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Part 16
"So," he began, locking the door as the last of the demons left, "You want another drink, sweetness?"
Fred smiled widely, her head spinning. The cocktails she'd already had had finally gone to her head; she felt almost as loopy as she'd gotten on fermented callah berries in Pylea! "Nope," she replied, spinning wildly across the floor towards him, "No more drinks for Fred!"
Lorne laughed softly, watching the girl twirl. Maybe he should have stopped her from drinking so much, but he'd been afraid of what she might say while the club was still open. Still, with the way she was spinning, he was afraid she might hurt herself... or vomit. He shuddered slightly at the thought of cleaning up that sort of a mess. "And that's probably a good thing," he admitted, moving towards her. One hand stretched out to stop her spinning, and he groaned when she was suddenly pressed tightly against him. His fingers moved lightly up and down her arms before he swallowed hard and stepped back, ignoring her unhappy pout. "We need to talk, sweets," he said smoothly, moving towards the steel door behind the bar. "Come on."
She smiled to herself, adding an irregular sway to her steps. The more drunk he thought she was, the more honest he'd probably be, and she so wanted him to be honest. She could tell that he wanted her, but... she could also tell that he'd managed to convince himself that he shouldn't *have* her, and that just wouldn't do. She moved a bit more swiftly, deliberately stumbling against him as he unlocked the door. "Ooops," she said quickly, wrapping her arms around him from behind, as if for balance.
Both his hearts were tripping madly, but he tried to ignore the sensation of her soft, sweet body pressing against him. His fingers pried her arms from his waist, and he pushed the door open. "Come in," he told her, all the while wondering what in the hell he was doing. They could have talked out in the club; there was no need to bring her into his rooms. He chose to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that was telling him *exactly* why he'd brought her there, because he wasn't going to let that happen. Or not yet, anyway.
Fred was barely managing not to giggle as she followed him, mostly because of the red tinge she could see spreading from the tops of his ears down his neck. She'd known that he wanted her; it was nice to have proof, though. Not that she was going to rush things, but... whatever happened happened. It was a philosophy that had stood her in good stead in his home dimension, so she didn't see any reason to change it now. She glanced quickly around the living room they'd entered, taking in the lack of choritag moss. "Huh," she said softly. It was odd to not see the purplish-gray substance, but then again, it probably didn't exist in this world.
"Have a seat," Lorne invited, gesturing towards the velvet covered couch, "Make yourself comfortable." He waited until she'd flung herself down, then turned away. "I'll be right back," he told her, before moving swiftly through his bedroom doorway. He quickly stripped the shiny club clothes from his body, and snatched up the pair of red slacks he usually wore when he was relaxing. It would be bad enough trying to talk to the girl when what he really wanted to do was... He forced himself to ignore the thought, and fastened his pants. He groaned slightly when he realized that wearing just the trousers and his robe would undoubtedly send the wrong message, and pulled a blue sweater from his closet. "Oh, great," he muttered, gazing at himself in the mirror behind the door, "I look like I escaped from a badly-dressed circus." Still, there was no way Fred would find him seductive looking in the blue and red. He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths before opening the door and stepping back into the living room. "So, precious," he began, only to fall dumb at the sight before him.
It had taken only moments of being alone for her to become bored, so she'd done what any girl who'd spent the last month and a half with Cordelia Chase would do. She explored. She poked through the large entertainment center, and wandered into the kitchen before finally deciding to see what was in the large chest by the wall of the living room. Her eyes widened when she opened it, because she didn't remember him bringing any of the things she'd found there back from Pylea. But he must have, she knew, because from what she'd heard he'd been snatched away without warning the first time. Her fingers trailed swiftly over the jewelry she found, and she smiled as she began trying it on. First the armbands, then the net of silver and red stones that went over the head. The thick necklace was almost too much like the slave collar she'd been forced to wear, but it was much lighter, and nowhere near as tight, so she let it rest coolly against her throat. She was so caught up in her play that she didn't hear the bedroom door opening, but she *did* hear his voice when he spoke. Her eyes flew to him almost guiltily, and she was ready to apologize for her snooping when she saw the look on his face.
