Red Dress Dreams

Brit woke feeling disoriented. After several minutes of navigating sheets, she emerged to the side and tumbled to the floor. Ethan continued to rest as if dormant as she acrobatically extracted herself from his embrace. Pulling the sheet from her head, she quickly brushed her hair back from her face and peered at him blinking. The night before was mostly a blur to her.

The shower, she remembered clearly. Washing with the fine soap purchased on their most recent trip was pleasurable. She could still smell its jasmine-vanilla scent on her hair. The cotton towel sucked water from her skin before she rubbed the lotion with a matching scent lavishly into her skin. It was in the shower, she thought about what she and Ethan might do that evening.

Whenever Ethan rose, he would greet her and ask what she wished to do. Rarely did she have a response; and so she remembered the night before that she had decided to tell him that she wished to go dancing. Finding the red dress that he had commissioned from a seamstress while in France, she put it on. The dress moved even when she was quite still with its airy fabric that responded to the slightest motion of air. Rummaging through her trunk, she selected a pretty cross to wear with it and her black jelly bracelets. She almost tumbled in to the large trunk seeking her black ballet slippers with the ribbon bows that matched the black ribbon around the waist of her dress.

After dressing, she combed her hair in its usual style and found her cosmetics. One after another, Brit examined the lip tints until she found one that matched the dress perfectly. Following with the eye shadow and mascaras that Ethan had shown her to use, she examined herself in the mirror. She looked just as she did the night they went to the odd club while on their vacation.

Sitting on the mat in front of the mirror, she buffed her fingernails and carefully worked some oil into them so they would gleam while she remembered the club in France. The club was one used by kindred. It was very different then the dinner at the museum. Brit struggled for the word to describe it. It was elegant, but there was something animalistic about it as well. People seemed to wear all kinds of different clothing. Everything from Diesel chic to Renaissance court attire could be seen. Ethan dressed more contemporary casual in all black and dressed Brit in this red dress. He seemed to feel the seamstress did not follow his directives, but he placed a wrap around her and she wore it anyway.

There was no humanity in the room, Ethan had later said. At the club, others approached him cautiously and spoke in quiet tones. Brit noticed that he greeted some warmly and others he simply acknowledged. To all, he introduced her as his wife Brit. She did not notice the odd glances that were exchanged with her husband. At the bar, blood flowed as did a limited amount of libation for the humans in the room. Ethan rose from a round settee and took her to another location without reason, and Brit noticed that several rowdier kindred left a girl on the other side that did not seem to breathe anymore.

After much conversation, Ethan took Brit to the dance floor under the large chandelier and moved her through a slow tango. It was hard to focus on the dance. In this area, she could see glimpses of carnal behaviors that she had never encountered before. Ethan did not chide her not to stare. He simply danced with her and kept her focus primarily on him.

At the end of the third dance, a young man in a black leather jacket approached. Placing his hand on Brit’s shoulder, the man said, “If you are not interested in this meal, let another have her.” Ethan’s reaction was swift and Brit saw but a blur until she noticed that the young man was on the floor with his arm missing. Ethan said, “I will speak to your elder about your rudeness.”

The man screamed back sarcastically that the elders of his kind did not worry about the actions of their chylders, and so Ethan would be speaking to them all. Ethan leaned toward him and the man pressed back against the floor. Ethan said clearly, “I’ve spoken to you enough. If I see you again, I will kill you.” Nodding to a lady across the room, Ethan continued, “And I will inform the prince of this city that is an unfortunate possibility before I leave.” Friends of the man crowded around him and helped him leave the club. The crowd simply paused to watch. Some seemed amused, a few seemed confused and one looked clearly annoyed, but all went back to their business and play once the drama was over.

Ethan did speak to the lady who was called the Prince, and then they returned to their resting place. While there, a handful of people came to see Ethan. One remained talking amicably with Brit. Brit noticed that she drank and ate, and so Brit surmised that the one left behind was like her. Human. Ethan returned hours later with the group. All seemed in good spirits. After exchanging a few envelopes, the others left and Brit retired to the resting spot with her husband for the day. At sunset, they left to return home. In thinking of the incident, Brit found the memory clear, but dreamlike.

Her thoughts returned to the night before. Brit had looked up seeing a motion behind her as she prepared to go out. Turning, she saw Ethan who seemed surprised she was wearing the red dress. She rose and greeted him with warm kisses. Without waiting to be asked, she said, “I wish to go out to dance. I wore the dress you had made for me.”

His eyes traveled the neckline of the dress. Placing his hand on his chin, he said, “The weather is too cold for your dress, Brit. I wish you to wear it but we shall stay in. I do wish to dance. We shall dance here…in our home.”

Brit tilted her head in confusion. They had seen few of their friends since returning. “But,” she countered, “I wish to go…out…and I wish to wear the dress that…you…got for me.” Again, he told her that it was too cold and he would hear no more of it. Grabbing her cloak, she placed it around her shoulders. “There! Now I shall not be cold until we get where we are going.”

In a flash, her cloak was gone and was hurled over the boxes. Brit was pressed against them and Ethan sank his fangs deep into her throat gulping the blood. In surprise, she pressed back and he grabbed her closer to him embracing her more securely. She could hear the blood rush from her body as he drank deeply again and again. Her fingers and toes started to chill and she felt dizzy. Crumpling against him, he held her firmly and closely. Though not drinking of her once she crumpled, he continued to bite her hard until he felt her totally limp against him. Ethan then moved her arms to drape over his shoulders and her head against his chest, and he danced with her slowly.

Tonight, Brit sat with the sheets barely clear of her and stared at Ethan who was still resting. She felt bewildered by the unclear memories. Crawling to the mirror, she looked at her throat and found nothing unusual. She looked at her naked body and saw no marks. Touching her lips, she remembered the dancing and wondered if it was all just a dream. She remembered that she had also heard voices near while she dangled in his arms, and that Ethan had responded to them. Try as she might, she could not remember who it was or what was said. Dream-like. Perhaps it was all just a dream.

If it were not a dream, only he actually danced. In her memory, she remembered swaying like a rag doll in his arms. Did she really remember him carrying her back to their resting place? Or that he poured mass quantities of blood into her mouth as he pressed his body to hers? The memory seemed disjointed, but clear: He was telling her to drink more each time she turned away. Was it a dream? Looking about the room, Brit did not see her red dress or her shoes. She still wore her jelly bracelets and the cross necklace. Laid over the chest, Brit saw her cloak and the first dress he ever purchased for her. She looked a bit for her red dress, but it was not found.

