For disclaimer see chapter 1

Chapter 14

Jordana allowed the familiarity with the servant, because she genuinely liked Liberty. From the sassy greeting the first night, to their chance at getting better acquainted when the girl had offered her own clothing, Jordana felt a kinship with the young human. And yet the blonde vampire let Bastien answer, only smiling at the rapid way she asked them. It was good for Sebastien to spend time around Liberty, because she humoured him with good grace, and ignored his rough edges when it came to dealing with others.

"Juan is well, but he would like to have a night to himself….Yes, Madame Fontaigne has left town already. If you will be so kind to distribute the… people to the Jaguar and the TransAm. Miss Jordana will be driving the other one." Sebastien answered in that stern voice he used when annoyed, and Jordana hid a smile as Liberty chuckled a reply. But as she felt the girl tap her arm, the blonde turned to see the servant's surprised face as she mouthed the words, 'He gave you his car?' And in response, Jordana jangled the keys in her hand, a smirk curving her lips.

Everything had moved smoothly so far, and the humans waited in the cars for their vampire escorts. Liberty's last words to Jordana before she disappeared upstairs, was something to the effect that she'd take care of Rafe, allowing the blonde to concentrate on the business at hand. And the young vampire had strolled gracefully across the parking lot, and sliding into the drivers seat. Her gaze moved across the short distance, locking on Bastien, as he gave her first a nod to go ahead, and then a weak smile. Those tiny smiles seemed to be coming more frequently, and it gave Jordana hope that eventually she'd break through his tough shell. The tiny cracks were already starting. With a return smirk and a wave, the girl stepped on the gas and shot out of the hotel parking. The night was young and she had a date, after they got done with business.

ooo

This time, Howard was waiting for them outside. He was standing legs apart and arms akimbo in front of the house, his bodyguards hovering by his side, and for a moment Sebastien indulged in the considerably entertaining reflection on how long exactly they might be able to keep standing that way. There were additional cars out there this time, and before he even got out of the Jag he knew that there were also supplementary thugs in close proximity, scattered around the premises. He wondered whether Howard had expected him to advance with an army. After all, they were here for business only, and the gang wanted to get rid of the house, hence there was actually no reason for taking such exaggerated precautions. On the other hand, he recalled the little incident with Banks last time they met, and deduced that this might have made Howard consider preventative measures.

When Howard set eyes on the TransAm, he looked slightly thoughtful (confirming Sebastien's assumption that Juan had in fact called him), but his face lit up as soon as he discerned Jordana. He had probably not expected her to be part of the family to such extent that she even got the car keys. Sebastien knew better; apart from showing off, Juan had never been greatly attached to material things, including cars, but he was wise enough not to let everybody know. Conversely, Howard could not know that Jordana had joined him only three nights ago.

The big boss was not easily impressed, and although the five servants that were now gracefully getting out of the cars looked exceedingly above average, he scrutinized them silently, one by one, taking his time. When he came to Jamila, though, his jaw dropped. With one eye on Jordana, he said, his voice slightly rough, "I take them. The deal is done." Without hesitating any further, he pulled the petite beauty in a tight embrace, grazing the delicate skin of her neck with his teeth, but not yet punctuating it. Jamila reacted professionally, as was to be expected from one of Nicos' pupils. She nestled up against him like a cat, putting her slender arms around his neck as if she had always belonged there, and smiled up at him with an expression of artfully timid adoration.

Sebastien watched all this, standing slightly apart from the others, with his back to his car. As soon as Howard declared the deal closed, he made a few steps towards Howard, produced two papers and a pen from his jacket and said, "I would feel obliged if you signed these two receipts, sir. Furthermore, I would like to encourage you to leave the house by the weekend, so that the restoration procedures can commence as soon as possible. The outstanding payment will have been transferred to your account by then. I take it you agree on this and are thoroughly satisfied with the transaction. I hope you'll do us the honour of coming to our official opening." During the entire speech, he did not blink even once.

