AN: Ello and thank you all for the various forms of encouragement for this collection!
The following is a perhaps an odd attempt at a story revolving around love triangles and other geometric shapes that has turned more angsty than fun, I'm afraid. This first part might leave you wondering about everyone's roles in this and the past that connects them, but the second half of this little story should clear some of it up! *Note that this does drag other characters in for longer appearances than previous shots.
Oh and just to allay any fears- Orihime's role in this is just to act as an intermediary- she has a love of her own and it is NOT Ichigo.
Also the odd-couple-like friendship in this was on a whim.
Rating: T for language and a hint of fondling (the follow-up chapter w/b rated M)
Summary: In a Victorian/Modern (I'd call it steampunk but it's missing a bit of that sci-fi/industrial revolution element) setting the hero falls for someone already spoken for and determines to use any means to snatch her away. Ichigo pines for Rukia; Rukia, is engaged to Ichigo's cousin Kaien, who is of late intrigued by another. Of course the Kuchiki heiress' faithful butler seems to cast her favorable glances as well and so too seems to throw a wrench into the lovelorn mishmash. And in the wings is a "witch" with a penchant for helping those in need.
Word Count: 4,240
Satiate
Among the Lemon Tree's Thorns
Part One
888
Prologue
In darkness had he approached her and it was not enough now. How shamefully his love grew in the depths of passion and deceit. He couldn't have known how his small crush might manifest into sinful desire after only one kiss in a candle-less room.
He couldn't even seek atonement- instead he continued down his path of greedy betrayal- seeking to possess her- both body and soul. Never had he thought he would be so callous as to want someone all to himself- and in the process steal that individual from his own flesh and blood.
Somehow he knew though that he was on the side of both right and wrong. In his pursuit- in his desperate attempt to acquire Rukia Kuchiki's heart he was just another righteous devil.
888
A tangle of wildflowers and weeds pushed through the black ironwork fence and spilled onto the sidewalk as though trying to escape their beds. The gate was laced in holly, interweaving coils of iron rising just above the young gentlemen's heads; it creaked eerily on its hinges when pushed. The air was thick with the scent of the greenery, herbs and flowers mingling with the smell of slow decay and the scent of rain. Bees hummed a lazy symphony, hovering over the flowers that leaned along every pathway, craving the sun that winked between the oaks.
While the overflowing front yard/garden seemed very western in its unorganized chaos, the house was traditional- old and seemed abandoned.
The young orange-haired man did not walk straight up to the front doors, but took a meandering path of stones around the right side of the residence.
With silent disdain, his companion followed, eyeing every shadow for some creeping danger.
Soon enough the young man paused, sighing with relief as he stepped from the shade and into the sun calling, "Oi, I thought you'd left for the day. Glad I caught ya."
His friend rounded the corner and paused also to get a good eyeful of the woman his comrade put so much misguided faith in.
She was simply another beauty blooming in the patch of sunny colored mums, daisies, and red poppies she kneeled amongst. With peach pale skin and long strawberry blonde hair, a mingling of heavy waves and braids, she looked to be foreign. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of box-framed sunglasses, red lenses incased in thin black wire. Striped stockings of pale lavender and purple reached to mid-thigh. Her trousers were cut-off into indecently short shorts, her top a simple button-up of white cotton with sleeves rolled up to her shoulders over which black suspenders were secured.
She turned, her pink lips curved into a welcoming smile. She sprinkled dirt about, a mass of rotted weeds clasped in her gloved hands as she greeted, "Thought that was you, milord!" With that, she turned on her stocking-ed heel and wandered around another corner.
The young man wasted no time following her, his black wingtips clicking on the gray rock of varying sizes imbedded in the dirt to make up the walkway.
Connected to the main house there looked to be a small English-style cottage, complete with thatched roof; it, like her and the garden beyond the gloomy front lawn, seemed aglow. Again the bright haired young man's friend seemed to hesitate as he eyed the open shop door with trepidation.
"Oi!" The ginger's voice rang out from the shadowy confines of the shop, "You comin' or what?"
The dark-haired man's eyes narrowed and he stepped toward the threshold.
The shop smelled of incense, of spice, and herb. The minty scent of mugwort made his nose tingle. He didn't much care for it.
Behind her sunglasses, the woman's eyes were grey. She was curvy and tall, just barely ducking the ferns that dangled from the ceiling on either side of the shop's wooden counter.