Confused, Brit looked back to Ethan hoping he woke soon. She had so many questions. Brushing her hair back, her fingers caught in a knot and she pulled the hair forward. Upon examination, she saw that dried blood had matted a bit of her hair along the side of her face.

An Awakening

Ethan woke with a jolt and immediately felt that something was wrong. Moving faster than humanly possible, he reached for Brit and felt only empty space beside him. His eyes widened and he staggered to his feet. Ethan felt ill. His body felt as if it were made of lead, his mind felt foggy, and he could not sense Brit near. Starting to panic, he crashed against the huge wooden door of his resting place in the Chateau de Jeanne, which was located on a river in the south of France.

Ethan fumbled with the knob before yanking it open. “Brit?” he bellowed as he entered the next room before sliding to a stop. The room was filled with bright light. Ethan clutched the molding of the door as his mind struggled to identify sunlight. It was bright and, though not streaming into the window, the reflective light from the very clear day flooded the room.

It was a struggle to stay upright and sentient. Ethan felt his eyes starting to close and his body falling. “Brit?” he shouted again. He could hear footsteps running toward him and he saw the most faithful servant to the house enter, which helped alleviate some apprehension.

The servant, Thomas, had been a good and faithful ghoul who had run the estate for over 300 years and was kept by the same organization that Ethan belonged. He was faithful to all within it. “Ethan,” Thomas exclaimed as he ran into the room and grabbed Ethan before he fell. “Mon dieu, but it is hours before you should rise!”

Ethan staggered another step toward the window. “My wife. Where is my wife?” His voice was hurried – nearly panicked, and he was unable to tear his eyes away from the window or the blue skies beyond it. “Where is my wife?” he demanded again as he moved. Ethan picked up the slightest feeling of Brit. She was beyond the window, he sensed, but why did he wake?

Thomas kept a sturdy hand on Ethan less Ethan fall to the ground knowing the nature and habits of vampires well. “Ethan, please,” he tried to reason. Looking at the window again, Thomas grasped the situation and spoke quickly, “Your wife. Brit is enjoying sunshine in the garden.” Ethan took another staggered step toward the window. Thomas said matter-of-factly, “Ethan. I have cared for this house and its garden for many years. I assure you that your sweet lady is safe. Now please. Return to your rest less you embarrass both of us by landing on the floor until sunset.”

Ethan turned to Thomas, who seemed to sound as if he was in a cave. The words registered and he asked the ghoul, “Are you sure?” Seeing Thomas give a reassuring nod, Ethan relaxed. The blue sky beyond beckoned to him. Ethan stared with wide eyes and took yet another step to the window. By the shadows, Ethan could tell that the sun was behind the house and was in no danger of beaming into the window. Another step to the window allowed Ethan to see Brit playing in the sunshine. She wore the dress he had given her the night before and looking at each plant and running her hand over the wet moss.

After feeling another wave of relief, Ethan stared at her. The struggle to stay awake was difficult, but he wanted to see. It had been centuries since he had seen the day so bright. It was sunshine. Pure sunshine and it covered Brit in a way he had never seen. Raising his fingers to the glass, he watched her with a hint of jealousy, and closed his eyes to try to link into her mind. He was so disoriented, but he wished to feel the sun on her skin. In fact, he craved the sensation. Something he had not even thought about in centuries. The jealous feeling grew.

Brit felt him enter her mind. She had grown to sensing when he linked with her. Turning left and right, she suddenly looked straight to him at the window. She blinked hard and glanced to where the sun was. Seeing him in no harm, she watched curiously and took a step toward him. His fingers stretched on the glass and hers flexed in a similar way.

The warmth, Ethan felt warmth of her body insulated by the fabric and the warmth of the sunlight on her exposed skin. Brit stretched out her arms and Ethan felt the difference in temperature as her hand moved to the shade. His lips parted as he absorbed the sensation, and his body trembled as she raised her face to the sun to allow him to sense the sunlight and feel it through the mental link on his skin. Ethan’s second hand touched the window. It was a cold glass barrier. Brit looked sad feeling the glass on her fingers, and knowing that he could not join her at this time to enjoy the abnormally warm spring day.

Brit walked toward him with another step. Picking a yellow crocus, she brushed it across her lip and he could feel the spring crispness of the flower. It was not so fragrant, but the color was vibrant. He had not paid much attention to a flower’s texture. Tilting his head, he noticed that she did likewise and she ran the petals over her neck. Ethan took a deep breath and watched wanting to feel her skin prickle from the flower petal’s caress before he drank from her. The sun held guard though. The sun warmed her. The sunshine caressed her and forced Ethan to wait for nightfall.

"Ethan, come to your resting place,” encouraged Thomas softly while watching Ethan's fingers clench. Ethan turned toward Thomas with a menacing growl. “We all want what we do not have,” Thomas offered gently in his clipped old French accent, but moved away quickly when Ethan then snarled - this time bearing fangs.

Brit looked up at the window troubled. She could feel Ethan’s thoughts. The turmoil that he was feeling within unsettled her. She felt longing and desire. She felt anger and resentment. Was it for the window that kept him back or the sunshine that he could not see? She was unsure. Moving again toward the window, she saw him turn back toward her. The anger she felt melted away into a deep sadness mingled with a feeling that she could only describe as exhaustion. She stopped when she saw him shake his head, and she could feel he just wanted to watch her. The sad longing intensified. Picking up the flower again, she looked up and he was gone.

Thomas ensured that Ethan returned to his resting place before alerting the other staff to check every crook and cranny for anything that might have caused him to wake. Brit ran inside of the chateau and, once in their resting place, she undressed to snuggle against him.

When the sun set, he grabbed Brit while she still slept. Caressing her where the flower touched, Ethan inhaled deeply to smell the sunshine on her skin. Brit wrapped her arms around him and Ethan drank of her heavily until she felt as unsteady as he did earlier.

Brit could not understand his odd feelings, and Ethan could see her confusion. It did not surprise him. How could she understand jealousy when she had not experienced it? And how could he explain to her that he was jealous of the sun’s ability to touch her when he could not and of the barrier it had been between them? Thomas greeted both of them as if it was the first time he had seen either that day.