Holding Jamila in his arm, Howard groped for the papers, but before he could sign anything, Maynard snatched them from his hand, mumbling an apology. The would-be nobleman looked positively desolate, he did not dare look Sebastien in the eye, and his whole demeanour had the poor quality of a beaten dog. After studying the receipts meticulously for some minutes, he handed them back to his master, nodding his consent. Howard, who had not stopped him, took them back, signed them both, and tossed them back at Sebastien. Then he turned away without any further comment. He was obviously eager to be alone with his newly acquired toy. Only then, Maynard cast a glance at Sebastien that could be vaguely interpreted as affable.

ooo

Jordana chuckled as she turned into the drive and saw the pose Howard had effected, for their benefit no doubt. And as the car came to a stop, and she switched off the ignition, the blonde let her gaze move around the darkened yard. It never hurt to assess the competition, even though she didn't fear Howard was going to attack. Her eyes strayed to the Jag as Bastien parked beside her, and Jordana let him take the lead this time, exiting first, while she watched from her position in the drivers seat.

In moments, Jordana grew tired of waiting and gracefully climbed from the car, indicating with the wave of a hand for her passengers to also exit. She smiled, when Howard's eyes roamed over her, then returned from time to time, as he inspected the servants. "I take them. The deal is done." She watched as the hysterical woman from last night played up to the headman, never letting the disgust show across her delicate features. Jordana knew Jamila's type...and knew this was the kind of woman who would always end up on top around the type of men she could play, with her beauty and feminine wiles.

Her attention turned toward her dark haired companion as he stepped forward with the paper work, holding it out to Howard, "I would feel obliged if you signed these two receipts, sir. Furthermore, I would like to encourage you to leave the house by the weekend, so that the restoration procedures can commence as soon as possible. The outstanding payment will have been transferred to your account by then. I take it you agree on this and are thoroughly satisfied with the transaction. I hope you'll do us the honour of coming to our official opening." Jordana only blinked as the other vampire snatched the papers and read over them. She no longer had any part of the arrangements, and only waited patiently for them to be over.

The hint of a smirk curved her lips, as Jordana's gaze swept over Bastien. Yes, she was waiting patiently for her prize at the end of the business.

ooo

Sebastien gracefully caught the proffered receipts and checked the signature with a short glance. Then he looked at Maynard again, but remained silent. He could sense that the vampire was acting against his will and trying to make the best of his miserable situation, but there was nothing they could do about it, and pity was not one of Sebastien's principal talents. Hence, he gave a last polite nod, folded the papers meticulously and put them back into his jacket. Then he took a step back so that he almost leaned into his car.

The transaction was finally concluded, and the house belonged to them. He allowed himself to stand a trifle more relaxed than before, watching the whole gang go back to their cars, together with the newly acquired servants; even Howard did not want to retreat into the house. It was strange to see how eager they were to leave the place, and Sebastien wondered once again what it was that made them sell this exquisite site for such a lousy sum. Well, Juan had assured him that everything would be all right, and he was forced to believe it. Within minutes, the grounds were deserted, and only he and Jordana were left standing there, the dust settling around them. He leaned back, rested his elbows on the car top and looked up.

The roof looked still quite satisfactory. The façade, though, had to go: it had been repainted in a greyish yellow that already started to peel off at places, and was overall dreadful. Juan had promised that they would get the original building plans, and then they would rebuild the whole thing just like it was supposed to look. And whatever it was that had made Howard and his people leave… Well, he and Juan had agreed on that. They were both quite sure whatever kind of 'ghosts' there were, they would surely come to an agreement with them. And if they were really lucky, those 'ghosts' would even help them with the construction work. For the first time since they had started negotiating with Howard, he wondered whether his father was right.

Feeling that Jordana was watching him, Sebastien pulled himself out of his cogitation and straightened up, squaring his shoulders and brushing the dust off his lapels. "I think we can leave now." He stroked the car top with his fingers, rubbing dust between his fingertips before turning to look at her. "You… do want to get back to the hotel, do you? It would be much more pleasurable to look around the premises once the gardens have been rebuilt." He made a vacillating step towards her, then stopped once more, remembering just in time that the honour to show Jordana the future establishment was his father's due, anyway.

