"Blood Seduction"

As planned, Ian and Dev got together on Saturday night and came up with a strategy over Chinese takeout. The clone wasn’t able to eat very much but what he did eat, he was finally able to keep down. For Devian, however, the best news was that he was now confident about their chances of dealing with whatever nasty surprise might be sprung upon them when the will was read at Wolfram & Hart on Monday afternoon. Both Ian and Sara had received written invitations to the reading of Kenneth Irons’ will and would be attending the final disposition of the billionaire’s assets. Because Devian had not been invited to the ceremony, he remained a free agent and was their secret weapon in the event that some major coup was attempted. If a trap was sprung and they were taken, Dev would find a way to free them. The clone needed to get inside the stronghold that was the N.Y. office of Wolfram & Hart and, once inside, to move about undetected. To allow his brother to become invisible, Ian had once again removed his ring of power. Excalibur was back on Devian’s right hand, leaving Ian feeling distinctly exposed and vulnerable. Still, Ian knew that it couldn’t be helped. In the clone’s possession, Excalibur might provide the extra advantage that would save them all. Ian had also thrown his network of spies and information gatherers into high gear as soon as he had felt the jaws of the trap start to close around them – to no avail. He still had no definitive information about whether some nefarious activity would accompany the reading of the will.

Earlier that afternoon, after Ian had gone home, Dev had wormed his way into Immo’s lab to try to find the drone that had told him on the phone that the doctor was working in the “offsite lab.” He also was unsuccessful. The hapless fool who had let that information slip was gone and the remaining lab assistants were obviously terrified and not talking. No one would say a word to the clone and it was clear from the general disorder that there had been a recent, hasty purge of any damaging materials. Devian knew that he would no longer find anything of value simply lying around. Frustrated, the clone had wandered around the sterile, tension-filled underground facility for an hour or so feeling nervous eyes on his back, following his progress. Without conscious intention, he found himself back at the chamber that had housed him and his five dead brothers for so long. No longer guarding its precious secrets, the tight security had been deactivated and the pneumatic door stood wide open.

Hesitantly, Dev had stepped into the darkened room. He had been thinking that this was the closest thing that he had to a history; in this high-tech junkyard with its five fire-blackened stasis chambers, was his home – the one undamaged chamber at the end of the row. The one tank that had been empty and unplugged when Ian had fried their brothers. Golden eyes wide and unblinking, the clone had glided past the deep, empty glass tanks to stop before the last one. Taking quick, shallow breaths, he had stretched out the long fingers of one hand to skim his fingertips lightly along the dusty ledge surrounding what was, in essence, a big aquarium; his glass womb. Devian had dropped his head, shutting his eyes. He had suddenly remembered the old man calling him a devil’s spawn and thought that the term was oddly fitting. He was not the progeny of a glorious coupling like that he had shared with Sara; rather, he was the product of Immo’s scientific brilliance and Irons’ millions; an obscene and perverted union. He had thought then that it was no wonder that Sara did not want him.

When Ian had come back that evening, Dev had kept most of those thoughts to himself, only telling his brother what he had found on his investigative foray into the lab; that the assistant who had told him about Immo was long gone and that there had been a chaotic removal of papers and other materials. Pulling fragrant white cartons of food from large brown, paper bags, Ian had nodded sagely. “All the phones in the mansion are tapped,” he explained, “The assistant who spoke to you made a serious mistake. He obviously wasn’t supposed to mention this offsite lab.” Devian squinted, frowning. “A fatal mistake?” he asked. Ian shrugged, handing the clone a napkin and silverware. “I doubt it,” he replied, “Immo doesn’t want to draw attention to whatever it is that he’s doing. They probably just moved the guy out of our reach. Want a beer or some wine?” Dev winced and shook his head. “I’ll stick to non-alcoholic beverages tonight, thanks,” he said. Ian smiled. “What did you drink last night?” he asked. Dev dropped his head and mumbled, “Whiskey, a lot of it.” Ian sat down and looked up at his little brother. “Did it help?” he asked. Devian shrugged. “It made me sick,” he said softly, “And that certainly distracted me; took my mind off of…other things.” Ian studied his lowered face. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. The clone shook his head. Then, his head came back up and big, golden eyes filled with pain met big, golden eyes filled with concern. “I want to talk about what might happen on Monday,” Devian said, “I want to make plans to fight. That’s what I want to talk about.”

Ian understood. The clone was still too raw. It still hurt him too much. Devian couldn’t talk about it yet; particularly not with the man who was sleeping with the woman he loved. Ian hoped that it was enough that he was here with his little brother tonight, that Dev didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. So, he nodded and they talked for hours and hours. They made plans. Like mirror images, they both made lists of things to do. Devian would get the blueprints for the Wolfram & Hart Building so that they could plan escape routes from inside the building. This would not be an easy task because the next day was, of course, Sunday and the county building that stored architectural plans would be closed. He would have to break in and then find the blueprints they needed. Ian would also be planning escape routes, but on a much larger scale. He would use his network of helpers to set up a chain of getaway cars and a succession of safe houses; not just for the three of them, but for Vicki, Danny, and Jake as well. They were all at risk because they could be taken to manipulate Sara. That would be Sara’s task for the next day. With things coming to a head, her partners could no longer be left in the dark about the Witchblade. She would have to prepare them in case all hell broke loose when the will was read on Monday. If Ian and Sara were taken and then escaped, Vicki, Jake, and Danny, along with his family, would all become fair game. When Sara and the Nottinghams disappeared, they would also need to be spirited away and hidden. The first priority must be to keep everybody safe. If they could do that, they might then have time to get a handle on what was going on and to figure out how to gain some leverage of their own.

As the evening progressed, Ian watched his brother’s eyes get heavier and heavier. Hurting and ill, Ian guessed that Dev must not have gotten very much sleep the night before. It had begun to catch up to him. The clone’s head finally dropped down on his chest, and his breathing slowed and deepened. Ian let Dev sleep while he gathered up empty food cartons and water bottles, and put them in the shopping bags. He would carry them down in the elevator with him to toss in the trash downstairs. The Observatory was messy enough already. The place badly needed a good cleaning and airing out; something he suspected that it hadn’t gotten since Dev had taken residence. Maybe he would speak to the new housekeeper on his way out and ask that someone clean up the Observatory a bit the next morning. It could be done while the clone was out stealing the blueprints. Then, when Ian brought Vicki over the next afternoon perhaps the place wouldn’t seem quite so gamey.