She Walks In Beauty

Ethan had taken Brit to dinner and conversed while she ate. He marveled over the dress she had selected for the evening. Though far more revealing than he would have selected, Ethan had to admit that the dress was not without charm. Upon entering the room, he was reminded of Byron’s poem. During dinner, Ethan whispered the poem to her and feigned eating. He had taken her to the mainland to escape the turmoil caused by the priests that had returned to the city. His voice recited, “She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and light meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

“That’s pretty,” Brit lisped. “Ethan, maybe we could try a restaurant that has things served in paper. Sometimes, it is fast to get things in paper, and then we can go dance sooner.” Noticing his frown, she ventured further, “I mean….I am the only one who eats…and we both dance.” They sat silently for a moment. Seeing his fingers tap on his wine glass that had not lost even a drop of wine, she ate a glazed carrot.

“Do you not enjoy our dinner conversations, Brit?” he asked raising one eyebrow. She puffed her cheeks and he could see her thoughts. Patting her hand, he said, “It is kind of you to think of me, but I rather enjoy our evening chats.” She smiled seeing that he understood. Picking up her hand, he kissed it before giving it a soft pat and motioning for her to take another bite. The wine touched his lips, but he did not drink. Instead, he continued, “Thus mellow’d to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies.” Brit listened to the words that he softly recited, and told him that she liked his poems and the pictures they painted.

Ethan stopped after the first stanza of Byron’s poem and watched her as she finished dinner. Though he made all indications that he was listening intently to what she said, Ethan had another agenda this night. Of late, he had taken to using their mental connection, which had grown stronger through the regular feedings, to experience things he had long forgotten. Earlier, though she had dressed, he could feel her body’s hunger. The gnawing feeling in her abdomen that grew more prominent. It was unlike his desire for blood, but had similar components. Tonight, he decided, he would feel her drift to sleep. The only trouble was that his wife had far more energy than most, and so he decided that dancing would help her fall asleep earlier, so he could observe her mental and physical changes.

After dinner, he led her to a quiet place pulling her to him. Wrapping his arms around her, he danced closely to music that played somewhere near. His mind linked with hers and watched. Now that she had eaten, she was enjoying the physical motion of dancing. Did he enjoy the physical movement as she does when he was human? He was unsure and truthfully did not recall. Pulling her close again, he turned her and let her slide away from him. When her fingertips were all that was touching him, he kissed her hand and pulled her against him again. Keeping her near him, he whispered to her, “One shade more, one ray less, Had half inpair’d the nameless grace which waves in every raven tress or softly lightens o’er her face. Where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear their dwelling place.”

Brit processed the words blinking rhythmically. He could see that she knew the poem was about a woman. Brit’s mind continued to process. He saw that she envisioned a lady in a sparkly black dress with black hair. She missed some of the contrasts so beloved by the Romantic era authors and their fascination with twilight to night in the murky darkness of mysticism. She only saw someone in love who thought his lover was perfect. Ethan smiled stroking Brit’s hair and feeling such sentiments could exist. He enjoyed her humanity and watched her thoughts picture the lady walking outside across where they were dancing with her black hair swaying in time to the music. Ethan desired to feel more of her human experiences.

Brushing his lips over her cheek and eyelid, he whispered, “And on that cheek, and o’er that brow so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent.” In keeping with his plans, Ethan kept up a decent pace to the dancing and discussed the way the lady might have walked. Brit was becoming better at making connections though she struggled with inference. Finally, he received for what he had been waiting. Brit yawned. “Aw, I’ve worn you out,” he said. Though she started to protest, he shook his head and said, “It is time we retire, I think…yes, I know it is still early, but yawning? No, you need rest.”

It did not take long for her to ready for bed. Ethan waited when she joined him. She could feel him within her mind. “I feel you near,” she said and he chuckled. Without saying a word, she knew that he wanted to feel her thoughts. Relaxing against him, she stretched and felt her eyes wanting to close. It was this that he wished to watch: Brit falling asleep.

As she started to drift, he saw images. Places they had been, things they had done together. She also had images of others for whom she cared. Nothing in her thoughts was harmful or hurtful. No negative thoughts flicked through her mind. He could feel her starting to fall asleep. It was a different feeling to him. Different from his going dormant when he rested. Ethan frowned realizing he did not recall that particular feeling when he was human. Her heart rate was slowing and her muscles relaxed. Ethan could feel it all.

Suddenly, Brit had a few small convulsions. Fleeting and barely perceptible. Her heart beat and breathing rate continued to decrease. Ethan wondered if they were letting her brain know by electrical pulses. He could feel Brit fall deeper into sleep sinking deeper in her mind and, like the images before, loving, innocent images formed basic dreams that she started to become more complex. Ethan pulled her to him, and she did not stir. He watched one image after another.

Brit’s dream was her dancing in the green dress she wore that night. It glowed slightly in the night and she watched him as she danced. Her mind focused on him. The way he felt when he touched her and when she touched him. Ethan smiled slightly feeling a bit odd at how absorbed she was. All thought surrounded him and the love she felt. He marveled how she saw him. Even though he had shared so much with her of his past, she obviously did not comprehend her husband as anything other than perfect.

Shaking his head slightly in bewilderment, Ethan watched one dream after another. Never anything unkind or untowardly. Brit obviously believed goodness in all beings. Ethan remembered the first time Brit invited him into her mind. She never closed her mind to him since that night. He continued to marvel at her guiless nature. But also knew that she had nothing to hide nor did she realize that hiding from people was something others did. Ethan’s arms tightened around Brit protectively. His lips brushed over her hair and he whispered, “A mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent!” As he too started to feel himself pulled into his daytime rest, Ethan wondered how Byron knew of his wife.

Old Fashion Romance

At the strike of midnight, Brit exclaimed, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Ethan!” The exclamation was accompanied with a pounce followed by a passel of kisses. The exuberance caused Ethan to need to brace to keep them both from tumbling and he grinned at Brit’s playfulness and excitement over a “holiday” designed around romance. “Valentine’s Day is a day for beloveds AND lovers, Ethan. And I made you a pretty card, which you could use as a bookmark if you wished all year long.” She presented the red card etched in lace with little pink and red ribbons. Rather than a verse, Brit had covered the card in lip prints.

