskthat covered his face. A black hat adorned with a curling black feather was pulled low over his brow. A cloak of fine black velvet billowed around him.

He held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

His voice caressed Ciel, calling up images of rosed and moonlit nights. He never thought to refuse him, but willingly placed his hand in his. The man held him close, his body brushing intimately with Ciels at every turn. Trapped in the web of his gaze, Ciel let him waltz him around the balcony. The music faded into the distance. The crush of people inside the ballroom ceased to exist. There was only the two of them, dancing beneath a sky sprinkled with stars, and the awareness that crackled between them, as sharp as a sliver of glass. Ciel gazed into his eyes, fathomless dark red eyes that stared back at him, eyes that burned with hell's own fires.

Suddenly breathless, Ciel murmured his name. The mans arms tightened around his waist, drawing Ciel closer. Ciels body burned at his nearness; his heart was pounding furiously.

Was it he?

It had to be.

Slowly, The man lowered his head towards his, until the dark eyes blazing from behind the mask burned everything else from his sight, until Ciel saw nothing, was aware of nothing, but the man who held him. Cie lifted his face for his kiss, felt the touch of his cool lips scorch a bright path to the very heart and soul of him. When he drew his mouth from the boys, Ciel stared up at him, a curious lethargy stealing through his limbs. If not for the strength of the arms around him, he thought he might have melted at the man's feet, like butter left too long in the sun. Ciel wasn't aware that the music had ended until he saw Druitt standing in the doorway. Ciel's partner bowed over his hand and then, his cloak swirling about him like smoke, he walked away from him to disappear in the darkness at the far end of the balcony.

"Who was that?" Ciel asked, though he was certain, within his heart, that it had been Sebastian. Druitt glanced after the man in the black hat and cloak. "I don't know."

"I thought..."

"Thought what?"

"I thought it was Sebastian."

"Sebastian? Here?" The Viscount chuckled softly as he handed Ciel a glass of champagne. "He loaths masquerades. Loaths parties of any kind. I've never known him to attend one."

"Have you seen him at Coyter's recently?"

Druitt nodded. "Blast the man. He's impossible to beat, you know. Sometimes I tyhink he knows what cards I've been dealt before I do."

"Indeed?" Ciel stood on tiptoe , trying to see over the heads of the crowd."

"Come." Druitt said. He placed Ciel's glass on the balcony railing, then took the boys hand in his. "I believe this is my dance."

Ciel dreamed of Sebastian that night, dreamed that he came into his room, that he was standing beside his bed, his long black cloak enfolding him like loving arms, a hideous mask hiding his face. Not the white mask he had worn to the ball, but a mask with glowing bright red eyes and sharp white fangs dripping blood. He woke with a cry on his lips. Or was he still dreaming? He blinked into the darkness. Was he there, in the corner, or was that merely a shadow cast by the moonlight? Heart pounding, mouth dry, Ciel stared into the darkness of his room. "My lord?"

"Go to sleep, sweet Ciel."

"Let me see your face."

"You would not like what you see. Sleep now. Sleep, sleep, go to sleep..."

Ciel struggled to stay awake, but he could not resist the hypnotic sound of his voice. His limbs grew heavy; his eyelids refused to stay open. "Please come to me," Ciel begged, though it was an effort to think, to speak. "I know you're there."

"This is only a dream, Ciel, Only a dream..."

How could it be a dream, he wondered, if he was telling him to go to sleep? And then he was asleep, or was he merely dreaming he was asleep? Confused he tried to call his name, to climb out of the lethargy that was dragging her down, down, into nothingness... Hw woke determind to see him again. In spite of his resolution, it took him a week to get up the nerve to travel the narrow winding road that led up Devil Tree Mountain to Castle Rayven. He dressed carefully for his journey. The outfit he chose was of royal blue velvet. A white button up shirt, the coat had a V neck, the sleeves were long, the shorts were knee length, the hem trimmed with black fur. Donning a voluminous light black cloak, he took one last look in the mirror before leaving his room. Not wanting his mother or sisters to see him, he tiptoed out the back door, saddled one of the horses, and rode out of the yard.

It was a bit frightening, riding through the night towards Castle Rayven. The trees cast ominous shadows on the road. He felt his heart drop into his stomach as an owl swooped past his head. Dark clouds gathered overhead, shutting out the moon and the stars. A cold wind rushed down from the mountain, keening sadly as it swept across the land. Ciel was shivering by the time he reached the castle. Dismounting, he tethered the horse, then climbed the steps and knocked on the door. Several mintues later, the door opened with a creak.

"Sir Phantomhive," Meirin exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to visit Lord Sebastian."

Meirin looked momentarily taken aback. "No one has ever come to visit before," she remarked in astonishment. "Is Lord Sebastian expecting you?"

"No. Is he here?"

"Meirin hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"Can I see him?"

Meirin frowned. "Truly, sir, I don't know what to do."