Finally, Ian bent down and carefully eased his sleeping brother over his shoulder to carry him to bed. Ian’s nose wrinkled when he gently lowered Devian down on to the dirty, rumpled sheets. Ian made a mental note to ask the staff to change the sheets when they came in to clean. The clone heaved a soft sigh and curled on his side, pushing his face deep into the pillow. Ian pulled off Dev’s gym shoes but didn’t try to remove his sweats, afraid that it might wake his brother to do so. He dragged the tangled blanket up over Dev’s long, lanky body and left it at that. Just before he turned to leave, Ian heard his brother breathe a single word, so low he could barely hear it. “Sara,” he whispered into the down pillow, clutching it tightly in his arms. Ian felt a quick, surprising stab of jealousy before his control clamped down and he smothered it. “There’s no reason to be jealous,” he told himself, “Sara is mine. I can afford to be forgiving. If our positions were reversed, I would want to die or maybe to kill him. He’s my little brother. I’ll help him get past this if I can.” Ian sighed and headed back into the sitting room. He turned out most of the lights, leaving one low light burning, and picked up the trash bags. By the time Ian stepped into the elevator, Devian had started to snore. Ian stopped on the way out and spoke to the new housekeeper, Mrs. Markham, about having someone clean the Observatory the next morning.

When Ian got home, Sara was up waiting for him. While she put the water on for some tea for her lover, Sara asked, “How is he?” Ian lifted himself up to perch on the counter while she puttered around the kitchen. “He’s okay,” Ian replied, “He was sleeping soundly when I left.” She snorted. “He conked out on you?” she asked. He nodded. “Last night was pretty rough for him, I think,” he murmured, “He got really drunk and made himself sick.” Her back to him, she asked quietly, “Did he talk about what happened? Between us?” When he didn’t answer her right away, Sara turned around to see the expression on his face. It was unreadable. Ian shook his head. “Did you expect him to?” he asked. Sara shrugged. “I’m not sure what I expect him to do,” she said, “Nothing about him seems to be what I expected. Half the time I don’t think he knows what he’s going to do next.” Ian smiled. “That’s probably true,” he agreed, “He’s struggling to find his way.” Sara poured coffee for herself and then made Ian’s tea. She handed him his mug. “Are we making a mistake trusting him?” she asked, “If things go really wrong on Monday, our lives are going to be in Devian’s hands.” Ian sipped tea and studied her. “Why are you worried?” he asked, “Are you sensing something? Has the Blade given you reason to mistrust him?” Sara shook her head. “No. Nothing like that,” she responded, “I guess I’m just nervous because of who he is, what he is.” He frowned. “Dev loves you, Sara,” he replied, feeling a bit awkward defending his rival, “He would never hurt you.”

Sara picked up her coffee and headed to the library. Ian slipped from the counter and, picking up his tea, followed her. “Oh, yeah?” she threw over her shoulder, “What if he’s pissed at me for rejecting him? What if he decides to get rid of you so that he has no competition?” She dropped into an easy chair, adding glumly, “What if he decides to ditch us both and throw in with the enemy?” Ian sat in the easy chair across from her. Hannibal pressed his huge head against his master’s leg and Ian scratched the big dog behind the ears. “Then he’s a hell of an actor,” Ian replied, “Because he has me completely fooled. I believe that he loves you and that he wants to be my brother. He didn’t want to replace me as your lover, Sara; he wanted us to share your love. Now that he understands that neither you nor I will accept that, he’s trying to come to terms with it. I don’t see him betraying us to get revenge or to try to manipulate your affection. He’s smart enough to know that wouldn’t work.” She ducked her head to drink more coffee. “I hope you’re right,” she mumbled into the mug. Ian studied her curiously. He didn’t understand her distrust of Devian. He could see no reason for it; no action that his brother had taken that would prompt such a response from her. It made no sense. “I guess that we’ll just have to wait and see,” he suggested, letting it go, “Our options are limited.”

Shifting direction, Ian said, “There’s something else that we need to talk about.” Sara lifted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Your friends,” Ian added, “Vicki, Danny and his family, Jake. We need to make plans to keep them safe so that they can’t be used to influence you and the Witchblade.” She frowned. “How can we protect them?” she asked, “They’re all so exposed. Anyone could take them.” He hesitated, knowing that she was going to hate this. “We can’t protect them as they are,” he agreed, “The only way that we can ensure their protection is to move them into a safe environment.” She looked at him wide-eyed. “Oh, shit,” she murmured. Ian smiled wryly. “I’m going to have to tell Danny and Jake about the Witchblade,” she said, “Aren’t I?” He nodded. “Oh, shit,” she repeated. He leaned forward, folding his hands on his crossed legs. “It gets better,” he said, “You’re going to have to do it tomorrow.” She put her coffee mug on the table beside her with a bang. She stood and started to pace. “Crap, crap, crap,” she raged, then stopped and turned to face him, “And what if nothing happens on Monday? It will have all been for nothing.” Uncrossing his long legs, Ian leaned further forward to catch her hand and hold it. “Do you want to take that chance?” he asked, “They’re your friends. It’s your decision.” She squeezed his hand before pulling away from him to resume pacing. Sara stopped in front of the fireplace, looking down into the flames. “No, of course not,” she murmured, “Of course I can’t take that chance – because they are my friends.” She turned back to look at him, adding, “But I don’t have to like it, do I?”

Ian shrugged fatalistically. “I didn’t expect that you would,” he replied, “Why not come with me to the dojo tomorrow afternoon? Danny will be there. You can talk to him then. I’ll be your moral support.” Sara sat again, shutting her eyes briefly. “If things go south, the whole family will have to be hidden, won’t they? The kids will miss school. Lee’s pregnant. Their entire life will be disrupted just because they are my friends,” she whispered, “It sucks.” She opened her eyes again and stared at her bracelet malevolently. Ian watched her, wishing that he could help but not knowing what to say to make it easier. Sara sighed deeply and said, “I should talk to them both together, Lee and Danny. I’ll go over there tomorrow morning. I’ll call him now.” Ian glanced at his watch and said, “It’s late.” She shrugged. “It’s Saturday night,” she replied, “Dan will still be up. I better do it while I still have the guts to commit myself.” When she turned to go to the hall to get her cell from the table by the door, Ian quickly stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms. He hugged her tightly and Sara returned the hug, pressing her face into his shoulder. “I’m sorry, love,” she heard him whisper against her hair. Her voice muffled against his sweater, she murmured, “Not your fault. Just another fun day in Witchbladeland. I did think, though, that all this would stop for a little while when Irons died.”

