Author's Note: Okay. Sorry it took so long, but this took me forever to censor so I wouldn't get in trouble. I think it is clean enough for now.

WARNING - sexual contact, don't like, don't read.

Chapter Seven

Heat pulse through Claire, followed by a moment of irritation, followed by the first slithers of anger. Then Vincent lowered his head, moving it up and under her skirt. Claire struggled to a sitting position, inching away from him. But he grabbed her legs in a powerful grip and pulled her straight. At the same time, he lowered his mouth. At the same time, he removed his leather glove, baring pale, long fingers.

Oooh! Claire thought. What the hell does he think he's doing? She tried to screw up fury and anger that he would be taking advantage of her like this, but she was too lustful to do more than wiggle her legs in helpless protest.

Vincent pulled back, red eyes lingering on her. Then slowly he began to strip. It wasn't a proper seductive strip. It was just Vincent taking off his clothes. Of course, even regular 'taking-off-clothes' tended to be sexy when the guy in question wore black leather. He dropped his cloak, undid several buckles and within a few, long minutes, he was naked.

And Claire hadn't seen any underwear. Interesting.

Vincent had a sexy body, pale and muscular, laced with old, faded scars. After he was naked, he proceeded to strip her. And then totally and completely seduce her. Every movement was precise, careful and no doubt well thought out. And well short of what Claire really wanted, which was the whole thing.

Claire growled through her gag. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy Vincent gently kissing her neck, sucking at the tender skin, biting . . . It wasn't that she didn't love the feel of his long finger, caressing her body intimately. It was that she wanted more, and he just didn't seem inclined to give it to her.

He was hard and ready physically, but mentally he appeared to be restrained. She watched his red eyes, noting the hunger behind them. He wanted this as much as she did, so why the hell was he holding back?

She wiggled back from him, trying to get closer to the headboard. If she could just get the straps loose, maybe . . .

Vincent slipped a finger into her, distracting her.

She shot him a venomous glare that melted when she saw his face. Lips parted, eyes full of desire. His entire body seemed to tremble with barely suppressed . . .

Well, barely suppressed something. She just couldn't figure it out. And who the hell cared what he was suppressing? It wasn't fair for him to be suppressing. She returned to her struggles with the leather straps pinning her arms over her head.

Not that it did much good. Apparently Vincent was an expert at tying people up. She angrily mused that at one point in his life he must have been a professional kidnapper. When her wrists and arms and shoulder refused to take anymore struggling, she collapsed back to the bed, and he laughed at her.

A soft chuckle that slipped unbidden past his lips. Lips that were tantalizingly close to her body. The sound reverberated inside Claire, igniting her desire even more. Why did she always want the stupid guys who were incapable of giving her what she wanted?

Here she was, on her back, practically at Vincent's mercy. He was over her, face inches from hers now, breath warm on her skin. Hands on either side of her head. Body ready for her. And he was just straddling. Wasn't moving his closer to her.

So Claire did the only thing she could think of. She took advantage. If he wasn't going to come to her, she was going to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling her hips up.

And then, with a little bit of luck, she got him inside of her. Finally.

It hurt a little, but she was ready enough that he slide in easily. He gasped, maybe more startled than she was at her success.

His eyes looked at her with a mixture of outright lust and horror.

Lust, she could deal with. The horror was more troubling. She debated pushing the issue, wiggling her hips to more firmly fit him inside. But she couldn't. Here she'd been thinking he just wasn't man enough to take the last step with a girl tied up. Now maybe it was something more.

Maybe he was playing her. Trying to get her to react a certain way from some stupid, nefarious purpose. She unentangled her legs, lowering her hips to the bed, disappointment rushing through her.

But Vincent followed her down, bumping his hips against her, pushing himself the rest of the way in. He collapsed all of his weight against her, burying his face in her neck. She could hear him, breathing quickening, swearing softly, then louder. Then he snarled.

And something happened. A blast of light, a heat extending through his cool body like fire.

He whispered her name, more like a curse than anything.

Claire wanted to shoot back a childish you started it, but the gag prevented her. Any his weight on her body was preventing her from moving either. Then she noticed something. Vincent had . . . wings.

As the realization dawned on her, Vincent reach a clawed hand toward the headboard, and ripped the leather straps restraining her. His weight still effectively pinned her to the bed, but at least now she could move her hands.

She drew them down slowly, resting them on his lower back and then curving them up, fingers lightly caressing his skin until she came to the spot where – yes, he had wings, and yes they were really attached to his body.

By that time he worked the gag loose from her mouth. He tossed it aside, and drew a hand across her eyes. At the same moment he pulled back from her and laid a soft, strange kiss against her lips. "I'm sorry, Claire," he whispered.

Claire knew what was next. He was going to take off, leaving her naked, penniless, and alone in a weird city.

She held on to him. Licking her lips. "Don't be sorry." Her voice came out almost bitter. "I want this." She actually wasn't sure what she wanted, and maybe that uncertainty crept into her voice.

Vincent pulled his hand away from her eyes, sitting up at the same time. He was still inside her so when he shifted abruptly it caused her to moan. The pleasure probably wasn't the response he was expecting. Nor her unwilling cry of 'yes.' But that was probably for the best.

He looked different than before. His hair was more jagged and defined. His face paler, almost a death white-blue. His eyes were yellow, chaos dancing on the surface. His teeth were also pointy. In fact, he looked like the demon from her dream.

"Umbrella?" she asked, hesitantly.

He cocked his head to the side. "Hojo."

Sympathy flooded her, followed by a surge of triumph. "Nice," she said. "It's good to know that when they f***ed with you, you don't lose your mind."

Vincent closed his eyes, and transformed back to his regular, human form. "Interesting choice of words."

She reached up in response, running her fingers across his face. "Do you want to do this?" She flexed her hips so there wouldn't be any misconceptions about what 'this' was.

Vincent looked pained for a second. Then nodded.

"Then let's just do it," she said. "I want you too."

Something seemed to break on his face. A little piece of Vincent that he held back from everyone came forward. Claire didn't know what triggered it. But he kissed her. Deep, tongue slipping into her mouth with a sudden renewed fever. And she kissed him back, abandoning fear and doubt for what would happen after.