Chapter 4

104 years later

They were friends, nothing more, though he often wished it otherwise.

He'd kept his distance for years after the confrontation with Stefan. Something about what the bastard had said. He'd called her a whore. His whore. The accusation grated. No doubt it troubled him more than her. After centuries he'd lost count of his mistresses, his lovers, the one-night turns during his travels. His whores. She was not one of them. She would never be one of them. And so it felt wrong to make idle jests or taunt her about her hands.

He watched her dance. It was a celebration. The day lycans remembered as the day they first stood for freedom. He spent the holiday at a different location every year and he was back at Groski's den.

Raze and several of the higher ranking men had abandoned him an hour ago to play cards. He sat alone now, watching the entertainments from a corner chair. A serving girl came by to fill his mug with more ale. The curl of her mouth and her scent spoke of her eagerness to please him. He wasn't interested. He continued watching the dancers.

At some point in the late evening Janya spied him sitting there alone. She greeted him with a smile, like she always did, and came and sat by his side.

'Just watching?'

'I like to see joy in their eyes. I don't see it often.'

She shook her head. 'You look in the wrong places. There is joy everywhere, all the time.'

'Is that right?'

There was a blush to her cheek. The dancing and wine had a freeing effect on all. A few stray curls framed her face. He wanted to touch them. He didn't. She looked beautiful and he looked away.

Janya leaned forward on the table resting her chin on her hand. 'If you could have anything, what would it be?'

It was not an intrusive question, but the question asked of all on this day. He didn't need to think up an answer. 'Peace.'

'And after peace, what then?'

He leaned back in his chair pondering his mug as if the answer could be found there. 'I don't know.'

She didn't believe him. 'Don't tell me you've never dreamed of the day after. We all have. What do you dream of?'

He had an answer but he wasn't sure he was ready to admit the truth of it, even to himself. He took another swig of ale and then another, his eyes on the dancers, his thoughts far away. He'd dreamed of the future since all this began. In the early years, his dreams were of Sonja and her miraculous return to him. But the dream was changed, now and forever. He still dreamed of Sonja, of course, but he longed for someone else, someone alive but still out of reach.

He shifted his gaze and watched her watch the dancers, a smile lighting her face. She wasn't out of reach. She was close. So close. He could reach out and touch her. All he had to do was act. Was he the coward now? Afraid to lose what remained of his heart. If he moved forward there would be no turning back. Not ever again. Could he do it? Could he leave Sonja behind and cling to a new dream?

'You.' There. He'd said it.

Janya's attention had strayed to the dancers. She'd missed what he said. 'Pardon?'

He sighed, eyes downcast. 'I dream of you.'

'Me?'

'Yes.' He said, eyes lifting to hers. What he saw was not what he'd expected. Her eyes hardened in anger.

'I don't find your humor entertaining.' She made to stand. His hand on her arm held her in place.

He'd reached out. He'd done it. He couldn't stop now. 'It's not a joke.' I love you. He'd meant to say it but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't say it. The last time he'd said it his world fell apart.

She shook her head. 'I'll be no man's whore, Lucian. Not yours, not anyone's.'

'That's not … you don't understand.'

She tried to pry his hand from her arm. 'Let go of me.'

That was the problem, wasn't it? He couldn't let go. 'I've tried. For years I've tried.' And then he said it. 'The last thing I wanted was to love again.'

She stilled. She'd heard him that time and he could see it there, love for him in her eyes, but it vanished quickly replaced by ice. Those eyes bore into him, seeking truth.

And when she finally found it her mask collapsed and sadness replaced her anger. 'I can't. I can't be your lover.'

He watched the tide shift. The sadness came in. Can't, she'd said. Not won't. He released his hold on her arm. 'Why not?'

'Many reasons.'

'Give me one.'

At that moment the server returned to refill their ale. Janya watched the woman silently. She, too, could see the woman's desire for him. She could smell it. The server left them and Janya's attention returned to her drink.

'I won't be one of many, Lucian.'

'You won't be,' he said, and meant it.

She knew he did. But still… 'I can't.'

'Is there someone else?' He didn't think so, but could not be sure.

She laughed bitterly. 'No. No one else.'

'What then?'

It was not a command, merely a question. But thinking it an order made it easier to speak. She exhaled slowly, a calming breath. 'I've tried … with others.'

'Tried?' He wasn't quite sure he understood her.

'It always feels like him, when they touch me.'

Stefan. Damn him. 'In my arms you would not feel him.'

'No?'

'No.' He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. 'Let me show you.'

