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C E D R I C
The rules surrounding the business that Cedric had set up were murky, at best. Papers had been signed, and Cedric was aware that the law might not be in his favour in certain areas. But he was careful, and advertising would be discreet. The women he had hired were all level-headed and understood that their presence would be a mystery – it would be part of the allure of what he had in mind. To those walking past Apollo Damona, it would look like just another bar (as if this city really needed one). To those in the know, however, and via word of mouth, they would know that the upstairs rooms had a little more to offer.

Downstairs, the circular bar took up the centre of the room; one had to walk down a few steps to get there. On the three sides of the building were stages, also circular in nature. The lights were dim and mostly tinged red. Cedric, who had a thing for the past, had applied a Western theme with a late 1800s vibe. Staff consisted of the women upstairs as well as burlesque dancers – a classy club, where clothes were never fully removed unless in the privacy of the rooms upstairs, and even then only if the women agreed to it.

The design was all mostly still in place when Cedric had bought the venue; it had been a strip club beforehand, but had been closed down for ethical reasons. The place had become dilapidated, and Cedric had forked out enough money to spruce it up and make it look new again. Well, new in a vintage way.

Slow jazz played in the background; he’d even invested in one of those self-playing pianos. He sat on one of the stools, upholstered in red velvet with a high back, trimmed in gold. Spread out in front of him was a slew of paper work. His fingers tapped the bench top, subconsciously playing along with the piano. He was humming, too, though that abruptly stopped when he realised he wasn’t focusing on the words of the contracts he had to sign. The last of the contracts, and he wanted to make sure he was doing everything properly.


C A S T A L I A
When the bullet first entered her leg, Castalia had been sure that it had broken bone. The gun had been way too close, the muzzle practically hovering over her thigh bone. “********, deciding to try me.” She thought bitterly as she stepped down carefully and felt the pain radiating from her hip down to her knee. Now, she wondered in the bullet had lodged itself there and she didn’t particularly fancy the idea of going to the hospital. There would be too many questions, the truth would come out.

And so, the brunette had decided it would be best to track down Cedric - even if she was sure he’d come with his own disapproval. First, she'd called his cell and gotten no answer - she may have gotten a number wrong, and then after a second attempt, she'd simply hung up. It wasn’t a long walk to The Cocoa Bean and he’d have to physically see her anyway, so she’d ignored the pain and went. She'd put a few bandages around her thigh, the black jeans she wore providing little protection and comfort.

It hadn’t even occurred to her that he had potentially opened another business until Costello with his cheerful “Yo” and Canadian accent said as much. Her mood had been short with the Doppelganger, not that her usual demeanor towards him was ever too polite, when she’d said, “Costello, just tell me where he is.” She assumed she'd offended him after he gave her what she wanted, but Castalia didn’t care. She'd either apologize later or do it again at some point - the man that he was a copy of meant more to her and had her complete trust.

And so, as Castalia tracked down the address and business, she found herself standing in front of what she knew to be an old strip club. “He didn't…” She sighed to herself, thinking that it was a bad idea with his curse, and also ignoring the twinge of jealousy that he'd be near scantily clad women other than her. The feeling was shoved away as she opened the door and made a beeline directly for him, taking in the decor. She’d been in there once, at eighteen long ago to track down her friend's boyfriend when he was wasted and needed a ride home.

Each step she took had her clenching her jaw but as she reached him, she slipped her hand - the blood having been wiped off against her good leg - over his back and said, “I like what you’ve done with the place.”


C E D R I C
Cedric could only imagine what Castalia would think about his purchase of a strip club, which was why he had not told her. The plan was to wait until the doors were just ready to be opened; the inside would be refurbished, the rooms made brand new. Every surface would be shined, the name properly changed. It was close enough to being done. He was hoping for a grander revelation, but instead the woman came to find him.

He straightened upon the stool he’d commandeered, head turned to greet the woman. Although there was no need to breathe he sucked in a breath regardless. He enjoyed Castalia’s scent, always searching for that alluring and sensuous warmth. This time, however, all he could smell was blood.

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet,” he said without shame, no sheepishness. Confidence swelled from every pore, the hardness of a man who would do what he wanted, when he wanted. The stool swivelled so that he could face Castalia, hands slipping to her waist so that he could push her back a step, bright eyes sweeping her from head to toe.

“You are bleeding…” he said, stating the obvious even as he tried to find the offending wound.


C A S T A L I A
His words had her lips twitching in slight amusement, followed by a wince as she traded the weight off her bad leg for the good. Her lips brushed his jaw once it was turned in her direction, her touch lingering on his back. The pain was irritating, but she could already feel the way the muscle wanted to tighten and heal against the bullet. She didn’t like the fact it wasn’t lifting or being shoved out like the rest were.

“You can surprise me about it later, chances are I may shove the thought out of my head anyhow as soon as I leave for home.” There was a lecture there, somewhere in the back of her mind. Wasn’t it a bad idea, given his situation? There was also the twinge of jealousy… even if she didn’t know what they were, and she had told him not to promise her he wouldn’t sleep with other women, Castalia preferred that the only naked or scantily clad body that he looked at was hers.

His action had her wincing, a soft gasp escaping past her lips as her hands automatically went to his forearms to keep her balance. Under her touch, they felt so strong and she forced a smile. “This is normally when I’d make some quippy remark. Left leg, mid-thigh. I was shot, the bullet went into bone. I can’t get it out.” She let out a deep breath, squeezing his forearms as soon as she saw him looking her over. “It’s already healing but it isn’t pushing the bullet out as it normally would.”

Castalia prepared herself for the stern talk she would likely receive, and she would listen. “My blood is lower than when I hadn’t fed so I asked Costello where you were. Need you to remove the bullet.” She wet her lips, a soft noise of pain being heard as she shifted her weight slightly and put too much of it on the bad leg. Her hands tightened on him before she found herself situated. “I would normally wait until you got home but I rather would not have you rip open my thigh to get it out on my carpet.” Sometimes, Castalia thought her aversion to messes was ridiculous. Rarely, but this was one of them. “And it does not need to be done here,” Her mismatched eyes swept over the room briefly before moving to his cool blue ones, “either. Just please.”


