24 decembre 1803
Roma, Italia

Dearest Journal-Friend,

It is the night before Christmas, one of the holiest of nights. I always enjoyed it the most of any night of the year during my childhood. It was not because of the merriment and stolen chocolates and sips of champagne, and not certainly for the reverence, as there was as little of piety within me then as there is now. Catholics raise their children with the fear of Hell and damnation, and it is a lesson learned early, that fear is greater than love.

Perhaps we all should have been far better off had we been taught to fear man instead. God is innocent, or at least indifferent. It is humanity who brings suffering and corruption upon the world and one another.

I always loved the night before Christmas because of how often people said the words "peace" and "love". Whether in the most decadent of parties or simplest of chapels, it was easy to feel that for one night, those words were true. Tonight, I am reminded of the bittersweet nature of that delusion, one only children are permitted to take at face value.

I am no longer a child, and while the music and festive drinks and call to Mass bring back those days of old, "peace" and "love" no longer mean what they did. It is a world where the one who wishes you peace is your enemy, studying your reaction, and so it is important a smile never wavers and a blink is never out of place. "Love" is not anything that exists anymore. It has not for such a long time, and I was foolish to think coming here would bring me that. One place is as lacking in love as another these days.

This Christmas Eve, I spend with Orlando, the brother of the husband who says he loves me. Tonight, while the others were at Mass, he pulled me into his chambers and undressed me as he knelt before me. It was almost reverence. He did not ask why I was not with the others, and I did not speak as he paid worship to my being as he would a statue. The only difference was the strings of pearls he used to caress me, the golden bracelets slipped on my small wrists, glinting with rubies and diamonds. A statue would not have responded to him the way my body responded to a mere string of pearls delicately held between my legs.

I held still for as long as I could, and then there was the need. Lust and blood are inseparable, and I do not remember the moment my body began to shudder in orgasm and the moment I held him to the bed, showing him life without restraint,

Those who live as those do in Rome are all too familiar with the lack of distinction between pleasure and pain, and it was a glorious enough night to feel the joy of words such as "peace" and "love". I  almost did not stop in time. I could not, until I felt the slowing of the heartbeat I desire so and the way he never fought to be released, not once.

He trusted me with not just my own self-control but his life, and for that trust and that worship, I became enamoured. I became enamoured enough to know he must live. It was only after that I was filled with regret, thinking of the terrible blunder I had made. Was one night of childish belief in "peace" and "love" worth my destruction? I am watching him and his Evienne, yes, but who is to say Orlando is not also watching me?

Later in the night, the fires burned in the fireplace and I held Orlando as he healed.

"Eleonore." He whispered, almost besotted. "I know nothing more pure and beautiful than what we shared. I have been waiting, hoping for the day you allowed yourself to be pushed from the cliff."

"I am not to be pushed." I answered him with a laugh in my voice. "I always choose to jump."

He brushed my hair from my face, admiring the long and not well-tamed ringlets that fall free when not properly plaited. He admitted he was surprised I did not kill him. "I am no innocent, Eleonore. Secrets are dangerous and love fleeting."

I shook inside as her uttered the words. "Do you intend to report me, then? I have nothing to defend myself and should never slander you to blackmail you. There is, of course, the matter of your wife and brother. I rather think you'd report them yourself under the right circumstances."

He looked taken aback, as if it had never occurred to him. It probably hadn't, but she was too inexperienced still to know the difference.

"Eleonore, I would never hurt you. I only want a favour. It has nothing to do with blackmail and I am no informant. I am just a man who wishes for something greater. Antonio has told me no too many times. Perhaps it is you who will be my saviour."

I turned to him, confounded, and asked him in a whispered voice what he wanted.

"I would give you the world if you would make me what you are, Eleonore. No one has to know. I have always kept Antonio's secret, and I would keep yours--and you both would keep mine. We would be bonded as family."

I said nothing, my head spinning and my stomach feeling sick. I should not wish my fate on anyone and I told him so, but he grew angry. "Eleonore, you cannot deny me. I know too much and have seen too much. The death of my family would likely make me one of the richest men in Italy." He paused and turned away. "Not that it matters,. Eleonore, I am dying anyway. This way, I do not die so much as change. "

I did not like being threatened but I also felt sorry for him. He was desperate and so very naive. "You are not dying. Stop drinking the tea your wife brings before bed and her servant brings in the middle of the day, and you'll find yourself as robust as a man of nineteen."

Orlando stared blankly, and I took his hand in mine. "Darling, Madame de Roussel is skilled in the art of witchcraft. The lovely Evienne knows her herbs and her flowers. She has been trying to poison us since almost the day we met. It must drive her mad I am as much Eleni as I ever was."

"She wants us dead so she can marry Antonio."

I paused, looking at him. "If she discovers my weaknesses, you've signed my execution writ--and your own."

That was when I realised the only way to protect myself was to give him what he wanted. It was to give him the same weaknesses I myself possessed. "She cannot hurt you if you are like us, that's what you are thinking?"

I sighed, curling up against him, moving the pearls over his exposed flesh. "Yes, Orlando. I shall do the thing you ask, for all of our sakes. "

I will always remember the kiss that came after that, and more games with pearls and eternity.