And there it was again: the little sensation that this was iniquitous. Juan would grow tired of her sooner or later, Sebastien was convinced of that. It had always been that way. He corrected himself: It had not always been that way, in fact, Juan could be, against all assumptions, incredibly faithful in his own twisted way, but this time Sebastien just hoped he would make an exception. He looked at the blonde, his eyes glowing with dark fervour. Right now, he would have liked to tell her that, whatever happened, he would be there for her. He would have liked to tell her quite an astounding lot of things. But all this, of course, had to remain unsaid.

ooo

Leaning comfortably against the red TransAm, Jordana watched the interaction between the vampire Howard had on a leash, and Sebastien. It appeared all was settled as the dark haired man folded the papers precisely and slid them into his coat pocket. Her attention then slipped to the members of the gang, now hurriedly exiting the house and grounds, until only the far off sound of their vehicles could be heard down the drive.

Jordana returned her gaze to Bastien, watching him silently inspect the building. But she knew his mind most certainly was busy, planning, and gauging how long until it could be habitable. It was during this time, she realized she didn't even know why Juan had purchased the residence. The only thing she knew for certain was he wasn't going to use it as a haven. The girl's lips parted to speak, but her companion beat her to it, "I think we can leave now….You… do want to get back to the hotel, do you? It would be much more pleasurable to look around the premises once the gardens have been rebuilt." His fingers played in the grime that coated the Jag as he spoke, but then he took a halting step forward.

Figuring this was as close to taking the lead as he would, Jordana walked slowly toward the man, stopping only when she stood in front of him. "Here…the hotel…I don't care where we are," Shapely hands were laid flat against his chest, moving up the front of his jacket, as she talked. Jordana's gaze fluttered up, noticing the hint of fire burning in Bastien's eyes, and she smiled up at him. "We are, after all, alone." With a stroke of daring, she leaned up brushing her lips against Sebastien's. "Tell me where you want to go…what you want to do." Jordana was of the opinion that Sebastien didn't do what he wanted very often, letting duty take charge of everything else.

ooo

Although they had done so before, kissing was a concept Sebastien would never really become familiar with. Before his Embrace, he had never comprehended the advantages physical contact could bring about, and later he did not grasp the importance of it, anyway. The diminutive and fairly affective interludes between him and his father were the only exceptions, and they of course derived from their singular affiliation only, and the necessity to show others which way the wind was blowing. Thus, he did not actually stop Jordana, but he did not reply the kiss, either.

The contact of her hands, though, was different. He still could not get used to it, and it always caused a multitude of sensations, predominantly inside of him… Presently, and to his utter surprise, it even made him long for more. Without changing his countenance, he leaned into the touch, and once more it felt as if Jordana's hands were leaving burning trails wherever they slid. She was perfectly right; they were in fact alone. And yet, he could not divest himself of the feeling that someone – or something – was watching them. Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized the house again. It seemed as if the house was staring back.

When Sebastien started to speak, he realized that his otherwise smooth tone of voice had changed to a certain degree. It sounded more suave now, shaped by the heat of the moment. "I would not like anything less than contradict you, yet I prefer to go back to the hotel." He seized her hands, holding them for a moment, then carefully, almost shyly held them to his face to inhale the scent of her before letting them go. The moment his vision was clear again he looked up sharply and for a moment discerned a grey shape behind one of the clouded windowpanes. However, Sebastien was too trained to conceal his emotions, so that his expression (apart from the glow in his eyes that had been there before) did not show any change at all.

"I hope you understand," he heard himself say, "that I prefer my own quarters to this place here. What is more, we can have a… refreshment there." With this, he opened the car door. While turning around to Jordana once more, he cast another quick glance at the house. The greyish shape was gone. He would have to talk about it with Juan the next night, but tonight the business was completed and they in fact had some leisure time. Looking at the blonde, he ventured another faint smile and even allowed it to turn into a snare. "This time I will drive first…" he said, "… unless you manage to catch me." Spurred by his own words, he jumped into the car and drove away.

ooo

Breaking away from the kiss with a laugh, the blonde's hands remained where they were against her companion's chest. She'd known his reaction would be nonexistent, but when she felt the slight pressure of his body against her touch change, she was surprised. "I would not like anything less than contradict you, yet I prefer to go back to the hotel."

To Jordana's astonishment, Sebastien took her hands and brought them up to his face, then just as quickly let them go. She watched as he looked around, most likely assessing his new acquisition. "I hope you understand...that I prefer my own quarters to this place here. What is more, we can have a… refreshment there." Yes, she did understand, and besides it was a chance to see what he called his quarters. So, with a sly smile Jordana nodded. "Of course, I understand," She let her hands slip away. "This time I will drive first… unless you manage to catch me."