C E D R I C
Cedric kept his hands where he’d put them, applying only a small amount of pressure where his fingers grasped Castalia’s waist. She seemed to require his arms to keep her balance, as if she’d held out all the way here. She’d used up the last reserve of her own energy and strength, and now leaned on Cedric. It was a testament to their relationship, that they could trust each other to lean upon each other.

Cedric’s cool gaze tried to penetrate the dim darkness of both the club, and of the pants that Castalia wore. He could not see the blood, but upon focused scrutiny he could see the hole in the fabric. Of course he did not like that his sire had been shot, and he had a dozen questions about where she had been, and what she had been doing to deserve it. But, as ever, he was cool and collected. Castalia was in pain, and she was stressed. Rather than add to her stress by firing a billion stern questions her way, he responded instead with light teasing.

“Mm, I think that you did not want to make a mess at home. And you want my blood,” he said, half a smile on his lips. They were vampires. He himself had sustained many injuries that he had shucked off without any effort. A single bullet was not cause for concern, nor panic. He was level-headed as he stood, eyes flicking upward toward the roof, before cocking his head toward the spiral staircase. The bedrooms were not finished, but they were at least furnished -- all new beds and mattresses and furniture that had been scrounged from antique shops and refurbished to match the theme. The mattresses were so new that they still had their plastic on them.

“We can go upstairs,” he said. He did not ask whether Castalia could walk, and instead wasted no effort to sweep her up into his arms, mindful of her injured leg so as not to jostle it too much.


C A S T A L I A
Where there wasn't pain, she supposed it was anger. She'd been minding her own business, collecting what she needed for rituals. Of course, she'd omit that knocking out and killing gangsters for their teeth was likely a warrant for getting shot, but at least she'd say it to others. Cedric, well, was another story. Castalia’s mismatched eyes took in his expression, trying to get a sense of what he was feeling. She'd been taking out some of her anger about Nolan on gangsters after learning there’d been an increase in thefts.

Even with her thigh as it was, she couldn’t help but return his half smile with one of her own. It didn’t last long, but his words did help keep her mind off of her pain and she appreciated it. She lightly pulled her nails against his skin, not to tease or hurt him, but in a way to show she was distracting herself from what she knew was going to be unpleasant. She was thinking of better things: puppies, kittens - well, Castalia had never been fond of animals unless looking at them from the other side of the room. Her son’s dog had liked to bark at her. Cedric beside her in bed, stretched out and cuddling was a nice thought, but she didn’t allow that thought to linger long.

“There’s a handful of things I want from you, your blood and aid might just be the highest on my list right now.” She teased in return, but let out a soft sigh of relief. She was safe and with someone she was comfortable with. Although she hurt, she supposed she could tolerate it - after all, it would get worse given her request of him, but still. Castalia smoothed her hands over his arms, sliding them to grasp the sides as she considered it. “We make enough messes at the apartment. Clothing being shed without thought, for example. Your coat in particular.”

She bit her lip and hissed at him as she was picked up, her arms sliding around his shoulders immediately as she clung to him. It took her only a moment to relax and she loosened her grip. “Jerk.” The weak insult fell from her lips as pain radiated from her thigh and she muffled it by pressing her face into his shirt. Of course Castalia did not find Cedric to be a jerk or anything of the sort. She breathed in his scent, trying to comfort herself and count back to the way she’d been as she walked in. Stressed out, of course, and in pain, that had been a given, but she’d managed her own ability to walk. She could have still walked, at least to the bottom of the stairs, however Castalia had learned by now.


C E D R I C
“Mmm, clothing is easy to pick up. Blood out of carpet, not so much,” he said, though he was smiling. Even with the jerk falling from Castalia’s lips, he did not stop smiling. The two had reached an easy accord, and the insult sounded more like a term of endearment than anything else. Even so, Cedric was gentle as he took to the stairs, each step smooth and his arms cradling Castalia in such a way as to prevent her head or feet hitting wall or railing. It was nothing to him, a boxer in a previous life and built like a brick, to carry this slender woman up a flight of stairs -- vampiric strength or not.

“We’ll get that wound all patched up and then you can have as much blood as you like, hm?” he said, though he said nothing about the fact that he’d have to go out afterwards, in the wee hours of the morning, to find his own meals. A pact had been made with himself, a pact that he had not shared with his sire and now-partner, that he would do his best not to sleep with other women. He had hoped that it wouldn’t be a challenge. He had hoped that this violent care that he’d developed for Castalia would soothe his need for anything or anyone else. Although it provided a modicum of strength and willpower, it was a disappointment and a shame to him to admit that it might not be enough. So accustomed had he become to feeding after sex that feeding without sex was a challenge. He had to find his meals by means other than seduction. Of course, he could have gone to the shops, but the blood bags were almost enough to make him gag. They weren’t fresh enough, and the man had a voracious appetite.

At the top of the landing Cedric peered into a couple of the rooms before he found one that was appropriately clean and with a mattress that had not yet been shed of its plastic wrapping.

“A bed covered in plastic. It is the height of romance these days, did you know?” he asked with a subtle wink that gave none of his inner thoughts away. He lowered Castalia onto the bed and proceeded to reach for the clasp of her pants -- better to peel them off so he could see the depth and severity of the wound they were dealing with. The room, otherwise, was decked out like a hotel suite -- the furnishings had an antique feel to them but they were all refurbished and looked new. No dust or mould clung to the air, the age and grime stripped from the room as if it had gone through a thorough decontamination process. It had been required.