She considered him for a long time. He didn't know what thoughts she might be weighing. He'd earned her trust a long time ago, but he didn't think it would stretch that far. He was wrong. Her lip curled and she stood pulling him along with her. He followed her from the hall. No one paid them any mind, excepting the serving girl, who appeared as if she'd tasted something sour.

Her room was as he remembered it, green and warm and inviting. And she invited him in. She sat herself on the sofa, legs tucked under her, watching him. He seated himself next to her and propped his head up on his hand. He reached out the other hand to brush a stray curl back behind her ear. She didn't flinch. No fear. Not yet. Where to begin?

'What troubles you most?'

She considered the question awhile before coming to an answer. 'Hands.'

'Hands?'

'Touching me. I can't control them.'

Ah, well, control he could give her. It was, ironically, one of the things he'd desired from the start. 'Then I won't touch you, unless you ask.'

She laughed at his intention. 'How will you manage that?'

'You think I lack control?'

'I don't know.'

He took her hand in his and kissed it. 'You'll have to lead, though, if my hands are bound by this promise.'

'Lead?' she said. 'I'm not sure I know how.'

He kissed her then, gently. She tasted of cinnamon. He wanted more and to his utter surprise, she gave it to him, returning his kiss with a passion greater than his own. When he pulled away his lips curled and his eyes lit with amusement. 'You'll figure it out I think.'

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He sat them down and this time she kissed him. He let her set the pace with her mouth and tongue for her sake as much as his own. He wanted to pull her close. He wanted to feel her body in his arms and run his hands across her flesh. He didn't. He couldn't. He'd made a promise and Lucian always kept his word. No hands. Damn it. He needed to do something with his hands. Lucian inched back along the bed to the headboard, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the floor as he went. She followed him on hands and knees. When his back hit the frame he wrapped his hands around the posts to occupy them.

When he was finally in place, Janya straddled his lap and bit his lower lip. Her teeth drew blood, and she lapped it up. He moaned, but not in pain. His heart pounded harder in his chest. Her hands caressed both sides of his face and they descended slowly, down his neck, over his shoulders to his chest. Her nails grazed his throat and chest but not hard enough to break the skin. He'd waited so long for those hands and now her soft touch had him panting.

Her tongue danced with his until his breath came in ragged gasps and then without warning she withdrew. He caught his breath and moved to claim her mouth again, but gripping the bed frame, he could only go so far. She stayed just out of reach, her breath hot on his face, her lips less than an inch from his. She was testing him. She was waiting to see what he would do, if he would release the frame and break his word. He wouldn't.

'Please.' He begged her. 'Don't stop.'

She brushed her lips lightly over his in answer and then moved down to his neck. A gentle nip and then her tongue again and lips all the way down. When she reached his shoulder she bit him, her eye-teeth sinking in. He gasped and gripped the frame tighter as she drank from him. He leaned his head back against the pillows his mind incapable of thought. She abandoned her mark and traveled downward kissing her way down his chest and stomach while her fingers traced along the waist of his pants. She traveled upward again, her kisses pausing when she reached his chest. Delicate fingers passed over the old wound she'd once tended and when she grazed his nipple he shuddered and gasped.

'You like when I touch you like this?'

He laughed. 'God, yes.'

'Your hands are bleeding.'

He looked at his hands. Blood dripped from his palms. He'd been holding on so tight. 'It's all right.'

She reached up and took his right hand by the wrist. She drew it back from exile and up to her lips. She licked his palm clean. Then she traced the line of her jaw with his fingers and drew them down the length of her neck until his hand rested on the curve of her breast. He could feel her heart beating fast.

His left hand clutched the bed post tighter.

'You want to let go of the frame.' It wasn't a question.

'Yes.'

'And when you let go, what then?'

He could smell her desire mingled with fear. 'I'll spend the rest of the evening, all of tonight, and tomorrow making you feel as I do now.'

She laughed. 'You think you can last that long?'

'I always keep my word.'

She leaned forward with his hand still pressed to her chest and kissed him hard on the mouth. 'Lucian,' she said, when they paused for air. 'I want you to touch me.'

That was all the encouragement he needed. He released the headboard and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her as he'd wanted to for years, pressed against him, his hands running through her hair and down her back. He unlaced her corset with practiced ease and tossed it on the floor. He lowered her onto the bed. His own desire melded with hers, flooding the room, drowning out fear and doubt and everything else. His kissed his way across her cheek and along her jawbone to breathe hot on her neck.

'My hands are yours,' he whispered. 'Tell me what you'd do with them.'

A/N: Thanks to Roni2010 for being my first reviewer and The Riz for showing me love! Well, it's a T rated sex scene so you miss all the good parts. I just didn't feel like getting smutty with this one. The story didn't call for it and there are plenty of other fanfics around here if you're looking for graphic content.