by Ana Mardoll
"Kieran and Mina—"
"Are both attracted to girls, child," Joel whispers, amusement spreading through his papery voice. "Presumably the hunter downstairs was also. I am not."
Worth leans forward, ner chin tucked onto ner steepled fingers. "Everyone who has touched you or been touched by you is fond of you in their own way," nee observes with interest. "But not all of them, or even most, are attracted to you. Many have no desire whatsoever to kiss you. If you're meant to be a lure, your faery seems to have failed."
I shake my head, feeling bewildered. I'd been so sure that my newfound desire-magic compounded my crimes. "But if my fingers don't cause desire, what do they do? They did something to the hunter! It sure looked like desire."
Worth watches my face closely. "It is possible that your magic intensifies the feelings we're already inclined to feel towards you. Someone who is already attracted to you, like Elric, might indeed experience your magic as increased desire. But someone who is more likely to view you as a friend, like Joel, may simply choose to confide in you sooner, with greater intimacy. If that were the case, it would mean that those of us who like you do so with free will, but like you faster than we might otherwise have done. Social interactions sped up through magic, so to speak."
"Makes the seduction more likely to succeed," Celia observes in a quiet tone. "When you lay on the desire-magic thickly, as with Mina, you risk putting a target on guard. Speeding up a naturally-occurring emotional response is a more subtle approach. The target is less likely to question feelings that are their own."
Lavender raises her hand for a question, her lips pursed tight as her green fingers wiggle for attention. "That only makes sense for a Nightshade," she points out. "I wasn't tasked to seduce anyone. Why am I supposed to have magical emotion fingers?"
"And does it work on me or just the man downstairs?" Clarent breaks in, his voice soft and low. We all turn to stare at him, and I realize he hasn't participated in this conversation until now. He clears his throat quietly, looking apologetic. "I don't mind one way or the other," he says, "but Rose was worried."
Worth frowns at this. "I still can't imagine why Rose's lips and fingers would work on a man made of stone but not on a man made of silver," nee confesses, looking solemn. "And yet here you are. Joel swears up and down that there's no poison in your system, and you seem perfectly healthy."
Celia pushes away from the wall with the air of someone exhausted by the subject matter. "Well," she says, "I don't think we're going to solve that one right now. We may just have to accept that Clarent's immunity is a fortuitous accident." She sighs. "I'm going downstairs to check on Dakota, and to see how he and Tox are doing. Worth, Joel, you want to come with? I'll leave these here for the patients so they can rest." She plunks down the plate of sandwiches next to our water glasses and stalks out of the room, her boots tromping softly on the stairs.
Joel looks dejected. "I wanted to take another sample," he says, his eyes lingering on my lips. "She's healed up now, and I think there's more there to harvest."
"Let her rest up for a bit first, Joel," Worth decrees, ner voice soft but commanding. "Children, try to take a nap. We'll call you down when Elric gets here." Nee touches Joel lightly on the back of his jacket and guides him out into the hallway, closing the door behind them.
Chapter 20
I slump back against the pillows when the door closes, only now aware of my tension. Clarent lies beside me on my right, propped up against the bed cushions; his presence is as cool and solid and comforting as ever. Lavender, on my left, lies with her head tucked against my side so that her arms can wrap around my waist in a hug she won't let go. If I'm honest with myself, I don't want to ever move from this position.
Clarent turns his head to look at me, gazing down with his usual gentleness. "Have I thanked you for saving my life, Rose—again?" he asks softly.
I snort at that. "I think you did, yeah," I say, looking up at him with a smile I can't quite hide. "But I don't know that the first time counted. I just helped Lavender get you in the car, you know; Joel did all the healing. So I think I've only saved your life the one time. We're even."
He chuckles, reaching down to stroke my forehead. His fingers are soft and gentle, and feel so different to Worth's parental touch. "Well, I count the first time," he says, returning my smile. "You both saved my life yesterday, as far as I'm concerned."
Lavender grins at this and hugs me tighter, but I can smell the spicy clover seeping out of her and I know she's worried. I lift my head to look at her and her green eyes slide away. "Are you okay, Rose?" she asks, her voice almost lost in the emptiness of the big bedroom. "I know you're healed, but... are you okay?"