C A S T A L I A
“Just another reason to why I’m fond of your blood. Less of a mess.” She murmured before pressing a kiss to his collarbone before she set her cheek to his shoulder as her eyes fell shut. Again, she repeated to herself that she was okay, that she was safe. It was a bit of a start, getting shot - she had been grazed, but actually having a bullet in her body? That was new to Castalia. Up until that point, she’d been dealing with creatures such as zombies and mooncalves, the occasional feral vampire. But bullets? Ha.

At the mention of blood, Castalia opened one of her eyes and felt her lips curl into a smirk. She’d always liked feeding off of Cedric, the fact they both enjoyed it helped ease her conscious that somehow, once again, she had turned this man into her dinner. The simple fact that she loved his taste was a bonus at this point. “That sounds like a plan to me, love.” She sighed and then looked down at her leg. She appreciated the care the man had for her, the fact he seemed to consciously avoid jostling her too much. “At least it hasn’t healed over the bullet yet.” Castalia assumed that was a positive note, but who knew how much longer that would take?

With her weight off of her leg, the pain was tolerable. It didn’t radiate through her bones, but instead, seemed to simply throb where the bullet had entered and the surrounding area. Castalia’s gaze flickered from her thigh to the rooms, her curiosity slightly peaking as she took note of the mattresses and simply lifted her eyebrow at the man. It was a silent questioning of what his business entailed, was he turning it into an evening show and board, or was it something else? “Oui, completely.” Her lips twitched slightly, leaning back with a mild grimace as she was set down. She set her palms against the mattress so she wouldn’t fall.

“Baise.” The word slipped past her lips as she felt his fingertips. She tilted her head back briefly, glaring at the ceiling given the consideration of pain - Castalia had always been the one to treat injuries rather than have them herself. Afterwards, her gaze drifted to his features, choosing to focus on his eyes for the time being, studying the color of them although if truth be told, Castalia likely had them memorized by now. When it would be needed, she’d lift her hips so he would have no trouble to slide the denim down before lowering herself once more. “This is going to suck.”


C E D R I C
Cedric was not accustomed to care of wounds; his own were normally dealt with in a haphazard fashion, slapstick bandages applied but, even then, there was no need. It was only habit. Bandages were only needed to keep blood off the furniture, and his blood stained nothing. His blood dispersed like it never existed in the first place.

It shouldn’t have, but the situation reminded Cedric of fatherhood. There’d been a day he was home when Alaya had fallen from her bike in the driveway. Her small knee was grazed, the blood only minimal but the child had screamed. Cedric had scooped her small body from the ground and had carried her indoors; he’d spoken to her softly, he’d smiled at her, he blew on the graze and quieted her sobs as he cleaned it and applied antiseptic -- he’d even found a band-aid big enough to cover it. The memory brought the sharp scent of the antiseptic to his nose, though there was none here.

The curse dropped to elegantly from Castalia’s lips caused the memory to vanish. She was not his child. She was far from it. This is going to suck, she said, and yet Cedric could only smile. The French dripped from her lips like liquid temptation and, against his better judgment, Cedric was aroused. Though it was not hard for Cedric’s arousal to flare.

“Mmm, schatje, it is going to suck,” he said as he peeled the denim from her legs, pausing only to thumb the shoes from her feet so that the denim could be more easily flayed. The wound was nasty, but Cedric has seen worse. He’s seen teeth busted through lips. He’d seen eyes punctures and caved in. He’s seen bones broken and torn through skin. He’d seen brain matter splashed on tile like some morbid piece of modern art. Pain had been the name of the game, then. Now, judging by Castalia’s reaction, she wanted as little pain as possible. With a gentleness that seemed impossible given Cedric’s bear-like physique, his fingers grazed the outside of the wound.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said as he stood and removed his jacket and tossed it over the end of the bed. The shirt soon went with it. He positioned himself on the bed beside Castalia and gently guided her leg onto his lap.
“Sit perpendicular, here,” he said, pointing to the fleshy part of his shoulder, to that arche of his skin where arm was connected to neck. “If the pain is too much, you bite, hm? Better than cloth to keep you from biting off your own tongue,” he said with a grin. “Are you ready?”


C A S T A L I A
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She eyed him, although there was no indication that she was bothered by the course of action. Asking Cedric for help was a bit of a new thing, something that she decided would happen only after he’d gotten stern with her about not feeding. But, it was also a give and get situation - he’d trusted her when it came to his problems and it was nearly ridiculous that she kept him in the dark when she had them. Even if she was concerned he would worry, it wasn’t something she wanted to do.

Her eyes landed on his lips, on that smile, and she shook her head. Despite the pain, she couldn’t help but have one on her own for the time being. It would likely change the second he began to dig. Setting her jacket behind her, Castalia paused and tossed it a bit further away. The last thing she needed was to get blood on that, too.

The word had her tilt her head slightly as she hadn’t heard it previously and silently, she repeated it, her lips forming it out. “I still think you need to speak dutch more often.” She teased, but a slight jolt went through her as she felt the denim tug at the wound. Castalia hadn’t thought of the chance some of her blood had dried and she let out a slow exhale to avoid flinching again. “What does that mean, that word?” She asked once it was out, distracting herself. The brunette leaned forward to brush a kiss against his jaw before he stood.

Castalia lifted her eyebrow before it became clear to what he intended, her gaze moving slowly over the man’s chest regardless. She bit her bottom lip habitually before she looked back to his face, adjusting as he instructed. Her hand went to his forearm to give it a squeeze before she gave a nod of her head. “That’s true and I’d make a comment, but I’ll behave now.” She smirked and then set her lips to his shoulder before straightening up. “I’m ready.”


C E D R I C
Cedric laughed as he shook his head. “No. I do not enjoy your pain. Maybe, I do enjoy your reliance,” he said. Castalia was one of the strongest women he had met. Sometimes she reminded him of his ex-wife -- something that he would not tell his sire, unsure how it would be received. Cedric definitely had a type. Women who were strong and independent. Women who could withstand his charms, could fight back if he ever tried to get them under his thumb. Women who could kick him to the curb given the right circumstances. The ex-wife had certainly been justified, Cedric’s punishment sound.