Ethan traced each lip print and said, “Thank you, baby. I will use it to mark my ledger and so I will use it every day.” He bent to give her a kiss and looked at the card in more detail before laying it carefully on the ledger. “Would you wish to know the history of Valentine’s Day, Brit? It is a bit like a story.” Seeing her nod, he motioned her to him after sitting and pulled her on to his lap. “Many would say that it was a holiday created by greeting card companies, but that is incorrect. While those companies made it popular and commercialized it to what it is today, there are a few theories on its true beginnings.”

“Oh, please tell me! It is like a story when you tell me things!” She smiled happily as she settled against him.

Nodding, Ethan adjusted her to one side so he could open a drawer and produced a heart-shaped box of fresh strawberries drenched with layers of dark chocolate. Picking one up, he pressed it to her lips watching the juice and dark chocolate stain her lips. “There were several saints named Valentine recognized by the church. All of whom were martyred.” Brushing away her hand, he followed a drip of juice while watching her with his finger and pressed it to her lips where she licked it off. His words paused. Blinking a few times, Ethan continued. “One legend contends that Valentine was a priest during the reign of Emperor Claudius II in third century Rome. The emperor decided single men made better soldiers so he outlawed marriages of young men. The priest is said to have married young lovers in secret. When he was discovered, he was put to death.”

Licking the melted chocolate from her lips, she said, “But God approves of marriage.” She paused to take another bite of the huge strawberry and traced the dripping juice along his finger to lick it from his thumb holding the underside causing Ethan to raise an eyebrow and shake his head slightly to clear his thoughts to continue.

“Other stories suggest…” Ethan watched Brit’s lips nibble the strawberry and chocolate from his fingers in silence. When she pulled back to look at him, he kissed her forehead and said, “Other stories …yes. Other stories suggest that Valentine may have been killed for attempting to help Christians escape Roman prisons where they were sometimes beaten or tortured.”

Brit nibbled her lips to rid them of melted chocolate. “That’s not very romantic.” Ethan grinned and gave her another bite of the strawberry holding the chocolate so that it would not crack and fall away when she bit into it.

“What was romantic is one legend that says that he fell in love with the jailer’s daughter who would visit him during his confinement. Before his death, he allegedly wrote her a letter which he signed ‘From your Valentine,’ which is an expression still used today.” Brit caught a piece of broken chocolate on her lower lip and sucked it into her mouth letting it melt on her tongue. “Now the legends of Valentine are murky, but the stories are romantic. Tis no wonder that he is such a popular saint since medieval times.”

Brit nodded enjoying the story. Pressing her to him, Ethan kissed her softly tasting the chocolate and strawberry in the kiss. Settling back, he watched her silently for a moment and picked up another strawberry covered in chocolate to trace on her lips before letting her bite into it. Again, he caught the juice on his finger and held it to her mouth. Brit leaned and sucked the drip before taking a bite of the strawberry. Ethan blinked slightly again watching her nibble the strawberry and chocolate that he held for her.

Shifting his weight, Ethan’s other hand caressed her back. “Of course, there are some who believe that Valentine’s Day is celebrated in the middle of February to commemorate the anniversary of Valentine’s death, but others claim the church timed Valentine’s feast day in effort to christianize a pagan holiday known as the Lupercalia festival.” Brit listened as she let the chocolate melt on her lips before taking another bite of the strawberry.

Ethan paused again. “In ancient Rome, February was the official beginning of spring and was considered a time for cleansing. Houses were ritually cleansed by sweeping them well, and then sprinkling salt and spelt throughout them.” Brit ran her lower lip over his thumb and strawberry’s chocolate hull to catch the dripping juice. “See, the festival of Lupercalia, which began on the ides of February, which is the 15th, was a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus, the Roman god of agriculture, as well as Romulus and Remus who were the founders of Rome. First, an animal was sacrificed and then young girls were ritualistically slapped with strips of the animal’s skin and blood to guarantee their fertility.”

Brit’s eyes widened. “I think…giving a beloved chocolate and strawberries would make her want to be a lover and have babies more than hitting her with blood and animal skin. Don’t you?”

Ethan stifled a chuckle seeing her question was most serious to her. “Well, baby. The beauty of Valentine’s Day is that it can cater to all tastes. Hmm?” He pressed the rest of the huge strawberry into her mouth before another question could form, and then followed with Valentine’s kisses.

Roses in Snow

Brit closed her coloring book. Tips of crayons scattered around her. “Another broke?” asked Ethan. She nodded with a soft sigh. He gazed at her from his desk. Her body trembled and she stretched trying to shake off the feeling. Closing his ledger, he stood to hold out his hand to her. Pulling her up, he gave her a warm embrace and said, “You need to slow the world down, princess. It will be easier once you do.” He started to describe how she should visualize before she moved. She focused on him as he talked, but a glance within her thoughts showed him that she was not able to truly comprehend. Perhaps when some of the vitae wore off, he told himself. She would have to experiment with her newly found abilities. It was difficult to watch Brit struggle, but Ethan kissed her forehead and went back to his books watching her.

Ethan was proud that Brit was acquiring some of his attributes. He grinned at the memory of her broadcasting a comment to the room and how she struggled with moving very quickly. In time, he told himself, it would become natural for her. Brit settled back and picked up a new crayon. Her fingers moved too quickly on the page and pressed too hard. Within moments, the crayon snapped off the tip. Brit sighed staring at the page where she was trying to draw roses and cherries in snow.

Thinking to the night before, she remembered the warmth of the rooftop amidst the wind-blown snow. Ethan had given her warning about instincts. “When we both need guidance, we shall follow our instincts.” With his fingers caressing her bite marks, he added, “Though, instincts can be treacherous things.” More kisses followed until he said, “Mine. And I will not be left waiting.”

Ethan’s touches pushed the pain of Larissa’s loss from her thoughts albeit briefly. He could see within her thoughts as the newly awakened emotions of anger and grief drained away in his diversion. Brit’s eyes widened at his demeanor and words. Swaying to and fro when he pulled her close to him, she settled against him. “I do confess…that….” Her voice trailed off as she stepped closer pressing her body against his. Her fingers caressed his cheek as she finished her sentence by giving a slow and sensual kiss not wishing him to wait.

Ethan whirled her playfully fast and pressed her against the stone support for the billboard adjusting her body against his. “Confess to me, Brit,” he whispered softly before biting and nibbling along her neck. Moving his lips from her neck to her ear, he pressed her as he whispered again, “Confess to me.” Biting more, he flicked his tongue over her neckline. Snow flurried around them and his fingers shook the flakes free from her hair. Brit struggled to form the words that she wanted him to know. Closing her eyes, she felts his tongue on her neck. Her pulse beneath the skin was strong and vibrant.