I stare at her and the impact of the morning floods over me. I've killed a man. I swore when I came out that I would never use my lips to kill another person, and yet I've just done it again without a second thought. The hunter deserved to die, yes, and I only did it to save Clarent and Lavs, but I still don't feel even remotely okay. I'm a murderer, this time by choice, and I'm going to have to carry that knowledge for the rest of my life.
But Lavender doesn't need to hear that. "I'm all right," I lie, trying to work out the best thing to say. "I'll be fine. I've done it before; I've had lots of practice." A weak smile, an attempt at a joke that isn't remotely funny.
She drops her eyes from me again. "You're mad at yourself," she observes, sounding hurt and wounded. "You're mad at me, too?"
I blink at her. "What? No! Why would I be mad at you, Lavs?"
Exasperation flashes in her eyes and the smell of her anxiety grows stronger around us. "Well, I mean you keep insisting on hating yourself for being a killer, Rose, and I'm a member of that group now!" she snaps. Her voice is like a slap across my face and she won't meet my eyes.
I feel my expression fall, my heart squeezing with the intensity of her panic. "No! No, Lavs," I say, lowering my voice so as not to disturb everyone downstairs. I touch her hair, my fingers trailing through her soft velvet curls. I hope I sound reassuring. "Lavs, I don't hate you. I never will. How could you think that?"
"But, Rose," Clarent says, his low sweet voice breaking in gently, "we feel the same way about you." His cool fingers trace the line of my jaw, tipping my face up to him. "What you did in the otherworld wasn't your fault, and what you did today saved our lives. We love you, and it hurts to hear you hate yourself."
Tears well up in my eyes and I blink to clear them. "I don't hate myself for being a killer," I argue, attempting a laugh. I grit my teeth and take a deep breath, steeling myself for my announcement, praying my voice won't crack. "In fact, I'm going to stay this way."
"Stay what way?" Clarent asks, confusion creeping into his voice.
"Poisonous." My voice is a whisper, my eyes downcast.
Lavender jerks her head up to stare at me. "Rose! What are you talking about? We agreed earlier that we'd let Clarent turn us fully human. You can't stay like this; you're miserable!" The worry in the air around us intensifies, tinted with the crisp scent of sorrowful basil. I force my gaze up to meet hers, knowing she deserves the decency of eye contact.
"Lavs," I say quietly, "you were nearly taken back today. You could have been killed. You must see that I can't go back to being human now." I swallow the lump in my throat. "If Clarent had finished altering me in the car, who knows what would have happened to you two." I shudder to think of the ugly possibilities.
She grits her teeth, fresh sorrow spreading overwhelmingly through the room. "Rose," she says firmly, each word punctuated with a stern pause. "I do not care at all, period. That hunter is gone and good riddance and we can get back to the business of making you human and happy."
I shake my head at her. "Lavs, please think for just a moment," I beg. "He said 'they' sent him. If that's true, if faeries are trying to recover Clarent, then they'll send more hunters. They may even look for you and me now, since we killed the last one; retribution." I hold her green eyes with my own, silently pleadin
g with her to understand. "I can't give up the best weapon we have for protecting us," I whisper. "I can't."
Her face crumples and fresh guilt washes over me. She manages to wipe away her tears before they fall, but her voice cracks when she speaks. "I want to kiss you," she whispers, sounding utterly miserable.
I cup my hand over my mouth; for once not to protect anyone, but because otherwise I'll sob out loud. "I know." My voice is muffled against my palm, but the admission is easier to make than I'd feared it would be. "I want to kiss you, too. But I can't give away my talent and leave you unprotected. Please don't ask me to, Lavs."
She glares at this. Despite her sadness she suddenly looks herself again, fierce and determined. I'm about to open my mouth to continue the argument, but she startles me by sudden acquiescence. "Fine!" she says firmly, sitting up on the bed. "Keep your talent and protect us. And I won't get any kisses, but damned if I'm not going to make you happy all the same. Up!"
This last word is barked with all the assurance of a drill sergeant and it takes me by surprise. "What?"
"You heard me," she insists. She's kneeling on the bed now, facing us both. Giving me a look, she swats impatiently at my leg. "Up. Up!"