“Schatje?” he asked… and then paused. It was as if he was just going to keep conversing with her, but without warning he pushed a finger into the bullet wound that was already starting to heal. Beforehand he’d only gently pushed at the skin, trying to locate, by touch, the location of the bullet. Blood coated his fingers and oozed from the wound, but his fingertip found metal. Now, he had to try to get the bullet out without having to dig too much, without pushing it further in. It struck him that he could have -- should have -- found some tweezers. Something, other than his fat (though long) fingers. It was too late now.

A smile tugged the corners of his lips as he felt the bullet shift, finger hooked just slightly to make sure it backed out the tunnel it had created. With the fingers of his opposite hand he pressed at the wound, forcing the bullet to go up rather than sideways. Within seconds the thing was out, slipped onto his palm amongst a small pool of blood.

“It means darling, darling,” he said, slipping an around around Castalia’s waist, brow arched as he sought out her wellbeing.


C A S T A L I A
“I almost expected another frown and one of your stern talks.” She said as she mentally prepared herself for the pain that was going to follow. If he timed it right, it couldn’t hurt too much - she just needed to relax, to stay relaxed and all would be good. “Not your smile and laughter, though I am not complaining.” A playful half smile was given after her words as she stretched her leg out slightly over his lap. Her second leg joined, as it was simply a more comfortable position, but remained a bit of a distance away from the other.

“Yes, that one.” She said after he paused before a sharp intake of air had Castalia resisting the urge to scream at his action. In just that split moment, she forgot that she shouldn’t tense the muscle thigh - her entire body locked up as she gripped his forearm and pressed her nails into his skin. “OhJesusfuck.” Her eyes clenched shut, ignoring the way that tears fell down her cheeks. It didn’t just hurt, it burned. It was a white hot pain that reminded her of the broken bone she had as a kid, the fact it didn’t go away immediately. The scream she gave was short lived as she moved her lips to his bare shoulder.

Her teeth sank into the flesh the second his fingertip touched the metal bullet. Forcibly, her hand relaxed on his arm as she moved it to grip her jacket where it clenched the cloth. She tried to make the muscle in her thighs relax, but it took more effort and when she finally did, Castalia hoped it would be over soon. She bit down deeper, unsure whether or not that it was his blood or his flesh she was tasting while her leg trembled under his touch.

When it was finally over, she let go of his shoulder and pressed a kiss over the area - a silent thank you before she heard his answer. “I see.” Castalia leaned into his hold, welcoming it. She still hurt, but the bullet being out did more to calm her nerves than anything. “I am glad to know you can be quick when the situation calls for it.” She chuckled quietly, the double entendre and lack of filter an indication that she was feeling better.


C E D R I C
The sharp pain in his shoulder where Castalia’s teeth dug into flesh was expected. It barely caused Cedric to flinch, the job at hand more important than a small wound that would heal and the blood that he would barely lose, the blood that he could get back later.

The bullet had been removed and a tender kiss pressed to the skin where her teeth had previously been. Cedric scoffed and laid a palm over the wound in Castalia’s thigh; the skin was almost warm to the touch -- or was Cedric just imagining it? He scoffed and turned to face his girl, his expression tender despite her teasing. “I can be quick if you want quick. You need only ask, schatje,” he said, repeating the endearment. It was something he’d called his wife in the very beginning. It was only now that he realised it had been years since he’d called her that. Even before they broke, even before Cedric had misbehaved, there was distance between them. They’d drifted apart. She hadn’t been his schatje for a very long time.

“I am only stern when you are unwell and you do not tell me. This time, you asked for help. So I have no reason to be stern,” he explained. He gazed at Castalia for a moment or two before he shrugged. “You are your own woman. I don’t like that you got shot, but it’d be a bit possessive of me to be angry at you, like I gotta follow your every movement, right? Now, if you were to tell me who shot you and I could track them down I may or may not rip their spleen from their torso. Which is something I might not tell you about. Because I think that’s a wee bit possessive too,” he said, matter-of-fact and calm. Like he had not just pulled a bullet from her leg and she hadn’t just torn into his shoulder. Like it was completely normal for him -- a mild-mannered pianist -- to go rip a spleen from someone’s gut. There was a whole other side to Cedric Costello. It was an outfit that he rarely wore, a mask that rarely graced his features. But it was there, hidden beneath the surface.


C A S T A L I A
His touch never failed to cause her to smile. There was a tingling sensation that took hours to fade, one that she didn't know quite how to explain even if she wanted to try. It was one of those things that Cedric seemed to cause, that only he could do and she couldn't complain.

The corners of her lips tugged into a smirk she tried to hide as he scoffed. Truthfully, any pace he managed was fine with her. Castalia lifted her hand to rest it against his whiskered jaw before she leaned up and kissed him. A wordless ‘thank you’ as she stayed halfway in his lap. “I’ll have to keep that in mind, beloved.” She said once she pulled back to look up at him. Her hand moved to pat at his thigh afterwards as she glanced over her shoulder at her jeans. In the time since they’d begun to fool around, Castalia had lessened wearing proper clothes around Cedric but there was a time and place - not that she'd ever had issues wearing less around her childe. After all, the nature surrounding his turning would have had them both bare had she not been impatient.

Castalia could only blink as Cedric spoke. Because she'd planned to come directly to him, and see only him, she hadn't bothered to put her contacts back in after being shot. Sunglasses, even in the evening, paired with a claim to light sensitivity helped conceal her heterochromia. “I’m more likely to cut around the ******** when I'm in pain. Always have.” Her shoulder lifted and fell, “Not to mention I can't quite hide a bullet wound when I sleep beside you in shorts.” Her hand moved over his bare arm, considering his words. The imagery sent a chill down her spine as her mismatched eyes took in his expression. “I may or may not like the idea of you getting a bit possessive of me from time to time. Balances out my pointless jealousy.” She said as she reached for her jeans, “But then again, we’ve already established that much. Not to mention I don't know his name and cannot draw, therefore he would not be identifiable unless I point him out.”

