'Twixt
3: Unknown to Possibility

He had to be sure. There was no blade that could cut as deeply as hers, but no mind that could see her so starkly as his. It was as if she were naked, all the time; when she walked in the kitchen he did not just imagine her thighs, or her hips, or his mark on her. He imagined the craving she had when she sought food, the contemplation of the last novel she had read. He tried to predict what she would desire for dinner based upon her behavior in the morning, all but stalked her mood to see if he should read her to sleep.

This morning, however, her nerves were so high strung he envisioned them glowing through her skin, trails and paths he would trace with his eyes. She was afraid of Lilliman, but that wasn't it, he knew -- she did not yet know if she should leave him. She paced, her feet worrying against the floors all through breakfast, up until the time for dressing was upon her. He took no delight in dressing her as a child to be preyed upon, and knew she would take even less; ideally, he would get there fast enough and her skills as an actress would not be needed. But if Evey -- his Evey -- betrayed him, he would possess her without permission. He would show her how he became consumed by madness, and what madness really was. V would share everything, and then she would finally understand. He knew her freedom would keep her with him forever; what he wondered was if her love was strong enough to do it first.

She was on the couch, curled into the corner and staring at the wall. She was using her curls to hide behind, using them as a mask much like his. She never dreamed she would envy a facade, but today she saw the protection they came with. Hiding -- she always hid. A split second decision, and she knew what she had to do. She stood and met V before he could approach her fully.

"It's time," she said.

He nodded. "Are you afraid, Evey?"

She blinked at the echo of his words from the night before and shook her head slowly, surely. How could she fear Lilliman when she was branded on one hip by a man far more dangerous, a man destroying her, ravaging her, and saving her all at once. "The blood is more showy than the breath but cannot dance as well. I know that everything tonight will happen as it should. No coincidences, right?"

Leather pushing on her cheek, into her hair, making a gentle fist and tugging her head back to meet his hidden eyes. She closed her eyes. "Indeed," he murmured, lowering his mask to her throat and letting it hover, inhaling the raw smell of her skin, the aftertaste of her fear. Who was she afraid of, him or Lilliman? V knew that he might never have a chance to drink her in, to swallow these moment with her, as he did now. She might not return home with him.

Suddenly, the fire of him she craved was gone. Her eyes snapped open; he was already walking into a deeper room within the gallery. "Come," he called. "The actress needs her mask."

A pink atrocity, lying on his bed. A place that just the night before had been filled with such demand and possession now held a fetish for another man. For the first time since Evey had arrived, she felt wrong; she should be dressing for V, those should be her clothes torn apart at his hands, not an outfit for a pedophile. She winced.

"I know this is not to your -- taste," V began delicately. "And you have my apologies. But Lilliman's preferences are for those much younger and you, and the need for you to appear as a child is great. I hope that --"

"V," she interrupted. "I need to be alone to change."

A pause. Her voice was grim, determined, and he did not like the sound of it. Admittedly, he feared and dreaded her betrayal as much as he relished the thought of setting her free. The end would have to justify the means; he knew he could liberate her much more kindly than his captives had. He sighed.

"There comes a warning like a spy
A shorter breath of day
A stealing that is not stealth
Allures his jaded eye.

Evey," he continued. "I do not want you to do this."

"What I can do, I will; though it be little as a daffodil. That I cannot must be unknown to possibility," she countered, staring at him with unusually hard eyes. The mask dipped, perhaps in acceptance or perhaps in patience. With no other word, he retreated and closed his bedroom door behind him, leaving Evey alone with a mask of ecstasy for Lilliman. Her gaze wandered to his vanity, her mind to the blaze of the night before. She touched her hip. The mask she really wanted would not be easily won.

She pulled the skirt over his mark, the flowered shirt over her breasts. She imagined the clothes were black leather, hands, the heavy weight of his eyes pushing her skin into the bed. Each stocking was a caress, a taunt, a spike in heartbeat. The pigtails were for him, something cute she could wear to breakfast. The only thing she couldn't tick off as being for V in her mind was the make up; he always preferred her skin unadorned, wearing only her emotion and her scent. Everything else, though; if she closed her eyes she could imagine it was the gaze of Guy Fawkes that rolled inside her thighs, that ate her as a feast from the doorway.

No. V had said he would not let her be a feast for Lilliman. She would be safe, marked.

"V," she called. "I'm ready."

His gaze did not wander that she could see when he approached her. He could only meet her eyes, amber irises begging for a reaction. He yielded nothing. Not a touch, or word, or a violent grip on her hips. Her face pleaded with him. Tentatively, she stepped forward, looking into the mask as the very presence of her skin seemed to push on his chest. Together, they were ecstasy made flesh, an ecstasy that trembled too strongly to chance a taste. Unknown herbs could be poison.

"V?"

A pause, a holding of breath. He was calculating. Careful. "I have nothing to say, Evey. We should go soon."

Breaking the carefully constructed distance, she shoved herself against him. Her breasts hardened upon impact, his fists flexed brutally at his sides. "That's it?" she demanded, suddenly unrelenting. "Are you so afraid of what I'll do that you would give up all hopes of keeping me?"

Neither predator in the room was speaking of Lilliman any longer. They were speaking of Evey, of leaving, of loss.

"Is one mark your best shot? A tiny place that fades?" she demanded, throwing the words at him with all the tension of a bonfire. Her volley continued. "You have to hide behind a girl you've barely held to capture a sinful priest, to send him to the God you believe in more than he? V, what kind of coward --"

Sharp. Violent. Her words were cut off as he lifted her, picking her a foot off the ground and slamming her into the wall, pinning her there by placing himself between her legs. She gasped, and struggled, feeding off the air that was as much sex as it was battle. The mask's lips pushed into her neck, and he breathed in her terrified gasps, her thoroughly seduced pants that held echoes of his name.

"You are mine," he said, words low and dangerous, a panther's purr in the back of the throat. "Should he touch you, I will kill him slowly. Should you run, I will find you. Should the tide ebb, I will mark you a thousand times where no one will see; I will scar you inside, Evey."

He pushed a soft wisp of silk into her hand; it was the blindfold. He shifted his weight, pushed her more firmly into the wall. She couldn't get the cadence of her breathing to stabilize.

"Take this with you. Close your eyes to everything but instinct. I will come for you, Evey. I will show you the way home."