A/N: Thank you to everyone who is supporting and reviewing this story. I'm glad all of you are enjoying it!

Disclaimer: Look to the Prologue for it.

Chapter 4: Caged

Déjà vu was hitting Clarice with the force of an eighteen wheeler as she and Crawford walked through the halls of FBI HQ. She ignored the judgmental stares and pitiful attempts at whispering from her coworkers. It wasn't as though she gave a damn what any of them thought anyway.

Honestly, did they learn their stealth training from a neon sign?

Being annoyed was just the tip of her emotional iceberg at the moment. Life had just begun to look normal. Okay, as normal as her damned existence could get. Her serial killer stalker kinda killed any chance at that.

Oh, good. Are we resorting to puns? Maybe you can get a stand up career to fall back on when the FBI inevitably has you "voluntarily resign".

She really didn't want to think about that. God, her whole damn career was a nightmare. Or a really dark joke if she looked back on it in the right mood. Clarice could write an entire novel on it. The title could be 'For Christ's Sake, Don't Do Any Of This If You Want A Decent Fucking Career in the FBI'. A novel by Clarice Starling.

Beautiful. Bet NBC would pick that shit up.

What got her the most was the timing. Her plate —for Christ's sake, stop with the puns— was already full. She was already not getting sleep. So of course he'd come a-knockin'. Of course Lecter would drag her back to hell. He couldn't be done with her. Oh, no. All the shit he already bestowed onto her wasn't enough. Not at all. He was the gift that kept on giving.

Giving me more mental disorders.

Clarice had gotten to the point that she was more than happy to never see him again. Unless it was to identify his body. Yeah. She could get behind that.

Why can't he just leave me alone?

No, no, no. The real question is, why are you a little bit excited to be hearing from him again?

Because fuck you. That's why.

Fortunately, they arrived at the door to the conference room before Clarice could further mentally dig herself into a hole. She opened it and was greeted with more glorious déjà vu. Pearsall, Noonan, and Wayne were all seated in the same places from the last meet-and-greet she had been dragged into. A tall woman with dark hair stood in a corner away from the others with a cigarette. Clarice had no idea who she was but the woman looked vaguely familiar. The window was open next to her, wafting away all the smoke. Her body language gave away her annoyance at the three men. She clearly didn't want to be there.

The two of them had that in common at least. Maybe she had another ally in the room after all.

Clarice didn't bother presenting niceties. After walking around them, she headed to the farthest chair away from everyone. She didn't want to give even the smallest hint of wanting to be involved in whatever was happening. Arms and legs crossed with a no-damns-given expression to top it all off. Crawford took a seat next to her. She barely suppressed a snort.

Trying to make us appear as though we're a unified front? Oh, good. Worked so well last time.

Silence overtook the room. Finally, Pearsall decided to break it. "Alright, who wants to start?" he asked with an authoritative tone.

Fucking hell. Please tell me he has no actual authority.

She decided to play his little game and sarcastically raised her hand. "I do, actually," Clarice gave him a fake, tight lipped smile. "Why the hell are you here?"

Crawford's head jerked so hard in her direction, she was surprised he didn't break his neck. "Starling—"

Her no-damns-given policy held up as she interrupted her boss. "Because, I understand those two being here." Pointed to Noonan and Wayne. "And I'm guessing… she's important?" Gestured to the unknown woman.

An uncaring flick of cigarette ash out the window accompanied a glance at Clarice. "Alison Hemming. I'm Paul Krendler's successor."

Ah.

Wonderful.

Her southern-styled raising saved her ass. "Nice to meet you."

Yes. Nice to meet you. I watched Hannibal Lecter cut pieces of your predecessor's brain out of his head while he was still alive. We should meet for coffee and talk more about it.

"So, Pearsall." Clarice leaned back in her chair and tilted her head to the side. "You seem to be the only one who doesn't belong."

Pearsall tried hard to be nice. "Starling, I'm here as…" The agent glanced at the two men sitting next to him for help. None was given. "A friend."

You goddamn liar.