C E D R I C
Cedric reached the jeans before Castalia could. The denim was clutched between his fingers before being tossed to the other side of the room. Without the bullet, the wound would heal quick enough and hobbling across the room to retrieve her clothing wouldn’t necessarily be an issue for Castalia. Still, they were alone in a room within an empty bordello, with no one around to bother them. There were still things Cedric needed to take care of but instead of doing them, he found his hand, still smeared with Castalia’s blood, slipping beneath her blouse.

The expression he gave her was one of mild surprise, as if even he couldn’t have foreseen what his own hand would do. If they were one person they would be naked -- him without his shirt and she without her pants. They were sitting on a bed. With Castalia so close and the sting of her bite still radiating from his shoulder, Cedric only had one thing on his mind. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Sexual distraction was commonplace for the Shadow and he would torture himself with it now, knowing that to feel Castalia’s body crushed beneath his own would -- well, it wasn’t an impossibility. And he still had his pants on.

The first move already made, Cedric’s fingers roved over Castalia’s waist and slipped up the line of her spine. His hand was on her thigh as he tried to coax her backwards, wanting her hair to splay over the plastic that covered the mattress, wanting to hear said plastic crinkle and crack as the joint weight of their bodies disrupted it.

“Do you need more blood?” he asked, voice thick and heavy. This was something they normally did just before sleep for the day. But now was as good a time as any. “It will help you to heal. It would be a waste of time to try to wander the city to find the man whose spleen I could rip out. I think this is a better way for us to spend our time…”


C A S T A L I A
She should have expected it, but nevertheless, she only gave a huff as she heard the clink of her keys against the floor. She would have given him a mildly unimpressed look had it not been for that hand, for the feel of his skin against hers. Even as he moved it, she felt that phantom tingle as she slid closer on the bed to him. Her hand moved from the mattress to his shoulder, dropping down against his chest to his hip. She idly toyed with the waistband of his jeans, leaning back.

Castalia could smell his blood, taste it still in her mouth. It was always such a pleasant taste now, a wonderful scent. She wondered what it would have been like to feed off him as early as turning him. He didn't have to coax her much, she leaned back after a few moments and gave a playful tug of his belt loops to encourage him to follow. Her eyes darkened, the brunette looking up at him as she did so. Even so, her movement was slow - she wouldn't admit that she was dizzy from the lack of wound. How long had she been with it now?

“More blood would be nice.” She drawled in her southern lilt. Her mismatched gaze traveled over his chest and she felt her lips twitch faintly at the bite mark. “Or maybe just you.” The woman thought and lifted her gaze to his lips. “Hm, I can't find an argument against that logic. You alone are quite enticing… adding in the tantalizing taste of your blood and what’s a gal to do?” Castalia questioned and smiled after.

She leaned up to nip at his shoulder, over the fading spot. Her ears picked up the crinkling underneath her body as she adjusted to lay the way he had been encouraging her to. Her hand slid up to rest behind the back of his neck while she leaned up to kiss his jaw, and then the underside of it.


C E D R I C
“Mmm,” he hummed, fully aware of Castalia’s wandering hands. There was never a true freedom in these encounters; Cedric’s nerves were strung tight, tense, ready to roll away or re-direct Castalia’s fingers should they try to remove the denim from between them. Even now his fingers tangled with hers, moving one of her hands to press it against the bed, his hips shifting their weight to settle over her.

“More blood you shall have,” he said, his breath brushing Castalia’s ear, his lips grazing the rise of her cheek. All thoughts of numbers and contracts and signatures had been pushed from the pianist’s mind. Now he thought only of the scent of Castalia’s hair, her lips on his skin, the impending sting of her teeth piercing the thickness of it. This room shall forever be baptized as theirs. Whenever Cedric passed it, whenever he might have cause to enter it, he could smile at the memory. And that memory could help him to resist any other temptations that he might feel.

“And you shall have me,” he added, burying his face at the nape of her neck, pressing a nip and a kiss to the tender skin over her vein. And yet it was not his place to break the skin -- it was merely a nudge, a reminder for what they were there for. His hand slipped behind her back, fingers curled around her slender neck -- so small in his grasp -- to help lift her, to cradle her as she fed.


C A S T A L I A Even as he moved her hands away, she could only chuckle. She let him choose the pace in which things were removed off his own form. She knew his demons. Her hand squeezed his larger one, her body relaxing beneath his even as she pulled her good leg up to rest her knee against his hip. Her lips curved into a smile as she felt the tickle of his breath at her ear, that same sensation lingering in the path of his kiss on her cheek.

Castalia made a soft noise of impatience as she felt the nip at her skin. A sigh followed at the kiss before she ultimately leaned up, appreciative of his hold. She brushed her lips against his neck, against the vein where she'd bitten him that very first night. She remembered the rush of hormones in his blood, how good that first taste would always be. How it always was as there was that faint pop as her fangs pierced the muscle even as they did now.

She hardly used her fangs after that initial break, unless clotting started during a leisurely feed. She took easy pulls of his inky black blood - the color and substance not bothering her. Her freehand moved to rest against his chest, her fingertips tracing over the smooth flesh there before slipping over the powerful muscle in his arm. It helped, as well, knowing that she wasn't hurting him. That he enjoyed it as much as she did, playfully biting down while she squeezed his bicep and her hand lifted to slide against his back.


C E D R I C
Cedric made himself comfortable. The urgency was dismissed, control came in the form of a forced relaxation. His fingers curled into the silken strands of Castalia’s hair and then let go, a sigh falling from his lips as sharp teeth popped through the vein. It was like a sedative, his body letting go as his weight shifted to one side so as not to crush the woman beneath him. His face rested so close to hers that his lashes could brush the soft skin of her cheek as he blinked once, then twice -- wanting to see everything but only able to observe the soft, miniscule baby hairs trailing down Castalia’s neck. Again, his lips found their mark, his teeth taking soft flesh between them but he did not break skin.

