For the second night in a row, Bickslow's guts twisted while he felt a presence materialize that shouldn't belong. And he knew just where to find it too. Rising quickly, he raced for his door and tried to tear it open.

It wouldn't budge.

Then he realized that the lock was engaged. Flicking it open impatiently, he reefed on the door again. Still it wouldn't move. Growling in frustration, he jiggled the handle in vain. It felt fused shut. This is a trap laid just for you. The realization made his limbs feel limp and useless with fear. "Lisanna!"

Once more he tried the handle. It still wouldn't budge. When that failed, he lifted his voice and let it carry throughout the room. "Lisanna!" It fell on the walls and dampened. What kind of magic is this? "Lisanna! Can you hear me?"

Still absolutely nothing. Another idea ignited. Turning, he rushed to the window and pulled on it. That too was welded closed. Magic swelled without his permission. One after another his Tiki dolls came to life. They chanted, but he didn't pay any attention to what they said. With a thought, energy exploded out of the spirits and smashed the windows glass outwards. Winter air rushed into the room, bringing with it a dusting of snow. The hotel isn't going to be happy about that. The thought was distant and almost manic. Sucking in a breath, he grabbed the jagged window sill, tearing open his palms and scraping his exposed shoulder, and stepped out into the air. His spirits were there to catch him.


Lisanna felt frozen in place. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, she could barely think, so when Rene dug clawed hands into her shoulders and ripped her around, she went stiffly, feeling like a ragdoll and not a girl at all. His amber eyes burned bright, the piercings in his lip and septum gleaming by the lamplight. He looked furious and so out of place in her hotel room. He doesn't belong to this realm. The realization would have made her breathless if there was oxygen in the room for her to breathe. For two whole heartbeats, magic as powerful as any she'd ever felt before, travelled through her body from head to foot. She gasped and blinked and thought, I'm dying. But she wasn't. Another beat later, the sensation faded and she could breathe once more.

"The box was for demons, not for the likes of you." He was so furious that his hands shook, though the eerie fire had left his eyes, and with it most of his power. Now it only prickled her skin, not made her feel like she was turning inside out.

Lisanna shivered and sucked in a tight breath. "The—the box—"

"For a she-devil." He hissed the words.

Again, Lisanna felt that strange protectiveness for the ancient box and whatever was inside. "I took it. It's mine."

He laughed. "It was never yours. Not ever, animal heart. It was mine. It was your devil sister's. It was my master's."

The shock and fear were slowly beginning to retreat. Lisanna drew herself up—or she tried, anyway, Rene's hands held her firmly in place, heavy and bending her spine. "You're hurting me."

"It is less than you deserve."

She could tell he didn't really mean that. "If you're going to be a villain, have some conviction." She pushed at him, feeling wild and brave. "I don't know what you're talking about, why you're here, why you're breathing down my neck, but—"

Rene looked as though she'd struck him, but he recovered. "Last evening you opened my most prized possession and let it loose."

Lisanna's skin crawled. I opened the box… She didn't remember…

Or… maybe…

Faintly, she recalled holding the box up for inspection, wriggling her fingers inside the stiff lid and…

And blackness. Nothing else. Not even when she tried. It slipped from her mind like water through sand.

Maybe I did.

She certainly wanted to.

"When it came into this world, it was meant for the demon Mirajane Strauss. It did not find what it sought, so now it wanders free, taking what it pleases."

Lisanna's mouth was dry. "What was in there?"

Rene's amber eyes burned through her skin. "My heart."

"Your heart?" She hung onto his words despite herself. Her fear had totally fled, and now she could only listen to the lilting timbre of his voice.

His hands gentled on her shoulders. "The demon eater. She is a part of me, as I am of her."

Lisanna clutched his jacket without ever meaning to. The ancient fabric felt rough in her hands. "What are you?" You've asked him this before.

"I am many things in many cultures."

She so desperately needed to know. "Tell me."

He grabbed her hand and moved it so it rested over the place his heart should lie. His chest was dead under her skin. "I have no heart for which to beat, she is tearing through the night. I have no breath to fill my lungs. Long ago they fell flat. I belong to hellfire. I belong to any that may call my name and bind me."

Spirit, Lisanna thought. He's a spirit. But not the regular sort. His power was nearly on the celestial range, like Loke's but… but it was so much darker. She jerked her hand away from him, suddenly scared again. He looked sad.

