Part VIII

Rock, Janette's bartender, watched as Natasha entered the club with LaCroix. She seemed pale to him, and he knew she hadn't slept well that night. The nightmares again, he guessed.

Rock's eyes narrowed as he watched LaCroix lead her to a table and pull out a chair for her to sit. Rock wasn't thrilled to see Natasha with such an older vampire. He liked her, and didn't want to see her get hurt... or killed.

Rock forced a smile as Jasmine sauntered up to him and gave him LaCroix's order. "And Tasha wants one of those blue things," said Jasmine. Rock made a blue drink that had no name. When a customer asked what it was called, he would respond by asking them for their name. Then he would tell that the drink had that same name. Natasha loved them, and always had one before work.

As he mixed Natasha's drink, he turned inquiring eyes to Jasmine. "Hey, Jas... what's up with Tasha and 'his lordship,' anyway?" he asked.

"Jealous?" Jasmine asked playfully. She knew Rock often regretted having told Natasha that they could only have a platonic friendship. "You *had* your chance, you know." When Rock began to frown, she stopped teasing. "I'm sorry, Rock. I didn't mean to say that... honest." She smiled sympathetically at him. "Tasha's insane over LaCroix. I know how it sounds... but she's really smitten with him."

'What are *his* intentions?" Rock asked as he placed Tasha's drink on a tray and began pouring LaCroix's "house special."

Jasmine shrugged. "Who knows? I gave up trying to figure out the older ones. They're impossible!"

Rock had to smile at that, if only a little. Jasmine herself was an "older one" compared to him. "Watch out for her, will you, Jas? I don't trust him," begged Rock as Jasmine took the tray and started to saunter of in the direction of Natasha and LaCroix.

Jasmine merely smiled by at Rock, a knowing look on her face.

Rock's fears seemed unfounded, however. Or so Jasmine thought. A week after she and Rock had discussed Natasha and LaCroix, Jasmine found herself styling Natasha's hair in preparation for her first real date with LaCroix. He was taking her dancing, and Natasha was nervous.

"Jas..." she asked as Jasmine pinned the last strand of hair into place atop her head, "why doesn't LaCroix find me attractive?"

Jasmine was flabbergasted. Could it be possible that Natasha didn't see the way the ancient vampire looked at her? Or the way he acted when she was near? "What do you mean, Tash?"

"Well... it sounds silly... but... when we're in public, he's the most charming man. He's sweet and attentive, but when we're alone..." Her voice trailed off. After a long silence, Natasha continued. "Don't get me wrong, Jas... I love being with him. He treats me like real lady, but I *want* more than that. I *want* him. But he won't even so much as kiss me." She looked close to tears. "I try so hard to make him notice me, Jas, but nothing I do has any effect on him. Why? Why am I not attractive to him?"

"Oh, Tasha!" Jasmine cried out, hugging her roommate. "He finds you attractive, I know he does."

"How do you now?" Natasha looked so innocent at that it amazed Jasmine and she laughed.

"Tasha, you're so silly!" Jasmine told her, giggling. "Everyone knows! It's that obvious!"

"Then... why doesn't he show it?" Natasha looked at Jasmine with innocent confusion. "He always turns me down when I try to be with him. I just don't know what else to do!"

"Oh, Tasha... you don't have to try so hard. Mr. LaCroix would have to be dead not notice you... but maybe he's not interested in just your body?"

"What else is there?"

"You're mind. Tash, LaCroix's not the type of man who takes up with any floozy on the streets. He's very selective."

"Then why did he chose me? I'm not smart."

"He seems to think so, or he wouldn't be with you." Jasmine pointed out. "You're just nervous. that's all. Let's have a look in the mirror!"

Jasmine led Natasha to the full-length mirror to show her the full effect. Natasha studied the image before her. In the long, black evening gown Janette had loaned her, she looked like a different woman. It was a simple dress, but stylish, with a slit up the side to show off her legs. Jasmine had twisted her hair into so complicated design that Natasha was sure she never be able to get out, but she loved it.

"I look like Cinderella," said Natasha. She continued to stare into the mirror. It should have been impossible, but the eyes that stared back at her looked different, as if they were not her own. Natasha shrugged off the weird feeling, chalking it up to jitters.

"And you're ready for the ball," said Jasmine.

"Are you ready to leave now, my dear?" LaCroix asked of the woman in his arms. They'd been dancing all evening and although he did not want it end, he was growing tired and hungry.

Natasha began to pout. "One more song," she begged. "Please!"

LaCroix gazed down into her begging eyes and found he couldn't deny her one last dance. "For you, ma petite, one last dance."

They moved together in a gentle, swaying motion. Natasha felt so light in his embrace, like a feather. His arms tightened around her, pressing her body close to his own. Without realizing what was happening, his head tilted slowly toward hers. Her lips were so inviting, and the temptation to kiss her was strong.

LaCroix almost heaved a sigh of relief when the song ended. He released Natasha and, taking her hand, he walked back to their table to retrieve her wrap. As they left the table and headed for the door, a man approached them.

"Excuse me, " he said, holding out a photograph, "Would you care to have a keepsake? Something to treasure?"

The photo showed them in each other's arms, their lips scant centimeters apart. Natasha was glowing with a happiness and desire that LaCroix had never thought possible. Looking at Natasha as she fingered the photograph longingly, LaCroix turned to the photographer and asked, "How much?"

"I usually charge twenty, but... " he, too, cast a glance at Natasha's joyful expression. "For your lady, I'll make it ten."

Pulling out his wallet, LaCroix paid for the photograph, then he and Natasha headed for his car.

This is a mistake, LaCroix thought as he sat with Natasha in his rooms. She was still staring at the photograph, chatting happily about how much fun she had that night. I shouldn't be here with her. She belongs to Nicholas. Just then, Natasha turned to him with open worship in her eyes.

Throwing her arms around him, she said, "I had the most wonderful time! Thank you, Mr. LaCroix!"

Mr. LaCroix? Was that all he was to her? "You may call me 'Lucien,' if you'd like, ma petite," he told her.

"Lucien..." she murmured, testing the name on her tongue. "I... I love you, Lucien..." she whispered softly, giving him a tentative kiss on the cheek. Then she snuggled into his embrace, leaving him at a loss for words.

This was definitely wrong, his head told him. He was not supposed to be romancing her, he was supposed to be helping her. But his heart told him otherwise. It wouldn't hurt if he indulged a little... so long as no one got hurt. And providing Nicholas never knew...

LaCroix rose from his place beside her on the sofa, excusing himself for a drink. Turning his back to her, he poured a glass of bloodwine, filling it to the top. He couldn't remember feeling this confused. Not even with Fleur had it hurt so bad to love.

Lifting the glass to his lips, LaCroix was startled when he felt her arms around his midsection. Setting the glass down, he turned to face her. There she was, looking up at him with desire in her eyes. "Love me..." whispered Natasha as she took the initiative to kiss his lips passionately.

LaCroix's arms wrapped around her tightly as he returned the kiss hungrily. He felt his control slipping as she led him down a path of desire. Then he felt his fangs descend...