Ian stroked her hair gently. “Maybe it has,” he soothed, “Maybe we’re just being paranoid. Maybe nothing unusual will happen on Monday.” Sara lifted her head and looked up into his luminous, golden eyes. “But you don’t think you’re being paranoid, do you?” she asked resignedly. He sighed and dropped his hand to brush his knuckles across her cheek. “No,” he agreed, “I don’t.” She nodded and stepped back out of his embrace. “I better go call Danny then,” she said. Sara turned and headed into the hall. Ian sighed. Hannibal butted his cold nose against his master’s hand and whined softly. Scratching the animal’s head, he said, “We’ll have to see about you too, won’t we, boy?” He turned his head to take in the Siamese cat stretched full length by the fireplace and added, “You and Clarice.” Hannibal gave a low woof, as if in agreement.

A moment later, Sara returned. “Ten in the morning,” she replied to his questioning look, “They’re giving me breakfast. Let’s hope we all don’t choke on it.” He smiled. “Do you want me to drive you?” he asked. She shook her head. “Nah,” she responded, “You have to take Vicki to the mansion and you have your classes at the dojo in the afternoon. I think I can get there and back on my own. Will you fill Vicki in?” Ian nodded, then asked with just the slightest edge, “What about your other partner?” Sara grimaced. “I’m going to take the coward’s route with Jake and ask Danny to talk to him,” she replied. He smiled, understanding her reluctance. Ian moved to her side and pulled her close. He bent to press his lips to hers, his tongue sliding slowly across her bottom lip to tease the soft tissue just inside it. Sara felt a flash of heat ignite and roll down her body to pool between her legs. Caught off guard, a tiny moan escaped her and Ian grinned. “Time for bed?” he asked seductively. She pushed her hands up under his sweater, tracing the whip scars on his back with the tips of her fingers, as if she were reading Braille. He sighed and arched back against her hands, loving the feel of her touch. Pressing her body tightly against him, Sara went up on her toes to open her mouth full against his, her tongue darting to dance with his. When they finally separated, panting loudly, they were both fully aroused and barely restraining themselves. “Time for bed,” she gasped, answering the question he had asked several minutes before.

They were almost to the sleeping loft, Sara ahead and leading Ian by the hand, when she stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh my god,” she gasped. Ian stiffened, automatically going into assassin mode and pivoting to study the shadows. He frowned, finding nothing wrong and relaxed a trifle. “What is it?” he asked guardedly. She had turned back to face him and he could see that her eyes were troubled. “Gabriel,” she responded, “We forgot about Gabriel.” Ian sighed. “Of course,” he thought, “Young Mr. Bowman.” Sara was right. Gabriel Bowman would also be in danger. They had to make plans for him as well. She had dropped his hand but now she took it again in hers. “Will you…?” she asked tentatively. She was proceeding with caution because the relationship between Ian and Gabriel had always been a bit dicey. There was no overt hostility like there was between Ian and Jake, but they approached each other with a sort of testy tolerance; not enemies, but certainly not friends either. And, just to make things even more interesting, there was a dollop of jealousy thrown in as well – probably on both sides. She hadn’t spoken much with Gabe since she and Ian had become lovers but he knew about the relationship and quietly oozed disapproval. On Ian’s part, she had always sensed a certain resentment that she had sought out Gabriel’s insights into the Witchblade while she had been unwilling to even listen to anything that Ian had to say on the subject. The best that could be said about the way the two men interacted was that it made her uncomfortable.

Sara suddenly realized that Ian hadn’t answered her. Worse, he now had that stillness about him that she knew meant that all the intricate little gears and levers in his marvelous mind were going full tilt. She stared up into eyes that had turned smoky amber and filled with that faraway look he got when he was deep in thought. Sara sighed and observed, “I’m afraid to ask what you’re thinking.” Ian turned his head at the sound of her voice and he was back, his eyes rich golden again and clear. “If there is trouble, it might be useful to keep Mr. Bowman with us,” he pointed out, “He could prove to be very useful.” It was not what she had expected, although she wasn’t sure what that was. “With us,” she attempted to clarify, “You mean in some safe location with you and me.” Ian nodded. “And Devian,” he added. Her mind went into overload. There was a long pause before she croaked, “You’re suggesting that you, Devian, Gabriel, and me be tucked away together for an indeterminate period of time in a secure location. I assume that also means limited contact with the outside world.”

Sensing the strain in her voice, Ian studied her curiously and nodded. Sara snorted. “It might just be simpler to let our enemies have us,” she decided. Ian frowned. “I don’t understand,” he replied. She looked at his face. He really didn’t. “You want to lock me up with enough testosterone to power the city of New York for a month,” she explained, “I’m not sure that even the Witchblade would be a match for that. The undercurrents in a situation like that boggle the mind.” Ian tilted his head. “We will be focused on fighting a common enemy,” he said, “All our energies will be channeled into what must be done to bring things back to normal, to get our lives back. There won’t be time for ‘undercurrents’.” Sara smirked, a single dark brow lifting skeptically. “Right,” she drawled. Ian shrugged. “If you wish it, I can find another place for Mr. Bowman,” he responded stiffly, “It was just a thought. With his knowledge of the arcane and his skill with computers, he would be a formidable ally. I will, however, leave the decision in your hands. You are the Wielder and he is your friend.” Sara sighed again. Ian had a point. Gabriel could break into any computer system, regardless of the firewalls or other security. If they had some time on their hands, maybe he could also help them figure out the Witchblade’s hidden agenda. Still, she wasn’t comfortable just making that decision for Gabe. Tomorrow would be a busy day. She would have to go see him after she left Danny’s place. She would let Gabriel decide for himself where he wanted to be sequestered. Either way, she figured that he would be unhappy about having to leave his business and his home. Another life torn off its track because of a friendship with the Wielder. How could she ever hope to repay them, any of them, for what they were being forced to endure to be her friends?

Ian smiled wryly, reaching out a tentative hand to push a lock of hair gently back from her forehead. “Sort of put a damper on the mood, didn’t it?” he asked. For a moment, his comment passed right by her because her thoughts were still occupied with Gabriel. Then, it clicked. They had been on their way to bed; with no intention of sleeping for a while. With his usual perceptiveness, Ian was right, she realized; the talk of making her friends disappear and crowded safe houses had blown all her sexual desire right out the window. Sara lifted a shoulder, looking up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Sorry,” she murmured. He could probably get her back in the mood, but it would take some work, and she wasn’t sure that either of them was game for that at the moment. This whole miserable situation had certainly played hell with their sex life. When they had first become lovers, they had not been able to keep their hands off each other; they screwed like rabid bunnies. That seemed like such a long time ago now. Lately, they were lucky if they managed to make love a couple of times a week. If, come Monday, they did have to run and hide, things weren’t likely to get much better. It was going to be daunting trying to make love in a house full of listening ears – particularly when they were attached to a couple of jealous males. Right from the beginning of their relationship, there had always been someone watching, listening, interfering. What would it be like if they could be left alone to be together, just the two of them, with no one meddling in? Sara hoped that some day she might be able to find out.