Christmas Eve has always been a time for peace and love, and one selfish witch who fancies herself Madame du Barry incarnate cannot ruin that.

I was there. I saw that scheming mistresses meet the same end as their betters, and those they look down upon.

Tomorrow, while all of Roma celebrates the birth of a child born to save humanity, I shall celebrate liberating a suffering man from humanity. My first Childer. I shall be a Sire on Christmas Day.

Perhaps I act for the wrong reasons, but the outcome is the right one, and that is what matters.

Your soon-to-be maternal and utterly devoted,

Eleni

November 22nd, 2015
Aubrey Parish, Louisiana

Lala runs into the familiar bar, still open despite the late hour. She has no sense of time, other than it is dark and late. It is late enough that Mortikai is on duty, smoking a joint and listening to the sounds of death metal that escape the headphones. Wild-eyed, Lala is grateful not to be noticed, sneaking upstairs to the second floor where no one will see her. Distracted for a moment, she moves over to the open-air window that lets her have a view of the entire city. Her body leans out, almost weightless. It would be so easy to fall, she thinks.

Leaning back, Lala wobbles and grabs a table to orient herself. It was two nights, maybe three, since she'd been out on her own. She didn't know where to go. The hospital wasn't safe; it was full of vampires and monsters trying to coerce her with drugs. Lala knew it was not enough the monsters came for her body and the vampires wanted her blood, they all wanted her mind. They wanted her sanity, to break her as they'd done to Ali. The moment the poor blonde girl's heart stopped, instinct kicked in, and she made a break for it.

Not having time to find the clothes and what she was carrying when she went to the hospital, Lala just grabbed what she could from the room behind the front desk, a box full of forgotten treasures. Once a Romani, always a Romani, Lala had laughed to herself as she shed the hospital gown.

A smile crossed Lala's lips as she dressed in the shadow of the trees. The curvy brunette soon found herself in a tight pink rainbow top fit for a teenage girl without Lala's shape. She sported a matching pleated skirt that showed enough to land her in jail. The sandals fit Lala perfectly. They may have actually belonged to Lala.

Giggling with delight when she unearthed a choker made of multiple strands of pearls, two rings, a pair of sunglasses, and a bracelet with a red and gold charm reading "Happy Valentine's Day", she adorned herself with everything, feeling less naked with the familiar jingle of shiny things. The box also revealed a left-behind purse that wasn't too hideous, and large enough for Lala to toss the various wallets, keys, and umbrellas inside. No matter how unstable she supposedly was, she remembered the basics. Evidence had to be disposed of by fire.

At the bottom of the box, Lala found familiar bracelets and a beaded extension to clip in the hair. There's a small heart-shaped bottle of perfume that she sprays around herself. She lit up at the sight of the little bags of herbs. Those were certainly Lala's. Lala giggled at the ignorance. They didn't even try to understand her world, not even enough to know the power of the herbs.

Lala couldn't go home. There was no home. Every place that she ever called home would hurt her or turn her over to the vampires.

Days later, she stands silently inside the deserted bar, her ridiculous outfit somehow fitting with the rest of Lala's style. She'd been able to fix up her untamed hair and smudged makeup, but a branch or blade of grass still poked out here and there. She flashes a pair of lace-white panties with every tenth step. She'd been lucky not to be raped or kidnapped in the woods, but those were thoughts that didn't cross her mind. Girls like Lala were raised not to be burdened by fear or modesty. Some never got past that stage, the shedding of inhibition. They did not survive. Lala was a survivor.

Seeing the second flight of stairs that went to yet another floor, Lala's pulse quickens. There are only two doors. Randomly choosing one, she turns the knob with a sharp inhale. It is unlocked, and once she peeks inside, she is surprised to see a rather well-kept apartment. Whatever this place is, it is more beautiful and newer than the rest of the building. Like Goldilocks, her eyes move to the large bed. After days of sleeping in the woods, a bed is a heavenly creation. She climbs in, oblivious to the fact that someone lives here. Lala needs to rest, and whoever the bed belongs to will forgive her. There's always a way to show appreciation.

It is her last thought before she drifts off comfortably. She expects to wake with someone's hands on her, but she doesn't mind much. Lala is so tired that she doesn't even move at the sound of footsteps.

A more fragile being would jump at the creak of the door. Lala never blinks.

Someone has been sleeping in my bed.

The words run through his mind, reminiscent of a fairytale. His jaw drops open, and every muscle in his body tightens, as if by instinct. He isn't sure what to make of the presence of a thoroughly provocative woman he knows only slightly. She is fast asleep in his bed, curled up as if she belongs there.

I never even flirted with her, I swear. The thought runs through Keegan's mind, a silent apology.

Keegan looks at Lala lying in bed. Her inviting sun-kissed skin and the curves of her body revealed through the ridiculous clothing cause a rush of blood through his body. No, he thinks immediately, ashamed of the reaction.

He should call the police, but they'd arrest him or Mortikai along with the girl. Keegan doesn't exactly trust the police, given the ankle monitor strapped to him. He couldn't believe a half-naked woman lying in his bed, either.