It was all he could do not to attack her right then and there, because... She was wearing the trappings of a concubine. More to the point, she was wearing the trappings of *his* concubine! Any female in those items would have been almost irresistible, but Fred? His hands clenched into hard fists as he fought his own impulses. "You..." he managed, his voice sounding as strained as the rest of him felt, "You shouldn't be..." He could feel the flush of desire spreading down his back, and forced himself to close his eyes. "Take them *off*," he demanded, trying to control his shaking.
Her eyes were wide and round, and her heart was pounding wildly, but she didn't care. Something about seeing her in the jewelry she'd found was making him crazy; she could tell! Maybe that wasn't a bad thing, though, she decided. She stood slowly, and walked the few feet to stand before him. Her fingers resting lightly against his sweater-clad chest, she stared up into his face, noting the tightly clenched jaw. "Why?" she said softly, then gasped as his glowing eyes suddenly opened and latched on to her own.
He was lost, and he knew it. She was standing too close, and was wearing the items that marked her as his, and he'd already wanted her pretty damned badly, and there was just no *way* he could stop what was going to happen. Still, he had to try, so he pushed her away, falling back against the closed door behind him. "Take. Them. Off." he said again, slowly and seriously. His entire body was screaming for him to just take her, and he finally admitted that he would, whether she took the jewelry off or not. But he'd do his best to see to it that it wasn't just about him; really, that was all he *could* do.
She couldn't seem to look away, even as her hands rose to unfasten the necklace she'd put on. He looked like he was... vibrating... and his eyes were even hotter than they'd been a moment earlier, and she was suddenly worried about the way she'd been teasing him. "I- I'm sorry," she began, only to lose her voice when he pushed away from the door he'd been leaning against and started towards her. "L- Lorne?" she tried, thrown by the heat she felt.
"Gods, I hope not," he murmured, his hands grabbing onto her hips as he pulled her against him. "I hope you won't be sorry," he clarified breathlessly, his claws digging gently into her skin through her clothes. His eyes held hers, and he slowly lifted her shirt, groaning as her pale flesh was revealed. "It was bad enough before, what with the way you kept touching me," He tossed her top onto the couch, his eyes narrowing as her breathing became deeper and faster. "But then you just had to go putting on those *things*..." His voice died out as he felt her fingers sliding under his sweater, and he groaned again. Oh, yeah. He was definitely in trouble.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Working late?" the security guard asked conversationally as the tall black man strode down the hall past his desk.
Gunn smiled slightly, and patted his briefcase. "No rest for the wicked," he replied smoothly, amused by the comment.
The guard laughed, as he did every time Mister Gunn made that remark. He was one of the few employees at the firm who truly knew exactly what he was employed by, and he didn't really care. "Well, that would explain why I'm so tired all the time," he smirked, waving the man past the checkpoint.
Gunn's grin grew a bit wider. "And here I thought it was all those honeys keeping you awake. Later, man." He continued down the hallway, his heels ringing loudly against the marble floor. He was playing a deep game, and he knew it. He also knew that if Angel found out, he'd be lucky to live through the vampire's reaction. Still, it was necessary to take the chance.
The senior partners didn't really trust him yet, and he supposed he couldn't blame them. Hell, he wouldn't have trusted someone like him, either. But they would eventually, because they firmly believed that betrayal was an ingrained human trait. He wasn't entirely sure that they were wrong, either. Still, as long as the things he did looked like the sort of self-serving actions they expected, he figured they'd let it slide.
His footsteps slowed as he neared his goal, and he stopped outside the door. "'President of Special Projects', my ass," he murmured as he set about picking the lock, "Bitch has fucked with me one time too many. Time she got some of what's coming to her." He smirked when he heard the lock disengage, and slipped silently into the office, closing the door silently behind him. This would be the tricky part.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He was purring as he woke, his arm stretching across the cool sheets, seeking the warm shape of his Mate. The purr became a deep growl when he didn't find her, and he sat up, fully awake. "Willow?" he called, a slight edge of anger in his voice.