His long fingers skimmed down her arm and Sara started. “Where did you just go?” Ian asked. She smiled. “Away from prying eyes and people with evil intent,” she said, “A place where you and I could be left alone together to do what we wanted.” He smiled now too. “Ah,” he replied, “Heaven.” She pushed a hand roughly through her hair. “I’d settle for a nice bed and breakfast,” she sighed. Ian pulled her into his arms and slanted a warm, firm kiss across her lips. Sara returned the kiss, sliding her arms around his slender waist. When she pulled back, she gazed up into his beautiful face. Smiling down at her, he promised, “When this is over, I’ll take you there. We’ll stay for a month and won’t even get out of bed the first week.” She dropped her head to his shoulder and shut her eyes. She breathed deeply, inhaling the sexy, clean male scent of him. “God, that sounds so good,” she whispered, “I want it right now.” His warm hand stroked her back soothingly. “I know you do,” he purred, “So do I. We’ll have it. I promise you that we will. You just have to be a little patient. We’ll get past this and, when we do, we’ll still have each other.” Sara pushed her hands up under his sweater and dug her fingers into his strong, warm back. “How can you be so certain?” she whispered, “How can you be so sure that everything will turn out alright?” She felt his face nuzzle into her hair; felt the tingle of his hot breath against her scalp. “How can you not be?” he countered softly. “What the hell,” she thought. She liked his vision better than her own. If it was ridiculously rosy, then so be it. She let herself fall into his surety like it was a warm blanket.

Sara burrowed her face into his neck, rubbing her cheek along the silky, crisp bristles of his beard. “Put me to bed?” she requested. She heard the smile in his voice when Ian responded, “Sure.” Her breath left her in a soft whoosh when he swung her up in his arms. She twined her arms around his neck, resting her face in the lovely hollow between his chin and shoulder. He was back on track again for the sleeping loft. “Will you undress me too?” she murmured. His laugh rumbled under her cheek. “With great pleasure,” Ian assured her, adding, “Hold on tight.” She had been starting to drowse. Now, her eyes opened wide and she clutched him tighter as her body canted to the side. He was climbing the ladder to the loft while holding her in his arms. She wouldn’t have believed that that was physically possible. His legs must have muscles like steel, she thought; which started an entirely new train of speculation. There was one tense moment where she thought that they were both going to tumble backwards the five or so feet to the floor below, but he managed to recover his balance in the nick of time. When he made it and started to carry her to the bed, she wanted to stop him and applaud. She fought down the impulse and just whispered instead, “I love you, monkey boy.” A sharp snort of laughter escaped him. “Monkey boy?” he asked, “Is that some sort of perverse endearment?” She nipped his neck and murmured, “You must have prehensile toes to have navigated that ladder the way you did. Hence, ‘monkey boy.’ And, yes, I do find that rather endearing.” He slid her down his body to stand on her own and left his warm hands resting on her hips. “Monkey boy, it is then,” he replied, bending to rub his nose against hers, “I love you too.”

Ian leaned around her to turn down the bed. Then, he quickly and methodically stripped her, tossing her clothes on the chair to be dealt with in the morning. Sara was half asleep when he gently pushed her down on to the bed and tucked her in. She stretched and then wriggled around on the bed with a delighted purr. “You changed the sheets,” she sighed, “When did you do that?” He smiled, pleased that she had noticed. “This morning,” he replied. With another soft sound of pleasure, she added, “I don’t deserve you.” Ian laughed as he stripped off his clothing, tossing the discarded garments on the chair with hers. “How do you mean that?” he asked, teasing. Still arching against the clean sheets, she pushed her face into the pillow and replied, “Only in the most positive way. Come to bed.” Naked, he slipped into the bed beside her. With a contented sigh, Sara wrapped herself around the long, hard-muscled length of him. Sara made another low, purring sound. The feeling of his hot, silky skin pressed tight against hers was delightful. She ran one hand slowly from his ribs down to rest on his angular hip. “Night, baby,” she whispered, eyes closing. Concentrating on deep breathing exercises to try and quell the lust that was now rampaging through him, Ian almost didn’t hear her. Resigning himself to the fact that sleep would be a long time coming and only after a battle for control, he grated, “Good night, love,” through gritted teeth.

Sara stretched and groaned. Something had woken her. It wasn’t even light yet. She rolled over and slammed into the substantial obstacle of Ian’s broad back; his warm, bare back – delicious. Hearing again the sound that must have driven her from sleep, Sara looked up. Rain was pounding against the skylight above her. It was pouring. She snuggled deeper under the covers and decided not to think about having to go out in that torrential downpour later. Right now, she was warm and dry. She moved nearer to Ian until she could feel the heat pouring off his naked body. Pressing her cheek against his scarred back, she ran one hand slowly down his spine. She dipped her fingers in his dimples as her hand slid lower until her palm firmly cupped his smooth, rounded bottom. Ian had the best butt of any man that she had ever known; except for, maybe, Devian – which was a thought that she quickly pushed away. Each cheek was a perfect handful and he felt so good; long, taut muscles under silken skin. Sara squeezed and kneaded him shamelessly until he made a soft, contented sound. His body arched a little in a languid stretch and supple muscles shifted under her stroking fingers. Another sound emerged from her lover like a low growl of pleasure, then his husky voice floated back to her, “What are you doing down there? What are you up to, I wonder?” Sara smiled and answered, “No good, that’s what I’m up to.” He responded with a velvety purr and a sexy chuckle. “I don’t know,” he contradicted, “Feels plenty good to me. Of course, if you could work those fingers around to the front, it might feel even better.”