With a sigh, he sits down on the edge of the bed. Keegan tries to avoid the sight of her perfect shape and the scent of expensive perfume and intoxicating herbs. She is an exotic and inviting wonderland, but she isn't Ava. No matter how much the denial of the physical torments Keegan, the thought of touching anyone but Ava is worse.

Keegan instead focuses on her face. He knows who she is, which makes him gentle. Touching her shoulder, he says in a firm voice, " Lala! Lala, you have to get up. I don't know why you came here, but you don't belong in my bed."

He blushes tomato-red, the growing bulge between his legs contradicting his words. As if knowing the push and pull within him, Lala stretches, her feline-like body displayed with almost a purr. "Keegan. Why don't I belong? I need a pillow and a nap. I'll make it up to you." She winks knowingly. She's playing a dangerous game. That's what excites her.

"I'm not the kind of man for that sort of thing, Lala. I'm not a middle-of-the-night booty call. I know how you make things up to people. I can't afford you, and my Ava is all I need."

Lala's eyes narrow. "What do you mean, you can't afford me? I'm no whore, you ass. You think all Romani girls sell themselves to get by in the world?"

Keegan swallows, hard. "No...no. I don't think that. It's not my business if that's what you do. Or not. I'm not judging you," Everything he says makes things so much worse. Throat dry, he tries again

"I'll help you, Lala. You've always been kind to me and if you're in trouble --" Keegan's voice trails off. "You can sleep here, but just as a friend, that's all."

His shoulders slump, and her hand reaches out to touch him. "You're a good guy, Keegan. We're the same kind of people. If you help me, I'll help you. It's been a long time that you've had to live without her. I can't take her place, but I can make you smile again." He can hear the teasing twinkle in her caramel-coloured eyes.

Keegan turns to look at her, his eyes staring at the dark nipples poking through the thin fabric of the t-shirt. She is the first girl in a very long time who doesn't make him run. Still, he moves her hand away. "It isn't you, Lala. Please don't tease. It's been a long time, but it's worth it. I don't want anyone but her. I tried once...and..." He stops, just shaking his head. "I can't."

Lala doesn't reply. Although part of him hates himself for saying it, the words tumble out. "I've heard things about you, Lala. There are rumours about what you do."

The room fills with Lala's laugh, and her lips too close to his ear, yet not close enough. "What have you heard about me, Keegan? Am I a curiosity?"

The need to undo the zipper on his jeans is growing painful. "I've heard you practise black magick. I know enough about you...." His words come out in almost a gasp. "I heard you can make yourself appear as whoever others want you to be."

Keegan shudders as Lala's lips move down the side of his neck. "Is there someone you want me to be, Keegan? Do you have a fantasy?"

His head starts swimming as the tightness between his legs becomes unbearable. "I need to see my Ava again. Please, Lala. I know it's not real, but it's not a fantasy. It's the closest I can ever get to her."

Keegan's mind freezes as he hears the sound of fabric freeing itself, then the feeling of a pink sash tied around his eyes like a blindfold. His mind pictures Ava, the way she unties the black silk that pulls together the fabric of her robe.

Mercifully, he feels Lala's nimble fingers pulling down the zipper that presses into him so painfully. A pop of a button eases things. Her touch soothes him, a gasp leaving his lips and becoming a moan as her fingers press into his long-untouched flesh.

"Lie down on the bed, Keegan."

Her voice is soft, commanding. Keegan can feel her movements as he reclines, and she is both cruel and kind in not touching him. Instead, he hears the spark of a flame and the smell of cloves and spices and something indecipherable. Keegan hears the sound of rummaging and struggles to find his voice. "Lala? What are you doing?"

It is a moment before he can feel the undeniable shape of her, slowly starting to make contact with his body. She ripples and undulates in her movements, a serpentine creature. He almost jolts in shock when she grabs each of his wrists, forcing his arms upward and behind his head.

"Breathe deeply. Smell the air. Feel my touch. Surrender to the fantasy."

The fabric that binds his wrists together is tight, and he panics for a moment. He pictures his hands blue.

"It is better this way. You touch what touches you, and you feel what I allow you to feel. Whatever you want, you ask for."

Keegan is somehow aware of the change in the voice, the softness that guides him yet offers him pleasure. His entire body stiffens and arches upward in a silent plea. The gentle nature of the curves that move against him is familiar, teasing in their refusal to press tight against him. He almost screams at the frustration of having his beloved so close, yet being unable to pull her to him.

"Ava!" His cry is full of need, and he suffers for not being able to see her. "You've come back for me. Please, I have to see you. I love you more than the world itself." Keegan's shoulders shake, a choked sob inside his voice.

Her quiet laughter fills the room, and he can hear the sounds of the water, feel the beautiful pool that is the centrepiece of Ava's ornate quarters. "If I let you see me, what will you give me in return?" Her voice is young and alluring, dripping like honey.

He groans as he feels the weight of her body press against him, a reward for his devotion. "Paradise, Ava. I could deny you nothing, including paradise."

Keegan almost whimpers when her body pulls away from his. The pressing need for her is urgent. It is not merely a feeling. It is a taste, a smell, a flash of gold. Every one of his senses has come alive again.