Chuckling the blonde watched as the dark haired vampire jumped into his car and took off down the drive. He only thought he was going to get the best of this, and well if he won the race back to the hotel...that was fine. It didn't mean she wasn't going to win tonight anyway. Jordana reached the door handle of the TransAm, but before opening the door, the strong scent of lavender wafted past her nose. Stopping, she looked around, and seeing nothing different from before, continued her movement, sliding behind the wheel. With her foot on the gas pedal the car fishtailed down the driveway, a red streak in the dark.

ooo

Sitting back, Juan looked at Maria and smiled. "Well… We'll have another eight years of silence now, my dear. Is that not wonderful?" She shook her head and set to work once more, to do whatever she had to do. He fell back onto the bed and stared at the phone, wondering whether Sebastien and Jordana were still at the hotel, and if he would make a fool of himself if he called now. He could have needed her company right now, and it gave him a pang of bad conscience that he had sent her to do his work instead.

Turning this around in his mind, Juan realized that he was also at least on the verge of falling in love. Oh yes, that was perfect. The ways of the heart were wondrous and cruel, even if said heart was not beating. He would enjoy the feeling as long as it lasted, bathe in self-pity for a while, carry on staring at the phone a little longer, and then probably call her; if she was there.

So… he would make a fool of himself after all, but it was worthwhile, and he certainly wanted to spend the next night with her. She would like to learn something about the Nosferatu, would she not, and he did not want to risk drinking the stuff without her safely by his side. He frowned. Did he really think like that? He had totally forgotten about Sebastien for a moment. But that was exactly what he wanted: Jordana by his side. Sebastien had other, more important things to do, he was pretty sure of that; and if not, he would find some.

ooo

It was a silent night, and there could hardly be something more pathetic than a bored Jacques Lavalle. He put down the phone after talking to Liberty and remained lying there for a while, staring at the ceiling. Then he got up and listened to some Rachmaninov, which did not have the desired effect, as it even darkened his mood and at the same time showed him that he was plainly unable to move as gracefully as he was used to move so long as his skin was not where it belonged.

Without switching off the music, he stopped in front of one of the pictures and froze, completely caught up in the sight. This would happen to him every now and then ever since he had killed Francine, and he was powerless against the impact of art; especially if this special kind of art reminded him of the past night. After quite some time, the sloshing of a floor cloth shook him out of his dreams, and when Maria passed busily scrubbing the floor all around the carpet, he shouted at her that she had done so before and there was no need to do it again, although he was well aware that the scent of his blood still filled the room. They went on bickering in Spanish like an old couple for a while, until Maria made an unusually rude gesture and left him alone.

Now that the spell was broken and Juan not forced to stare at those damned pictures any more, he took up his original position on the bed again. He felt ugly, awkward and miserable, he half hoped that Fontaigne would return to finally deliver him from his misery, but fortunately this had never before been the case, and she would not start changing this time. That was the whole point of the game, was it not, to torture him for what he had done, and then leave him alone without redemption. Strange enough, he had come to really like what she did, but the consequences were nevertheless ever so annoying. He gave a growl of impatience that was answered by Maria with a soft chuckle, snarled at her, and then fell silent again.

The city was lying to his feet, he could see the lights and movements, sense the life down there, smell the summer breeze through the joints, and he longed to go out and hunt. But not tonight, not as long as he looked like this. Not even a call from his sire would have made him go out looking like this; well, not that Javier would ever call him. He felt that this situation was close enough to drive him insane, more than before, and he put it down to his jealousy. It would be a short drive, anyway. Of course he had brought it upon himself, but he could never have got rid of Fontaigne. She was like a demonic avalanche.

Looking out of the window front while still lying on his back, Juan moved his arms in front of his face and inspected the injuries for the nth time. Now that the wounds were completely healed, they simply looked disgusting, even the hands were affected. He dearly hoped that Gary would be finished with the potion by the end of the night, and although he knew that taking it would not be anything close to pleasant, he was willing to go through whatever it took to look like his smooth self again. Groping for the telephone, he sighed and recalled Gary's number, and after another moment's hesitation, he called the Nosferatu for a second time.

ooo

Gary was holding a cell phone to his wart-covered ear. When his two visitors entered, he pointed at it and waved at Frederick. "Hello, Juan," he said slowly. "I suppose you want an update. I am finished, and I can have the vial brought to you at your earliest convenience."

ooo

'Hello, Juan, I suppose you want an update. I am finished, and I can have the vial brought to you at your earliest convenience.'