"Is something wrong?"

Meirin took a step forward. "He's been in quite a bad mood, sir," she said, her voice lowered conspiratorially. "I'm not sure that seeing him just now is a good idea."

"Meirin!"

Ciel jumped back, his eyes widening as Sebastian stepped into the hallway. Very slowly, Meirin turned around to face her master. "Sir?"

"You may go, Meirin," Sebastian said, his voice like ice.

"Yes my lord," Meirin said . She sent Ciel a glance that might have been meant to be reassuring, then hurried down the hallway. Like statues, Ciel and Sebastian stood staring at each other until the sound of Meirins's footsteps disappeared.

"What are you doing here?" Sebastian asked, his voice carefully controlled. His eyes, those depthless dark red eyes, held Ciel's captive.

"I...that is...I..." He couldn't speak, couldn't think coherently, with him staring at him like that. Ciel licked his lips gone suddenly dry. Sebastian looked so angry, so ominous standing there. Had he made a mistake in coming here? Had he been mistaken at the ball? Perhaps it hadn't been Sebastian at the masquerade after all. Sebastian walked down the hallway, rapidly closing the distance between them, until they were only at arm's length apart. "I told you never to return here."

Ciel nodded. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his cloak and balled them into tight fists to still their trembling. "So you did, my lord."

"Then why are you here?"

He lifted his chin, refusing to let Sebastian intimidate him. "If you never wanted to see me again, why did you come to the masquerade? Why did you dance with me?" He took a deep breath. "Why did you kiss me?"

Sebastian stiffened. Ciel saw his hands clench at his sides, and knew it was not to still their trembling, but to restrain his anger.

"I know it was you," Ciel said, "so you needn't try to deny it."

"Leave my house," Sebastian said, bitting off each word. "Leave now, while you can."

Ciel looked deep into his eyes. Past the anger lurking there, beneath the harsh timbre of his voice, he sensed the loneliness that plagued him. "I've missed you, my lord," he said quietly. "I had hoped you missed me."

A muscle twitched in Sebastian's jaw. It was the only visible sign of the tension that was spiraling through him. He drew a deep breath, and the scent that was Ciels assailed him - the soap he bathed with, the scent of his hair and skin. Sebastian could smell the nervousness that made Ciel's heart beat fast, smell the blood that flowed in his veins. A sharp blast of wind buffeted Ciel's cloak, its chill breath making him shiver. A moment later, there was a blinding flash of lightning, followed by a tremendous clap of thunder, and then it began to rain. Sebastian swore under his breath. Even the elements seemed to be conspiring against him. He took a step back so Ciel could cross the threshold.

"Come in," he said, though there was no warmth in his voice, no welcome in his eyes.

"My horse..."

"Meirin will see to it," Sebastian said brusquely. "Come in."

Afraid he might change his mind, Ciel quickly did as bidden. He unfastened his cloak, felt Sebastian's hands at his shoulders as he took it from him and hung it on a wooden clothes peg, then shut the door. Wordlessly, Sebastian walked past him. Ciel hesitated only a moment, then followed Sebastian down the long narrow hallway that led to the library. How many hours had he sat in this room, reading to him? Ciel wondered. How often had he watched Sebastian, wishing he would take him in his arms, that he would kiss him as he had longed to be kissed? Had Sebastian known how he felt? Was that why he had sent him away? Ciel paused in the doorway as a horrible thought crossed his mind. Perhaps Sebastian was in love with someone else. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to be bothered with his silly infatuation. Only it wasn't some childish infatuation Ciel felt for him. Sebastian sat down in his favorite chair, his back to Ciel. "Come in Ciel." he invited softly.

Feeling suddenly shy, Ciel crossed the floor and took a seat in the chair across from his. It seemed strange to sit there, as if he were his equal. Most nights, he had sat on the floor with his back to the hearth. Ciel glanced around the room, finding it exactly as it had been the last time he had seen it four years ago. An ancient-looking sword hung over the massive fireplace. A long oak table covered with a black lace cloth stood beneath a pair of tall, stained-glass windows. A narrow shelf made of dark oak held several pewter figurines in the shapes of snarling wolves and ravens in flight. There was no furniture in the room save for the two high-backed chairs.

"You should not have come here." His voice was low and soft.

"I'm sorry if my presence upsets you."

One corner of Sebastian's mouth turned down in a wintery smile. "You have no idea what your presence does to me."

"I am most happy to see you again, my lord," Ciel said candidly. "I had hoped you would feel the same."

"Ciel, I have longed for you these past four years in ways you cannot begin to imagine."

Ciel shook his head. "Then why are you so angry with me?"

"I am not angry."

He looked angry, Ciel thought. Sebastian's hands were curled over the arms of the chair, his knuckles white with the strain. His posture was stiff, unyielding. Ciel could almost see the tension radiating from him.

"What is it, then?" he asked.