"She won't be satisfied until she has your sister's blood, Lisanna Strauss. Give her the box, so Empusa may come home."

The name gave Lisanna chills, but with the threat to Mira, she found she was stubborn. "I won't let anything hurt Mira. She's not a demon, I told you again and again."

Rene shook his head. "Then you will all die. She will not stop."

"You can stop her," Lisanna insisted. "I know you can. You brought her to me, you—"

"Regardless of what I may or may not want, my master has told me I have one purpose here, Lisanna, and it is to see the end of Mirajane. She will die, one way or the other. I will not lift a finger to help. I cannot."

Lisanna bit her tongue hard. "Please—"

The look he gave her was pinched. "I can only say one thing, stay away from the hound, and maybe you'll survive. She only hunts the most wicked." He released her shoulders. In his absence, Lisanna's skin felt both raw and cold. Then he touched his palm to her forehead. "Remember only the secret and its purpose. It lies where you rest."

Lisanna's vision blurred. "Rene—" she started. "Tell me—" She trailed off, feeling faint.

Rene's amber eyes flashed, and then he was changing, shrinking down onto four legs and growing fur. Soon an orange tabby blinked up at the swooning girl. A cat… A familiar looking cat at that. "Rene—" she tried to breathe. And couldn't.

The fall to the ground was short. It would have been painful too, except she was totally unconscious.


Coming over the top of the building, Bickslow caught sight of a bright orange tabby leaping from Lisanna's window. Down several stories it fell. He expected to see it hit against the ground and break its legs, but as soon as it hit, it turned into dust and dissipated. He knew without a doubt that was the presence he felt. He also knew it was gone. But Lisanna was not. Her window was wide open, snow melted upon her floor, and the girl in question was splayed out across the ground, as limp as soggy paper. His heart was in his throat, he was so nervous that his palms itched, so terrified that she was dead. Coming through her window was ungraceful. In his haste, he stepped off his spirits too soon, missed the ledge, and almost found out what a drop like that would do to a human. Scrambling for purchase, he just barely caught the window sill and dragged himself inside. Beyond the ledge, the air felt absolutely tainted inside. Suppressing a shiver, he stepped out of the window, though he didn't truly want to.

His foot landed in the wet puddle and he went sprawling. Several curses dropped out of his mouth, every single one of them vicious. Lisanna didn't budge. Leg throbbing, he crawled to her side and cradled her pale face in his palms. "Lisanna?"

Her skin was cold. Ducking his head, he placed it over her heart and waited. And waited.

And waited.

Just when he was about to do something drastic, her heart beat and her lungs filled. At first the movement was stilted—her heart was uneven, her breaths forced—but then she seemed to come back to herself. Her eyes flitted behind her lashes and her mouth moved around some word.

"Lisanna?" He touched her forehead and pushed her bangs back from her face, then leaned down to hear what she said. It was then he realized that it was his name. His throat closed up tight. Is she calling you because she wanted your help? Or because she knows you're here? Both?

Maybe neither. He'd never saved anything in his life. He was better at wrecking. But maybe he wanted to know what it was like to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. While she lay there, limp and unresponsive, he couldn't deny the fierce urge to protect the small, snowy haired girl.

It was awkward, but he cradled her to his chest and lifted her as best he could. His shoulder ached, his palms stung, and his knee burned in protest, but he didn't stop until she was safely in his arms. Carrying her to the bed, he deposited her on the mattress, then went to the window and closed it firmly, engaging the lock as he did so. The horizon was still alive with the flash of blue and red lights. Something is still happening. And maybe it's connected to whatever has been haunting Lisanna. His mouth was cotton dry. Turning away from the lights, he came back to the bed and peeked under the mattress. His hand left a bloody print both on the floor and on the blankets at Lisanna's feet. He didn't care all that much. Add it to the list of things the hotel was going to make him pay for. Or maybe not, with a little bit of coercion.

He didn't need a lot of light to see that the box was gone. Sitting up, he scoured the room. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

She must have hidden it again.

Frowning, he looked at Lisanna. She was curled in on herself, her dress kissing the tops of her thighs. She shivered. Maybe because she was cold. Maybe because of whatever the fuck was just in her room. Gnawing on his lip hard, Bickslow cursed and made a tight fist. The pain was sobering. Looking down, he realized that his palms were still bleeding heavily. With a sigh, he went to her washroom and cleaned them as best he could, poking his head out of the door every few seconds to make sure that she was okay. She hadn't moved. Searching through her cupboards produced a shoddy first aid kit. There was gauze and tape inside and little else. There was a better one in his pack back in his room, but there was no way he was leaving Lisanna so he could go get it. Sighing, he tied his palm up as best he could, then came back into the room.