The next sound to escape his lips is one of pure ecstasy. The pink fabric moves away from his eyes. When they clear, he sees the stunning emeralds of Ava's own eyes, glinting from alabaster skin. The familiar jet black hair perches in a sophisticated chignon atop her head, and her perfect globe-shaped breasts move close enough to his lips that he can grab hold of the delicate flesh.

Tears roll down his face, just staring at her. "Ava. I've been so lost. I'm not anything when you're gone. " Sobs start to wrack his body, and he wants only to hold her. Instead, he feels her thin fingers brushing away the tears, a finger landing upon his lips to keep him quiet, Keegan can feel the familiar sensation of her legs wrapping around his hips, and the perfectly pert nipple of her left breast pushing through his lips.

She replies in her melodic tone. "Shhh. I'm with you now. Touch, and feel. Love me."

His lips begin to suck her skin in the greedy way he always had with her, feeling once again a love-sick teenage boy. His tongue moves around her nipple, teasing it until he is rewarded with her familiar gentle whimper. "Keegan..."

He remembers everything about her, every inch of her body, and every motion that pleases her. When his lips pull her nipple more firmly, teeth are sinking gently around the flesh, and she nearly weeps. In an instant, her hips are pushing down against the twitching bulge of his erection in a deft motion that takes his breath from him.

Keegan can only feel her excitement, the familiarity of him pressing against the folds barely concealed by the lace between her legs. As soon as he senses her tight against him and hears the groan of desire she fights to restrain, a powerful force grips him and doesn't let go. The warm ribbons of pleasure that shoot out of him, defiling the purity of the expensive lace she is always made to wear, they are nothing next to the violent shudders that overtake his body.

"Ava...oh, God. Ava, I'm so sorry. I'm..."

Even in the throes of mindless pleasure, he thinks of her, and her lips cover his protest with a pulsating kiss. "I'm not sorry, Keegan. We have all the time in the world."

He gasps as her tongue pushes his lips open, absorbing the rest of his cries. She breathes deeply, enjoying the heavily scented air and the weight of desire within his flesh.

He smiles, knowing she is only beginning.

He loves her to distraction, yet never forgets she can instill madness with the pleasure she offers. The emerald innocence of her eyes is his Garden of Eden.

It is a familiar scene for Ava. She sees herself lying on the round, red bed with the zebra-print bedding, and carefully peeling the spoils of desire from the pretty lace fabric between her legs. She wears only the pleated skirt and lifts her leg slightly to offer him a glimpse. Each time she does, she feels him twitch slightly, and her lips meet his in a kind of reward. It is a soundless game, the way Ava's tongue strokes his every time he can no longer hide his arousal.

She smiles into his eyes, her smile bright and almost innocent. "You keep wiggling your fingers! Don't you like having your hands kept from you?"

Keegan shakes his head. "It is frustrating, Ava. I need to hold you close, and I cannot. It is a cruel thing to do to a man who has wanted nothing but you for so long."

Her face falls a little. She hadn't thought of that, how cruel she was being to deny her lover the thing he needed the most: a way to show her affection. "I'm sorry, Keegan. It was only meant to arouse you, to stir you into wanting me. Part of me worried you no longer would."

Ava's body presses itself tightly against his, and she smiles as she feels him grow slowly between her legs. The small twitches and sighs that bring life and energy into his body stroke her in return, allowing jolts of desire to reverberate into her pleasantly. As he becomes fully erect under the weight of her curved thighs, she moans in reluctance.

"Don't be shy with me, please. You're always my beautiful girl, but you are the most beautiful when you are happy. Do you think there could ever be a day I do not think of you, want you, love you? I wake up remembering you on top of me, and every Sunday, I bring flowers to your apartment. How could I not want the reason for my existence?"

Her eyes grow misty, giving the look of dew upon blades of grass. Ava's arms encircle his thin body, lips pressed to his heart. The kind of honesty he offers moves her, and the throbbing between her legs created by the way they fit together feels like the most natural thing in the world.

She shows him mercy, telling herself that is impossible to remain unmoved by the sort of sincerity he offers, but it is not kindness that leads her to kiss his lips with silent hunger as she unties the bindings that lock his hands above his head. There is a space in her heart where love belongs. Today, his words cause an ache that makes her more aware of it than anything else in the world.

Ava hears him groan in relief as the ties are released, and he immediately stiffens, the tip of him pushing against her delightfully. Her hands move to massage his arms, and she whispers, "I love you, Keegan. I've always loved you. The luckiest woman in the world is one who is allowed to feel the strength of your love every day."

"There will never be anyone but you for that. Sweet Ava, don't ever think anyone could take your place."

She feels his arms move around the small of her back, running up and down the length of her body before his fingers peel the skirt away. His need is something different now as he unties the coiled hair at the top of her head, releasing the cascade of long, thick strands that fall halfway down her back.

"Ava." His voice is between a groan and a plea, a young boy trying to learn to be a man. "Ava, I'm no good at those things. I think my fingers are too big and clumsy. Take off the pearls."