"I didn't realize we were so close."

He quickly abandoned his half-assed attempt at buttering her up. "Well, we're not. But I'm going to be the closest thing you'll have to one once all this gets out."

Clarice didn't even flinch. They had already tried to make her feel isolated before. A bit lazy of them to try using the same tactic twice in a row. "That's a load of crap. Agents Mapps has been supportive of me since day one of this shit show. Why don't you tell me how much did they increased your salary, Clint?"

Watching him try to come up with a comeback was painful. It was like his little brain was imploding. Pearsall opened his mouth but Hemming cut him off. She had apparently had enough of his verbal flailing. "Agent Pearsall, are you really trying to lie to someone who psychoanalyzes people for a living?" He closed his mouth. "Thank you. You've certainly embarrassed yourself enough for one day."

Damn.

Clarice was really starting to like her. Lecter should've killed Krendler sooner.

And those are the kind of thoughts that get you in a padded room.

Hemming's eyes cut back to her. "Agent Starling, I believe you are generally aware of why you are here. Quite frankly, I don't see how you couldn't. Do you have any questions before we begin?"

"Yes, actually. As no one wants to be here—" Not a single individual in the room made any attempt at disputing that. "—may I cut the amount of time we're forced to be in each other's presence down to even less?"

Wayne shrugged, trying to casually glance at his phone in the process. Noonan sighed and learned back with fingers interlaced behind his head. Pearsall was doing what could only be described as a grownup alternative to pouting. Hemming hid her amused smirk in a drag.

Clarice didn't need to look over at Crawford. Most likely he was trying to appear offended. It was all an act. She was a black spot on his record. Right up there with Will. Crawford was her ally as long as she worked under him. The guilt he had once had in regards to her had worn off years ago. Even if he tried to play it like that wasn't the case.

Or maybe she was just cynical. Maybe he did still feel guilty. Not like she gave a damn either way.

"Obviously, this is about Hannibal Lecter," Clarice began. "He's back. But how is he back? Not because he killed someone. That would have been all over the news. Not because y'all know where he is. Crawford and I would have been asked to go to wherever that was. That leaves only one possibility: He left something. A little clue, a little taunt. Knowing him, it was probably a letter or at least a small note. Handwritten. Thick, expensive paper. Lecter's old-fashioned that way. Makes him feel more intelligent and refined than the rest of the world. No need to check for DNA. He knows we would know and he does not like wasting time." She paused and lifted her gaze back up to the others. "My question is, how did one of the top ten most wanted men in the country manage to stroll into the BAU and place something on my desk without anyone noticing?"

Hemming was the only one who looked interested in her words. "Not bad, Starling." Crushing her cigarette butt in an ash tray, she walked over to Clarice. The clear evidence bag in Hemming's hand was set down before her. She took the middle of the three seats between Clarice and Pearsall. "A letter was delivered to your desk yesterday, early afternoon. Inside was a handwritten note to you from Hannibal Lecter. At least, that's what the handwriting analyst says. According to the eyewitness account given by the receptionist, a threat to her son's life caused her to allow access to your desk. All security measures were working except the cameras. The guards supposedly watching the footage didn't notice until we inquired about it. Apparently, they prefer playing poker to doing their jobs."

Figures.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Starling." Her head turned to Crawford. He readjusted himself in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "He didn't deliver the letter. A woman did."

The news hit her far harder than it should have.

A woman? That would suggest… No. It made no sense. He wouldn't trust just anyone. Particularly not in regards to delivering something to her.

Would you ever say to me, stop? If you loved me, you'd stop?

Would you fuck off and die if I asked?

She frantically stuffed down the unwanted emotions and thoughts. No one needed to know about those. Especially those in the room with her. Hell, she didn't want to know them herself.

Deep breath. Compartmentalize. Deal with this later.

"So, you're telling me that Lecter has a woman doing his dirty work? Our current profile on Lecter would suggest the opposite. He doesn't seek out companionship—"

"He did with you." Pearsall was apparently set on winning an award for being the most annoying dickhead in the room. He had an impressive lead. "Are you upset you're not special anymore?"