That taint was fleeing and the place was starting to heat up again. The snow was really melting now; the puddle was getting huge. You should clean that up. Maybe, but he didn't really care. Kicking off his boots, he climbed into bed beside the girl and thought, One day, I'm going to do this and you're actually going to be awake. The thought brought with it the memory of her grappling with his pants and wrapping her fingers around his hardness. He tucked his face into her shoulder and breathed out heavily. She smelled good, warm and sweet, yet still a little acrid, like alcohol and something else he couldn't quite place. "What did you get up to tonight, Little Strauss?" How he wished she was awake to tell him. he'd bleed her of all her secrets until she had absolutely nothing left. Then she'd be his in a way that no one else was. The thought came with a hint of depreciation. Lisanna wasn't his; but he knew that would never mean anything, not really, not while he wanted her to be. Reaching around her body, he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her practically on top of him. She was limp right until the moment her cheek touched his chest, then she curled in and muttered nonsensically. He grabbed up the sheet next and draped it over her body as best he could. The end result was that she kind of resembled a snow-topped burrito.

He left the light on and closed his eyes.


Lisanna knew who was in her bed before she was even fully awake. She thought to be outraged, she thought to be embarrassed, she thought to be shy. But when she wriggled, he clutched her tighter to his chest and she relaxed.

Cracking an eyelid, she looked up his neck to where his sharp jaw sat just over her head. He breathed lightly, his breaths breaking over her skin and making her hair tickle her forehead. He looked peaceful. Open. Totally unguarded. It was a rare glimpse at the ever-smiling man. She didn't wonder why he was in her bed, though it did seem like a peculiar place for him to be, but she did wonder what he dreamed. His eyes kept twitching behind his pale blue lids and his breathing fluctuated. Unthinkingly, she reached up and touched the place his chin pointed and felt the rough stubble there. He needed to shave, but she didn't mind.

I hope you don't regret this in the morning. Just thinking of the way he looked at her last night made her body flush. We really did that. She quivered. And earlier… Pepper… Low in her belly tightened. I hardly recognize this Lisanna, she thought, and wasn't all that sad for it. This Lisanna was braver. This Lisanna was able to shimmy up Bickslow's side and kiss the edge of his jaw experimentally. This Lisanna put on a falsely confident face when his green orbs flicked open and pegged her with a confused look.

Uncertainty almost made her stall, but then she found her resolve and kissed a little closer to his mouth.

"Lisanna—" Bickslow's voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey—"

"Hi." She nipped his chin.

She glowed. But… "—Cut it out." The protest was weak. You have to ask—

She sat up, leaned over him and nearly fell out of last nights' dress. She made absolutely no move to fix it.

Bickslow did his best to be reasonable and ignore that healthy swell of breast. "Are you feeling okay? Last night, I came in here and—"

What's in the box?

My heart.

Random and disjointed memories assailed Lisanna. They felt more like dream than reality. She raised a brow, certain that it was fake, and asked, "Since when did you ever care about what others are feeling?"

Bickslow swallowed tightly and wondered, Am I really that guy?

Yes. But it was strange hearing it out of Lisanna's mouth. Her face, which had been clouded just a second ago, cleared when she leaned in once more and kissed his jaw. "You're in my bed again," she said between tastes.

Bickslow let his eyes slide shut for a second. She's fine, obviously. Whatever was in here last night didn't hurt her so—

You can't just let this go, you fucking waste. Her mouth felt nice. And now it was at the corner of his. Her breasts pressed into his chest while she tried to encourage him to kiss her. She's manic. Absolutely. What the fuck does she think she's doing? The answer seemed obvious. Boosting her self-esteem. Riding out last night's high. It didn't occur to the seith mage that maybe she just wanted to do it. He kissed her, for a moment happy to oblige.

You can't. Ask her—

"Lisanna—" He pulled away as best he could. He was trapped to the mattress and her hands were in his hair, so he didn't get very far, but just enough that he could see her face. Looking up into her sapphire eyes, he felt a little piece of himself wither and die. The rational one. The one that said they needed to talk about last night.