Gary's deep and guttural voice rang out of the receiver like the gurgling of an extremely old mountain brook. Strangely enough, it had a comforting effect on Juan. He leaned back, stretched and smiled before answering, "Al loro. I readily acknowledge my indebtedness to you for all you have done – as soon as your potion lives up to my expectations, so to say, uh huhuh. I will be obliged if you sent your operative by the beginning of next night. I presume he will also tell me exactly how much indebted I will be."

ooo

"You presume correctly," Gary rumbled. "You will be pleased to know that it won't cost you an arm and a leg. Not that I would have use for such." His intonation did not change, so it was impossible to tell if he was telling a joke or simply being literal.

ooo

They exchanged another couple of minutiae, and then Juan hung up again, feeling relieved, yet a bit bored still. "Maria," he yelled over his shoulder, "What do you think? Should we order a delivery service? Just for tonight?" He turned round so that he could look at her frowning face. "Come on, don't be an aguafiestas. You have pizza, and I have the boy. If he is lucky, he will not even be my type, and I will let him go unharmed. Come on, pichoncín, let us do it, suelto de cuerpo."

He knew she would turn him down, and she did. Maria was his conscience. He could easily refuse to go along with her, of course, but this would be much too boring. Juan hated the concept of power, at least the obvious one. To have power did not imply to use it constantly; only idiots or extremely boring people did that. Moreover, she was right: harming one of the citizens in his haven would put too much at stake, even for him, and it endangered the Masquerade, too. As if he hadn't known. "Yes, Maria, you are perfectly right," he said, raising his hands in mock defence, but his voice sounded dispassionate. "I will behave. I will be patient. I have to pay the prize for being naughty, and I have all the time in the world."

Suddenly feeling very tired, he decided to call it an early night and retreated into the lower compartment of his bed. "If you still like to call a pizza, feel free," he said before pulling the lid over his head. After a moment, the cover opened once more, a scarred hand threw the elevator key up into the air, and then the lid slammed shut again. Maria caught the key long before it would have hit the floor, sat down on the bed and sighed.

ooo

After making sure that the TransAm was following his car, Sebastien directed his attention towards the sparse night traffic, however he could not keep his thoughts from going astray every now and then. The ghost matter was highly annoying, because it unquestionably was no easy task to drive an entire gang of vampires out of a house like this one, and even compel them to vend at such a ridiculously low price. Sebastien had no experience with ghosts whatsoever, and he wondered whether his father really knew what he was talking about when he said that he was able to settle the affair. Of course, the Gypsy Lore was full of mysteries, and Juan had an astounding insight, and he had negotiated with other… things too in the past. But ghosts…

Setting the thought of his father aside for the present, Sebastien searched his fresh and new emotional horizon for any remarkable changes. He had never before experienced anything close to anticipation; hence he misinterpreted the sensation for a belated feeling of satisfaction about the successful transaction. What he could discern, though, was also a little and quite distracting excitement whenever he visualized Jordana. He saw Juan's car in the rear window and accelerated a bit, but she seemed tired of racing, thus he kept on driving in front with the reassuring feeling that she was close behind.

When they arrived at the hotel, he could see that the lights were off in most rooms; only the car park and the entrance were bathed in a yellowish light, but the flickering blue close to one window hinted at the calming fact that the four servants (or at least some of them) had decided to spend a quiet evening in front of the TV set. Although the car park was deserted, Sebastien manoeuvred the Jaguar exactly into one of the booths. He waited until the TransAm came to a sweeping halt nearby, waited a moment for the dust to settle, then got out in order to walk by Jordana's side once again, wondering why the feeling of breeziness he had detected earlier did not diminish. Quite the reverse: it increased considerably the closer they got.

Timothy greeted them over the desk with a faint smile on his lips that showed he was happy with his new condition, and he handed Sebastien the key, a faint glow of hope in his eyes that he would be rewarded again later. At the present, though, Sebastien had quite different things on his mind, and ignoring him completely, strode upstairs, pulling Jordana with him with an unfamiliar audacity.