Ethan continued to nibble and tease her neck with his fangs, never breaking the skin but leaving many bite marks to blush her skin. He yearned to hear her words spoken even though he could see it in her thoughts. Brit’s thoughts were never linear. He glimpsed it all. Her grief over Larissa’s death and her anger over the words she had heard. Dryl saying, “Dead,” and Nareth confirming that she was gone before the laughter started. Brit was offended and hurt over their behavior toward someone who was very dear to her. Her fingers clung to him as she rubbed her cheek against his hair. Her arms and legs wrapped so tightly around him that there was nothing between them anymore. “Confess to me,” he coaxed again. His voice was seducing her away from her high energy heart ache. “I know you will not fight me,” he said softly into her ear.

The wind was cold, and his body was as cold as the night. It mattered not as she could feel him warming where she was pressed against him. “Don’t fight me,” he repeated placing his lips on her neck. Brit blinked in bewilderment knowing she would never push him away. Opening his mouth wide, he sank his fangs into her skin breaking muscle and vein alike holding her tight as her blood filled his mouth. Before drinking, he pulled back with bloodied lips. Looking directly at her, his eyes were dark affected by her taste and his voice growled softly, “This is what I am, Brit, or at least part of me. I never hid it from you and I will always be part beast. But I will only be yours. Always. And you will never be alone because I will not allow it.”

Dipping her back until the stone supported both of them, Ethan drank heavily from her. His throat muscles working as he swallowed her blood turning it into vitae in his system. Brit’s mind raced to keep up. Telling him she would never fight him. She told him that she loved him. All of him. She could feel the snow pelt her exposed throat as he drank. Ethan enjoyed the feel of her chilled skin against his lips and the heat that lay beneath. “Do not fight me,” his thoughts pressed again and he drank another deep sip. Shifting to one side, his left hand slid lower pulling her tighter against him. With his arms around her and his fangs in her throat, Ethan seemed a predator keeping its prey near him. Brit’s thoughts started to drift as in a dream. Dizzy sensations from his drinking and embrace caused her to want her husband closer.

As if reading her thoughts, Ethan shook his head slightly. Biting his lips several times, he cause his vitae to pool before cupping her face with one hand. “I want your kisses,” he said, “And I want you to drink mine.” His tone all but ordered it as he claimed her lips pouring his vitae into her mouth. Brit kissed him and sucked his lower lip with soft pops as she released it. With each drink, her body received a slight surged reaction as the vitae hit her system. She mumbled ‘yes’ once to him and drank his kisses. Her bite marks pooled blood that slowly dripped down her neck. The color was rich red, crimson and dark, reminding Ethan of roses or cherries in the snow. Brit glimpsed his thought. Sensing her blood dripping, Ethan immediately moved to her bites and sucked the cooling blood greedily from her skin. He nibbled and licked ensuring none was left before returning to her mouth again. Reopening his lip, he demanded, “Drink more.”

Brit swallowed drink after drink of the heady vitae. Her body pushed away unsure she could drink any more. Ethan pulled her back tightly and repeated in a low whisper, “Don’t fight me. Drink more.” Her lips trembled from the powerful vitae coursing through her body. Ethan kissed her softly and dripped more vitae into her mouth as she breathlessly leaned against the post that supported both of them. Dutifully, she swallowed and he kissed again refilling her mouth albeit more slowly. Again, she swallowed. Her body trembling hard as it processed. “More,” he whispered. Her mossy green eyes blinked slowly as he filled her mouth again. One drop after another dripped from his lips until the wound healed. His fingers touched her chin holding her mouth closed with a fingertip until she swallowed.

Picking up another crayon, Brit pulled it twice across the page before it snapped. She sighed. Ethan saw her body still racked with trembles. She would acclimate, he thought to himself. Besides, the benefits she would gain were too precious not to ensure they were within her grasp. “The tremors should pass, Brit. You will learn to control the gifts I give you.” Standing, he walked to offer her a hand. “Perhaps color later.” She took his hand and he pulled her up to him settling back on the desk. After carefully looking her over, he kissed her forehead, her cheek and then her lips. Inside, he glimpsed the focus again on Larissa. She needed time to mourn, he thought. With a hint of a smile, the fact that his wife finally realized that not all were “way nice” showed she was growing in a way he deemed positive. “You will always be mine,” Ethan said softly. He motioned her to follow him to the Haven thinking that perhaps dancing could help her body process, and assist her mind to sooth over the loss of her friend.

The Second Lesson

Truth be told, Brit was growing tired. The fencing lesson had lasted far too long and she was starting to feel most weary. “Again,” Ethan directed. Touching his chest where his heart was located, he said, “Try to touch here, Brit.” Brit struggled to tag him but he moved too fast. He could read her thoughts. She wanted to stop, but continued only because Ethan had swatted her playfully with the broad side of his blade when she quit without his ending the lesson the last time. She could still hear his admonishment, “Next time, the lesson is over only when I say it is, Brit.” Seeing her memories, Ethan lowered his sword and motioned her to him. “You are developing speed in your parries, Brit. However, you lack conviction when you lunge. Enough for today, I think.”

Brit’s sweat was tinged pink upon close examination. She was tired. They returned to their resting place to obtain a few items and made their way south in the city to the public bath. Snow fell as they traipsed through the street. Once in the bath, Brit laid out fresh clothing before quickly removing her fencing garb and stripped down to a tanktop and shorts. Ethan followed suit down to his briefs. Both slipped in the warm water and Ethan rinsed the sweat from Brit’s skin with water by cupping his hand before pulling her back against him. Once she settled against him, Ethan reached for a sponge to drag over her skin as he went over the finer points of the fencing lesson.

In no time, the conversation left fencing and moved to the shared bath. With the moon lighting up the sky behind the clouds, and the snow fluttering to the ground, the bath looked like something resembling a set of a Ridley Scott movie. Brit chattered about the pleasures of hot water, when Ethan replied, “I like the idea of being in hot water with you.” Dipping the sponge again, he squeezed the warm water to flow over her neck, bite marks, and down her back while moving her ponytail aside to kiss her sweetly.