"You're the one in my bed," Lisanna said. She had to bite her lips together to keep herself from smiling. That sounded like something a more confident woman would say. What does he know if I pretend or not? At the core of things, wasn't everyone a fraud?

Bickslow tried to be reasonable. "You were the one kissing me."

Lisanna's smile was lightning fast. She felt brave, if not foggy from her night of drinking. "You looked like you wanted it."

"Did I?" Yes. Absolutely. "Last I checked I was sleeping."

Lisanna's body tingled with nerves while she made herself sit up and straddle him. Bickslow's brows lifted with interest as he took in her body and her wrinkled red dress. It was stained over her hip where maybe he hadn't quite missed last night. Between his legs immediately got hard. Lisanna felt him pressing rigidly into her buttocks. She wriggled a little and was pleased when he caught his bottom lip between his straight white teeth and bit hard enough to leave a mark.

"If you keep that up—"

Her breath quickened. "Yes?"

She looked like she was trying to be so daring. He loved it enough that it made his restraint lie down alongside his reason. Feeling wicked he said, "Get off me."

Lisanna's face fell. "But—"

"You heard me. Get the fuck up."

"I didn't mean—"

Reaching up, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her down so she was inches from his face, then seized her breast roughly. "I said get up, not chat."

Lisanna's breath died when she realized that he wasn't kicking her off because he wanted her to disappear. As soon as he released her, she moved to do as he asked. Her legs were jelly. She lamented giving up the control, but then again, she was eager to see what he wanted.

She didn't get off the bed like Bickslow expected, she stopped and knelt by his side. Looking at her, he fought the urge to pull himself out of his pants, grab her by the hair and see what her mouth felt like on his hard member. Not yet. With great effort he said, "All the way up."

Lisanna looked so uncertain that he almost felt guilty. That guilt was smothered by a different sensation. A vicious one. She must have seen the savageness in his eyes, because for a heartbeat, she clutched her fingers nervously and wondered, what did I do?

"You have about two seconds to get up, Lisanna, and after that, I'm walking out that door, and I'm never coming back," Bickslow fibbed. His bluff worked. Lisanna stood on quivering legs. Her feet met a large puddle at the side of her bed. The water was cold.

"What—"

Bickslow realized that she stepped in last night's snow. You should really talk— "Later." Once he opened his mouth, Lisanna wasn't going to be feeling nearly as giving, and this was something he desperately, desperately wanted. You're the worst. That was fine, no one ever said he was good, or that he had to play nice.

"But," Lisanna started and was hit by a memory. Her window was open last night. Snow had piled in. The rest… was used up and gone. Maybe. She felt like if she dug a little deeper, she'd be able to recall, but she didn't know if she cared all that much, especially with Bickslow looking at her like that, like he was starving for her. No one had ever, ever, ever wanted her like that.

"Shut up and take off your dress."

Lisanna's mouth fell open into a small O. "W-what?"

"Off." Seeing her doubt only made his body ache harder.

Lisanna fidgeted.

"Strip for me, Lisanna."

Lisanna pulled at the hem of her dress. "Bickslow—" This was not what she had in mind when she started kissing him.

"I'm waiting." Fuck, he liked to see her squirm. It wouldn't be half as much fun if she was cocky and confident.

Lisanna reached up with shaking hands and grabbed the shoulder strap of her dress. Are you really going to?

She knew the answer. Yes. Only because she wanted him to keep looking at her like that, full of ferocity and desire and—

She dragged the shoulder strap down over her elbow and watched his eyes sharpen. Her skin pricked with gooseflesh. Meeting his gaze was too intense. Don't look into his eyes. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help it. His green orbs sawed through her. Lisanna fidgeted and hurried to pull the other strap down too. Once her other arm was free, she hesitated for only a second, then grabbed the sides of her dress and started pulling it down over her chest.

"Wait, wait—" Bickslow reached out and grabbed her hands just before her breasts peaked out.

"What?" Lisanna breathed.

He reached up and grabbed her by the back of the neck again and brought her to his mouth. Her lips were warm but dry. He licked them for her. "Slower."

"Slower?"

He touched the exposed flesh at her chest and dipped his fingers into her cleavage. She felt as soft as silk. Her breasts were full when he grabbed them. "Yes." He couldn't stop himself from kissing her neck. Lisanna's breath snagged. Then he pushed her away. "Keep going. Turn around and lift your dress up."