The whole room looked like a strange combination of an old apothecary, a flower shop, and a wild forest. Wood shelves housed glass bottles, some opaque, some clear, some colored. Dried herbs hung from the wooden beams overhead, seemingly at home with the vines that slithered in and out of the thatch. In the center of the room was a raised pond of rock, bubbling with natural spring water. There were patches of grass springing from the dirt floor.
At the counter the woman set aside her glasses and watched the orange-haired noble with a patient smile.
His companion followed her line of vision and watched as his friend leaned down and tapped at a large clear jar that seemed to contain a variety of… eyeballs?
"What the hell is this for?" He muttered.
"That," The woman scolded lightly, "Is not for you, milord! May I suggest you focus on what you've come for? Your friend seems anxious to escape."
The dark-haired man fought a frown as she smiled at him. Why did he feel as though she were mocking him?
Yet again he wondered why he had agreed to accompany his "friend" on this folly of an errand. If not for my younger sister and this ridiculous boy's ties to her ne'er-do-well fiancé I would not tolerate the fool's presence.
'Please Nii-sama, please try to get along with Kaien-dono's family! I believe you actually might have gone to school with one of his cousins…'
The handsome gentleman sighed surreptitiously then, curbing the urge to rub at his suddenly aching forehead.
Across the room the woman rapped on the counter suddenly, "Come, young master, it is all prepared!"
Deep brown eyes darted toward the counter in surprise. As he stood straight from his bent position his features morphed into a smirk.
He snorted, "You knew I'd come?"
She answered with a smile, a clear vial between her thumb and forefinger containing a ruby red liquid that looked suspiciously like pale blood.
His eyes widened his long legs carrying him to stand across from her at the counter.
His strong jaw shifted slightly as he swallowed, anxiety thrumming in the space around him as he debated. But soon his light eyebrows drew inward and he frowned, "Is that a test tube?"
Her face fell and she might have replied but his frown grew into a full scowl as he folded his arms over his chest, "Seriously, it looks like a drink you'd get in a club."
She blushed and then her lips formed a pout, "I was out of my earthenware pots. But I promise it's exactly what you came for!"
"Ugh…"
The tube was tossed into the air and he could not help but scramble for it, snatching it before it dashed onto the countertop.
"What the hell?" He snarled with a disapproving frown, clutching the glass between two hands protectively.
The woman ignored this, humming pleasantly, busy scrounging through the shelves behind the counter, her back to the room.
Sienna eyes peered through the glass, inspecting it closely when his companion cleared his throat.
"If you are quite finished here, Shiba…"
"Aa." The young man blinked from his stupor. Holding the container in one hand he dug into the pocket of his slacks.
"You remember my instructions, don't you?" She said not bothering to turn around, still searching.
"Yeah- sure… Um, it was six, right?" He pulled several folded bills from his pocket and set them on the counter haphazardly.
Before the woman could respond, the man who had barely moved from the door scoffed, "Fool."
In a flash the woman had swung around; a tied cloth bag went sailing through the air and the dark-haired man caught it deftly.
"You look terribly constipated! Please take that- it should do the trick!"
The man's eyes widened.
The silence was tense as a stare-down commenced between slate and guileless grey.
The guffaw loosed by the ginger just managed to capture the two would-be combatants attention.
After a scathing glance at the other man, the dark-haired noble regained his expressionless countenance and turned to the door, "I will wait without for you to conclude your business."
He suddenly held the bag by the drawstrings, a look of slight challenge in his eyes as he let it drop to the floor. He turned on his heel fully intending to exit, but her words brought him up short.
"Be careful, now. My charms are not meant to be handled so carelessly. And such a display- it might be considered offensive… Kuchiki, Byakuya-sama." She wagged her finger at him, speaking in a sing-song lilt.
Silence again held sway over the room for several moments.
Blinking the young Shiba heir breathed out, "Whoa- how did you-,"
She giggled, "Silly! I told you before, I'm not psychic! Mr. Kuchiki there is the most talked about man in the country; how could I not know who he is?" The witch blinked innocently as she smiled once more.
The man's- Mr. Kuchiki's- shoulders were tense beneath his suit jacket, but he managed to ease himself with a deep breath.
"Shiba," Byakuya spoke in a cool tone, "I suggest you not linger." With that the nobleman strode out into the sunshine.
"Kurosaki, damnit!" The other noble growled, turning to shout, "I've told you to stop calling me by my clan's name, Byakuya!"
The woman cocked her head at the young man left behind and mused curiously, "Ne, milord… Does he still not know who this is all for?"