Brit’s relaxed body went rigid for a moment and she sat forward. Blinking, her eyes widened and she suddenly giggled. “That’s a joke, isn’t it? Being in hot water means being in mischief…er…trouble…and so you are saying hot water like a bath and maybe hot water like trouble even if I’m not really trouble.” Brit continued to ramble to process out the joke before giggling again. Letting her know that it was a joke, Ethan grinned pulling her back against him again. His fingers massaged her sides and arms. Brit continued to marvel about the words. She lisped, “I know a different joke.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Yes? Well, why do you not tell me about it then.”

Tapping her toes together happily, Brit said, “Okay. There was a skeleton once up on a time. And he goes to a bar. Like a bar like the Haven. And the bartender says, ‘So what will you have?’ And the skeleton says, ‘I’ll have a beer and a mop!’ And that is my joke!” Brit collapses into giggles and says, “I’ve never seen a skeleton walk or talk, but if it did, you know it would need a mop to drink beer! Or to drink anything. Even water! Because anything wet would go right through him!” Brit gestured animatedly and giggled more, which caused Ethan to grin with pure amusement. In her mind, she visualized the joke and continued to giggle. Ethan marveled at his wife’s growth to grasp and tell jokes, which was a recent ability.

Lathering up the sponge, Ethan washed Brit’s body. Handing her the sponge, he told her that she needed to wash her feet as he could not reach them. “All clean here though,” he said low before leaning and kissing the back of her neck. She leaned against his kiss before lifting her foot and tapping the top of his head with the top of her foot. Ethan blinked at her agility and was sure he could not do the same. Brit turned to wash his body in return and his vampire ego quickly forgot Brit’s flexibility as she spoiled him. “I do enjoy your touches always, Brit,” he whispered. “But these types of touches are definitely special.”

Brit washed him thoroughly. “I like touching you with these types of touches, Ethan,” she said before giving him a playful glance as she kissed the freshly washed chest to see whether it was soap-slippery. Both fell silent for a time. Only the sound of the water rippling as the sponge was dipped and squeezed was heard. After a while, Ethan looked to Brit as he heard her mind speak a single word, “Share.” Unable to deny her, Ethan drank from her in slow sips before breaking the skin on his lips to let her drink during kisses. He pulled her closer and heard her mind reach to him again with a single word. “Share.”

Tracing her lips with his fingernail, Ethan said softly, “You are my wife. The only one I love and treasure. You will learn that sometimes you can take what is rightfully yours without asking. Without words even.” His fingernails caressed her neck and stroked down her back. “Demand it like I do. You will learn that, just like in fencing, you have to take an aggressive stance from time to time.” His fingertips pressed her to him encouragingly as he whispered, “I am yours just as much as you are mine, Brit.” Just as in the fencing lesson, his body and words guided.

The Fencing Lesson

((Taken from RP))

Coming downstairs with a most satisfied grin, Ethan brushed against Brit. Though he seemed in a hurry, he stopped at the door and turned holding his hand out toward her. “Brit, come to me.” When she arrived, he buttoned her coat up and gave her three kisses. “We are going to a walk to the beach. Those of whom we do not speak are coming to make a delivery.” Anticipating her next question, he chuckled, “They will bring several things, princess. Cookies, some supplies, a few things for me and…well, you shall see.” Her eyes grew wide at the mystery. Looping her arm in his, they left for the beach.

On the way, they saw a neko who had been a resident at the Shelter. Both were happy that she had not perished. Discovering that she had found a safe permanent home, they continued to the beach. Even in the cloak of night, assorted beings were engaged in drinking, making out, sparring, and simple social networking. Ethan looked over the scene and narrowed his eyes at the many drawn weapons. Turning to Brit, he touched the guns at his side and gestured, “You see, baby, this is why you need weapons at the ready. You never know when you will walk into a scene like this one.” Nodding toward the skiff docked on the end of the pavilion, he grumbled, “Let us continue.”

Nearing the edge of the pavilion floating in the water, Ethan grabbed Brit who was standing on the edge and jumped across to the skiff with one powerful leap. Brit squealed in delight at sailing through the air and collapsed into giggles as they landed. “Do it again, please!” she exclaimed. Her giggles caused a few astonished looks from those piloting the skiff.

Ethan nodded a greeting to each as he whispered, “Maybe, if you are a very good girl, later.” Brit’s giggles quieted as she too gave a nod to each one, but did not wish to interrupt Ethan’s meeting with them. Most of the crew were cloaked. As usual, one stood in front keeping most of his exterior from being seen less for his long, sharp fingernails. The being’s hand extended in a greeting and was shaken by Ethan. “You are dependable as always, old friend,” Ethan said. “Your services are much appreciated.” Quiet conversation continued as Brit dangled over the side hoping to perhaps see a fish even though she knew none ever swam so close to the city.

After Ethan’s conversation ended, the crew handed over two boxes. Ethan gave an envelope to the man in the front, which was as usual. Receiving an envelop in return was not expected, and Ethan gave a troubled look as it was placed into his hand. Tucking it quickly away, Ethan walked to the edge looking to where Brit peered over the side of the boat. To all present, she started with a barrage of questions and comments as she stopped searching for fish. "How far do you go before fish are around? Have you ever seen a fish as big as the boat? In the library, I saw a picture of an octopus...it was swallowing the boat!" Brit’s eyes grew wide with the telling of the picture. Seeing all simply watching her, she went silent. Puffing her cheeks slightly, she looked to the shore and to Ethan wondering when it would be time to get off the boat oblivious to the raised eyebrow that Ethan was given.

Ethan turned toward the crew looking to each one with narrowed eyes. “Did you not hear the lady’s questions?” Picking Brit up, he asked, “How far out before you see fish? How big was the biggest one that you have seen?” Brit did not notice that his eyes continued to grow darker as he asked. Again, to her delight, he leaped across to the floating pavilion and held her waiting for their answers.

The sailor nearest to them turned and answered dutifully, “It takes about two hours of a journey south until fish are seen again. Whales are not uncommon off of these shores; and the biggest was bigger than our boat. No octopus of that size has ever been sighted though.” The sailor turned as if in a trance. Brit listened attentively to the answer and politely thanked the sailor. Turning to Ethan, she grinned to him for the brief jump through the air before looking to the boxes, wondering what was inside, and musing why he did not simply have items brought over on the ferry. Ethan’s thoughts answered that some things could not be easily transported and he did not trust just anyone with other items such as foods that she would consume. Picking up the boxes, Ethan motioned her to follow him back to the Shelter.