She didn't dignify his childish taunt with a response. But Noonan had had enough of his subordinate's bullshit. "Pearsall, if I hear another unprofessional comment come out of your mouth, I will personally oversee your transfer to our shittest office location. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," the agent mumbled, clearly not happy with tables being turned.

Hope you enjoy that award, Clint.

Honestly, it was a bit of a tragedy. Pearsall used to be such a good guy. It really was a shame that arrogance and greed had all but destroyed the man's decency. He'd descended to Krendler's level of assholery. There really was no going back after that.

After a few moments passed, she continued. "Short version, Lecter is a loner. He doesn't look for human companionship. Humans are normally very social creatures. While Lecter might not be a true psychopath, he has dissociated himself from his own humanity for so long, he might as well be. This is not a man who would purposefully be around someone else unless they were of use to him."

Hemming was watching her with a disturbing lack of emotion. It was like a switch had been flipped. All the warmth coming from her had vanished. "The letter suggests otherwise. And not just in regards to the mystery woman."

Any camaraderie between the two women disappeared upon that remark. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Dark green eyes bored into her blue ones. "In your report of the events that occurred at Chesapeake Bay, did you, by any chance, leave out information?" A small smirk tugged on Hemming's lips. "Perhaps an event you would rather take to the grave than permanently end up in the FBI files?"

Clarice took back everything good she had said about Hemming. She was so much worse than Krendler. At least he had only been a horny idiot. This woman was cunning, ambitious, and manipulative as hell. She had intelligence and power to get her exactly what she wanted. To say Hemming was a dangerous woman was an understatement.

God, I'm so fucked.

To their surprise, Crawford came to her rescue. "Ms. Hemming, with all respect, it has been five years since that incident happened. Agent Starling was under a heavy dose of morphine given to her by Doctor Lecter. The fact that she remembered anything is nothing short of extraordinarily. She called the police and did whatever necessary to stall Lecter before their arrival. When he found out her intensions, she managed to handcuff herself to him in a last ditch effort to prevent him from escaping. I don't think that any one of us can say we would have had the guts to do the same." He fixed Hemming with a firm stare. "May we should continue with the original topic of this meeting rather than asking Agent Starling to recall events that happened half a decade ago?"

Hemming was clearly unhappy with Crawford's response. "Fine." She turned back to Clarice with that friendly mask on again. Without the rose-tinted glasses on, her kindness became obviously fraudulent. She was angry this woman had played her so easily but refused to give the bitch the satisfaction. "Starling, can you go ahead and read the letter? I want to make sure we are all on the same page."

Clarice had already concluded that was really why she was there anyway. But why she couldn't have done it down at the forensic lab was beyond her. She slowly peeled away the sealed barrier. Hemming tossed blue latex gloves on the table from God knows where. Clarice put them on and removed the envelope. She made a mental note to ask the techs why part of it looked like it had been burned. Carefully, she took the letter out and unfolded it. Familiar, ridiculously beautiful handwriting greeted her. Just before she began reading, Hemming's voice cut through her mind.

"Out loud, please."

She looked over the top of the letter to see a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. "You did want to minimize time spent in here, didn't you? Reading it out loud will refresh all of us on what it says in more detail."

Clarice genuinely hated that Hemming made so much sense. She gave the bitch a cold look before she began to read.

"My dearest Clarice,

It has been a long time since our last encounter, has it not? Although we may not judge time in the same way, five years is quite a while regardless. Many things have changed, haven't they? Your reinstatement to your beloved FBI as well as your engagement to that county officer, Charles Porter. Are you attempting to flush out all that reminds you of me? Perhaps in a feeble effort to acquire a new start? Do not fret, my dear. We both know that it just as impossible for you to forget me as it is for me to forget you. Has my voice joined your screaming lambs in your dreams, Clarice? I imagine that it has. Does that make you shudder? With horror or with…pleasure? No need to answer, my dear. We both know the answer."