Her hand moves to the rows of beads that hang heavily from her neck. "Do you not like them, my love? I thought you'd find them alluring. They compliment me well."

"No, Ava, I don't like them. I don't like you wearing the gifts your admirers bring you." She can hear the pain in his voice as he speaks.

"It's bad enough that I have to know they court you and to see the evidence all around me. Watching you wear trinkets with pride is like a knife to the heart. If you want pearls, I will get you all the pearls in the Parish. Take them off."

There is suddenly a serious note to his voice that frightens her a bit, and the dense collection of beads falls onto the bed. "I don't need pearls or any trinket to feel loved, Keegan. I just thought they were pretty. I didn't think at all about anything else. I promise. There isn't a pearl in existence that's worth what you give me."

Tears form in the corners of her eyes as she speaks the words. It rocks her to the very core of her being to realise how true they are, and how deeply she means what she says.

Sincerity and meaning are foreign, but they make her feel protected, and every bit like a lady.

****

He smiles as he watches Ava's green eyes looking up at him with a mixture of anticipation and fear. It was a sudden movement, the way he'd grasped her hard enough to change positions and the force with which she landed on the mattress started even him.

The way she looks up at him with her innocent smile and large doe eyes send shockwaves of desire through him. He visibly shudders, speaking through a gasp as he grabs her wrists, using the fabric to tie her arms in the same position she'd tied his. He knows the knots are not as tight, not as practised, and he is far more gentle with her than other men might have been in such a position.

Arousal moves him, but more than anything, he still fears to hurt her.

Keegan leans down to whisper in her ear, pushing everything aside to admire her flawless vulnerability. "What is the saying, my beautiful one? Turnabout is fair play?"

His hands move over her body as if it is a work of art he's allowed to admire. He is not sure why, but the power of need grips him even tighter when she is silent and still except for the moans that escape her perfect lips. They are still lightly stained with the tell-tale red lipstick that brings out the beauty of her hair, as black as a midnight sky without stars.

Picking up the pearls, he dangles them over her body. "Just because I did not give you these doesn't mean I do not have ways to make them mine. Every time you wear them, you will think about where they came from, I promise."

Keegan's gentle fingers move them across her collarbone, down toward her breasts. The choker rolls over her flesh like some bizarre abacus, but he can see the way the beads spin and rotate brings out the desire in her. The look in her eyes is pure as if it is the first time she's felt wanting and need.

It is one of the things he adores about her. Even though they both know it's not true, she responds as if every time he touches her is the first time. The look in her eyes tells him she doesn't just pretend.

He wants to erase everything that has ever hurt her, every time she's ever had to pretend. He wants to show her the beauty in what's real, and he does.

When the beads move over her left breast, her entire body responds, back arching in a subconscious kind of submission. Her voice, soft as it usually is, sounds like a tremble rather than a word. "Keegan..."

He smiles gently, and his fingers move to her lips, pressing them firmly together as she had. "No, Ava. You will not say a single word, not until I have finished. Do you understand?"

He wants to soften his demeanour and kiss her as he sees the shocked look upon her face. Ava nods her head. Still, there is a wildness in her eyes, and he can feel her trembling like a leaf.

She had always been so easily startled, quiet, fearful. His heart melts as he remembers learning she was nothing like he imagined she would be.

It is with love that he moves the row of beads to the other breast, groaning himself at the sight of the hardened pink nipple poking through a seemingly endless number of perfect white pearls, lighter than even the alabaster of Ava's skin. "Look, Ava."

He whispers gently, directing her eyes to the sight of her flawless nipple on display between the pearls. "Even among jewels, you shine so much more brightly."

With that, he presses the pearls into her skin with more force, entranced by the willing suffering of her breast as dozens of indentations force themselves upon the surface before beginning to spin again. Her entire body lifts off the bed, arching so that he can see the plump pearl between her legs, the way it glistens, begging for touch.

"Slowly, Ava. Relax. Breathe,"

His hand pushes upon the slight curve of her stomach that leads to perfectly rounded hips, even the lightest touch pushing her back down to the mattress. "Other men may offer you pearls, but I will use their pearls to make you shine like the emeralds of your eyes. Don't forget that, please. There is no love that matters but ours."

Ava opens her mouth as if she is about to respond. "No. Not yet. There is nothing to say. Just enjoy being here, together. There isn't anything worth more than this, and that's why time itself will stand still if we only ask it for the favour."

One hand moves over the rippling muscles of her stomach, biting his lip as his desire surges forth again at watching the battle raging within her small, voluptuous figure. The other draws the pearls lower, her body shuddering as they caress her navel. "Ava..."

He breathes her name, transfixed by the magic of pearls against alabaster. Keegan's hand moves firmly to her hip, holding her gently but firmly in place as the strings of beads travel slowly over the most delicate of flesh. As they disappear between her legs, she lifts her hips to him, crying out with a kind of unknown need.

Keegan is breathless and yet feels surprise at his actions. It had always been Ava showing him what to do. Too shy for words, her actions were always his guide to what pleased her. Now, she submits to him, trusting him to protect her and to fulfil her desires.

There is a rush that goes beyond mere lust or even love. It is the thrill of discovering power for the first time, and the bliss it can unfold when appropriately applied.