The room he temporarily called his own was no other than the one Jordana and Juan had been spending their first hours in, together with Raphael. It looked more orderly then it had done then, the bed had been made with meticulous care, and there was no personal touch at all indicating that Sebastien had already been staying here for almost a week. Even the bathroom looked spotless, although the shower game Jordana and Juan had been playing a few nights ago was not by a long shot the only time when it came to use.

This kind of room was what he usually called his home, and what had in fact been his home for the better part of his existence. Of course he spent the day somewhere else, but Liberty, Timothy and himself only knew that. He would do quite a lot of things just to please Jordana, but he would certainly not have the effrontery to tell her about the travel coffin in the cellar. Not that he liked to spend his day among rugs and boxes, indeed. Apart from the Fontaigne incident, Jordana's presence had been the only reason why he had not spent the day by his father's side, like he used to do, but instead in this provisional object. He dearly hoped that he would manage to find an excuse to spend the next day alone before he would be forced to disclose the disgraceful truth.

ooo

Following the Jag more sedately then the first time around, Jordana let Sebastien stay in the lead, unchallenged. And when they pulled into the parking lot, she could see it was late in the human sense, as the lights had been dimmed for those who slept. Not that it was any concern, as she had no trouble seeing through the dark, almost as if it were full daylight. Jordana let the car roll into the empty spot beside Bastien, and cut the engine, pulling the parking brake, and opening the door.

As she looked up from her seat, Jordana saw Bastien was already walking toward her. And with a smile for her companion, she got out moving gracefully by his side when they entered the lobby. The pair stopped at the front desk, greeted by Timothy, as Sebastien took his room key, Jordana examined the young servant's face. Satisfied with what she saw, the blonde gave him a kind word, and a smile, noticing her companion all but ignored him. However, she didn't have time to say anything, as Bastien, in an uncharacteristic show of taking control pulled her along.

The hint of smile, first was for Bastien's slight show of forcefulness, then as they entered the room, for recognizing it. "Nice room," Jordana chuckled, gracefully sliding onto the settee, leaving room for her companion to join her if he wished. "Have you been staying here long?" She couldn't help wonder if it had been Bastien's before her little romp the other night, or if he'd taken it afterward. "So, Bastien...what shall we do to entertain ourselves?" A slender hand smoothed over the empty space, encouraging him to sit. He wasn't an easy man to seduce... one wrong word or gesture, and he might run the other way... in a manner of speaking.

ooo

Sebastien remembered only too well that he had cleared the room for his father and her three nights ago, shortly after he had met Jordana for the first time; but after all, it was only a room. When it came to material things not connected with profit, Sebastien could be the world champion of ignorance. He did not ignore, however, that Jordana was sitting down on the settee, for he would have expected her to sit down on the bed.

The unusual state he was in right now did not actually bring about the need to be seduced. In fact, he had made up his mind that she was the one to be loved, somehow, although he did not exactly know how to manage such an extraordinary task, and his mind was also set that he had to be perfect in doing so. This, of course, involved some obligingness on her part, and no sitting down on the settee.

When she did not act the way he had expected her to act, he closed the door and remained standing in the middle of the room for a moment, uncertain what to do. "I have been staying at this hotel for five nights, this being the sixth, Miss Jordana." His eyes flickered from her to the bed while he endeavoured to restructure his plans. Then, with quite an effort, he said, "I deduced from our prior conversation that we have come here to resume our activities of last night…" He took off his jacket, put it on a hanger and into the wardrobe, and sat down on the bed again. The idea of a tête-à-tête on a settee was too strange for him altogether. His eyes, though, were fixed on Jordana's hand gracefully moving over the cover, as if the movement hypnotized him.

Just when he was about to invite her to sit by his side, someone knocked without. Sebastien, who had started to take off his tie, straightened up immediately. "Come in." The door slowly opened, and Liberty slipped inside, her posture showing that she was well aware that she was intruding. She nevertheless flashed Jordana the familiar smile before talking to Sebastien in a soft voice.

"I'm so sorry to disturb, but he asked me to," she said. "Your father called earlier this night. He wanted me to tell you about it, no matter when or how you come home, because he did not want to call again…" She threw Jordana a quick glance before continuing, "He said he wants to meet the two of you in his apartment tomorrow, and having not heard of you yet, he hopes the transaction went well." There was a trace of reproach in her voice, with the intention to make it quite clear how Juan had said the latter.