The other's stares were tangible. Clarice could almost hear their minds trying to piece together how Lecter knew such deeply personal information about her. The resulting judgement came off them in waves. Back to being the most hated person in the room.

She was so fucked.

"My apologies. I seem to have sidetracked from my true reason of writing this letter. You always have had an uncanny ability to distract me. Let us continue:

Many things have changed for me as well. I have become, ah, reacquainted in a manner of speaking with a dear friend from the past. I am quite certain you have heard of her. Does the aptly named 'Black Widow' ring any bells? Yes or no, Clarice? If not, do not worry. Ole Jacky boy should be able to fill you in. Unless he's there. Listening to you read this out loud in front of a group of executives, perhaps? Please say hello for me. I do miss our little dinner parties."

Clarice looked up at Crawford after that. He looked paler than usual and, if she wasn't mistaken, a tad green. Being reminded of involuntary cannibalism would do that to a person.

It was truly surprising he wasn't a vegetarian. Clarice had become one right after Chesapeake Bay. She couldn't eat meat without feeling as though she was snacking on Paul Krendler.

"Now, now, my dear. Do not let the green-eyed monster get the best of you in regards to my darling Black Widow. Although it is highly amusing to imagine your envy over my beloved female companion. It truly would not surprise me if that was the case given the nature of our, ah, relationship. I imagine your smooth, pale cheeks turning a light shade of red upon reading this. Is it out of school-girl embarrassment or jealous anger? I believe we both know the answer. Do not forget that I know you better than most.

Ta,

Your Hannibal"

She could feel her cheeks flush as she read the final paragraph. Clarice had never experienced such profound self-hatred.

I'm not jealous, you son of a bitch.

I'm angry because… well, because I…

You know what? Fuck you, Lecter. Just fuck you.

Her hand trembled out of the sheer amount of rage coursing through her veins. She placed the paper back on the table to keep herself from crumbling it up. Clarice closed her eyes in order to keep her emotions in check.

It wasn't working.

After everything you did to me. After everything you put me through. After you ruined my life. All because you needed a replacement plaything after Will fucked off? You almost destroyed me and you think you can just reenter my life whenever you please?

I'm not yours.

How fucking dare you think I am.

Clarice was going to fucking kill him. He was a dead man walking. Lecter wouldn't be fucking recognizable by the time she was done with him.

No one dared to speak when she opened her eyes. The blazing determination put all their doubt on the back burner. It was certainly not the reaction they were expecting.

What the were you expecting me to do? Cry?

Clarice was so fucking done with being manipulated and being treated like a fragile object.

"What do you want me to do?"

Her words made Hemming's expression turn into one of approval. "We want you to bait the beast, so to speak. He likes you, Starling. Really likes you. When he contacts you again, use it against him."

Clarice glanced back down at the letter. The name 'Black Widow' made her top lip pull upward into a brief snarl before becoming a tight line. Her eyes met Hemming's and she nodded once. "Yes, ma'am."

I'll bring him to his fucking knees.

"—breaking news coming from Washington. FBI officials have confirmed the rumors of a serial killer team up. An allegiance between Doctor Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter and the female serial killer, 'Black Widow', might prove to be the most dangerous pairing of the century. Not only does their combined body count reach the triple digits, but they have proved time and time again that they are highly skilled at evading officials. Since Lecter's escape several years ago, his exact whereabouts have been made of guesswork and the Black Widow is still without an identity. The relationship between the two was hinted as being intimate, but questions regarding that particular detail were answered with 'no comment'."

'Hinted at being intimate'?

Okay.

Fuck off, FBI.

Pearl teeth flashed at the screen. "Looks like a match made in hell, Linda."

Well, you can go fuck off, too.

A wide, fake smile and equally fake laughter. "Indeed it does, John."

Goddammit, Linda. You can go fuck off with them.

"While the exact source of this is being kept confidential by the FBI, it has been leaked that Special Agent Clarice Starling is somehow involved. Investigators have also told us that the U.S. Department of Justice's new Deputy Assistant Attorney General, Alison Hemming, will be leading this investigation to capture Doctor Lecter and his female companion. The public's speculation over the FBI's competence is higher than ever as their history involving the couple has not been a positive—"

Shut. Up.

