I think I should have quit at chpt. 1. Ah, well – slow but sure. When the high priestess begs/threatens there's really nothing you can do. This is in response to a dare I received (LadyofTruths !)… be careful what you wish for!

Add the usual – I'm a peon, don't hurt me!

__________

Clarice just sat and stared. In that moment, she was incapable of action or speech. Neither was needed as the figure in the doorway asked,

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He quirked his eyebrow in a gesture Clarice had become achingly familiar with. It was often the only sign that he has a sense of humor. A muffled mew startled Clarice out of her daze as she realized that she had been crushing the cat in her embrace. She placed the tabby back on the floor with an apologetic pat. Dr. Lecter was amused at her effort to pull herself together. From what he had overheard of her conversation with the cat, he surmised that at least part of her was expecting an appearance on his part. When she looked up again her features were masked and her voice was controlled when she asked,

"Dr. Lecter, what are you still doing here?" She was learning he thought to himself before he answered her question. Now she just needed to learn to shield her eyes. He could watch her thoughts bouncing around in those blue-gray orbs.

"I availed myself of your hospitality for the night," he replied purposely not answering her exact question. He savoured the flash of anger that crossed her face.

"I realize that," she said as she thought about how long it would take her to clear the bed and get to the shoebox underneath for the little handgun she kept there. "But why are you still here?" she stressed as she wondered if he could get to her before she got to the gun. It was her only chance, as she feared the reason behind his continued stay. As far as she could tell there was only one scenario that would explain his continued presence and it didn't bode well for her continued state of good health. The spark of fear he saw in her eyes bothered him deeply, but he was more than ready for her as she surged to her feet.

Two steps and he was at the edge of the bed. A sweep of his arm knocked her legs out from under her and she landed on her stomach in the middle of the bed. She rolled over on her back as Dr. Lecter brought a knee up on the mattress and pinned her squirming body down with his own. As they struggled together, she felt his hands on her thigh, and holding her hip. A heavy thigh over hers stopped her kicking. She felt his hands travel over her waist as he rolled more of his weight onto her. She connected a good punch to his shoulder, and he grunted as he moved to subdue her fists. His arm brushed against her breasts as he easily caught her wrists in his left hand and held them above her head. She arched her back in an effort to escape his grasp, but she was crushed against his solid chest. She collapsed back onto the mattress, her chest heaving from their tousle. He leaned on his right elbow to look down at her flushed face. She was truly a work of art. She closed her eyes and heaved a ragged sigh. He frowned at this show if fear and surrender. She needed to find her courage again and he could show her exactly where to look.

He leaned down so that his cheek brushed hers, his warm breath caressing her neck and ear. They were pressed together and he could feel the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest with every breath she took. He inhaled her scent deeply into his lungs and felt her responding shiver travel through her body. He could smell arousal on her, but that scent was as familiar to him as her perfume. The first time he had known its unique scent was when she had come back from the storage shed smelling like rain and woman. He had known then, that she was attracted to him, and it was rather ironic that he finally had her in bed with him, but under such strained circumstances. What truly bothered him was the scent of her fear. She had never been afraid of him, and although she was doing a marvelous job of hiding it, her scent gave her away. He wondered what had changed her feelings around him. Maybe it was being confronted with his presence in her home. She needed to find her rage.

"You've imagined us together like this, haven't you Clarice?" his rich voice whispered in her ear. He lifted his head as he felt every muscle in her body tense and caught the truth as her eyes snapped open. However, like she had the night before, she lied when she almost shouted,

"NO!" That's right, he thought, get mad at me. He quirked his eyebrow as he questioned,

"No?" He made sure he held her gaze with his own as he confessed, "I know I have." She shut her eyes again like a child would who doesn't want to see the monster come out from under the bed. It was a little late for such tactics, he thought. He'd come out from "under her bed" years ago. He smiled at his analogy; there were so many delicious ways it could be interpreted. Her next comment shocked him and wiped the smile from his face.

"Was that before or after you killed me?" she asked.

___________

That would be a luna cliffie – without stopping in the middle of a sentence, as some of us have been know to do of late! How am I doing with that dare? Let me know, luna.