Lift it…? She did what he asked, feeling both uncertain and brazen. She smothered the former and embraced the latter as much as she could. Her hesitance foretold her inexperience, but again, Bickslow didn't care. His hands shook while he tugged at his belt and undid his pants. Reaching in, he grabbed his hard member and pulled it out just in time to see Lisanna's full rump peep out of her tight dress. She was still wearing last night's thong. It was as red and lacy as he remembered. It was a good thing that reality did his memory justice, he'd be disappointed otherwise. Rolling over, he reached out and grabbed a healthy handful, and was pleased when she squealed.

"Turn around."

Lisanna obeyed. Her eyes dropped to where he was hard and exposed. Her blood roared in her ears. Her skin ignited. Between her legs got so incredibly hot. "Gods."

Bickslow smirked. "Now get back on the bed."

She submitted and immediately tried to kiss him, thinking that's what he wanted. Bickslow pushed her back. "Lift your dress, show me your panties."

Lisanna breathed out nervously, but did that too.

"Spread your legs." He helped, pushing her knees wide with one hand while he rubbed himself with the other.

Lisanna's breathing, already ragged to begin with, turned absolutely frantic. She felt too wild to even ask why both of his palms were gauzed up, or why his shoulder was stained in old blood. Bickslow grinned, happy to see her so out of sorts, and said, "Now finger yourself."

"Wh—what?"

"You heard me."

"Bickslow, no—" She couldn't possibly, not with him staring at her so intently, rubbing himself and just… watching.

"Do it."

She bit her tongue hard. "O-okay." It felt strange reaching between her legs while his eyes were glued to her, but she did it, and once she had, she was surprised to see how wet she was. Then embarrassed when she heard it. "Sorry—"

"Shut up and keep going." He loved the way she sounded. His hand moved faster.

Seeing this gave Lisanna the courage to keep it up. I guess I'm braver than I thought. It helped when he looked at her so full of want.

Reaching, Bickslow grabbed the edge of her panties and said, "Underneath."

Lisanna pressed her lips together and hastened to obey. Closing her eyes, she just let herself feel. It was startling when Bickslow grabbed the hem of her dress and finally yanked it down over her round and perky breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra, strapless or otherwise.

Opening her eyes, Lisanna looked into his hungry expression and felt the protest wither on her lips. He wants this. He wants you. Suddenly, she felt in control again, even though he told her what to do.

"I want you to make yourself come, Lisanna. I want you to scream." Bickslow felt utterly mad while he watched her fingers stroke over her own clit. He wanted to add his own tongue to the mix, but she was doing such a good job at making herself quiver, it seemed almost unfair.

She panted, her breasts heaving with every intake of breath. Bickslow allowed himself to sit up and take one creamy, rose-tipped breast into his mouth. Lisanna moaned, low and dark and bucked against him, her free hand grabbing his hair roughly and pulling. The seith mage didn't mind. He liked her on the edge of destruction. She was so fraught and so frantic. He sucked her nipple and bit hard enough that he left teeth marks behind. Lisanna seemed to like the pain-tinged pleasure, because that final bite pushed her hard over the edge. Her body exploded in bright light, her fingers soaked in her own juices, and she shivered and cried out, just like Bickslow wanted. He watched her face scrunch up, her apple-red mouth drop open, her skin flush red then prick once more in goose flesh. He pulled her in close, wanting to taste her on the tail end of her orgasm. She moaned one more time, the sound muffled against his mouth. He wanted more.

"Get up."

Lisanna felt weak. "Wait—"

"Now."

She hastened to do what he asked. Standing once more, she looked down and realized that he still stroked himself, achingly slow. The head of his member was bright red and swollen, the shaft rigid and tight. She thought she couldn't get any wetter, but another wash of dampness leaked over her thighs. She would have been embarrassed, if she wasn't so turned on. She could hardly believe this was happening. It scared her, but she had no intention of stopping.

"What now?"

Bickslow looked up at her. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, her panties were damp, her breasts were exposed and her nipples were hard. She looked so… "You're perfect."

She flushed shyly and clutched her elbows, the motion pulling her breasts together.

"Take off the rest of your clothes."

"A—all of them?" She didn't know why she felt so scared, but every single one of her limbs quaked.

"All."

Grabbing the hem of her dress, she pulled it down over her hips. Her panties went next. Stepping out of both, she pushed them aside, then looked at the mostly-clothed man. It didn't seem fair, but his most intimate part was on display for her.