Keegan was entirely within its grasp, and it took him to new heights of boldness.

When Ava arches her body towards his, he runs the pearls over her glistening folds and back, grasping the other side of the string. "Close your eyes, my beloved. You don't need anything but the sense of touch right now. "

Without so much as a word, Ava's beautiful lids fall, and her hips begin to move in a rhythm he creates with the pearls. As her cries turn from the soft whimpers he has always known into something else entirely, he increases the speed, so the beads brush her skin almost mercilessly.

He feels his heart stop and skip beats as he watches her, the way her entire body moves and contorts and strains toward the release she desires, The more she struggles, the more determined he is.

"Please..." Ava's voice cries out, stronger than her tiny whisper. "Please, slow...down." She gasps with a deep hunger, her body quivering as it is overwhelmed by sensation. "I..can't..think." Her breaths are shallow as he doesn't slow down, but pauses for a moment, enough to enjoy the beauty of her perfect body filled with uncontrollable tremors.

"No." Keegan's voice is firm but loving. "I love and adore you with all my heart, and I've never denied you a thing. Today, though, I must say no."

This time, the strings of pearls resume their motion, but they spin and press and vibrate against her skin even faster than before. Keegan watches her, the beautiful movement of a body that surrenders completely to the search of that perfect moment of freedom. When he hears her sharp, almost pained inhale of breath, he stops for a moment, knowing he is leaving her on the edge of a dangerous and beautiful cliff.

Ava's body protests with all its might, but she doesn't say a word. Not even a sound comes from her, and still light-headed with the throes of power as strong as her passion, he whispers, "That's my good girl. You can trust me. I'll keep you safe.."

This time, the motion of the pearls returns to her with so much power and quickness, it is mere seconds before cries of wanting dissolve into an almost-scream. He sees her face contort with the overdose of bliss, and her body spasm with such violence that her tiny hands break free from their bindings, grabbing at his hair. "You are my happiness."

It is all it takes for the tight grip of power to release Keegan from its grasp, and the pearls clatter to the floor. He takes Ava into his arms, feeling her body still convulsing as the climax ebbs away from her bit by bit. Keegan kisses her hair and her face, holding her tightly. "Ava, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened there. I got carried away. I'm sorry."

His face blushes with shame, an emotion confusing to him because the firm evidence of his arousal still pushes against Ava's whimpering figure. When she finally opens her eyes, he sees the peace in the beautiful emeralds, and the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Please don't be sorry. I will remember today for as long as I live."

He feels his heart melt as she clings to him like a life-preserver. When her lust and need subside, all that remains is the pure, beautiful love between them. He knows it is a love worth living for, worth dying for, and one that makes him the wealthiest man in the world.

Ava curls into the warmth of the mattress, her hands roaming the body of the man responsible for her pleasure. He gives so much more than that, she thinks to herself. It is a sense of adoration that clouds her head now. There are not many people in the world willing to give away their everything and call it love.

Most would call it a lack of any instinct for self-preservation. She thought it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever witnessed. Every time he loved her, it was an exquisite sacrifice, but for him it was oxygen. He needed their love to survive, which made it no sacrifice at all.

She lowers her head, placing tiny kisses upon his chest. "My love, I need you to do a favour for me. It is something that is not easy, but something utterly significant. "

Keegan's eyes look up at her in curiosity when she asks him for a favour. Even lying right beside her, the softness of her words and the gentle way in which her lips caress him makes every hair stand on end.

She is demure, almost chaste in the way she touches him. She knows it makes him adore and desire her all the more. He likes envisioning her as an untouchable, pristine goddess. Ava doesn't have the heart to shatter the illusion. She's not even sure it is one.

His body shifts slightly, and he immediately stiffens and rises to grind against her. His body was clearly saying yes to anything she asked, but his eyes would beg for forgiveness. She knows the look says he is disappointed in himself. He wants to cherish her, not just desire her, and his body betrays him more often than not. She never tells him he's done nothing wrong, but it occurs to her maybe she should.

She feels his hand make its way onto the graceful curve of her hip as she lies on her side with a lovely smile. His words fumble around like inexperienced fingers. "Ava, I will give you any favour there is. Just ask me." His fingers run through her hair, smoothing out the knots and wildness passion had created. "I have a favour to ask you too, but you first."

Ava's look is one that tries to see into his soul, and she can feel him trembling with the light touch of her fingernails. They move in small circles upon his skin as she speaks. "You know I don't care about politics in the world, but I overhear a lot of things. I've overheard them saying your name. You have to be careful."

Keegan's face remains soft, but he flinches as if someone slapped him. "My name? Who would talk about me and politics, Ava? You know I avoid them the same way you do. All I want is this bubble, you and I, forever."

Her hand moves up to caress his cheek with a sense of gentleness as her heart lurches with his naivete. "Keegan, please. I need you to listen and protect yourself. Do it for me. It doesn't matter if you don't care. You're in danger because others do. You're in their way, a roadblock. Roadblocks work for a while, but in the end, they are demolished."