Her index finger hit the 'off' button with a soft click. The hard plastic of the remote gently greeted the surface of the dark red stand next to the chair Audrey sat in. A clink of ceramic on ceramic as she picked up the teacup. The barest hint of a sip as she drank her Earl Grey.

Was this their first ever awkward silence? Good. Just what she always wanted.

To be fair, what the hell could he possibly say to save his ass?

'Oh, whoopsie. Didn't I tell you? I implied we were a romantic couple in that letter you gave to your sister yesterday. You know, so she would be jealous and such. Uh, now, I didn't plan on having information from it leaked to the press this soon. Kinda wanted to continue treating you like royalty so you wouldn't notice I was slowly emotionally manipulating you into forgiving me because that bothers me for some ridiculous, unknown reason. Yeah, I fucked that up nice and good. Oh, and yes I am somewhat aware you have romantic feelings for me because of yesterday which makes this so much worse. Human liver sound good for dinner, Audrey dear?'

Seconds stretched on. Was he really not going to try anything? Not even a single word to defend himself? Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. He wasn't even looking at her.

Though…

Could it be?

Could he possibly experience normal human emotions? No. Couldn't be. The great Hannibal Lecter feeling genuinely bad over his shitty actions towards her?

Gasp.

He would never.

How dare anyone imply such blasphemy.

Audrey noticed the barest hint of movement from him. A gentle, rhythmic tap on the arm of the sofa from his finger. If the roles were reversed, she would have either tried to make a run for it or pray for teleportation powers. She would, most definitely, not be doing whatever the hell it was that he was doing.

Well, maybe, if I tap my finger, she'll go away and I won't have to deal with a bruised ego over not knowing everything for the second day in a row.

As if hearing her sarcastic, mocking thoughts, he turned his head towards her but ultimately said nothing. However, his facial expression was rather intriguing. A war seemed to be waging in his mind judging by the variety of emotions trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to know what was going on in that brain of his.

Perhaps Hannibal was feeling a bit guilty. Joking aside, he wasn't a true psychopath —despite what almost everyone said. He had emotions. They were buried deep in an abyss and probably covered in cobwebs from disuse. But they were there.

And, in his defense, she had never truly let him see her raw emotions in regards to him before. He most likely had his suspicions. But yesterday presented him with the first actual piece of evidence. It was without her consent but that detail didn't matter right then. What mattered was the letter had become an unfortunate time bomb. Maybe if they were in a better place emotionally, it wouldn't be a big deal. In fact, Audrey knew it wouldn't. Instead of accepting him without question like some mindless loyal dog, she had rejected him. Not only that, she had deceived and seduced him.

That would make anyone take a step back.

Although, there was the possibility that she had made a bigger impression on him than she had initially thought. Audrey didn't stick around to witness the aftermath. She was far too busy basking in her own victory. Yesterday also marked the first time she had behaved like that to him. Not like she would to a teacher, an authoritative figure, or even a friend. Audrey had treated him like a lover. A scorned one, but a lover nonetheless. That had to change at least a little of their dynamic.

Right?

Hell, over the course of the last twenty-four hours, he had figuratively placed her up on a pedestal. It was like she was a queen. Hannibal wouldn't let her left a finger if he could help it. He had even made her favorite tea —remembering exactly how she liked it to boot— when she started to get up to make some half an hour ago. A simple "Allow me" came from him before going into the kitchen.

Why are you reading so much into it? It's clearly just another manipulation tactic.

Was it though?

Hannibal had gone as far as to refrain from looking at her when she hesitantly joined him. He had been aware of her presence. A small change in posture and a brief tensing of his muscles before relaxing back into the leather. Yes, she could have shared the sofa with him. There had been plenty of room. However, Audrey opted for the high-backed chair perpendicular to it instead. She was pretty sure the message was received.

