A/N: Thank you Sabine, Thelma, and Dragongrrl for your well wishes,
sympathy, and commiserations on the evil that is car insurance.
Flamedancer, I can't tell you if the WB will abandon Sara or not. That
would be telling. LOL But I can tell you that Sara is short on knowledge
because she keeps fighting the WB. She's probably the first Wielder to be
so closed to the supernatural that the Blade is having a hard time
connecting with her. SciFiGirl, thanks for the review. Glad you liked the
challenge dance. CheersDarlin, yeah, my homepage has a LOT of the stuff I
can't post here at FF.Net. Thanks for visiting, and for telling me you
liked what you saw.
Neither of them felt like dancing any more. Tonight's mixed bag of tender moments and aggressive confrontations had worn down both Wielder and Protector. By mutual consent they retired from the dance floor.
Ian called Robert as the two slowly made their way toward the exit. He spoke in hushed tones, eyes searching the crowd for danger. He did not trust Carmelita, nor did he know her well enough to anticipate her next move. Nottingham wanted to be ready, no matter what it was, but he had a bad feeling that it would come when he least expected it. Serpents were most adept at blending with their surroundings.
The limousine was pulling up to the curb as they were exiting the smoked glass double doors. The walk to the car was tense, Ian not liking the limited mobility afforded by the long line of people still waiting to get into the club. It felt like they were walking a gauntlet, and the first blow could come at any minute.
Nottingham was on high alert, watching for the first hostile movement. The sound of raised voices came from behind. Both half-turned, sure they were about to be attacked, but the shouting was not directed at them.
"Do you know who I am? I'll have your job if you don't let my niece in!" A man dressed in an off-the-rack black suit was up in the doorman's face while his date hovered behind him, looking nervous.
'The niece' also looked about seventeen. She was a hard seventeen maybe, but still clearly underage, and most likely a prostitute. The heavy makeup and miniscule dress were dead giveaways.
"No id, no admittance. That's the rules. Take your underage chippie somewhere else." The doorman did not sound in the least moved by the ranting of the older man. In fact, he looked bored. It was a scene repeated an awful lot, if his expression was anything to go by.
Ian was surprised by the peals of laughter that came from the woman at his side. Even more shocking was the way Sara was leaning against him companionably as she did so. Whatever else that happened, for good or ill, this lowering of barriers was worth every second.
"Just what is so funny?" Nottingham felt compelled to ask as he savored the feel of her against his side.
"It's nice to see that some things never change, no matter how much weirdness you have going on in your life." Pezzini explained, still chuckling intermittently. It was a small release of tension, and she welcomed it.
"Ah." As much as Ian was enjoying Sara's mirth, he couldn't share in her enjoyment.
His instincts were screaming that the scene with the doorman was a ruse, meant to distract from the real attack. Nottingham turned back toward the limousine, which was idling at the curb. A valet was holding the door open patiently. The scene was perfectly normal, and yet...there was something that niggled at the back of his brain.
Perhaps it was because the streetlight overhead did not penetrate far into the open vehicle, leaving most of the interior hidden in shadow. Ian didn't know what was triggering the feeling, but he never ignored his gut, especially not in a potentially hazardous situation.
They walked the last few feet to the limousine, Nottingham subtly lengthening his stride so that he reached the door before Sara. Ian might normally believe in ladies first, but there was no way he was sending Sara into the darkened interior until he knew it was safe. He dropped with lightning speed into the opening, twisting to present a lesser target, an eight-inch blade appearing in each hand as he did so.
Nothing happened. The pearl grey seats were mockingly empty. The only break in color was their coats, which had formed an untidy puddle of black on the floorboards. A judicious kick, followed by a quick search, proved there was no threat from that quarter either. Ian slid the knives back into their hidden sheaths and continued inspecting the interior for some sign or clue as to what had set him off.
Pezzini watched Ian drop into the limousine. She knew what he was doing; he clearly still considered them to be in danger. His sense of caution spread to her as well. She scanned the crowd, watching for an attack that never came. Finally Nottingham gave the 'all clear', freeing Pezzini to climb in beside him.
With every sense heightened, the previously spacious interior suddenly seemed too small. Sara was terribly aware of the man sitting next to her. His scent teased her nostrils, a subtle blend of musk and sandalwood, and the heat of his hard thigh next to hers pushed all thoughts of danger right out of her head.
Ian was having similar problems; ashamed of how easily his body was subverting his attention. He still was not convinced that they were safely away, but instead of threat assessment, he was fighting to drag his eyes away from the sleek expanse of leg showing through the slit in Sara's emerald green dress.
Sara noticed where Ian's eyes had strayed, and she felt a surge of feminine power at knowing that she could capture the attention of this strong-willed man. It felt wonderful, but she wanted more. Pez crossed her legs, the split falling further open as she did so.