Talk about shameless, she thought. Pressing tight against his long, warm back, Sara slid her hand over his angular hip bone and dropped it into the hollow just above his groin. Still smiling, she stopped there and extended her fingers just far enough to skim the edge of the downy pelt guarding his sex. His body tensed with excitement as he waited for her fingers to grasp him, hold him. When that didn’t happen, Ian took matters into his own hands. He rolled back toward her in one swift, fluid movement so that her hand suddenly rested directly on his hardening shaft. She snorted. “Is there something that you want, Mr. Nottingham?” she asked wryly. He kept rolling over until he faced her. Ian bent to capture her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, sliding his arched tongue along hers. One long-fingered hand closed over hers, tightening her fingers around him. When he pulled back, panting slightly, he whispered, “Yes. I want you to touch me, Ms. Pezzini. Is that clear enough for you?” She laughed softly and started to stroke him as Ian captured her mouth in another torrid kiss. As they separated again, she gasped, “Is that acceptable?” He gave a soft growl of agreement, his own hands getting busy, before he amended, “A bit harder would be nice.” Sara bent forward, licking and then nipping the sensitive skin just below his ear; but she obliged him by caressing him harder. As he gasped from the double assault on his senses, she teased, “Picky, picky.”

Ian grasped the underside of Sara’s thigh and drew her leg up high to drape her calf over his slender hip. With her legs spread wide, he had a lot of room to use those long, artist’s fingers to good advantage. He found that Sara was already wet with desire when he pushed two stiffened fingers into her slick slit and slid them downward to plunge deep inside her. Her body arched against him in response to the delicious intrusion. When his calloused thumb began to skillfully stroke her clit, she moaned and her interior muscles clamped tight around the fingers that were moving slowly within her. Caught up in the pleasure that he was giving her, her hand was now gripping him spasmodically as she worked his thick erection. Ian hissed, wincing at her rigid grasp on his member. “Could you loosen up just a touch, love?” he asked. Through a fog of lust, Sara realized just how hard she was holding him. She eased her grip immediately and he gave a soft sigh of relief. Teasing him, she murmured, “Not hard enough, too hard. You need to make up your mind what it is that you want, ace.”

Ian bent forward to take her nipple in his hot mouth. He sucked strongly and played with the small nub of sensitive flesh, rolling it between his tongue and teeth. When he lifted his head again, his eyes had that dangerous, golden jungle-cat glow. “I know exactly what I want,” he purred huskily, “I want you.” Sara was preparing a snappy answer when he pushed the intensity of his skillful touch up a notch. The ability to form coherent thought proved elusive as the compelling pull of an impending orgasm claimed her. Scant seconds later, she came with her whole body straining against him and around him; calling out his name in a breathless whimper. Sara was still limp and flushed with reaction when he moved her hand from around him, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss, and dropping it to his shoulder. She lifted her head to look at him with glazed, passion-drunk eyes. Ian bent forward to give her a long, languid kiss as he shifted her body closer to him, drawing her leg higher. She was focused on their mouths sliding and nibbling against each other, their tongues twining, when she felt him enter her with one strong, deep thrust. The wonderful sensation of being filled so completely caused her to arch, sinuously stretching out the muscles of her lithe body and clamping tightly around him where he was sheathed inside her. Action and reaction made them both groan in unison. Sara had to break the kiss to catch her breath. When she could form words, she rasped, “God, baby, that feels wonderful.”

Ian smiled and began to pump his hips, very slowly. It did feel wonderful, he thought; then wondered if he could make it even better. While he was speculating about the possibilities, Sara pushed him over on his back and took over. He grinned and thought, “Oops. Too slow.” She braced her hands on his shoulders for leverage and clamped muscular thighs against his slim hips. Frowning in concentration, she locked her inner muscles strongly around him and felt him jump and, impossibly, grow larger deep inside her. Her eyes widened as she looked down at him and his grin went wicked. The hard shoulder under her hand lifted in a tiny shrug. Sara grinned back at him and started to move, gripping tightly while pushing herself back and forth along the long, slippery length of his rigid shaft. Awash in sensation, Ian shut his eyes and clamped his warm hands on her hips to help her push against him. He grunted softly as his hips lifted up off the mattress to meet each of her downward strokes, pushing him even further into her heated depths. The speed of their coupling imperceptibly increased as the demanding pull of release began to drive them. She was looking at his beautiful face, flushed now with passion, when his feline eyes opened wide, dark amber and blazing up at her with smoldering heat. It was as if the door of a furnace had suddenly opened and the blast of sensual steam took her breath away. A low, strangled cry emerged from deep in his throat and Ian tightened his grip, rolling Sara over onto her back. On top and in control, Ian balanced on his strong arms and increased both the speed and power of his thrusts, almost pummeling her and piercing so far within her that it was nearly dangerous.

Whatever danger there might be, Sara was oblivious to it because all her awareness was consumed by the wild, seductive pleasure of their love making. She wrapped her arms and legs around Ian, clinging to him desperately as he plunged into her. As they neared climax, they were both straining rigidly against the other, muscles clenching and unclenching in sharp relief. The sounds of their own erotic storm echoed against the low susurration of the storm outside; Sara’s high, aching cries of need a sharp counterpoint to Ian’s staccato, guttural grunts. Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, nails digging into his skin, Sara suddenly came with a piercing shriek; her muscles spasmed as the orgasm crested deep within her and sent ripples of ecstasy rolling outward. Her visceral response tipped Ian over the edge and with a final hard thrust he came, spurting his hot seed into her center. His taut-muscled body bowed as he strained toward her, loosing a hoarse cry and dropping his sweaty head on her shoulder. Several moments passed before either of them moved. Then, Sara stiffly unlocked her legs from around his hips and gingerly stretched them out to either side of him. She dropped one hand to the sheets and slid the other up his sweat-slicked back to push it into his damp, tangled mop of hair.

Ian hadn’t moved a muscle although his labored panting still sounded in the still air. Sara could feel his heart pounding against her. He was starting to feel heavy; resting as dead weight on top of her. She dug her fingers into his thick, wet curls and whispered, “Are you doing okay or have I finally fucked you to death?” She felt his hot breath against her neck as he laughed softly. Ian shakily pushed up on his arms and looked down at her. His lambent eyes were still amber dark with passion. Combined with his flushed cheeks and tousled curls, he was breathtaking. “It would take more than that to do me in,” he said, voice husky, “Want to take another stab at it?” Ian was still sheathed within her and now he punctuated his question with a sexy grind of his hips. Sara smiled up at her beautiful lover, moving her hands over the finely ridged scars on his back and sliding them down until each one cupped a warm butt cheek. She tightened her grip and pulled him against her where they were still locked together at the groin. “Are you sure that you’re up for that?” she asked teasingly, massaging him with her internal muscles and wriggling her hips. His response was immediate. He shut his eyes and moaned, sensual lips parting. A tremor ran through the arms that were holding him above her and, for a moment, she wondered whether he was about to drop his full weight on her again. The arms held but the tremor continued to shiver all the way through him. A moment later, she felt him move inside her and begin to harden again. His eyes opened, bright and burning with carnality. In seconds, he was fully erect. “I guess you’re up for it alright,” she answered herself.