Guilt slumped Ichigo's shoulders as he turned back hesitantly, rubbing at the back of his neck, "Mmm… He still thinks it's about Matsumoto-san."
"I see…" She said, leaning now on her elbows, her chin resting on her intertwined hands. There was disappointment in her lightning grey hues, but she smiled letting the hint of her true emotion fall away. "Well- you shouldn't mull about it, milord! Strike while the iron is hot, I always say!" She offered sunnily.
He nodded with a crooked smile still edged with reluctance as he fingered the glass in his right hand, "Aa… I guess that's for the best…"
The young woman nodded and gave him an encouraging thumbs up before he turned and began to slouch toward the door.
He paused at the entry, his voice soft, "Ne… This will just help her to see me- right- I mean- it can't change what's there if…?" There was no reply and he simply nodded, forcing a small smile. "Right… Thanks, Inoue-san."
The witch's soft silver eyes followed the young aristocrat until he disappeared into the jungle of her garden, "Good luck, Kurosaki-kun."
888
"My lady, forgive me, but… Kurosaki-san has come again…"
The young woman's answering sigh melted into the cherry-blossomed breeze. Her unique shade of amethyst eyes took in the garden over the balustrade to her left, drinking it in silently as though the vision might be stolen from her.
Her attendant watched her with shadowed navy eyes, still bowed slightly, awaiting her reply.
Her pink lips parted and she finally turned her attention to the young man, "Very well. Show him in, Ishida-san."
"My lady." He bowed further forward, one hand over his breast. With the same masculine elegance did the young butler rise and sweep silently from the balcony. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced back to see the stiff figure of his mistress and note the uncertainty passing over her delicate features.
Eyes narrowed the faithful servant strode on; despite his own disapproval he would never disobey his superior's orders.
Still as he halted before the gentleman caller standing in the mansion's foyer, he couldn't help the glare he gave the ginger-haired nuisance. After a small bow he made a flowing gesture and turned on his heel, anticipating that the young man would follow.
Before he had quite made it to the French doors the servant paused, bringing the guest behind him up short as well.
He turned his head slightly, regal features icy as he spoke quietly over his shoulder, "My lady is being terribly indulgent, Kurosaki-san. I would ask that you keep your visit brief as not to further impose."
The infuriating gentleman (a term used very loosely), by the name of Ichigo Kurosaki, snorted at this, "Don't get your knickers in a twist… Cousin."
A soft huff passed Uryu Ishida's lips as his eyes narrowed further, "We are only distantly related. Please do not address me with such inconsiderate informality."
With a chuckle, Ichigo smirked and ruffled his bright locks with a careless hand, "Whatever you say, Ishida."
The butler bit his tongue, casting aside the urge to retort, and visibly straightened. He crossed the threshold of the balcony and executed another perfect obeisance and announced, "His lordship, Kurosaki, Ichigo, Heir to the Shiba Clan, my lady."
The young woman only noted her uninvited guest's bow out of the corner of her eye, "Thank you, Ishida-san." She cast the barest smile over the bowing man's head toward her butler and watched as he nodded and retreated into the hall's shadows.
As Ichigo lifted his head he felt his chest tighten as he took in the sight of the young woman seated on the white iron patio chair.
Her beauty was almost alarming in its ability to enthrall him.
The powder blue corset-top that hugged her upper body contrasted beautifully with her porcelain skin. The crisscrossed satin ribbons across the bodice were white as was the lace trim at the square cut collar and around the quarter-length sleeves. Black riding pants clung to her long legs, displaying their exceptional form, these tucked into kid-skin knee boots a soft gray in color. Even in profile the heart-shaped face with its delicate structure and creamy skin made his heart shudder.
His hands kept flinching into fists at his sides as he attempted to ignore the part of him that knew he was enamored. No other woman had ever affected him like this and it was still a struggle to acknowledge his helpless reactions to her.
Damnit- she's gorgeous! I thought maybe she would lose that weird- glow- that drew me in- but it's still fucking there! Damnit!
He slipped his hand casually into his pocket and felt the vial still lying unobtrusively in the satin lining.
After a moment he smirked, cocking his head to the side slightly, "What? Not going to invite me to sit, Lady Rukia? Thought you Kuchikis were known for your manners." Regardless of his adoration, he could not be anything but himself- even enchanted as he was.
She shot him a cool look at that and lifted her chin haughtily, "You're not quite welcome, Kurosaki-san, but if you're inclined the seat across from me is empty."
The sarcasm caused electricity to ripple down his spine and he had to forestall a grin.