He listened intently for any sounds of her moving, and frowned when he heard nothing; not even a heartbeat. A slight light brightened his expression, and he opened himself fully to the bond with her soul. His frown deepened when he found her, and he rose from the bed, pulling on the pants he'd dropped on the floor earlier. "What the *hell* is she doing in the *basement*?"
He could have found out quite easily, he knew, by asking her over their link, but he'd gotten the impression that she was concentrating very hard on something, and knowing her penchant for spells? He didn't want to distract her.
No, he'd just go down there and see what his witch was up to. Then he'd take her back to bed and make sure that she understood just how much he *didn't* like waking up alone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Willow had been fine at first. The knowledge that she'd died hadn't seemed like that big of a deal, especially since she hadn't *stayed* dead. It had only been when she'd woken a few hours later that she'd started to be plagued by doubts.
Those doubts hadn't faded, either. She'd lain there thinking, and they'd been joined by questions she couldn't even *begin* to answer, and those questions were what had drawn her to the basement of the Hotel that had become her home.
Her life had changed completely over the course of just five weeks, and while she was glad of those changes, she wanted-- needed-- to know what they meant. She understood that the Powers had some sort of plan, or job, for her and her Mate, but Angel didn't seem to have any more idea about that plan than *she* did, and she wouldn't accept that any longer.
And that was another change. Angel. He wasn't just Angel anymore, or Angelus. He'd somehow become a blending of the two, soul and demon existing together as one. She didn't mind it; not at all! She'd loved both parts of him when they'd been very distinctly separated, and she expected that she always would. It would just take some time to get used to the new situation. She knew how Angel would react to things, and how Angelus would, but this new combination? It would be confusing for her at first; probably for him, as well. She could sense his feelings through the bond they shared, but until she understood what drove him in this new incarnation, she wouldn't know the why of things.
The redhead sighed and forced herself to focus on the floor in front of her. She checked the lines of the diagram yet again before nodding her satisfaction, and she stepped inside, using the tiny remaining piece of chalk to close the gap she'd entered through. "I call upon the Powers," she intoned, kneeling on the cement floor. Her fingers wrapped firmly around the hilt of the small knife she'd prepared, and she pressed its edge to her arm, drawing it firmly across her pale flesh. "I call seeking knowledge," she continued, watching the blood dripping swiftly down her arm and falling from her elbow into the circle she'd made just for that purpose. "I call seeking answers," she added, "And enlightenment. Enlighten me!"
It wasn't the best summoning she could have performed, she knew, but it was the best she could come up with on short notice; hopefully it would work. "Enlighten me!" she cried again, eyes closing tightly.
She held her position for a good three minutes or so before sighing sadly. Obviously she'd have to try something else. She bowed her head for a moment, and opened her eyes.
A loud gasp flew from her lips when she saw the white marble floor beneath her, as her eyes darted up, glancing around at the mist-shrouded expanse of glowing emptiness. "Well, I'll be damned," she murmured, rising to her feet.
"Doubtful," a voice said from behind her.
She spun quickly, almost losing her balance, and her eyes widened to saucer-like proportions. "Jesse?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He smelled her blood as soon as he opened the basement door, and a loud snarl flew from him as he raced down the stairs. His true face was firmly in place, even as he ran to her side. Well, *tried* to. He got only halfway across the large basement before he was forcibly repelled by some sort of invisible wall. He scratched and tore at the unseen barrier to no avail.
He could *see* her kneeling on the floor inside some sort of chalk drawing;
see the blood dripping from her arm. His Mate was bleeding! At one time,
when he'd been the soul, he would have understood, but he wasn't just Angel
anymore, and his *Mate* was *bleeding*! Nothing within him could get past
that fact, and he redoubled his efforts, beating at the impenetrable barrier
until he finally collapsed against it in defeat. He could do nothing, and
that fact was the hardest thing he'd ever had to bear.