~ Wilted ~

The Devil You Know

March 1st1997, Arklay Lab, Arklay Mountains, Outskirts of Racoon City

"Where are we going?"

"Have some patience, Rose. We're almost there."

I glower at the back of Wesker's head. He had collected me late from my room this evening with no explanation other than I was to follow, and had proceeded to lead me stealthily through the old lab, and immediately up into the mansion's contrastingly ornate corridors. I wasn't complaining, of course, any divergence from my usual monotonous routine was gladly welcome. It was just Wesker had a habit of curve balling me with a mix of not quite so welcome surprises.

"I'm not impatient. I just don't understand what we are doing up here at this hour." I grumble, wrapping my arms tightly around my torso.

Being the night shift, only the skeleton staff was to hand, and the dark, quiet corridors grew more, and more eerie with each passing second. Even the windows offer no distractions, their dark glassy surfaces merely reflecting the gothic interior, making me feel as though I am trapped inside some strange, twisted form of snow globe, as the rain falls incessantly outside.

"If you say so, dear." He replies quietly, and I return to my glaring.

It is only when we ascend a small staircase to a private corridor, that I realise we are in the accommodation section of the mansion. Brandishing a key, Wesker leads me smoothly into a room at the far end of the corridor, and I oblige, frowning with some suspicion as he immediately turns to lock the door.

"Is that really necessary?" I question, nodding toward the key.

He smirks. "What's the matter, Rose, don't you trust me?"

"Not really." I reply honestly, and he laughs.

"Clever girl." He pockets the key. "But I simply do not wish for us to be interrupted."

My worried frown only deepens. "Why?"

I begin to take in the layout of the room. It is an opulent show of rich mahoganies, and gothic undertones – only the best for umbrella employees – but I can see my Grandfather's input on the design. There was something subliminally cruel about it, about the whole mansion. My eyes fall on a painting of a woman having her flesh torn away by ravens, and I shiver.

"Beautifully macabre, isn't it?" Wesker says softly, noticing my reaction.

"I don't like it." I murmur, tearing my eyes away. "And you haven't answered my question."

My gaze falls awkwardly on the bed, and I move away from him, retreating to the window seat at the far side of the room. He smirks, noting my reaction but saying nothing, moving to pour himself a brandy from the drinks table instead.

"Drink?" He asks, and I shake my head, noting that he pours me one regardless. "Here." He says, bringing me my glass.

My tentative fingers reach out, and I take it begrudgingly. "What's in it?"

"You saw me pour the brandy, Rose." Wesker laughs at my distrust. He shakes his head. "Dearheart, if I wanted to drug you, I could have done so quite easily down in the lab, and saved us both the trouble of this little journey."

When I still don't soften, he gives out an irritated sigh, and swaps the tumblers. Downing the glass I had previously held, swiftly in one.

"I had you down as more of a wine man." I say dismissively, deciding not to address his reassuring display. I lean back against the window. "You are full of surprises this evening."

He scoffs, seemingly amused by my attitude.

"So," I begin, taking a tentative sip from my glass. "Why are we here? Or am I finally getting some acceptable accommodation?"

My gaze falls once again on the soft velvets of the four poster. It is a long way from my rickety little cot, and I suddenly have a childish urge to dive head first into it's pillows.

"I wanted to talk to you away from prying eyes and microphones." Wesker admits softly, distracting me from my impulses, as he sits beside me on the window seat. "I have a proposition for you."

My gaze flashes towards him worriedly. "What kind of proposition?"

He smiles knowingly. "I think you'll like this one."

"That's very unlikely, but go ahead." I admit, finishing my drink in one final gulp.

I place it on the table beside me, and Wesker mirrors the gesture.

"I plan on leaving Umbrella." He confesses abruptly.

My gaze snaps up. "What?"

"Not immediately." He continues. "But a time will present itself. I have been repeatedly approached by many of Umbrella's competitors over the years. When I do decide to switch loyalties, I would like to offer you the opportunity to come with me."

My mouth goes dry. "But...why…!?"