As Audrey placed the teacup down, she could feel the plum dress ride up a bit on her thigh. Like the gentleman he was, Hannibal didn't look at her rather exposed legs. His eyes remained on hers. It was almost enough to make her smile. Almost.

A deep sigh left her lips instead as she placed her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles.

Time to poke the dragon.

"What's next, Hannibal?" She tilted her head to the side, studying his features. "Do you not have another plan? That is rather unlike you. Surely you, of all people, would have had a plan 'B'. Especially after your attempts to butter me up over the last twenty-four hours has clearly failed."

He became unreadable. A bit concerning but not entirely shocking. Her tone's inspiration came from the voices of his former colleagues who testified against him. Ice cold and detached.

Honestly, she had no idea what to expect, but Audrey pushed on regardless.

She brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off her dress. "A bit disappointing, I must admit. Almost as disappointing as not being able to kill that FBI receptionist I had to deal with yesterday because of you," Audrey continued. "But perhaps disappointment is what I am to now expect from you. You seem to insist on continuing to manipulate my emotions. I don't ask anything of you. The least you could do is —wait, what are you doing?"

While she was talking, Hannibal had stood up with superhuman gracefulness and walked over to her. He knelt —actually fucking knelt— before her. Like a man about to be knighted. Audrey knew he was dramatic but now he was possibly taking the whole treating-her-like-a-queen thing a little too far.

Oh, shut up. You are loving this and you know it.

Am I loving Hannibal Lecter kneeling in front of me? Yeah, of course I am. Who wouldn't love it?

Hannibal slowly reached out to her lap, watching for any form of protest. Hesitation and caution filled her features but she offered no objection. Audrey had the obvious physical advantage as his current position allowed for no threatening motions. Well, that, and his leg was right up against her crossed ones. Hannibal being in her personal space was a small distraction. She was acutely aware of his body heat radiating off of him. She subconsciously pressed her legs against his. If he tried anything, one swift kick to the balls would suffice nicely.

He took her hand loosely in his and brought it towards him. His delicate touch almost destroyed the barriers surrounding her heart. Warm breath greeted her skin as his lips parted to speak.

"I'm sorry, Audrey."

Huh.

Okay.

To say she was surprised was an understatement. It was the first time she had seen her Hannibal —The true, genuine one. Not this fake one her sister had drawn out.— since he came back into her life yesterday. His first apology had been one of manipulation. He obviously had been trying to calm her down. But this… It was real.

Don't get too excited. Let's see where he goes with this.

His lips brushed over her fingers once slowly like he was savoring her and the moment. Audrey could feel him breathe in her scent. A proper kiss was applied to her middle knuckles and she couldn't help but notice the kiss lingered for a few seconds over the chaste kiss limit.

There go the outer castle walls.

A wave of warmth washed over her body. Her ability to speak seemed to have abandoned ship. She blinked several times, trying to regain her wits. His gesture was filled with a profound sense of intimacy. Not of a sexual nature, however. The intimacy ran far deeper than that.

Audrey noticed the storm raging behind his eyes had faded away. There was a clarity within them. He had come to a conclusion but of what, she did not know.

"I know, Hannibal," Audrey replied softly. She placed her hand on his cheek and brushed her thumb along his skin with a tenderness she had long forgotten. "I accept your apology but I cannot forgive you."

The affect her words had on him was briefly shown but intense nonetheless. It was the emotional equivalent to being slapped in the face. She could feel him pulling away from her even though his positioning didn't change.

"Not fully." she clarified, hoping any desperation seeping into her mind didn't show. Her fingers trailed down his cheek and along his jawline. Being affectionate did not come naturally to her but the doctor had always managed to be an exception to those types of things. "Not yet."

Her teeth lightly bit into her bottom lip as she considered her next words.

Fuck it.

If Audrey was to ask Hannibal to be honest, it would be rude of her to not return the favor.

"Trust is not given freely. I need you to realize my trust in you is currently fractured. I'm not sure anymore if your actions are truly sincere or emotionally manipulative."

