I surprise myself by waking up at all, then try to roll over onto my back and bump into something…malleable. I push myself up off the cold, stone floor with an arm that feels as if it’s been honeycombed by bees, and turn to investigate what the warm presence at my back is.
“Awake again, Sharama,” a new voice issues from the darkness and I skitter across the room in the opposite direction. My eyes adjust to the gloom once again and I make note of the following points:
1) I’m still naked (obviously, most important point),
2) The warm presence at my back is the scary, Ancient vampire from before and
3) There’s an EXTREMELY handsome man with café au lait colored-skin sitting across the cell from me in lace and leather.
Black lace and white leather, how conspicuous, Mirari chimes in from the depths of my psyche and I’m almost as startled by her contribution as I am when the man speaks,
“Surprising. I would have thought he could drain you,”
“Hey, I’m good to the last drop,” I can’t tell if my sarcastic mutter hits the mark or not, as I ease myself against the cell wall. I have to resist the urge to wrap my arms around my exposed self, as shame is for humans and weaklings. I am neither. “I don’t suppose you’re going to give me my clothes now?” I lean back and attempt to display myself to my best advantage. From the points of my toes, up the lean, muscular length of my leg I watch the newcomer’s eyes devour me from across the room before whispering, “Or do I need to kill you, as well?”
“Unfortunately,” he clears his throat and continues in a much firmer voice, “I do not have your clothes.” His voice makes me tremble and his pseudoreasonable tone is the precursor to insane amounts of violence. So instead of pressing my point, I look down at the Ancient vampire who is—for reasons unknown— lying in a heap and breathing shallowly. Breathing? I wonder before saying,
“Tell this guy to cut the act and get back to harassing me or I’m going to take his clothes,” when the man doesn’t answer, I creep back toward the Ancient and poke him sharply. While I move about—taking no small amount of satisfaction in repeatedly jabbing the prone vampire—I try to study the newcomer discretely. However, how do you stare, subtly, at a man that looks like milk chocolate mixed with Spanish, a touch of Asian, and one-hundred percent yummy?
Instead of continuing such a futile attempt, I start unbuttoning the Ancient’s suit-coat. ‘Why stay naked if you don’t have to?’ is my philosophy. Well, I’m considering incorporating it into my overall philosophy (lord knows I’ll have to if I keep winding up naked in strange places). A hush of lace and leather is all the warning I get before a nice, heavy leather cloak is thrown about my shoulders. However, even the growing warmth of my body as the cloak captures my heat isn’t enough to keep me from prodding the Ancient.
Somehow, he holds the same sick fascination for me that a child has for picking at scabs that haven’t healed; or the impulse that makes one stare at a grizzly car wreck. The fifth time I shove my pointy finger into his side I feel something spark. However I don’t have any time to properly ponder my results, as the other man finally responds to my query with;
“He is not acting,” his tone betrays no emotion, which I understand to mean that he’s either completely devoid of emotion (and for all my vast experience with the vampires, I know that’s not the case) or he’s trying really hard to keep something bottled up.
“Well, then I’m taking his…shit,” I pause, looking up in my confusion, “what is that? Suit-jacket? Jerkin? Whatever. He doesn’t need it anyway, and I do,” but I’m only able to unfasten one cufflink before the other man grabs my wrist and I freeze. Since he’s a wall of solid muscle against my back I don’t want to aggravate him and remain still. The scenario with the Ancient was pretty straightforward; threats, intimidation…toy and destroy. This is something…entirely new and that makes me very uneasy.
“You do not like my cloak?” his whisper immobilizes me...
“Look, uhm…” I hesitate and then berate myself for hesitating by yelling in my head, Goddamnit! What’s wrong with me?
“Tadeo,” he supplies, breaking me out of my trance with a voice like smooth ganache chocolate and the rumbling of a well-contented tiger.
“Tadeo. While I really DO like this leather cloak,” mild exaggeration, “I’d prefer my OWN clothes, all my equipment,” shoot for the stars girl, “and my freedom too.” Yup, I am the height of subtle negotiations. Of course, it’s hard to keep your eyes on the prize when you’ve got another person whispering in the back of your
head.
Mirari, hush, I hiss in my mind to her and her tinkling laugh is followed by,
Oh, but this is too exciting…
HUSH! I shout, and her laugh fades into the unfathomable distance.
“I don’t have access to any of that, at this point,” Tadeo rumbles and brings me back to the here and now. Oh well, at least his statement is something approaching honest. Or playing at honest. I mean, it sounds honest, but I’m doubting what evaluation skills I may have once possessed. I figure it’s natural, once your own choices get you knocked senseless only to wake up imprisoned and naked.
“So why are you in here, then?” Why not ask? At least Tadeo is being slightly more cooperative than the Amazing Narcoleptic Vampire on the floor. Finally Tadeo releases me and stalks back to his corner of the cell. “Look, I don’t mean to be pushy,” I start, even though I do, “but I don’t know why I’m here. And then this,” I kick the Ancient in his side, “asshole attacks me. Oh yeah! That’s AFTER I’m knocked senseless and wake up naked and in chains.” I stop myself and take a number of deep breaths, trying to regain some semblance of composure. Which flies right out the window when Tadeo starts speaking.
“You’re here because you walked into their arms. I had nothing to do with that,” he states, arching one eyebrow coolly and I manage (before my head explodes) to realize that his disdain is not entirely directed toward me.
“Okay, I’m here because I was stupid,” I admit, holding up my hand to quell his contemptuous laugh,
“but that’s doesn’t explain what I’m supposed to DO now that I’m here.” I rake Tadeo with an icy stare before adding, “Or what in the hell YOU’RE doing here, either.” My temper breaks completely as I shout, “Or what the fuck THIS asshole is doing here!!!” I kick the ‘sleeping’ vampire and tingles spike all the way up my leg but not because I’ve injured myself. There is something…familiar…in the tingle.
I squat down by the Amazing Narcoleptic Vampire and place my hand over his chest. Just as quickly I find myself skittering away from the body as far as the cell will allow, fingers clutching the cloak as if that will keep me safe from the knowledge already blooming in my mind.
“Now do you understand?” Tadeo chides from his corner and while I DON’T understand I’ve come up with quite a number of possibilities.
“Explain it to me,” I murmur though gritting teeth...
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