Ava fills with a sudden sense of sadness and the weight is palpable. "Ava, no. Please don't be upset. I'll make it right this time." She trembles as his lips press against hers, his arm moving around her in a way that is chivalrous and utterly protective. "I shot Victor for you, Ava. I'll do the same to anyone who dares to threaten us. Who is it?"

She sighs, the exhaled word feeling like a tremble. Ava's answer is a death sentence for someone, but she doesn't have the foresight to know who. "Iona Bellerose. She thinks she has the best claim to the Avati coven and she plans to assert it. When she finds out she doesn't, she will get rid of anyone and anything in her way."

Her body keeps trembling, and only the firmness of her touch keeps her grounded. She closes her eyes tight, pretending it is another world where words and politics matter. It is not, though, and she needs to save her lover's life. "Keegan, you are what's in her way. You are the next in line. "

Ava's head turns light and dizzy as the weight of the world falls off her shoulders. She expects him to be angry, upset, even just frightened. Instead, he pulls her closer, covering her face with kisses. "Oh, Ava. Is that what's been upsetting you? I don't associate with the coven, and I'm not their heir. My mother is gifted that way, but not my father. They don't count half-bloods, Ava. Don't worry."

She can feel her body shaking, and his words only make it worse. "Someone needs to tell you, or you will die not knowing. What would I do without you?"

Ava's voice breaks suddenly and her body feels limp. She can feel the pillow he moves behind her head, and the hands that stroke her hair and face frantically. "Ava. I'll never leave you. I promise. Nothing will ever make me leave you. Tell me what you overheard. You can't let gossip scare you like this, Ava. It worked out the last time."

It hadn't, but she can't remind him of that. "I'll just say it fast, and it won't be scary anymore, because you'll be okay."

She relaxes a little under his kisses, feeling him nod. "It's okay, Ava. Say it, and I'll ask you my favour. We're going to be better than okay. We have each other, every day." When she opens her eyes, she sees his concerned, protective face. He is concerned for her, though, not herself.

"Two women are here in the Parish because the Speaker is dead and there is no heir. Both are innocent, but political games hurt the innocent. The dark-haired widow with all the jewels and charm, she has come for you. She has come to tell you who your birth father is. She is your step-mother, Keegan. Try to trust her more than you hate her. She didn't kill her husband."

He tries to interrupt, but Ava's fingers move to his lips. "No. Please, not yet. Just listen. The second one is a gypsy girl, one who moves like her hips are selling her body and her head is in the clouds. She is Iona's sister. Neither of you has children, so she's third in line. She's here to spy, to seduce, to collect secrets for Iona. She knows enough to bring down the entire Parish. She won't, though. Once Iona is gone, she'll blow away just like the breeze that blew her in. "

Ava feels Keegan pull her tighter. "Ava. Are you telling me that Hugo Leveau is my father? That's not possible."

She nods her head softly, the spinning starting again. "Ask your mother. Ask the woman with the hair darker than mine. She will explain. If you don't get rid of Iona, you are in danger. Anyone you love is in danger. She can't be the queen if there's already a king. Protect yourself."

He says nothing, but his trembling figure clings to hers. "No more of this, Ava. It's nonsense. I'll always protect us."

His lips find hers as if he is searching for something, and she guides him back down to the bed, her fingers deftly finding and manipulating the flesh between his legs that was still for too long. She smiles at the way he immediately groans and stiffens, the feeling of the warm liquid that coats the very tip of him sending spasms of excitement through her body.

"Ask me your favour, Keegan. What can I do for you?"

His breath catches in his throat. "This. Make me forget everything bad, Ava. Take me to the world where it's only us, and nothing else matters. I miss that place so terribly I cry myself to sleep. I would die to have it back."

Her heart lurches suddenly, understanding what real heartbreak is. "Close your eyes and don't move a muscle. I'll be right back. I'm going to help give you what you want, the way I always do." There is a small giggle in her whisper, and Ava stands, stretching her curves against him as she lifts herself off the bed.

She moves his hand to the impressively erect bulge between his legs, wrapping his fingers around his length. "Very slowly, my love. Pretend your hand is made of lead and denies you all but the smallest pleasures."

Ava hears his soft whimpers, but moves to the small table, adding more of the fragrant herbs to the bowl. The powerful puff of smoke as they catch fire causes her to inhale deeply, feeling lightheaded. Taking a chance, she opens the top drawer, betting heavily she'll find some forbidden pleasure. It takes a moment, but she sees a small stack of thin wafers. It is a pleasure she knows all too well, and she peels away two of them very carefully.

"Ava.." Keegan is on the bed whimpering, his hand very slowly stroking the length of his flesh. She bites her lip noticing the way he glistens in the dim light, the pulsating movements of his body. Without thinking, she jumps onto the bed with a carefree giggle.

"You are torturing me." He moans the words softly, his body already surrendering to the oblivion he asked of her.

"I know, my love. But you asked me a favour, and I remembered something was missing, something that kept us in our little world and everyone else out." Ava's eyes are twinking, and she whispers, "Open your lips for me, and I'll open mine for you."

She can see the way he shudders with arousal and anticipation at the words, his hand stroking faster as he complies. Sliding the wafer onto his tongue, she laughs at the unexpected look of fascination. "Ava! You remembered."