Slowly I clamber to my knees, marveling again at the complete lack of pain from my healed injuries. I face her on the bed, resting back on my heels. I don't know what she wants and that worries me, so I carefully keep a few feet between us, remembering how Elric took me by surprise last night.
But she doesn't try to kiss me. Instead she reaches forward to take me by the shoulders. "Turn around," she orders, guiding me until I'm facing Clarent. My back is turned to Lavender, and her hands still lie on my upper arms. "Now," she says firmly, "kiss Clarent."
My heart skips and I look round at her in shock. "Do what?"
Lavender gives me an exasperated look. "Rose," she says, her voice as patient as if I were a recalcitrant child, "do you like kissing Clarent?"
I glance at him; he watches us with bemused eyes, apparently willing to be the object of this examination. "Well, yes," I admit, my cheeks starting to burn. "The, uh, times we kissed were very satisfactory."
Lavender nods approvingly. "And would you like to kiss Clarent right now?" she prompts.
I stare at him, faced with a question that seems impossible to answer. Thoughts flit through my mind only to dissolve into incoherent confusion at second glance. No, not when I've just killed a man; yet the feel of Clarent under my lips might drive away the lingering memory of heat and pain. No, not when half a dozen people are downstairs waiting for us to join them; yet if he were to be hurt at all by my kisses, surely Worth and Joel could heal him right away. No, because I don't deserve his smooth lips and sweet smile; but yes, when the mere sight of him now causes my stomach to flutter with painful need.
"If he'd like that," I manage, my voice suddenly hoarse. "Yes."
The smile he gives me is pure pleasure. "I'd like that very much," he murmurs, his voice all soft honey and warmth, sending a fresh jolt of desire through my stomach right down to my knees.
Behind me, Lavender nods as if this is all very satisfactory. "Well," she says, her voice brisk and reasonable, "I can't kiss you and you can't kiss me, but you can kiss Clarent while I watch."
I blink, not quite following her reasoning. Yet we'd done that yesterday, hadn't we? Clarent had kissed me and Lavender had been there, and it had felt so nice. I nod briefly. "Okay," I say, unsure what to do next.
Clarent grins and sits up straighter. Lavender guides me forward with little nudging pushes and I'm kneeling beside him, facing him, leaning down a little to meet his lips with mine. Cool silver touches my skin, smooth and gentle, and his metal softens and warms under my touch.
That first kiss lasts an eternity, the seconds spinning out around us as I wait for him to gasp, to seize up, to bleed from the mouth. But he kisses me back, gentle and unhurried, and then the first kiss becomes a second and a third and a fourth as my lips move greedily over him. He feels so good, so much like everything I've been hungry for, solid and happy and kind. Whenever our lips part for a breath he smiles up at me, his eyes shining with a joy that makes my heart leap.
There is a touch of warmth at the back of my neck, soft skin that isn't mine and isn't metal. I jump under the touch and feel Lavender's purr in my skin as she trails electricity across my neck to my bare shoulder. "Can I kiss you like this, Rose?" she whispers.
Her tone is playful but I hear the fear in her voice, smell the fresh burst of clover in the air. She's afraid I'll reject her, I realize, for the crime of becoming a murderer like me; or because I might redetermine to live a life of chastity as sacrifice for my own crimes. And shouldn't I? Depression, my old companion, weighs heavily on my heart, reminding me that I don't deserve to be happy and that Clarent and Lavender would be better off if I weren't here between them.
Yet she smells so anxious and her voice trembles underneath her teasing. I can't bear to hurt her when she's so vulnerable. My desire for martyrdom is weaker than my wish to make her smile.
"Yes," I tell her, my voice raw in my throat. "Please. Please kiss me, Lavs."
I hear her soft sigh of relief and smell the instant change as soft lavender replaces every hint of clover. The scent of her—not afraid, not angry, just her—fills the air like a heady perfume. I tilt my head back to drink her in and she dips to kiss my collarbone, her hair spilling over me like a cloak. Soft lips drag electric tingles across my skin, coaxing a moan from my lips. Clarent, smiling, leans back to watch us, but I reach out to him. Cupping his face gently between my hands, I draw him up for fresh kisses.