I jump up from the seat, suddenly angry. How dare he offer me a half-promised freedom. Surely he knows that could never happen? That my Grandfather would never allow it?

But Wesker is insistent.

"Why? Because you are the next stage of humanity's evolution, and Spencer locks you away in a tower." Wesker admits harshly, rising to his feet. "Because here you will never realise your full potential. I, however, can help you unlock it. Together we can do great things, Rose."

He makes towards me, and I step back, my face a mixture of confusion and panic. I shake my head. "I don't want to be special." I confess, looking at him like he is suddenly a shark, trying to read him for lies, but as always those stupid sunglasses obscure his gaze, and it is impossible to tell. I swallow painfully. "Besides, this is academic. Grandfather would never let you, he'd find out, and you'd be just another dead man who got in his way, and I'd be punished for it! It's ridiculous to even contemplate."

I make to turn away, but Wesker grabs my wrist, pulling me pointedly back toward him. His fingers dig painfully into my arms, and I wince.

"Fear doesn't suit you, dear." He murmurs unkindly, dangerously close. "What is it that bothers you most, hm? Betraying your Grandfather? That my plan would fail, and you'd be left with the fallout? Or is it how much you want to say yes?"

I shake my head, but Wesker has a terrifying gift of manipulating his way into my mind. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself, and the thought scares me to death.

"How do I know you won't just swap one cage for another?" I hiss pathetically, trying to regain some control. "I am not a prize to be won, Albert. I won't be used again. Not by you, not by anyone."

I knee him hard in the stomach, and he staggers, laughing in surprise. I try to put some distance between us, but he has the key to the door, and seconds later he is pressing me up against it.

"You can't trust me because no one has ever given you reason to trust them." He breathes, and his breath falls enticingly across my face. "Abused and mistreated by the very person who is supposed to love you. Poor, little, lost Rose."

"Shut up." I snap, but I can feel the tears coming. I try to push him away, but he has me well and truly pinned.

"I'm offering you a new life." Wesker continues softly, but this time his head dips lower, and I feel his lips brush my throat. "Come with me, Rose. Let me take you away from the monsters."

His teeth graze my pulse point, and I gasp, my body betraying me, as I feel myself soften against him.

I had never been in a situation like this before, no man would ever dare, other than Syfe, and we all know how that turned out for him. I'm finding myself at a complete loss, half of me wants to throw my fist sharply into his throat, the other half wants to wrap myself around him.

Wesker always did seem to work within his own rules.

His lips now follow my jawline, and before I can object, they crush against my own. I gasp again, and his tongue greedily invades my mouth, filling my senses with nothing but him. To my disgust, I find myself hungrily kissing him back, throwing his sunglasses to the floor, and wrapping my legs tightly around his torso.

Wesker drops me onto the bed, but he is soon on top of me, eager to devour more. There is no fumbling, no questioning movements, he knows exactly what he's doing, not caring to be gentle. His hands and mouth paint bold patterns across my stomach and breasts, his fingers eventually finding their way inside me to a point that causes my eyes to roll back, and my back to arch. He is exquisite. I want to touch him, but he won't allow it, this moment is for him. Something he's waited for.

I moan when he is inside me, stretching me to my limits, making me cry out, pleasure and pain combined. He seems to like it when I do this, I think he enjoys the thought that it is him causing it. He confirms my suspicions with a simple word.

"More."

I happily oblige, adding his name into a mix of wanton moaning.

I don't want it to stop, if the moment could last for forever I would die happy – figuratively speaking – but of course it must, every man has his limits, even Wesker. When he falls over the precipice he does so with one final thrust, his face buried against my throat, my knees gripping his hips as tight has they can.

I myself am spent.

Wesker rolls away, but he does not get up, instead he lays beside me, staring blindly at the ceiling. I do not shame myself by trying to curl into his side, that's not who we are.

"You'll come with me." He says eventually. It is not a question.

What else can I reply? "Yes."

R&R!

Reviews make me happy, if you can? I hope you like where the story is going?