Nottingham unconsciously licked his lips. When Sara raised one leg over the other, the skirt hitched up another few inches. Suddenly he could see the very edge of the lace bordering her stocking. His palms itched to travel up the long leg to that band, and beyond.
He wondered if that was what she wanted him to do, or if she would slap him if he tried. There were times when he cursed his decision to remain chaste for his lady, and this was one of them. Maybe if he had more experience, he would know what to do to please her.
Neither of them felt like dancing any more. Tonight's mixed bag of tender moments and aggressive confrontations had worn down both Wielder and Protector. By mutual consent they retired from the dance floor.
Ian called Robert as the two slowly made their way toward the exit. He spoke in hushed tones, eyes searching the crowd for danger. He did not trust Carmelita, nor did he know her well enough to anticipate her next move. Nottingham wanted to be ready, no matter what it was, but he had a bad feeling that it would come when he least expected it. Serpents were most adept at blending with their surroundings.
The limousine was pulling up to the curb as they were exiting the smoked glass double doors. The walk to the car was tense, Ian not liking the limited mobility afforded by the long line of people still waiting to get into the club. It felt like they were walking a gauntlet, and the first blow could come at any minute.
Nottingham was on high alert, watching for the first hostile movement. The sound of raised voices came from behind. Both half-turned, sure they were about to be attacked, but the shouting was not directed at them.
"Do you know who I am? I'll have your job if you don't let my niece in!" A man dressed in an off-the-rack black suit was up in the doorman's face while his date hovered behind him, looking nervous.
'The niece' also looked about seventeen. She was a hard seventeen maybe, but still clearly underage, and most likely a prostitute. The heavy makeup and miniscule dress were dead giveaways.
"No id, no admittance. That's the rules. Take your underage chippie somewhere else." The doorman did not sound in the least moved by the ranting of the older man. In fact, he looked bored. It was a scene repeated an awful lot, if his expression was anything to go by.
Ian was surprised by the peals of laughter that came from the woman at his side. Even more shocking was the way Sara was leaning against him companionably as she did so. Whatever else that happened, for good or ill, this lowering of barriers was worth every second.
"Just what is so funny?" Nottingham felt compelled to ask as he savored the feel of her against his side.
"It's nice to see that some things never change, no matter how much weirdness you have going on in your life." Pezzini explained, still chuckling intermittently. It was a small release of tension, and she welcomed it.
"Ah." As much as Ian was enjoying Sara's mirth, he couldn't share in her enjoyment.
His instincts were screaming that the scene with the doorman was a ruse, meant to distract from the real attack. Nottingham turned back toward the limousine, which was idling at the curb. A valet was holding the door open patiently. The scene was perfectly normal, and yet...there was something that niggled at the back of his brain.
Perhaps it was because the streetlight overhead did not penetrate far into the open vehicle, leaving most of the interior hidden in shadow. Ian didn't know what was triggering the feeling, but he never ignored his gut, especially not in a potentially hazardous situation.
They walked the last few feet to the limousine, Nottingham subtly lengthening his stride so that he reached the door before Sara. Ian might normally believe in ladies first, but there was no way he was sending Sara into the darkened interior until he knew it was safe. He dropped with lightning speed into the opening, twisting to present a lesser target, an eight-inch blade appearing in each hand as he did so.
Nothing happened. The pearl grey seats were mockingly empty. The only break in color was their coats, which had formed an untidy puddle of black on the floorboards. A judicious kick, followed by a quick search, proved there was no threat from that quarter either. Ian slid the knives back into their hidden sheaths and continued inspecting the interior for some sign or clue as to what had set him off.
Pezzini watched Ian drop into the limousine. She knew what he was doing; he clearly still considered them to be in danger. His sense of caution spread to her as well. She scanned the crowd, watching for an attack that never came. Finally Nottingham gave the 'all clear', freeing Pezzini to climb in beside him.
With every sense heightened, the previously spacious interior suddenly seemed too small. Sara was terribly aware of the man sitting next to her. His scent teased her nostrils, a subtle blend of musk and sandalwood, and the heat of his hard thigh next to hers pushed all thoughts of danger right out of her head.
Ian was having similar problems; ashamed of how easily his body was subverting his attention. He still was not convinced that they were safely away, but instead of threat assessment, he was fighting to drag his eyes away from the sleek expanse of leg showing through the slit in Sara's emerald green dress.
Sara noticed where Ian's eyes had strayed, and she felt a surge of feminine power at knowing that she could capture the attention of this strong-willed man. It felt wonderful, but she wanted more. Pez crossed her legs, the split falling further open as she did so.
Nottingham unconsciously licked his lips. When Sara raised one leg over the other, the skirt hitched up another few inches. Suddenly he could see the very edge of the lace bordering her stocking. His palms itched to travel up the long leg to that band, and beyond.
He wondered if that was what she wanted him to do, or if she would slap him if he tried. There were times when he cursed his decision to remain chaste for his lady, and this was one of them. Maybe if he had more experience, he would know what to do to please her.