When Ian pulled out of her with a soft, wet smack and rolled to the side, she quickly turned her head to look at him, startled and disappointed. “What’s the matter?” Sara protested. He smiled back at her, a lusty gleam in his golden eyes. “Nothing,” he replied, “Turn over on your stomach.” Understanding now that he wasn’t stopping but was only shifting positions, she eagerly did as he asked, grabbing one of the pillows and pushing it under her hips to elevate them. Her breathing started to deepen in anticipation of having him inside her again. Sara didn’t have long to wait. She felt his warmth radiating against the full length of her back, felt his arm slip around her to pull her back against his hot, bare skin. Then, he was pushing deep inside her, filling her again. Sara gasped when his long finger found her clit and began rubbing it delicately. She moaned softly, dropping her chest to the bed and raising her hips high, pushing back up against his thrusts. Her fingers clutched the pillow under her face as she shut her eyes, giving herself over to the exquisite pleasure he was giving her. Impossibly, it was even better than before. The angle at which their bodies were coming together allowed him to stroke against a spot that shot bone-melting bliss through her every time he touched it; which he was managing to do with each penetration. The only problem was that, between the combined touch of his talented finger and the strokes of his well-endowed shaft, she was hurtling toward another orgasm and she didn’t want it to end that quickly; she wanted it to last a while because it felt so, so good.

Sara fought to keep control, to keep the pleasure coming, but it was to no avail. The orgasm slammed into her like a freight train and she strained up off the mattress, arching her body against his and wailing like a banshee. Ian wasn’t quite there yet, so he kept pumping into her. She had gone limp under him once the climax has loosened its grip on her. Now, he shifted her beneath him so that he could start to caress her again. Still tingling and panting in reaction to the last orgasm, Sara felt her body begin to gather itself for another round. “Oh god,” she gasped, husky voice muffled by the pillow, “You really are going to fuck me to death, aren’t you?” She was shaking from head to foot in response to his renewed stimulation of her already overloaded nerve endings. She could hear the amusement in his crushed velvet voice when he replied matter-of-factly, “I honestly don’t think that’s possible, Sara; at least, not with the equipment that I currently have available. But I only want to give you pleasure, of course. I can get where I’m going here quickly or slowly. Do you want me to speed it up?”

It flitted through her mind that Ian had come a very long way from the virgin in the hot tub. Sara pushed up on her arms and turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder. Hair wild, cheeks flushed, and body sheened with sweat, he loomed behind her like some glorious, larger-than-life, god of sex – Eros incarnate. “Speed it up and I’ll kill you myself,” she told him dryly, “I’ll manage to keep up. Take your time. I wouldn’t want to rush a master at his work.” He grinned at her wickedly. Her heart jittered and sped up from the sensual promise in that expression. “Buckle your seat belt, ma’am,” he warned playfully, “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.” Sara gave a weak approximation of a rodeo yell and readied herself before turning her face back into the pillow. She was startled when the arm he had draped around her tightened to lift her until she was raised up on all fours to balance on her elbows and knees. “Brace yourself,” he instructed. She did as she was told feeling a little shiver of excitement. Ian was becoming very inventive in his lovemaking and was starting to take her places that she had never been before. “Drop your chest back down to the bed,” he directed. She did that too, thinking that she must look ridiculous with her butt sticking up in the air. It didn’t matter because the thought was immediately overridden by the sensation of his burning, engorged member pushing farther inside her than it had ever been before. He felt huge within the slick, sensitive sheath of her tunnel and she wondered whether the prurient position in which they were locked had made him even harder.

Sara embarrassed herself by wishing that there was a mirror on the wall of the sleeping loft so that she could watch them as Ian started to really let loose. Before she succumbed completely to sensation, she wondered when she had become so wanton. Then, all restraint and inhibition fled as she gave herself over to the sheer feeling of what he was doing to her. They were both already firmly held in the sensual undertow of a building orgasm so slow and easy went out the window. Ian gripped her hips hard with warm, splayed fingers and pounded into her for all he was worth. His own hips pistoned with the smooth, balletic grace of a trajectory that took him from being poised at the edge of her opening to being embedded in her up to the hilt. Sara shut her eyes and held her body still for him. She didn’t try to push herself against him to make it better; he was doing just fine on his own. Instead, she concentrated on clamping every muscle she had around him to hold him still inside her. She didn’t succeed; they were both way too wet and slippery for that. However, she did manage to slow him down a bit and to create an absolutely delicious friction between them. “Oh lordy, lordy, Eeeeeeeannnn!” she gasped, giving his name three syllables, “Don’t stop!” Skin slapping skin echoed through the loft. From somewhere behind and above her, his tight voice drifted down between the strained, irregular grunts that he was emitting. “Stop? Are you nuts?” he rasped, “You’d have to emasculate me to stop me now!”

Sara didn’t want it to end. She had never felt such incredible pleasure, not even with the Witchblade. That thought wormed its way past the haze of lust in her brain and made her drag her right hand from beneath the pillow. Although the red stone in her bracelet was roiling with sensuous, deep red swirls, it wasn’t flashing carnelian rays the way it had when it was controlling the action. It was obviously affected by their frenzied coupling; but it wasn’t driving them, it was just a happily besotted passenger along for the ride. Then, multicolored lights were exploding behind her eyelids and the center of her body melted in what felt like a volcanic eruption. Unable to stop herself, Sara screamed and pushed her body back against the solidity of Ian as incandescent blasts of exquisite pleasure burst deep within her, constricting her vaginal tunnel around him and sending powerful quivers of erotic intensity all up and down that tight sheathe. That was more than he was able to withstand. With every inch of him imprisoned within her, Ian came hard. His whole body tensed and with a hoarse bellow, his hot seed shot into her like a fiery missile launched into a starless, midnight sky. Tremors ran through him as her muscles convulsed around him, drawing the last drop of semen from his now flaccid member.

Like a monumental edifice collapsing, Ian dropped, his long body falling to drape itself over her arched back as a human garment. To continue the domino effect, Sara collapsed under his weight, her body pan caking to lie flat on the bed with her lover spread full length along her back. For several minutes, she laid still as if she had expired, feeling the aftershocks of that incredible series of orgasms still pulsing through her body. Then she realized that it was hard to breathe. Ian was spread on top of her like an electric blanket, warm and cozy. The only problem was that he was heavy as hell and she was dragging in each new breath as if she were using a respirator. She could tell from where his mouth rested by the back of her right ear that his breathing had slowed and evened out. In fact, it sounded like he might have fallen asleep in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Well, that was just too bad. He could go back to sleep if he wanted to after he got off of her. “Ian,” she said, voice raised only a little. There was no response. His even breath continued to ruffle against the back of her ear. She said his name a little louder and was rewarded with a slight tremor passing through the long body prone on her back. It was like he was drugged, she thought, smiling in spite of herself; drunk on sex. “Nottingham,” she called sharply, adding a slight edge to her voice. This time, the response was immediate. She heard his breath catch and felt him stiffen against her. A moment later, he pulled out of her with a soft, wet sound and rolled to her side.