"I fear you are not safe here."

"Not safe?"

Sebastian stared past him, listening to the rain drumming on the roof. it was going to storm all night, he mused bleakly. There was no way he could send Ciel home, not now. His gaze skimmed Ciel's face and figure. He was so beautiful. his skin was the color of a porcelain doll, his hair was darker now, a light black. Ciel watched him through guileless blue eyes, his affection for him evident in every glance. Ciel could not stay here. The years without him had not lessened his desire. He wanted him, burned for him, ached for him in ways not known to mortal man. Hunger roared through him. Hunger for the boy's touch, for the very essence of his life. he felt it rise up within him, demanding to be fed, felt the thirst clawing at his insides. Ciel's nearness, the remembered sweetness of him, magnified his longing, his need for this one boy above all others. His fingernails dug into the arms of the chair, gouging the wood. His breathing became shallow and erratic. "Ciel."

"My lord?" Ciel leaned forward, his eyes narrowed as he studied Sebastian's face. "Are you well, my lord? Can I get you a glass of wine?"

"Go to your room."

"But..."

"Go!"

Ciel didn't argue, didn't waste time saying good night. Bolting from his chair, he fairly flew out of the room and up the stairs to the chamber that had once been his. Inside, he locked the door, then stood with his back against the portal, his breath coming in labored gasps. He had fled from Sebastian once before. The memory came surging back, as bright and clear as if it had happened only yesturday instead of years ago. He remembered feeling as though he had escaped a terrible fate that night.

He felt much the same way now.

When his breathing returned to normal, he noticed that the room was just as he had left it. Crossing the floor to the armoire, he opened the elaborately carved double doors. Inside were the outfits he had not taken with him when he left for Paris. He had regretted leaving so many behind, but Sebastian had given him more clothes than any one could wear in a lifetime. Closing the doors, he went to the dresser and opened the drawer that had held his nightgowns. Selecting one, he undressed, drew on the gown. He was about to climb into bed when he noticed the full length mirror Sebastian had given him had been covered with a dark cloth.

Curious, he thought, as he removed the cloth.

Ciel gazed at his reflection. He had been but fifteen the last time he looked in this mirror. He had grown a little taller, his figure a bit more manly, but other than that, he looked much the same. He wished suddenly that he was beautiful. That he had lucious blonde hair like his friend at the convent, Finian, that his eyes were emerald green instead of ordinary blue, that his waist was smaller. No wonder Sebastian had sent him away. Why would he choose him when he could have his pick of beautiful men and women.

Turning away from the mirror, he drew back the covers and slipped into bed. If the rumors were true, Sebastian'd had many, many women, yet he had married none of them. Ciel couldn't help wondering why. Surely a man of his wealth and breeding desired an heir. A baby, he though, a son with Sebastian's black hair and red eyes. Closing his eyes he imagined himself as Sebastian's wife.

As he had so many times in the past, Sebastian stood beside Ciel's bed, watching him sleep. The softness of Ciel's skin tempted his touch, and he curled his hands into tight fists to keep from stroking his cheek. He was so beautiful! And how he adored him. The years without him had been the worst torture he had ever endured. He had thought of Ciel daily, hourly, the memory of his face, his laughter, tormenting him far worse than any pain the heat of the sun might hold. The remembered sweetness of his lips, the nectar of his essence, had forever spoiled him for the taste of anyone else.

Ah. How Sebastian had burned for him, the yearning within himmore excruciatingly painful than the dark hunger that plagued him. Ciel. He had watched Viscount Druitt dancing with him at Trancy's masquerade, and he'd wanted to kill the man, to rip the heart from his chest. Never in all his four-hundred-and-thirty-one years had he experienced such blinding jealousy, such hatred, such an intense urge to destroy. He had known it would be a mistake to attend the masquerade, just as he had known, from the minute Druitt had mention the ball over drinks at Cotyer's, that he would go. Just to see Ciel. But seeing him had not been enough. He wanted, needed, to hold the boy in his arms. His fingernails cut into his palms as he fought the urge to gather Ciel in his arms, to kiss the soft curve of his cheek, to run his tongue along his neck...

A red mist rose up before his eyes. Hunger cramped his stomach and ran like molten lava through his viens. He felt his fangs lengthen, felt the urge to feed rise up within him, a ravening beast straining to be released. "No." The word whispered past his lips. He would not. Could not. Fear drove him toward the door.

"My lord?"

Sebastian stoped, his hands clenched at his sides.

"My lord, is that you?"

"Go to sleep, Ciel." He said. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, unleashing the full force of his gaze upon the boy. "Go to sleep, my sweet, and dream your young boy's dreams, while you still can."

Ciel gazed into the dark depths of Sebastian's eyes and felt a familiar lassitude steal through him. his eyelids felt unbearably heavy. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes.

Just before sleep claimed him, he thought he heard the hauntingly lonely cry of a wolf.