Still he indulged in a crooked smile as he strode forward to tug out the not-quite-offered chair and dropped into it with the ease of the entitled.
Rukia did her best not to catch the arrogant young man's eye, but couldn't help but give him a quick once over.
The tall young man slouched casually, seemingly unconcerned about the expense of his attire.
The black trousers were tailored to his long legs and matched the black of the silk-short sleeved button-up shirt beneath his soft gray vest. The vest too fit his form, the silver buttons imprinted with fleur-de-lis, a matching silver chain was attached to a small loop at the bottom of the vest and trailed up to disappear into the breast pocket. His loose tie was an even paler shade of gray and hung limply from his unbuttoned collar. His black leather jacket accentuated his muscled shoulders and was clearly made for riding the chrome motorbike he seemed so fond of zipping about on.
He looked utterly self-possessed and dashing- in the most rebellious way of course. Add to his unique style the good looks and confident swagger and any highborn lady might concede to his certain charm.
The Kuchiki Heiress cleared her throat, turning her head further away from him to hide the pink color beginning to appear on the apples of her cheeks, "This is the fourth time you have come without invitation, Kurosaki-san. I must insist you state your business so that you can be on your way."
One arm draped over the back of the chair, the young man cast her a simmering look as he drawled, "Well that's obvious… I've come to see you… Midget."
She gasped, immediately incensed by the provocation and turned her dark lavender orbs in his direction finally, "How dare you insult me in my home you- strawberry-haired yankee!"
Ichigo grew rigid in his chair, momentarily shocked by the insult, before his teeth flashed in a sneer and he purred, "That's rich coming from a girl who knows how to spar like any pugilist at the docks!"
He nearly grinned, blood rushing in excitement in his veins as he watched her reaction. The woman gaped at him, knuckles blanched as she gripped the arms of her seat in shaking fists.
A deep inhale tempered the young noblewoman enough to keep her from sniping at him again, however.
Frustrated by her quick loss of composure Rukia whipped her head away from him once more, "You're being quite rude- coming here only to lob ludicrous accusations at me, Kurosaki-san."
He shook his head at her with a scoff, his brown eyes glittering with knowledge as he spoke lowly, "Why deny it, hmm? Such eccentricity sets you apart from all of those society nitwits that simper and bow." He licked his lips in an unconsciously hungry gesture as his eyes narrowed on her.
Her lips parted, but she gave no reply, heavy lashes of midnight hiding the emotion in her eyes.
His eyes followed her hands as she sat forward a bit to reach for her teacup. Her lovely hands were encased in intricate lace, white fingerless gloves that travelled up the length of her forearm. He recalled his cousin agonizing over which design she might like better and a bitter taste flooded his mouth. He was forced to look away, missing how her fingertips only stroked the fragile china in distraction before withdrawing.
She rose regally to her feet and turned her back on him to hide the nervous gaze and sudden swift rhythm of her breaths. She paced to the railing of the balcony to look out at the English style garden laid out below. Her eyes traced the maze of pruned hedges and the concentric plots of flowers that interspersed the pathways.
His voice was carried to her on the breeze, almost a plea in its gentleness, "I… admire such a thing about you, Rukia… Why deny it? Why deny… yourself?"
Her stomach clenched at his words, but she refused to waver and cast a glance in his direction.
So she remained unaware of the look the young man at her back favored her with or the indecision that warred within him as he slowly reached into his pocket again.
Several minutes passed in the quiet that had settled between the restless souls until the young lady came to a decision.
With utter poise, Rukia turned back to face the table, arms at her sides, hands folded demurely, "Forgive me, Kurosaki-san, but I will have to ask you to excuse me. My fiancé should be here soon and I should like to meet him at the stables."
His honey-brown eyes widened.
Like a dancer she slid one foot forward, angling it slightly, and then bobbed her head graciously, "Kurosaki-san."
In a flash he was out of his chair, his hand reaching to clasp her upper arm as she attempted to head past him to the stairs, "Rukia."
"You forget yourself!" She hissed up at him, yanking her arm from his grip, eyes sparking with ire.
He felt helpless as he stared after her figure, marching down the steps away from him.
But watching her was akin to pulling his heart from his chest and he was soon in pursuit.
He grabbed her again, this time his arm curling beneath her chest, pulling her back against him.
Startled she gave a yelp, frozen for a time, locked in that intimate sort of embrace- only glad that he could not see her flushed face.