Sara turned her head to find big, golden tiger eyes looking back at her. Ian was still flushed from their sexual marathon but he looked contrite. “You fell asleep on me,” she accused. His lips twitched in a nervous smile. “I know,” he acknowledged, “I’m sorry. I never do that. I don’t know what came over me.” She frowned in mock severity, teasing him. “Nothing came over you, sport,” she prodded, “Something came under you. That was me. Do I need to introduce myself?” The wide, golden eyes narrowed as he studied her carefully. “It’s Detective Pezzini, isn’t it?” he asked mockingly, adding, “That was you?” Her snarky response was drowned out by a loud clap of thunder. Ian glanced up in shock to stare at the torrents of water washing over the skylight above them. “It’s raining,” he said, surprised. Sara laughed and stretched out her hand to push a damp curl back from his forehead. “No shit,” she replied, “It’s been pouring like that for the last couple of hours.” The look of surprise on his face intensified. “You’re kidding,” he said, “Right?” She shook her head, amused at his consternation. “No, Mr. Highly-Trained, Super-Observant Black Dragon, I am not kidding,” she replied, “It was pouring when I woke up. It was the noise of the rain that woke me. You must have been pretty preoccupied to miss it.” Ian leaned over to nuzzle against her cheek, his beard tickling her skin. “You obviously bewitched me,” he murmured against her ear. She snorted and turned her face to run her tongue along the edges of his sensuous lips. After rubbing noses with him, she pulled back to look in his jungle-cat eyes and whisper, “That’s me. Seductress extraordinaire. I made you so besotted with desire that your surroundings simply faded into insignificance.”

Ian smiled and bent forward to slant a firm kiss across her parted lips. “That sounds about right,” he agreed, “I was utterly lost in you. The word ‘besotted’ may be a bit mild for what you seem to do to me though.” Sara tilted her head, studying him curiously. “I was kidding,” she explained. His smile broadened into a grin. “I wasn’t,” he responded. He reached out to stroke her cheek gently with his knuckles, adding, “I love you so much, want you so badly, that sometimes, when we’re together, everything else just seems to fade away. The whole world narrows down to your skin, your eyes, your smell, your voice…just you. You know?” She wanted to reassure him, to let him know that she felt that way about him too; but that sort of confession made Sara intensely uncomfortable. So, she just left it at, “Yeah. I know. I love you too.” His shoulder lifted a fraction. He knew she wasn’t about to make that kind of admission to him. “Bummer,” he observed. Her eyes widened. “What?” she asked. This time the shrug was more pronounced. “Having to go out in this weather,” he said, “All the errands that we have to run today. It would be nice to just stay in bed together, make love, and listen to the rain.” Sara relaxed again and smiled. She shut her eyes and stretched luxuriously, feeling deliciously sated, satisfied. Opening her eyes again, longing in their green depths, she agreed, “That would be lovely. Unfortunately, all hell may break loose tomorrow and today is all we have to prepare for it.” He sighed and rolled on to his back. “Yes. There is that,” he responded, resigned.

It was still dark in the bedroom, but Sara suddenly realized that that might be more a product of the weather than the time of day. His body blocked her view of the clock on the bedside table. “What time is it?” she asked him. Ian turned his head to the side and then looked back at her. “7:45,” he told her. She visibly relaxed. She had to be at Danny’s place for breakfast by ten. She still had time to shower and dress without rushing. “What would I have to do to get you to make some coffee?” she asked. He grinned evilly. Her mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding,” she said, “You can’t want to jump my bones again. We’d cripple each other. You are kidding. Right?” He bent over to nip her bare shoulder. When he lifted his head, his eyes were full of mischief. “Yes,” he agreed, “I’m kidding. I’d be glad to make you some coffee. I have to go feed the animals anyway.” Sara fluttered her eyelashes at him and declared, “You are the light of my life, ace.” He snorted. “Yeah, yeah,” he responded, slipping out of bed and sauntering to the bathroom to get his robe from the back of the door. She ogled his perfect ass as it moved away from her. From behind the bathroom door, his dry comment floated back to her. “Make spectacular sex with the woman and she barely turns a hair,” he complained to no one in particular, “But offer to make her coffee and she’s ready to lay her riches at your feet.” Sara smiled. “That’s because ‘the woman’ has a good grasp of what is truly important,” she murmured.

Ian came out of the bathroom wearing his old, white terry robe. “What did you say?” he asked. She was still smiling. “That you’re very perceptive and that you make a mean pot of coffee,” she replied. He tilted his head and studied her. “Liar,” he replied, his grin softening the word. She gave him a Hannibal face and begged, “Coffee?” He held up his hands in defense and cried, “I’m going. I’m going. Put ‘the face’ away.” She laughed as he vaulted off the sleeping loft and headed toward the kitchen with Hannibal lumbering at his heels. Sara stretched again, her whole body still tingling from their glorious orgy. She finally gathered enough momentum to launch herself from the bed and head toward the shower. She had breakfast with the Woos in two hours. She had to convince them to uproot their children and leave their home because a maniac was still trying to steal her magic bracelet, even from the grave. A wry smile touched her lips as she turned on the shower. Just business as usual in Witchbladeland, she thought.