Eventually his eyes closed, memories of the past flashing, inadvertently, behind them. In this situation he couldn’t help it; at first it was the memory of the night of his turning, the way this had felt the first time. How he had been filled simultaneously with terror and desire, and acceptance that his life had come to an end -- and maybe that was okay.

He remembered how he wanted her, all the things he wanted to do to her. All of the things he’d done to dozens of women since. Sex was on his mind, as it so often was. He remembered the last time he had sex before he was cursed, before the consequences were so dire. The last time he’d had sex as a human had been with his wife, before she’d discovered his treachery. He’d known she was going to find out. He’d gone home and it was one last night of peace. It was the last night that she would love him. He took advantage of it, like the crook that he was. And they made love, gentle and sweet, like two bodies so accustomed to one another they moved in synch.

His eyes squeezed shut and Cedric hummed under his breath, before sucking in a lungful of air. The scent of Castalia. He sought to banish the memories he’d let go of, and the face of the child who’d interrupted the love-making. Daddy…? It had enquired. So innocent, so naive as to what her parents could possibly be doing, naked in bed. Alaya was clutching the stuffed rabbit that Cedric had bought for her, had sent her to play with while he went to speak with Mummy. It was the last thing he’d ever bought his daughter, too.


C A S T A L I A
One of her favorite bit of their routine would likely be a moment such as the current one. After a long evening at work, Castalia looked forward to the time she spent with Cedric; she had ever since the two had begun their arrangement with the man staying over during the day, to help her feel less lonely. She supposed one could have seen it coming, that she should have seen it, but as she lay beneath the man with her fangs buried into his throat, Castalia didn't particularly care. His presence had always made her a bit happier. The quiet man haunted by his own ghosts had brought a smile to her lips the day they had met and she supposed it was something she loved about him. The ability he had to do as much.

With his teeth on her skin, Castalia made a noise of pleasure. She bit him just a bit deeper to reopen the wound and keep the blood movement steady in response, her fingertips pulling against his flesh. She relaxed against him, not expecting the unfamiliarity of the memory that played through her. She didn't recognize the intimate moment in her mind, who it was. For a brief moment, she was caught off guard. She sealed the wound and pulled away - the word Daddy…? had been so close causing her to look over his shoulder as her eyebrows furrowed together. “What the hell…?” The words slipped out as she straightened out her injured leg.

Confusion flooded through her. Her tongue ran over her lips, removing what remained of his blood on them as she replayed the intimacy in her mind. It certainly wasn't something between her and Nolan - the angles were all wrong, not to mention she had never slept with… Her confusion only grew as her mismatched gaze went to her childe. Her lips parted, as if she were starting to speak. It was such an odd memory to her, as if it didn't belong to her. And so, Castalia looked to Cedric. “My love, did you hear that?” She wondered if she were just going crazy. It wouldn't surprise her given the circumstances.

The only stability she had in Harper Rock had only been him since she'd been turned, “Just now. A little girl called out for ‘Daddy’?” As she asked, her mismatched eyes looked at his features. Trying to see if her suspicions were correct, did it belong to him?


C E D R I C
Cedric was completely relaxed, so when Castalia pulled away her questions didn’t immediately register. It occurred to Cedric that she’d pulled away too soon, that she can’t have got her fill. Or maybe she had? How long had they been lying there? He blinked, forcing his eyes open as he raised himself onto his elbows, looking down at Castalia to read the confusion written all over her face.

A twitch of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips as she called him ‘my love’. It was an endearment he hadn’t heard yet. Declarations had not yet been shared. Any echoed response that he might have had was distracted and distorted by the questions that finally registered. The same look of confusion now marred Cedric’s previously calm and content features.

The memory came back to Cedric, now. It was vague, hard to hold on to. Like a dream that disappears like smoke as soon as one’s eyes open to the real world. In his own mind the memory had lasted only a few moments. He shook his head. Could he get out of this one? Could he say that he had seen and heard nothing?

“No. I didn’t hear it,” he said. Which was true. Not in the real world, he hadn’t heard it. Not now. Once upon a time, he had. His eyes shifted from Castalia’s, sliding to her lips and then to the bed beside her. He pushed himself up and into a seated position, his legs not crossed but now stretched, either. His knees were crooked and his shoulders were slumped.

“What did she look like?” he asked. Would it help, to have her described to him? Probably not. But it might help them to figure out what the hell was going on.


C A S T A L I A
It was nice, she thought, that he didn't think she was crazy for hearing something he didn't. It was a bit of a reaffirmation to her about their relationship that Castalia appreciated. As she looked up at him, she noticed the smile. It didn't occur to her what had slipped out, but she liked seeing the gesture across his lips. As he shifted, she pushed herself up into a sitting position - tucking one leg underneath herself as she frowned considered the question.

The girl was a bit younger than her own, but with blondish hair rather than the darker shade Judy had. “She wore pink pajamas… clutched a little rabbit. A toy.” Her daughter had been all about elephants - purple ones, and blue tigers. It was a weird fixation that her late husband had always said the girl would grow out of from a young age. Yet even now, Castalia knew that her daughter had stuffed animals of both sitting on her bed. “Her hair was light, very curly…” Her mismatched gaze showed her confusion. She gave a soft shake of her head, showing that she didn't know the child and seemed flustered about this.

Lifting her hand to brush her fingertips through her dark hair, the woman pursed her lips. She thought back to the memory, how it felt - “I’m likely just hearing things, from losing the blood I did.” She sighed. At least that's all that she hoped it was. “If I didn't know how pleasurable feeding from you was, I would've thought we were having sex.” Although it was all wrong, and she was definitely not the woman in the situation, but nor was she a man… Castalia resisted the urge to shake her head. She considered telling Cedric about it, he’d never called her crazy before, would he begin now?

