AN: Not my best chapter but, just think of it as transitory. Big things are coming... :) **************** Curiosity Killed... Chapter Thirty-One *************** It takes nearly three weeks for me to get back to my usually annoying self. Ellis takes Lydia away snarling threats and warnings I don’t believe, if only for my own peace of mind. The Boys heal a lot quicker than I do and after a night off we’re thrown back into the touring schedule. Only, everyone is awful nice to me all of the sudden. I think they feel guilty, which is funny, because being with them puts me in a lot more danger than Lydia ever could. And considering she tried to kill me while I slept, well, it puts things in perspective. Even if I get to hang out with the Backstreet Boys. Eeeeeiii! Sorry, sometimes my teeny side gets the better of me. Kevin and I don’t talk about Lydia, can’t. He’s too ashamed and I’m too, well, pissed off if you want to be frank. What kind of idiot dates a woman like her anyway? Okay, honestly, any man who could but still, it doesn’t mean that Kevin had to. He’s lucky Vampires don’t carry diseases because if there was ever a woman to have STDs, it’d be Lydia. Then maybe he would be covered in warts and… But, I digress. So, I’m biding my time before putting my so called plan into action. I’m terrified but this stalemate is getting old. If the Backstreet Boys can’t find their way in the world of Vampire, I’ll simply have to do it for them. I know that I don’t have to but, I want to. I want to know, even if it kills me, that they’ll have a chance. That sweetly seductive Howie and moody Nick and friendly AJ and honest Brian have a chance. That Kevin won’t have to give himself to Lydia whenever the fancy strikes her. I’ve been powerless before and, as much as I hate that he let himself be touched by her, betrayed by her, turned by her, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he never has to answer to her beck and call again. Because I care too much. And I know I’ll die because of it. By Dracula’s hand if no one else’s. ************************************************************************ I’m running late for the night’s concert so Kevin left without me, well not left without leaving stern instructions regarding how soon he expects to see me sitting out in the audience, and a mind spelled bodyguard of my very own, but left. I’m late because I’m dressed to kill, slay… dammit, seduce? Anyway I look hot. Kevin usually prefers women with some class to their dress, with great bodies of course, and most of his forays into skank tend to be when he’s on the rebound, hence Lydia. So, I’m rather comfortably dressed in a hugging black sweater that follows my curves like a devoted dog, a jean mini skirt, and black tights to keep my legs warm and covered up. Knee high leather boots give my meager five foot frame a bit of a boost physically, and I actually took the time to style my ash blonde hair in a layered look that frames my face. I’m proud to rather pointedly point out that I’m even boasting a bit of makeup. Not exactly expertly applied but, makeup none the less. I am woman, hear me roar. Meow. Purr? Never mind. I’m reaching for the doorknob to dash out of the room when I hear the distinct ring of Kevin’s cell phone. I pause for a moment, looking around suspiciously for Mr. Dumb Pants because he practically sleeps with the stupid thing under his pillow. Not that I know or anything… Speaking of which. I check under Kevin’s hotel pillow and, sure enough, the stupid man forgot his cell phone in his rush. I blink and stare at the brightly lit piece of technology contemplating my options before deciding that it wouldn’t hurt anything to just check the caller id… It’s amazing what you can rationalize if you try hard enough, like sleeping with a Vampire. Or answering his phone. I reach out before my pesky conscious can interfere and flip the phone open to see a number I’d rather NOT know flash across the screen. Can’t Lydia just disappear? Against my better judgment, I press the talk button and answer the phone. “Did you crawl out from beneath a rock again?” I ask sweetly through clenched teeth, angry for no real reason aside from the attempted death thing. And it’s really not like Lydia’s the only one who’s ever tried to kill me. Her voice when she replies is pleasantly, cattily, surprised. “Catherine Roberts, has my pet let you off your leash?” I bristle at the implication that Lydia’s ‘pet’ is in charge of me, and what my status is as a result. “Did Ellis give you a stern talking to?” Most of Elli Von Berg’s stern talks usually result in a whole lot of immortal blood and guts being spilled. Lydia hisses, predictably. “Oh I’m very glad you answered this call Cat,” she purrs with full-throated velvet menace, “because I was calling for you.” Oh goody. The fingers clenching the cell turn white at the knuckles but my voice is steady. “Whatever for? I assure that I said everything I ever wanted to last time we met.” She laughs and the sound chills me. I fight the rising anxiety determinedly as my free hand drifts unconsciously to the almost invisible scars adorning my throat. “Then don’t say anything at all. I like you better silent or screaming in fear…” I swallow and hope the sound isn’t audible. “Now,” Lydia continues, sounding delighted by the turn in the conversation, “I was most displeased by how our last chat turned out. We both left with clean, clean mouths, only I bled, and that was later. I don’t like you, silly little girl playing so brave and strong. I can smell your fear over the phone.” Oh, nice to know. “I’ve heard your terror, felt your heart panic beneath my hands. I can free it; I can rip it from your chest, break your ribs and set it free. I can make you fly.” “Have you ever tried Prozac?” I demand and hate that might voice shakes. I’m not afraid of Lydia I’m just… I don’t know what I am anymore. I just know it’s getting harder and harder to be glib and flippant in the face of very determined death. “I’m talking,” she snaps, suddenly furious before calming in the space of a heart beat, well, you know what I mean. “Oh Catling, darling…” she coos, “I want to hold your heart. But you don’t have a real one, not in your chest. That is your play heart, all wound up like a toy, ticking away. A little squirrel told me where you hide you real heart and it walks and talks and screams just like you.” “Why did you call, Lydia?” I demand and mind numbing terror has made my voice flat and unresponsive. She sounds surprised when she answers, “Because I’m not so cruel as to take your heart without warning.” I hang up with trembling fingers, not daring to speak another word. I’m too afraid I’ll yell, or cry. ************************************************************************ I try with all my little might to put Lydia’s crazy rambling out of my mind and enjoy the concert. After all, I’m planning on seducing Kevin Richardson tonight, I should at least get to enjoy him singing before I enjoy him naked. Have to get the full Backstreet groupie experience you know. It doesn’t take me long to loose myself in the music and strobe lights and not even halfway through the show I’m dancing with the crowd, feeling the music in my bones as I swivel and gyrate with the best of the hipless teenies. There’s something to be said for ruthless abandon. The air feels alive as spotlights and strobe lights bathe me with heated flickers. I know the other Boys are watching me as they sing, can feel the curiosity in their eyes, but tonight is about Kevin. Every time he glances at me my eyes are glued to him, to the flowing power of his bunched muscles under hot leather, and the sheen of sweat highlighting his dark hair. The jade of his eyes studies me and I can tell the exact moment he decides how we’ll be spending our night. The fact that it will involve a conspicuous lack of clothing doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Not right now. Ruthless abandon and all that. I wonder faintly if everyone else in the stadium can tell; can feel him undressing me with his mind in ways that make me wish that I’m not immune to mind magic. I bet he’s really, really good at it because there’s something thrilling in the concept, let alone in its potential execution. Hell, maybe I’m not as immune as I think because when Kevin dances at the front of the stage, his entire being focused on me, I can feel the hard heat of his hands claiming my waist like branding irons. It’s already one of the best nights of my life and we haven’t even gotten to the sex part yet.