"Audrey, I—"

She shushed him and placed a single finger on his lips which cut him off. After a few seconds, she removed it. "I understand why you went away for twelve years. As much as I wish the logic to be flawed, it's not. What you did did help me. However, your actions damaged our relationship."

Her voice broke, forcing her to stop momentarily. Dammit. Audrey loathed weakness. She wanted none of it.

"There were years of doubt and heartbreak," she continued after regaining control with her anger as her fuel. "I truly did not think I would see you again. From my perspective, you had become bored with me and tossed me aside as you chased after my sister. And, in a sense, that is true. You were everything to me, the only light in my life. Then, suddenly, I had to deal with the concept that I had meant nothing to you. Whether or not that is true doesn't matter because that's what I believed. For over a decade, I believed I was another toy you had thrown away."

She couldn't look at him. Completely gave up on that out of genuine worry that if she saw what he was thinking, she would lose her courage entirely.

"Then coming back into my life so suddenly…" she sighed and shook her head. "You need to understand that I'm not the same woman you once knew. I am no longer a child. I lived without you before. Do not expect to be the center of my world now."

You are aware that you can sugarcoat it a little bit, right?

Damn. We were doing so good too. Always gotta ruin sweet moments.

Audrey still refused to look at him. She didn't want to know. Not at all. Not in the slightest. A little. A lot. Not at all.

She felt him moving. When he let go of her hand, Audrey's pulse spiked. Panic stampeded over logical thought. All synapses ceased firing, however, when she felt his hands pressed up against either side of the naked skin of her thighs.

Audrey turned to look at him and found herself unable to breathe. Hannibal's face was so close, she almost kissed him. Amusement danced over his features as his darkened eyes locked onto her parted lips. She had been distracted by him being in her personal before but having him leaning over her was a whole different ballgame.

So much for her advantage.

"My dear…" Hannibal growled out in his low, velvety voice. "You are playing a very dangerous game by speaking to me in such a manner."

Holy shit.

He's mad.

So very, very mad.

And so fucking hot.

To be perfectly honest, all she wanted to do in that moment was fuck him. But, somehow, Audrey located her speaking abilities. "Games without danger are not worth playing," she mumbled as her tongue ran over the point of an elongated incisor.

Her movement distracted him. She could see it in his eyes as they glazed over for a moment. "Hmm. That is true." His gaze lifted up to focus on her eyes. "It is rather insulting to insinuate I think so little of you."

"It would have been far ruder to not be honest," Audrey countered smoothly.

He tilted his head slight to the side, causing their noses to brush against one another. His anger had begun to dissipate. "Perhaps." Hannibal's tone was calm. The strange, dangerous look in his eyes had faded away.

But, being the idiot she was, Audrey decided to push her luck. "And perhaps if you wanted an intimate relationship with me, you should have asked instead of forcing me to find out via the news."

A deep chuckle answered her. His pupils were blown out just as they were yesterday. "Darling, I will not ask. I intend to make you want me like you have never known. Only my name and 'please' will exist in your vocabulary. I will become an addiction you will never get enough of. You will crave me. You will beg for my touch. Only then will I make you mine."

There goes the entire fucking castle.

And her ability to speak vanished for the third time that evening. Probably never to return.

Once Hannibal was satisfied he had rendered her completely speechless, a victorious smirk tugged on his lips. He pulled away from her and smoothed his buttoned shirt. Nimble fingers plucked the teacup and saucer off the table. "I do hope liver sits well with you for our dining pleasure. If your speaking faculties should return to you, I will be in the kitchen."

Her eyes followed him until he disappeared behind the door. She was no longer in any sort of dignified position. Her crossed legs had opened at some point during their exchange and were too far apart to be at all ladylike. Audrey felt her face flush as the scent of her arousal hit the air. No wonder he was so pleased with himself.

Well, nothing she could do about it now.

Yeah, I'll just continue being a puddle in this chair.

A/N: I love my sarcastic twins.

Any feedback is always appreciated!

Ta ta,

Dreamiest Nightmare