A sigh fell from the allurist’s lips as she adjusted to rest her hands on her bare thighs. “But we weren't. It… is really odd to explain. I felt it all, but it was not something I personally experienced. She looked curious, sounded it. I must just be thinking of a film or something.” She muttered, “None of my children ever walked in on me in bed with Nolan. A shower was another story.”


C E D R I C
If there’d been blood in his face to drain, Cedric’s features would have gone white. As it was, he had to listen to Castalia ramble on about what she had seen, and he could hear it in her tone. She continued to talk because she hoped at every word she would sound more sane, or maybe she hoped an explanation would suddenly jump out at her. Cedric had the answers, but they were answers he was unwilling to give. He had the answers, but he also had plenty of questions. What had Castalia just done? Was it something she had done, or was it something he had done? Whatever the case, the scene that she described was one that was all too familiar to him.

Eventually, Cedric shook his head. The options had made themselves available to him, and he picked the option that seemed most right. To lie, to shake his head and tell Castalia he had no idea what she was talking about was only covering his own ***, and would subject Castalia to thinking she had gone insane. Honestly, Cedric didn’t know how he felt about it. Dread curled its bitter little fingers around his soul as he wondered what the ramifications might be. Was this a one time thing, or would that past he worked so hard to keep locked away and banished forever be there to haunt them? Wasn’t he suffering enough?

“That was Alaya,” he said. Had he ever told Castalia his daughter’s name before? She knew he had a daughter, but had he revealed her name?

“I think… you have accessed my memory,” he said, just as confused as Castalia sounded. “That is what Alaya looks like. That is the pyjamas she wears, and the bear that I had given to her,” he said. He focused on the child and not the act that she had walked in on. He didn’t try to explain to Castalia that he had been reliving that memory himself, only minutes beforehand. The description of his daughter as it dripped from Castalia’s lips, anyway … it brought back other memories. As questionable a man as Cedric had been, he had loved his daughter. As accepting of his fate as he may have been, the hardest thing he had ever done was leave his daughter behind. Everything that he had done was eclipsed by that one act. How could he have left her behind?

“Did you do that, or did I…?” he asked. There was a good chance Castalia would not have the answer. But in thinking about how it had happened, maybe she wouldn’t dwell on what she had seen.


C A S T A L I A
When Cedric told her that the little girl had been Alaya, the confusion only mounted. Had she heard the name before? Did she know? When he further said he thought she'd accessed a memory of his, she could only look at him with a puzzled expression. “Your daughter.” She said, slowly, after looking at his features and taking note of the familiarity. The idea of it was preposterous, yet it was something Castalia no longer doubted to be possible - accessing his memory, ha. After all, she had been attacked by a woman, turned into a vampire, and then did the same to the man sitting across from her. They both drank blood to survive, as if accessing a memory were such a long shot.

“I think it was me, this time.” She sighed as she crossed her legs. Again, it was one of those damn moments she wished she still had her sire around or had a better relationship with Ambrose. “And yet how, I do not know.” She inclined her head and looked at her childe, frowning. “As I am not telepathic or capable of anything of the sort that I’m aware of.” There were new things learned all the time, however. She'd learned she could talk down shopkeepers into giving a better price, manipulate and confuse strangers. Reaching over, she his jean clad knee a tender squeeze.

It occurred to her, a few moments later that the woman had been his ex-wife. The two didn't talk about Cedric's past, not that Castalia really minded. She knew he had left it all behind for a new start, one that she had held the door open for the minute their paths had crossed. Still, it was such an intimate moment that she didn't particularly want to ever cross. “I’d never had that happen. A memory from you show while feeding.” She thought that, at least. The woman adjusted with a wince to rest her legs over the edge of the bed. Already, she could see that her leg was healing. The bullet wound already felt better, no longer a sharp stabbing sensation within the muscle. It was sore, but it felt better.

“Unless you were doing something and it slipped into my mind, we both have strange abilities.” With his curse, she knew sex was often on his mind - why wouldn't he remember a time when his daughter walked in on him? There was an annoyed part of her, however. What if he had projected the memory by accident? Castalia's jaw clenched as she stood up and adjusted her underwear. Afterwards, she sat back down and crossed one leg over the other, her back just slightly straighter as she tried to reason with herself that if he had, he certainly wouldn't do it on purpose, would he? She pulled her hair over her shoulder and picked at the deep colored strands. “I don't know, but I think it was me. It… I.” Castalia pressed her lips together, trying to think of how to explain it, “I saw the entire memory as it was remembered rather than just see it as an outside source.”


C E D R I C
Cedric wasn’t exactly sure what he could say in this situation. They had both determined that it was his memory. But how had it got there? It got there because he’d been thinking about it. He’d been remembering the last time he’d had sex with his ex-wife, which happened to be the time that Alaya had walked in on them. At least it was that part that Castalia had seen, and not later -- later, after Alaya had been calmed and they were sure she’d gone back to sleep, they’d finished what they had started. But they were quieter. They were gentler. They went slow, and the intensity, well…

Cedric’s own jaw clenched and he nodded when Castalia said it had never happened before. “Good,” he said. His gaze was sharp when it landed upon Castalia again. His past was something he kept under lock and key and though he trusted Castalia, he trusted her more as the woman who had offered -- and given -- him a new life. A second life. A life untethered to the one he had lived before. To have that life interrupt them so abruptly now… well. It made him angry. And he didn’t know where to direct his anger. Castalia -- if it had been her at all -- clearly hadn’t done it on purpose. And if it was Cedric who’d done it, and it was Cedric who wanted to keep his past locked up -- then it was his own fault for not doing it better.

The moment was over, regardless. Cedric stood, his steps heavy on the wood floor as he retrieved his shirt and roughly pulled it back over his torso. His head fell back, rolling from one side to the other as his hands found his hips. Why? Why was he remembering that, of all things? The answer was obvious. His chin fell forward and and a heavy sigh pushed from his nose.