Once there, Ethan moved the bigger of the two crates to a place where he had others. Opening it, he carefully checked the contents while she dangled over his shoulder to see. He grinned at her curiosity. “Ethan,” she asked. “Have you….have we other homes?” Her mind wondered from where the items came. “Places maybe where you once lived?” Brit wondered why she had never thought to ask him before.

After checking the contents of the box, Ethan turned pulling her close for a lingering kiss. The kiss deepened for a moment before he remembered that it was his duty to keep her curiosity sated. Breaking the kiss, he replied, “There are several places where I have resided, Brit. Places in Europe where I hold the deeds. Some of them have secured storage facilities or they are accessible to a certain group of few and selected individuals of my kind.” He watched her carefully ensuring she understood. Seeing his duty fulfilled, he pulled her close again brushing his fingers lightly over her skin.

Brit asked, “Maybe…maybe….one day we could visit other places and you could show me where you used to reside?” Ethan’s arms wrapped tighter around her lower waist pulling her to paste against him. Her fingers traced along his sides and looped behind his neck where she touched his unbound hair. Ethan hinted a smile at her growing curiosity about his past. The night before, she had whispered, “I am always curious of you.” Her curiosity without reason warmed him.

“We can do that, baby.” Wrapping his arms around her, he nodded again as if deciding something for both of them. “We should start in a Greece.” His voice sounded distant for a moment as he added, “It would be not far from the place where I was born either.” Ethan’s had rubbed the small of her back gently and he added, “We can do that in the near future. He leaned in for another sensual kiss before letting her breathe once more. There is something that has been troubling me though. Seeing her eyes widen that he might be troubled, he said, “Just recent events. The reasons the two of us have spent so much time in the Shelter, Brit.” His voice trailed off seeming to search for words or a proper way to put it. Ethan all but burst out with, “I am of the opinion that giving you a weapon of proper proportions and style befitting a lady and my beloved would be of interest. And, of course, I would teach you to use it.” He looked down and peeked up almost like a schoolboy admitting to his parents that he broke their prized vase.

Brit’s expression was pure astonishment. “A weapon? Like a REAL weapon?” Her mossy green eyes were huge. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, “But…Ethan…what… What if I hurt someone with it? You know…like…hurt…them.” Blinking more, she processed. “Ladies…use weapons?” she asked curiously.

Tilting his head at her last question, he said, “Well, darling. I would think that most of the women you know in this city outside of the library carry them, use them, and quite often harm others with them.”

Brit processed while continuing to dangle from around his neck. One thought flittered to be replaced by another. “Ethan, you never think of most ladies as um ladies.” Since she was now more in tune with his thoughts, she had been rather surprised at his thoughts at times. Some were rather shocking! “Like….Marie Antoinette,” she lisped. Ethan blinked before coughing politely and he wiped his mind of the thought that formed regarding that particular lady. Brit caught the glimpse of the thought and her eyes widened!

Ethan raised an eyebrow and grinned thinking she was obviously getting a better education in seeing what was not said than she would have ever gotten from any book. He replied, “Well, baby. It depends mostly on their manners and ways of behaving. That has nothing to do with the choice of carrying weapons. In fact, at one time, such were combined with their outfits. Like a proper accessory.” He smoothed a tendril of her hair caressing her cheek gently before continuing, “In a large portion of history, it was quite proper, and very ladylike, for young ladies to be educated in the art of fencing. Just as it was for them to be educated in music and making conversation with guests. It kept their bodies trained and their senses alert. Really…much like when we played tag.”

Ethan could see her process and hear her concerns. He reassured her, “Brit, should the need arise and you need to defend yourself, you could buy just enough time for me to arrive or for you to come to me with a few subtle moves. Not actually hurting someone you see. But keeping them distanced from you.” Her recent encounter with the lycan crossed his mind. “Just to buy you time, if needed," he said reassuringly.

It was much for her to process. Brit had always thought of the games they played, like Tag, as simply a fun game of chase. She never thought it would have other purposes. Kissing her on the forehead, he opened a second box and ran his hand along the object inside. Brit lisped, “So…learn like Tag…for exercise?” She nodded slowly to show she understood.

Ethan pulled a long, case from the box. He wiped the packing materials from it and said, “I was thinking of a blade by the way. Small enough to be an epee, which is a fencing blade. Just…well…one of my personal collection.” Ethan opened the case.

“Like a knife?” Brit asked while trying to see inside.

Ethan unsheathed the sword. “Well, not quite a knife.” Brit could see the bright shine of the blade in the amber light of the Shelter hallway. “It is quite elegant, I think, and if used correctly.” The blade obviously held memories for Ethan as he turned the sword looking it over as if seeing an old friend he had not expected to return. “I have had this blade in my possession since the 17th century, Brit.” Ethan continued to carefully examine it while he spoke, “I requested it to be sharpened before having it brought to us.”

The sword was bright and shiny. Details on the pommel included an intricate silver skull. “In the 17th century,” she repeated. “Before Marie Antoinette…like…when Charles the second was king of England.” Ethan smiled seeing that she was beginning to develop a sense of when events occurred. He nodded. “It was yours,” Brit said smiling warmly. Then her smile faded and her eyes grew huge with wonderment, “You did not perish anyone with it, did you?”

Ethan shifted his weight uncomfortably for a moment before giving her a sweet kiss of encouragement. “I do not recall ending anyone’s existence with it, Brit. I do recall using it as a training weapon and in gentleman sports.” With a shrug, he said, “Fencing definitely was considered a noble way of resolving conflict, but often ended at first blood. That means whoever drew blood first from the other wins. Not a fight to the death.” Ethan skipped over that a dagger or other blade was often used for coup de grace moments.

He watched her admire the sword and could sense that she found it beautiful. Ethan’s chest fell as if he exhaled happy that she seemed taken with his gift. “I’m glad that you find it pleasing.” She smiled nodding up at him. “Fencing is a specific way of sword fighting. There are rules of engagement, quite proper, and usually betrayed someone’s noble upbringing. You see, anyone could learn to fence if they had a master to teach them, but noble families always….” Ethan’s eyes grew slightly dark for a hint of a moment. “Noble families always ensured one was available to teach their own.”