Once Sara had left for the drive to Danny’s house, Ian had another cup of tea before he showered and dressed. Then, he headed downstairs to talk to Vicki. There was a long pause after he knocked on her door. He was getting ready to knock again when the door opened. Vicki stood, quietly studying him for a few moments before she greeted him with a knowing smile. “Want some tea?” she asked, knowing his preference. One more cup and he would probably slosh when he walked, Ian thought. Aloud, he said, “That would be nice. Thanks. What was the look for?” Vicki headed into the kitchen. He followed her. She turned her head and smiled at him as she flicked the heat on under the kettle. “You really want to know?” she asked. He shrugged, frowning. She turned and faced him, folding her arms across her chest. “You have that morning-after look, Ian,” she said, “It’s plastered all over you. You got laid and it was really good. You might as well be wearing a sign.” His mouth dropped open and he just looked at her, dumbfounded. “How…?” he started before his mouth snapped shut and he caught himself. He cleared his throat and felt a blush creeping up to heat his cheeks. Vicki smiled and waved a hand. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “I’ve embarrassed you.” He cleared his throat again and said in a slightly strangled voice, “No. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

The kettle shrieked and they both started. Vicki turned her back to Ian to prepare a pot of tea, a small smile teasing her lips. She put the pot on a tray with a couple of mugs and turned with it in her hands. Eyes down, Ian took the tray from her and carried it to the dining room table. He put the tray on the table and stood still, head lowered. She sat down and looked up at him. “Sit,” she said. He sat. Vicki poured the tea. She sipped and waited for him to speak. He finally lifted his head and asked, “How?” His eyes were still not meeting hers. She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied, “It’s just a look that people get that’s easy to recognize. I don’t think I could define it very clearly. It’s sort of loose and satisfied. You know what I mean?” He shook his head, looking bewildered. Now, she shrugged. “It’s nothing to get bent out of shape over,” she said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Ian shook his head, willing himself to let it go. When he dragged his attention back to her, he realized that she had just said something and that he had missed it. “Sorry?” he asked. There was a brief pause before she repeated, “I said: ‘Is Dev expecting us?’” Ian shook his head again. “I haven’t called him yet,” he replied, “There’s something that I need to talk to you about first.” A tiny chill ran through as she thought, “What now?” Aloud, she said, “Okay. Let me have it.”

Rather succinctly, Ian explained to Vicki the possibilities of what could happen the following day and told her that she might have to be relocated for an indeterminate period of time. She took it very well. All in all, her life had been pretty predictable for quite a while and she saw this departure as a welcome adventure. He got a vague sense of what she was feeling and felt compelled to remind her of the potential danger hovering around them all. She put a damper on her excitement because she didn’t want Ian to think she was weird. Vicki tried out her best expression of concern and asked, “So, are we all going to set up housekeeping together – you, Sara, Dev, and me?” A titillating montage of images swam in her brain: Dev heading toward the shower clad only in a low-slung towel; Dev making his morning tea clad only in low-slung pajama pants; Dev…This time, she had done it. He had said something that she missed completely. Now, she put on her polite face. “Pardon?” she asked. Ian frowned. He had noticed Vicki’s eyes glaze over and then fill with…what? Lust? He had recently seen that gleam in Sara’s eyes and knew it well. What the hell had she been thinking? If there was eroticism in their predicament, it escaped him. He cleared his throat and repeated what he had just said, “It isn’t safe for all of us to be housed together. I’ve secured a safe house for Danny and his family, as well as separate places for you and Detective McCarty. Sara, Devian, and I – and perhaps Mr. Bowman, if he agrees – will be housed together at a sort of command center. That way, we can work together to resolve the situation so that we can all go back to our normal lives.”

Vicki frowned, thinking, “Oh, yeah? Well, fuck that, buster! That’s what you think.” Noticing the frown, Ian asked, “Is something wrong?” She, of course, knew better than to throw a monkey wrench into his carefully laid plans. It wouldn’t do to give him any advance warning that she had no intention of being stuck in some safe, little nest by her lonesome. She wanted to be where the action was and she intended to get what she wanted. She would simply listen to what he had to say and then, just as carefully, make her own plans. If she was in the right place at the wrong time, they would have no choice but to take her with them. After all, it wasn’t as if she were dead weight. She could turn out to be useful to them; she was a doctor and that was a useful skill to have around when people were trying to kill you. She was yanked out of her pleasant reverie by something that he had just said. “What?” she asked, “What did you call them?” He tilted his head and grinned. She caught her breath when the unconscious gesture reminded her forcefully of Devian. “My network of helpers?” he asked. She nodded. “It’s not what I call them – well, it is now. It’s what they call themselves. They call themselves the “Notties.” Vicki snorted. “That’s kind of cute,” she observed. He shrugged, a little embarrassed.

“So,” Vicki said, making sure she had it down, “If the shit hits the fan tomorrow, one of these “Notties” will show up at the morgue and snatch me away to my safe house. Is that it?” Ian nodded. “Megan is assigned to protect you and get you safely away,” he continued. Vicki winced “Jeez,” she complained, “You couldn’t assign me some hot, marshal artsy stud named Butch? You give me a powder puff named Megan?” Ian tried to look stern. “This isn’t a game, Vicki,” he admonished, then relented, grinning, “And Megan could probably wipe the floor with ‘Butch’.” She shrugged, pouting. “Be that as it may,” she ragged, “It’s hardly the same.” This time, he really frowned. Ian was starting to get pissed. “You need to start taking this seriously, Dr. Po,” he chastised her, “If you don’t, someone is going to get hurt.” She slipped on contrition as if it were a glove. “Of course,” she replied, apparently cowed, “I understand that this is serious. I’ll do what I should.” He studied her, sensing an undercurrent but unable to identify it. It made him uneasy. Still, he let it go; he had to because there were too many other things that required his attention. Ian had to trust that each of the players in the piece he was choreographing would follow the steps that they were given. It was the best that he could do. Finally, he asked, “Any questions?” Vicki shook her head. He smiled and nodded. “Good,” he replied, “I’ll call Dev now and let him know we’re on our way.”

Vicki smiled, anticipating her day with Devian. She gathered up their dishes and headed back to the kitchen as Ian pulled his cell phone from his pocket. As she rinsed out the pot and mugs, she listened to his side of the conversation. After a long delay, she heard him say, “Dev?” worry edging his voice. Ian continued, “Are you alright?” “Because you sound funny.” “Okay. Did you get the plans?” “Good.” “Damn it, Devian. What’s wrong with you? Talk to me.” “No. I’m coming over. No. Don’t hang up.” Silence. A few moments later, he was in the kitchen doorway. She turned to him, frowning, and saw a similar expression on his face. “Dev doesn’t want me to come over today,” Ian said. She nodded, having gathered that much from his side of the conversation. “So, what are we going to do?” she asked. He sighed. “Go anyway,” he replied stoically. It was the answer that she had expected and she immediately went to get her coat. He met her by the door. “How are you going to get him to let us in?” she asked. Ian grimaced. “I’ll figure that out when we get there,” he logically replied, “Ready?” She nodded and they left the loft. Vicki smiled thinking that the Big Black Dragon was about to beard the Little Black Dragon in his den. As she slipped into the sleek, black jag, trying to stay dry under the umbrella Ian held over her in the cascading rain, she was grinning. It should be quite a show, she thought, and she had a front row seat.