Ava slowly pulls Keegan's fingers away from his body, watching in satisfaction as he continues to thrust his hips upward. She opens her mouth into a perfectly-rounded "O" shape, placing the other wafer between his fingers. He obliges, placing the wafer upon her tongue with a soft moan of contentment.

She can taste him on his fingers, and she moans in unison as she swallows the little treat before it even dissolves. Ava's impeccable lips close around his fingers, coated in sex and wanting and denial. Her tongue moves over them, her lips sucking with a voracity as she waits for the ultimate wave of pleasure to hit her body.

When it does, the power of her own need brings her hips down against him. The pair collides with ecstatic force, and she feels his slender hip bones against her own.

Keegan cries out simultaneously, arms wrapping around her. The almost-helpless look in his eyes tells her he needs something. Ava's lovely emerald eyes lock tightly on his as she begins to swivel, and she whispers, "Don't look away, my love. Don't even blink. I want to watch every moment."

Slowly, tormenting him with the patience of a saint, her hips begin to rise and fall. She slithers with the temptation of a hungry serpent, and her own body surrenders to every kind of desire and lusts her mind could comprehend.

Even as she offers him every ounce of her being, her body and soul merging with his, her unblinking eyes never leave his. It is she who feels the hand of power guiding her, and the raw sense of wanting on the face of her beloved is her greatest victory.

Closing the door silently and tossing her bag over her shoulder, Lala makes it to the second-floor window before she slides down onto the floor and collapses into soundless sobs. Lala knows that even without her, he will have a few more treasured hours with his Ava. When reality sets in, the realisation of being alone and knowing it was only a dream will shatter him.

The knowledge tears Lala's heart in half, but the only thing worse would be for him to wake up with Lala beside him. She instinctively knows that the sense of betrayal would kill him.

She wears a dress from Keegan's closet she only can guess belonged to Ava, and it makes her treat it with immaculate care. The way it is too tight and too short for comfort tells her Ava had the same sort of curves as Lala, only on a much smaller frame. Lala feels guilty for daring to have the fabric touching her skin. It is the defiling of something sacred.

Finally, the sobs subside, and Lala brushes the tears away. With the tears, remnants of black makeup and coloured glitter leave her face. In Ava's dress and red puffy eyes that show something like a heart, Lala looks a decade younger. The sad tale of what could have been is etched upon her face, and she knows it.

Girls like Lala and Ava, they inevitably became sad tales of what could have been, were the world a kinder place.

Looking out the window, she sees the stars starting to fade and give way to the first strains of dawn. I tried to save his life, Ava. Lala looks up toward a Heaven she doesn't believe in, offering her silent apology. I betrayed my sister to spare him. Doesn't that count for something?

Running down the stairs to make a quick exit, Lala collides with Mortikai's devious smirk. "It was a long night's work, Helena. From what I could tell, it wasn't lacking in enjoyment, either. I hope you're not a silly lass who didn't get more than a roll in the hay for your trouble. I'd give you that for much less effort any day."

"He doesn't know anything. He thinks he's a half-blood. As long as no one contradicts him, he's no trouble at all. That man isn't a threat to no one; he couldn't give a shit about politics." Lala tries to keep her voice even, but she sees Mortikai's smirk fade into a much more dangerous look.

"Lala, you're puffy and crying. What the fuck happened? If the son-of-a-bitch hit you, I'll kill him myself right now and give us all one less problem."

All I have to do is lie, she thinks, for just a split second. I say he hurt me, and it's like none of this ever happened.

Lala shakes her head before her lips have time to betray her. "No. I'm good, Mortikai. I swear."

His eyes look her over, shaking his head. "Don't tell me you're going soft on me, girl. That's an easy mark up there, and you're feeling guilty?"

Lala shakes her head again. "I'm just--." She stops and says softly, "No one will ever love me in my entire life the way that man loves a woman who's been dead for seven years."

"Love is for fairytales, fools, and suckers, Lala. You know better than that." He clicks his tongue at her in amusement.

"Go home, little Lala. You got a man waitin' on you. He ain't the best sort, but people like us---well, we ain't the best either."

Lala wipes her face, and heads toward the door, nodding in agreement. "Good night, Mortikai. Tell Iona you saw me."

Stepping out into the early strains of dawn, Lala walks in no particular direction. She doesn't know how to go home to the harshness of reality after being lost in the fantasy of love.

Lala isn't loyal to anyone but Lala, a lesson she'd learned early enough. She'd betrayed Iona. She could have ended Keegan's life and put the blood on Mortikai's hands, taking all of them down. She could have paved a path to her own glory, not Iona's.

She didn't, though. Lala didn't even want to think about why.

It was one thing to be the kind of woman who'd impersonate a man's dead fiancee. It was quite another to be the kind who cries when it's all over, wishing the fantasy were real.

Author's Note: This chapter was published (sans Eleni's diary entry) as an independent 7500-word piece for "Pearls And Ties", a Valentine's Day anthology put together by @HRCollection. It was released prior to the previous two chapters, and received positive feedback from readers of erotic fiction.