Sebastien acknowledged the information with a nod, and with a rustle of her negligee, Liberty hastily tiptoed out of the room again. As soon as the door shut behind his servant, Sebastien turned to talk to Jordana, totally ignoring what had just happened, "Would you prefer to stay seated over there, Miss Jordana? Or would you consider joining me?"

He suddenly yearned to move into the new house as soon as possible and finally furnish his own Elysium, where he would be unmolested, could go about his business, exist without needing to justify himself to anybody, and stay with Jordana as long as he wanted. He knew that this was a dream, but it was a sweet dream, and right now he wanted to have it. He also knew that right now, it showed in his eyes as well as in his voice. "We might only have this one night left."

ooo

Watching her companion shut the door, then hesitate, Jordana almost got the impression he hadn't wanted her to pick the seat she had. But then, no, Sebastien wouldn't care where she sat, the blonde told herself. And she hadn't wanted to appear too eager by choosing the bed, remembering how touchy the man had been last night at her house.

"I have been staying at this hotel for five nights, this being the sixth, Miss Jordana...I deduced from our prior conversation that we have come here to resume our activities of last night…" A shapely eyebrow rose in surprise at his words, then watched with amusement as Bastien moved to the closet to hang his coat. Her gaze following as he took a spot on the bed.

And as Jordana chose the moment to speak, a knock at the door interrupted. Turning as the door opened, Jordana watched Liberty slip into the room. "I'm so sorry to disturb, but he asked me to… Your father called earlier this night. He wanted me to tell you about it, no matter when or how you come home, because he did not want to call again...He said he wants to meet the two of you in his apartment tomorrow, and having not heard of you yet, he hopes the transaction went well."

The blonde had not expected this, and a sharp point of disappointment darted through her. Knowing what little she did of Sebastien, Jordana knew whatever he had planned would be put aside to attend to duty. She watched Liberty disappear, and the door shut with a soft thump. And as Bastien turned, she steeled herself for what he surely was going to say. "Would you prefer to stay seated over there, Miss Jordana? Or would you consider joining me?"

And that had not been it.

Jordana stared at her companion, surprised into silence. "We might only have this one night left." She found herself nodding her head, "I...I didn't expect this..." Shaking herself out of the shock, the girl stood, "Yes...I'll join you." It was hard to finesse the situation when the rug had just been pulled out from under your feet. And the girl full of a thousand witty responses couldn't think of a one. She sat down beside the dark haired man, turning toward him, "Are you sure there isn't anything you have to do...I mean I hope there isn't, but..." The words sounded stupid even to her own ears, and she let them trail off, as she gazed at her companion.

ooo

The only business Sebastien had ever been involved in was the organizing and leading of établissements (as in 'whorehouses'), in other words: he had always been the administrative main cogwheel in a machinery of love, more or less mortal, all of which had always been under the control and in the loving hands of his father, Juan. This occupation included, of course, a profound knowledge of the art of lovemaking, although Sebastien had never comprehended its purpose. Hence, he doubtlessly was a master, from a purely technical point of view, yet he utterly lacked any kind of artfulness, unless you call inflexibility style. This was, of course, also due to his lack of experience in the field of inter-human (or rather, inter-Vampire) relations per se, i.e. love.

The consequences as such were remarkable: now that he had finally found an object of astoundingly true affection and admiration, he endeavoured to outclass himself. Thus, he functioned as perfectly as he had ever done in this special field of activity without showing consideration for Jordana's immediate reactions or desires, strange as it may seem. When her voice subsided to a mutter, he simply decided that he should suit the action to the words and consequently started undressing himself, and her, all in the same technically brilliant but somewhat mechanical manner; he even folded each garment and carefully put it aside. All the while, he never took his eyes off her, which made the whole act a bit more complicated and almost pathetic.