Ethan’s hand reached for hers, and he turned her as if in a dance with his free hand so that she faced away, and he guided her back against him. Kissing her hair, he raised her hand and wrapped her fingers around the grip ensuring her hold was proper. Brit gingerly touched the blade with her free hand. It’s razor sharpness caused her to pull away fast, but then she brought her finger to the flat surface and slowly traced down the length of the blade. He repeated that he would teach her all she needed to know. Ethan watched her turn the sword so that the light would catch it causing her to pause as the shine mesmerized her. Perhaps, he thought, she would lose some distractibility by its use and could react faster when needed.

“It’s beautiful. Ethan, thank you.” She kissed him while holding the sword so that the tip was pointed down. Ethan’s arms wrapped so one rested on her tummy and the other on her forearm that held the blade. He could not help but muse that these lessons could bring far more pleasure than any payment from teaching noble brats. When she finished looking over the blade, he readjusted her hand on the grip ensuring that she held the sword perfectly.

Brushing her hair to the side, he said, “At the very least, we shall arrange your hair in a pony tail so that it does not hinder you.” His fingers left her tummy to brush back her tresses. “Mayhaps with some ribbons in it, as well.” He also made a mental note to engage Destany in proper fencing attire for her. Not like the sterile modern day garments, but such as what might be worn in days when fencing was commonly seen. His hand returned to her tummy, and the hand on her sword arm extended to her wrist. Slowly, he adjusted her posture noting that her graceful stand was a natural start. He brought her sword hand slowly to her chin. “First, you would present arms to your opponent in an official match by bringing the hilt to your chin…like this.” He moved his head from side to side ensuring again that the posture was perfect. Grinning, he pressed lips to her ear and said low, “Très bon.” Realizing she would not know what he had said, he moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “Very good.”

Brit allowed him to position her. Her body was relaxed and her mind attentive. His mind briefly remembered others he had helped learn this art. Ethan sensed that she feared the weapon, and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Her flesh tingled where he held her, and from his whispered words of encouragement. She moved her feet as he instructed and her stance resembled a ballerina more than a fencing opponent. It was graceful with one foot angled to the other. Brit pressed his body and she moistened her lips. The sword was not heavy to her and she could not help but notice how it shimmered as it moved.

Ethan admired her graceful form and found no need for adjustment. His fingers traced down her body as if to check her alignment and stance. Kissing her neck, he whispered, “A natural talent.” His body moved hers slowly into an ‘en garde’ stance, before moving her back to present and into en garde again ensuring she could follow the motion. His words were low and soft as he guided her from one position to the other, “Fencing, opposed to other forms of melee combat is very much based on benefits of grace in one’s movements: An element of which you possess in abundance.” Her eyes blinked as she moved with the grace of a dancer from upright to a guarded stance. Ethan could not help but think that her hours of dancing in the studio were paying off. She held still for him to inspect her posture. Seeing him nod approval, she laid her head upon his shoulder and looked up kissing him sensually by resting her free hand on his cheek. Returning to proper form, her back was straight with a slight arch that would have clearly demonstrated her lithe form had she not been dressed in her trenchcoat.

Ethan repeated the action, making sure to move slightly more swift with each repetition. As she did when resting her hands on his to play the pipe organ in the church, her mind linked and she followed his movement. His arm guided hers to extend in time with her leg moving forward to balance her body. Ethan murmured, “Extend,” and the tip of the sword touched an imaginary foe as Ethan’s voice instructed softly, “And…touch.” He held the position feeling her body pressed against his. He tightened his hold on her and whispered, “Then, back again” as he pulled her to the starting stance of en garde.

Both stood still for a few moments and were keenly aware of the nearness of the other. Once Brit had processed the sequence, she slowly repeated taking the initiative. He resisted pressing his cheek against her less he mar her fluidity of motion. Watching their image in the window, he followed her motion allowing his body to check her form. In the window’s reflection, they moved together as if she were attached to him in 100 different points. Brit paused at each position allowing for small corrections and waited for his nod to move to the next step. Holding the touch, she felt him press her closer to him. “It’s like dancing.” He nodded running his hand over her side under the guise of checking her stance.

Moving again against her, Ethan motioned for her to continue. “It is indeed like dancing,” he said moving with her as she moved through the basic positions. “Present. En garde, lunge, thrust, touch, and back to engarde.” His voice whispered softly as they cycled through again. Another cycle in silence. “Deadly dancing sometimes, but still requiring grace and elegance, which you possess.” His hands continued to touch her lightly as they moved through the sequence. At each point, Ethan was keenly aware of Brit’s body and corrected even the slightest of errors in her form. “It will also keep you fit,” his voice continued to softly instruct. “In time, it will keep you safe. I hope…you will not be disturbed by it, Brit.”

Lowering the sword, she turned slightly and tilted her head. “It’s a wonderful gift, Ethan. Thank you.” Her smile was warm and her care in the way she held the sword showed she understood it was a precious gift. He kissed her. Closing her eyes, she processed all he had taught and said. “Ethan,” she whispered with a hint of apprehension. “I never wish to perish anyone.”

Returning the kiss, he said, “You are most welcome. I do enjoy giving you things from my past. For there is history in them. They are not merely objects.” Caressing her face before cupping her cheek, he tilted her lips up and caught her gaze. “You are my one and only, and I want you protected. I understand you would not willingly try to take a life, but as I said…” Seeing her eyes widen, he stopped to watch her. With a reassuring smile, Ethan kissed Brit again. “But as I said, this is mostly for exercise.” She nodded and he grinned kissing softly. “You did well on your first hint of a lesson, my love.”

“No one perishes from exercise,” she said more for herself than for him. Ethan remembered a countess who perished in a fencing lesson due to a corset, indulgence of alcohol and sweets, and intense summer heat. Brushing the thought away, he said, “Quite so. And, if the need for you to run arises…such as if someone were blocking your path, I am sure that we shall find a way to teach you just where to swing this blade so to give them a little ache….surely not perishing them.” He kissed her again with his eyes flashing for a moment thinking of such a situation. “Do not worry, Brit. I am not trying to turn you into a body guard. You have me for that.”

Brit nodded understanding that she would not perish another with her new gift. Turning, she took both of his hands pulling him along to the resting place where she could place the sword in the chest with her more treasured belongings. He stroked her hair while she arranged for the sword to be organized as if it was always meant to be there. Standing, she pressed close and kissed him with all of the love she felt within. Ethan returned it knowing that should she need to get away, the culprit would pray for coup de grace in the end.