“I’d prefer it didn’t happen again,” he said, his back to Castalia, words clipped. As if it was something she could help, something she could control. Something they both could control. He chewed on the edge of his tongue, not knowing what to say or how to go about saying it. If there were a way to cut the memories out, he would. If there were a way to replace them… but he couldn’t. Not with the woman he wanted to replace them with, anyway.


C A S T A L I A
Her mismatched gaze looked over the healing wound in her leg, at the tendons as they repaired themselves. In her former life, she had aided in patching up wounds such as these under the watchful gaze of a physician. Her gaze lifted to Cedric and she felt taken slightly back at the sharpness of his gaze. Everything was different, the tension in the room thicker. It reminded her of the short display of frustration, of his palms slamming against the steering wheel. It was something she wasn't used to when it came to Cedric and Castalia didn't quite know how to respond.

She watched the cloth be pulled over his chest, almost expected it to rip from the force. Castalia knew there were telepaths in the city. She wondered if anyone she knew in her small amount of connections could help - Kitchi, or Jedediah, perhaps. Her expression was briefly thoughtful, considerate as she wondered whom had done it. But at the same time. “Right.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. After a few lingering moments, she stood up and pushed her hair over her shoulder before collecting her jacket. Her head felt less fuzzy, yet she set her hand on the edge of the furnishing and closed her eyes for a moment. The memory was too fresh and she bit the inside of her lip. She wanted to ask if it was for him.

“As if either of us know how it did happen.” The allurist could feel the slight possessive, the jealous emotions rolling beneath the surface. She knew it was ridiculous, but she hadn't found out a way to suppress it. If he had been thinking about it… “I suppose I’ll see you at home?” Castalia moved to collect her jeans. Her thumb ran over the burnt fabric of the denim before gritting her teeth together and stepped into them. A hiss escaped past them, a tingle running through her thigh. Afterwards, she set her hand against his arm, giving a small squeeze.

“You should probably get back to work.” She adjusted her belt loops, “I ought to do the same.” The woman looked at him quietly, as if she were debating on what to say next. She could see the features shared with his daughter better now, her thumb sliding over the muscle. “You have more to do with this place and I remember how it was when I was a teenager. I know you’ll do great things.” A change of subject was easier on the tongue, but it didn't diminish what had happened. What she had seen. Letting go of him, she patted down her pockets and looked around in search of her phone. Muttering under her breath.


C E D R I C
Cedric needed the time to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how much more work he would get done that night -- or whether he’d need the distraction so badly that he’d get more work done than he thought possible. It was hard to stand still when Castalia approached; he expected her to shout at him, or for her anger to echo his own, to surpass it, even. Instead he had to try to decipher the squeeze of her touch upon his arm. Was it reassuring? Understanding? Did she have any reason to reassure him, or try to understand? He should go back to work, yes, or at least try to explain himself but his tongue was held. All he could think about was sex. It was disgusting, the way he wanted to undress Castalia, the way he wanted to relinquish all control. With her, he was trying to be loyal. It was testing his willpower, now, wondering what he would do when she walked out of this room, and out of this club.

As Castalia started patting down her jeans, Cedric knew what she was looking for. A glance over at the bed secured the black square of technology. Two solid paces and he had the thing in his hand, both heavy and light as a feather. He held it out for Castalia to take, wordless, not knowing what to say. He knew that his anger was unjustified, but he was too stubborn to admit it. He knew that he shouldn’t take his own shortcomings out on Castalia, but in taking it out on her he was also taking it out on himself. If he lost her, he would be sacrificing any shred of warmth that he had within him.

It was a battle that he lost. He couldn’t allow Castalia to leave without saying something -- anything. They would need to talk. If this was something that was going to happen regularly, and he wasn’t able to give Castalia up, then they would need to talk. But he didn’t want to do so yet. Before Castalia could take the phone from his grasp, he reached out with his other hand to grab hers.

“I will see you at home,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. An apology, of sorts, without voicing the actual words.


C A S T A L I A
To say she was angry would have been a lie. Frustrated, annoyed. They were better descriptive words to how she felt, more towards the situation and as always, the curse that plagued him, rather than at Cedric himself. It bothered her, to think that he could have been thinking about his past relationship while he was with her, and if it were true, it would insult her a bit. Was she not interesting enough? Was she not pretty enough? If it had not been because he had told her to never be ashamed of her eyes, it would have made her wonder about them. Despite her outward confidence, there were always things that bothered her. That she picked at.

It was hard to get the sight of his daughter out of her mind. Perhaps it was the curious stare that the little girl had, or maybe even the fact that Castalia could remember that he had left her behind, as she had left her own, that made it hard to shake. When she left the club, it was oh so tempting to take the short walk to her parents home where she knew the little girl would be sleeping, to see Judy and Reid dreaming away. The debate was a welcome distraction from the incident that had occurred right. That is until she realized she had lost her phone, and Cedric held it out to her. Her lips pressed briefly together as she needed to keep a better grip on the thing, her mismatched gaze lifting to the man’s features from his hand.

Despite the tension that had fallen, she couldn’t help but give a faint smirk at the touch of his lips before she slipped her phone free after letting her hand linger for a few moments. Would he get angry again when she brought the topic up again? Likely. If it happened again, should she keep it to herself? “You will.” She didn’t like the idea of that. Primarily because she didn’t like keeping secrets - or at least, it was easier to keep things honest. Then again, would she be lying if she didn’t say anything unless he asked? These were the questions that ran through her mind as she pulled away from him gently. Her mismatched gaze moved around the room once more before she turned, heading out the door and down the steps with a grimace and a limp.

In the direction that she had come from earlier in the evening, Castalia could hear the shrill scream of sirens. She ignored them, opting to try and think of the possible new, strange ability that she or Cedric possessed. And what was in store with it, as well as the club that Cedric had acquired.