They were shadowed by the blue firs that sat in a row along the base of the patio. Hidden there, beyond prying eyes Ichigo squeezed the girl tight to his chest, resting his cheek against her head as he breathed next to her ear.
"Rukia, please… Ever since that night… I can't think straight." He murmured against her, a strained quality to his voice.
She squirmed against him, the desperation in his normally smug voice making her ache, "Let go! Your lack of wits is not my concern!"
A chuckle escaped him despite himself. But impatience surged at her attempts to flee and he growled her name, "Rukia!" She grew still but he could still feel each unsteady intake of breath shuddering out of her.
He shook her slightly, closing his eyes as though in pain, "Just stop… Stop and for a minute acknowledge me! Acknowledge that each time I've come to you I've been sincere!"
"I can't!" She all but screamed, twisting in his hold again.
His eyes were dark and they reflected his anguish as they opened to gaze blindly across the landscape. "Why?" He gritted out between his teeth. The softness of her raven hair against his cheek was torture, and his arm beneath her bust began to lose strength.
Her hair shadowed her face and the light of suffering in her own eyes as she let herself grow almost limp against him, his warmth burning into her back.
"Idiot," Her voice barely rose above a whisper, "Because Kaien is your cousin! Because he's my fiancé!"
The nobleman swallowed the knot in his throat and let his lips trace her ear, causing her to wiggle again, "Because you… love him?"
She sucked in an audible breath, her heart faltering at his words. Her hesitation was telling. No- I will not allow him to manipulate my feelings! I've loved Kaien- I would never have agreed to his proposal otherwise! I loved…loved… The girl forced her eyes shut and breathed deeply to fortify herself. I love him.
"Yes." She answered in a hard voice.
Lips twisting in a bitter moue, Ichigo let one hand stray into the hair at the side of her face, pushing it back so that he could trail his lips down toward her neck. "Then you felt nothing… You felt nothing when I touched you." A mischievous hand was lightly fingering beneath one clothed breast now and she bit back a moan.
Each breath was becoming harder to draw, catching in her throat as she recognized how solid he felt- how perfectly she fit drawn tight to his well-molded chest. The smell of his leather jacket encompassed her and she was left floundering in waves of doubt.
Before she was utterly swallowed by the wayward emotions now threatening she drew her foot up only to slam it down on his wingtip.
"Fuck!" He cursed, wincing as he relinquished his hold and stumbled back. Rukia shot forward, out of his reach exhaling harshly.
She pivoted toward him, afraid to leave him at her back. For a frivolous moment her eyes scanned his form one more time, even allowing remorse to touch her as he balanced unsteadily on one foot- the other in his hand.
"Shit, that fucking hurt, you shrew!" He shot daggers at her from beneath his wild bangs.
"Further insults, yet you think to woo me, you lecher? Touch me again and I will do damage to more sensitive parts of your anatomy!" She screeched back, face red.
Her eyes narrowed and she drew herself up as tall as her small stature afforded, "Do not come again, Kurosaki-san!" The command in her voice brought him up short and he could only follow her with his eyes as she stormed away toward the stables of her spring home.
As he snorted indignantly he shook his head, both feet on the ground now, though his right ached something fierce.
Can't believe I like that little bitch. He inwardly balked, outwardly scowling.
But he was already missing the pulse of her heart radiating through him and the pomegranate scent that rose from her skin.
An angry breath huffed out between his lips as he dug his fingers in his hair. With a grimace he shook his head and swung around. His gait was idle, lazy as he wandered back towards the front of the house, seeing very little of the ornamented lawns about him.
For a moment it was easy to convince himself he was being foolish and that it was better to leave things as they were. But he paused as the breeze filtered another scent toward him. The Kuchiki's spring home was said to boast an array of fruit trees, scattered about its expansive acreage.
The citrusy tang hitting his nose forced his eyes to squeeze shut again.
When he had kissed in that dark study she had tasted of lemon tarts and longing.
"Damnit." He whispered, a wounded quality to the utterance.
He drew his hand from his pocket then. His eyes reflected the turmoil in his mind as he stared down at the full glass tube in his hand; the red substance within the vial glinting like carnelians in the sunlight.
To Be Continued…
AN: The follow-up to this w/b awhile in coming. Yet again this is one I had started before- I just have no conclusion at the moment!
Plus my goal is to have the next chapter of Trump Card out by the New Year! Oh and I am working on the conclusion to Boy Unmasked- the timing on that coming out is up in the air though... Hold on CherryCherry!
Gratitude All ~ Sin