"Turn around." He wanted to see every part of her.

Lisanna did, though she felt so incredibly shy. Bickslow stopped jerking himself off so he could reach out and grab a handful of her bare ass. Lisanna loosed an uneven breath. Instead of squirming away like she wanted, she let him grope. His fingers dropped low and encouraged her to spread her legs wide, then tickled her slit. "You're so wet." The realization made him grin. Without warning, he closed his teeth tightly around her hip and listened to her hiss both in pain and pleasure. "Tell me you like it." His mouth went from biting to kissing to licking. It tickled and made her skin feel so absolutely raw.

"Y-yes."

"Do you want to keep going?" He wanted to hear her say it.

"P-please."

It was even better to hear her beg. He pulled back, then slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint. Lisanna loosed a pain-tinged whimper.

"Get on top of me."

She turned to face him, eyes wide and hesitant. "Bickslow—I've never—"

He didn't care. "Just do it."

He seemed so certain that she followed his direction almost without question. Climbing back onto the bed, she straddled his legs and felt his hardness pressing into her opening. He was so warm and slipped over her effortlessly when she rocked. She watched Bickslow's eyes roll into the back of his head. And he's not even inside yet…

He grabbed her hips and ground her off his body roughly, bowing into her to meet her swollen clit with his hard member. Lisanna sobbed, half in desire, half in fear. This is really happening. You can say no. It's not too late. But she didn't want to. She kept thinking that right up until the moment he lifted her just a few inches, then sheathed himself inside.

He wasn't gentle. He wasn't careful. He was rough. His fingers bit into her hips and held her aloft, his hips ground up into hers, and he didn't even give her a second to whimper in pain or pleasure. He just held her as high as he dared and slammed into her again and again, enjoying the way her breasts bounced, the way she looked away, squinting up her face like she didn't know whether to cry or moan. Both. He arched his hips in such a way that a weak mewl dropped from her lips. Then the panting began. She seemed embarrassed by that too, but she couldn't stop the noises coming from her mouth. Bickslow loved them. Every. Single. One. He endeavoured to make her louder, even though he knew that just next door was her brother, and just down the hall was her demonic sister. Instead of deterring him, it only made him want to hear her more. Sliding his hands up her body, he grabbed her breasts and squeezed too hard. Lisanna arched and planted her palms on his thighs. She didn't know what she was doing, but she did what felt good. Grinding her hips, she made him hit off her inner wall and cried out. Her voice was too loud. She knew that. Shut up. She couldn't. Heat was building in her core and stretching over her skin. You're going to come again. The last one hadn't felt like this. She gyrated more, and even went so far as to grab Bickslow's hand to encourage him to squeeze her tighter. He obeyed, pinching her nipple until she winced. The pressure built to a crescendo. She rolled her hips one more time, then came, shaking and sobbing and clawing at Bickslow's body with short nails. They were still long enough to leave fissures in his skin.

The seith mage felt her trying to stop and grabbed her hips once more. Holding her tight, he crashed into her hard until he felt his own orgasm coming on. Every time his hips met hers, she cried out loudly, the sound both a sob and a plea, but whether she wanted him to keep going or to stop, he didn't know. He did what he wanted, pushing himself to the very brink. When he was standing on the precipice of a powerful orgasm, he pushed her off unceremoniously and came all over her stomach and her breasts. The girl gasped in shock but didn't move.

For several long seconds, they both just sat there numbly. Then Lisanna's skin began to cool and she realized that she couldn't just stay like that forever, perched over Bickslow and quivering. With some effort, she made her legs move. They were as flimsy as soggy noodles. She almost fell when she got to her feet. Bickslow reached out and steadied her with a hand on her arm.

She tried to keep going.

"Hey," he said before she could get too far away.

Lisanna glanced over her shoulder. Her cheeks were rosy bright and her skin was pinked. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle. Guilt pushed at the seith mage. What did you do? And, How could you? were only some of the things racing through his mind.

When he didn't immediately say anything, Lisanna ducked, kissed him like she'd never kissed anyone before, then raced into the washroom as fast as her weak legs would take her.

Bickslow pushed his hands against his eyes and stayed splayed out on her bed until he heard the shower come on. Then he remembered the conversation that they absolutely had to have. I'm going to get my answers, he decided, whether she likes it or not. And if that meant using magic, well… What did he care if she hated him?

Maybe he cared a little.

Though he wished it was not at all.