*****

He's an addiction, a craving, an obsession that I cannot resist. I honestly don't understand what's happened to me. I had a plan: get out of my home, make my fortune, have it all. And I was doing that. Everything was going perfect until Angel.

And now it's worse. It's gotten fucking worse. Now I'm addicted to his pet too.

Wesley.

Since that first night, I've been hooked. How could I not be? He's beautiful, elegant, soft, seductive. He has this smile . . . anytime I think about walking away, getting out, he looks at me through those pretty eyes, his lips softly curling, and I am powerless.

I'm getting in deeper than I ever imagined. It doesn't help that he comes directly from Angel. God, Angel must be all over Wesley or something, or else my sense of smell has gotten stronger. Wesley walks in and gets close and I can smell Angel on him, mingled with his own unique scent, making me hard and desperate.

This whole Darla thing is ridiculous. I'm sick of it. She's getting in the way of this affair. I can see it in Wesley's eyes. Angel is withdrawing, spending more and more of his time looking for his damn sire. He's ignoring Wesley, which I don't understand. How can anyone overlook him? I don't think Angel really understands what he has, what he could have.

If I could kill Darla, I would; get her out of the fucking way. Holland won't let me. Even though she ran away from Angel, Holland says she's still important. And I can't really let her go. It'd piss Angel off too much. I hate him, I love him, I need him and I *can't* let her die. It would destroy him and that would destroy Wesley. I can't live without at least one of them I don't want to.

I can't say anything to Wesley about how I feel. What would I say? That I love him? That I need him? That I couldn't bear it if he left me? That he was one of the most interesting people I'd met and I don't want to live in a world without him? Right. Like I could ever say anything like that. I don't even know if I mean it, I just know I need him. Can you imagine his reaction if I said anything?

He'd look at me out of those big blue eyes, shocked and uncomfortable, unsure of what to say.

Then I'd lose him.

I worry about him. I don't think Angel would do anything if he knew. He certainly wouldn't hurt him. Maybe he'd forbid Wesley to come back, restrain him somehow, try to convince him that coming to see me, the enemy, is wrong. But he wouldn't kill him.

It's Holland I'm worried about. He knows. A couple weeks ago the mind readers did their monthly sweep. The look in his eyes . . .He looked shocked. Hurt, almost.

Disgusting old goat.

He's letting it go for now. I guess he doesn't see Wesley as a threat. And I'm doing the whole Darla thing on top of my job. Nothing is slipping; if anything, I'm doing the best I've done since I lost my hand. Maybe the best I've done ever.

"Where are you going?"

I turn. Holland is standing in the door way. "Out, sir. I've got plans. "He takes a step in. "You know we're still waiting for the call. We need to find Darla so we can... help her." He walks over, close. Very close. Too close.

My spine stiffens. "We don't have to find her; he will. Once he has her, we can move in." There is no reason to specify who *he* is.

"Be on call tonight. I want to find her first. And don't let anyone find out what's going on." He emphasizes 'anyone' just a bit.

Damn him. "Yes sir."

Holland nods and does that little smile thing of his, his eyes grazing over me. His lips curl even more. "Have fun," he tells me, his voice slightly mocking. He looms over me for another moment, using his height to make sure I remember who and what I am. Then, finally, he leaves.

I feel dirty.

I drive as fast as I can to the apartment. I hope Wesley is there. Every time we plan to meet, I'm always afraid that something will happen. Like him coming to his senses and leaving me.

And I need him so badly right now. I need to forget myself in him. Who am I kidding? I need him badly always. I'll never be redeemed, my past will never be erased, but with him nothing seemed as bad. I could forget for a while. And what scares me is I need him, but I know he will never need me half as much.

He's there, in bed, half asleep.

"Hello."

His eyes open. "Hello."

I ask if he is all right and he assures me he is. He looks tired, upset. But his lips are insisting and his hands all over me. If he doesn't want me to stop, I won't. I can't.

I push him onto his back, exploring his body with my mouth. This is what I need. I feel the world (Holland's eyes) slipping away. My mouth engulfs Wesley and I hear him moan. I love it when he moans. It makes me feel powerful.

So, maybe I was a little out of control tonight. I know what happened shouldn't have. But it's all been too much: Darla, Holland, her illness, death, Wesley, the fear, fear is always around, what will happen next, too many questions and I'm so scared and I need him so badly and his body is here and he is mine and I want him he is mine he is mine mine mine mine . .

I bit him. I bit him and we came harder than we ever have before. I bit him and drew blood and we came and because he was so tired, he passed out. "Wesley?"

But he is out cold.

I get up and clean off the wound. I bit him on the neck. Part of me knows I should be scared (what will Angel think?) but my mind is still in a whirl and I cannot think straight.

After I'm done I lay next to him, wrapping my body around his. Wesley. Mine.

Damn... My phone.

I kiss Wesley gently, pull on my clothes, then go. Holland wants to see me.