This was all he was capable of. If it had not been Sebastien, one might have observed that he poured all his love into his action. But because it was he, after all, there was no actual love to be seen, or felt. What is more, he mistook the continuous change of positions for affectionate playfulness (he had watched this hundreds of times) and thus missed the whole significance, so that at this point the gentle reader might wonder what Sebastien's lady could do to change the quite miserable or at least unsatisfactory state, which, in fact, they both were in.

ooo

Jordana's gaze followed each motion, each garment pulled away, and folded, to be set aside carefully. She knew Sebastien's eyes hadn't wavered away from her face, and so the first twitch of her lips was caught in mid-action. The blonde tried to keep the growing amusement hidden, but as more clothing was folded away, in Bastien's own cautious way she couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped. Had it been anyone but Bastien, Jordana might have taken the lack of feeling as an insult, but she knew he was trying.

Soon, however, after watching him fold up another garment, the blonde couldn't take anymore and in a fit of suppressed laughter, she flopped backwards onto the bed. Tears were rolling out of the corners of her closed eyes, but when she opened them the look on his face led to another round. In a few minutes though, mostly because Bastien didn't join in, Jordana sat back up, wiping her face. "Bastien...don't you find it at least a little bit funny...to be concerned about our clothes...when we should be ripping them from each others' bodies?"

As she spoke Jordana crawled across the bed on her knees, stopping in front of Sebastien. Her eyes met his, and she gave him a sly little smile. Grabbing her companion by the shoulders, she pulled him off balance, and down with her. Jordana had planned on letting Bastien have the control tonight, but decided by the time he got around to it, dawn would be approaching. "Now, isn't this better?" she asked rolling over on top of him, her weight, slight as it was, pinning the man to the bed.

ooo

It was much better. In fact, it was more enhanced than Sebastien would have dreamed of. He had no idea why Jordana started laughing, even after she explained. There was no need to spoil clothes for this matter. However, he did grasp the sense of her action when she jumped on top of him. Never before had he been treated like this - with the exception of the multifarious situations in which an assault was meant as a show of aggression and nothing else, and he had always equally dealt with whosoever dared lay a finger on him, regardless of the assailant's social position or sexual category. But this time, although he involuntarily snarled first, he knew that the attack was a friendly one, in a manner of speaking, and he was surprised to discover that his body already seemed to be prepared, even without his contribution.

He opened his mouth to answer, but the words failed him. As he had no former experience with speechlessness, nor with the situation as such, he was in fact left quite defenceless, for his manners forbade any combat. And had her hands already evoked surprisingly strong sensations of heat wherever they touched him, the feel of Jordana moving on top of him, the length of her delicate body pressed against his was more than he could bear. They had touched like this before, and yet the effect was totally new. Sebastien closed his eyes and let out one single and altogether unearthly moan.

When he opened his eyes again, the dark fire was shining in them, but with an intensity that exceeded the passion that it had shown the night before. No rebooting now, to hell with control, to hell with the whole system – thoughts like these raced through his perplexed mind, and this time he wanted to let them prevail. They might only have this one night, and just for once Sebastien wanted to know how it felt to act on the cave man part of his brain; it was an astounding discovery that he had one, in the end. Once more he tried to talk, and this time he realized with amazement that, although he did manage to speak, his voice sounded utterly unfamiliar. He almost purred.

"Lead me, Miss Jordana," he said. "Show me the way." Looking up into her eyes, he gave the impression of being confused, almost afraid, in spite of his agitation, like a schoolboy who was about to do something outrageous and forbidden. "Teach me to be."

ooo

Jordana propped her chin up on her folded forearms, as she watched the expressions change on Sebastien's face. She expected the cold, all business attitude that was so much a part of her companion, that when he spoke at first the blonde just looked at him. "Lead me, Miss Jordana, Show me the way." He met her eyes, and the young vampire could see the conflict in them. "Teach me to be." But behind the confusion, she also saw determination.

Suddenly the night went from teasing to serious, but with the ease of a woman who's comfortable in her own skin...with maybe some streetwise arrogance thrown in, Jordana smiled down at Bastien. "Do you trust me?" she asked already knowing the answer, because Bastien would never have opened up as much as he had if he didn't. At his nod, she continued, "Good, then close your eyes." When he complied, the blonde leaned in kissing along his collarbone.

The blonde could be patient when it was warranted, and now she teased her captive companion for several minutes, making him lay still as her lips traced a trail across his skin. "Relax, Bastien..." she whispered, "give me this one night." She didn't believe for a minute that it was all she was going to get, but he did.

To be continued...