I am a desert drinking in the summer rain, taking and keeping and still needing more. Clarent's kisses on my lips, Lavender's mouth on my shoulder and neck are the draught of fresh water I've been longing for. I'm breathing hard, little panting gasps for air between kisses, my skin flushed and warm from their touch.
Lavender's fingers move over my body, pulling gently at the tattered rags of what had been my favorite summer dress before the magma man burned away most of it. I hear myself gasp, not quite sure that I want to undress, but another soft kiss from Clarent stokes the furnace in my stomach. "Please," Lavender whispers in my ear, and she sounds as needy as I feel. "Please, can I? I've waited so long."
I choke back a sound that might be a sob, though not one of sadness. "Yes. Okay," I gasp, not sure of the right words. I'm nervous of being exposed, but how can I tell her 'no' when there's such fierce desire in her voice?
Then her hands are traveling over me again, touching where my clothes come away. There's pleasure in her fingers, and I don't know if it's magic and I realize I don't care. I hear my voice moaning, begging softly for Lavender to touch me just a little higher, just a little lower, to keep moving. She giggles softly, her lips pressed against my ear, and I feel electricity shoot through me again as her tongue darts out to flick the soft skin of my earlobe.
"Lower like this?" she whispers. Then her hands dip down over my body, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out at the unexpected pleasure where she touches. "So tell me, do you still think my fingers cause desire?" she teases, pinching and rolling her fingers gently over the spot she's found.
"Accelerate desire," I correct with a gasp, my nails digging into Clarent's shoulder for support. "Worth was— ah!— very clear." I almost cry out and I have to stuff my hand in my mouth to prevent it.
Lavender giggles again, torturing me mercilessly with her touch. "Clarent, if she's being kissed properly then she can't yell," she scolds with a laugh, and he grins and leans forward to take her advice. Cool hands reach up to tangle in my hair, his touch gentle and soft. Lavender maneuvers easily around him, her lips finding my ear again. "Isn't this so much better than being miserable all the time?" she asks, her earlier plea echoing under her teasing.
"Yes," I gasp between kisses, trying not to giggle. "Yes, Lavs! This is better. Laugh at me if you must, but you're convincing." I realize,
to my profound embarrassment, that my hips have started to grind just barely against her fingers, a trembling neediness stirring in my stomach.
Blood rushes to my cheeks, burning with shame as I try to rein in my traitorous hips, holding as still as I can under her touch. Clarent kisses the heat away from my face but then looks up at me with fresh worry in his eyes. "Do you need to stop, Rose?" he asks, his voice full of concern.
I shake my head, looking away shyly from his probing gaze. I wish I could bury my head in his shoulder. "I'm fine," I whisper. "I just... it's intense, that's all."
Lavender snorts behind me. "It's supposed to be more intense," she mutters, sounding put out, "but these nails are too damn sharp for what I want to do. Fucking May Queen." She pulls her fingers away, drawing a little whimper from me, and begins to pull at the shreds of Clarent's trousers. "Off with these," she says crisply. "I need your help with this part."
Clarent blinks but obeys her without question. He wriggles and she pulls, and I have a front row seat to watch as he strips for me. He's beautiful and silver, his body smooth and hard. For a moment, all I can think of is Mina's offer of a practice dildo and then I'm trying not to giggle for fear he would misunderstand and my laughter might hurt his feelings. "Over and up," Lavender says, breaking my reverie with a sharp smack on my rear.
"Wait, I—" I look back at her, my eyes locking with hers. Questions I don't know how to ask flit through my head. Is she okay with this, with him doing this to me? In front of her while she watches?
Her green eyes soften and her lips twitch with amusement. "You first," she says gently, reaching up to touch my cheek. I try not to cry, fighting the urge to surge towards her and wrap her in a warm kiss—a kiss that would kill her.
"If you're sure," I whisper. She grins and slaps my ass again, her touch gentle. Her hands guide my legs to straddle his hips, and then she reaches down to grasp him and guide him up to me. I gasp again at the touch of him; he's cool and solid but warms quickly at the touch of my skin, softening just enough to mold to my contours—as though he were made for me.
