She was frowning with concern, and the expression made a smile come to his lips. �Are you well Uncle Gareth?� Her voice still held that accent of her youth, a husky low-pitched mixture of Esiah�s Irish roots and Iliana�s noble English upbringing. Tears threatened to well but he refused them, still too close to the memories he was submerged in when she came into the room. She suppressed the accent of her mortal youth far too often, choosing to speak with American inflections in silent protest of her childhood, which was too hard for a young woman after her Father died.
He pushed aside the pain at the thought and turned his attention back to her question. �Aye, little one. I am well. Just an old man drowning in his memories.� He patted that cold slim hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. She had been so used to him, to his world, that she wasn�t as wary as most mortals, as she should have been, when one of his kind�well of the vampiric blood, had come to her to seduce her into this existence. For this too, he felt guilty. �I was just reading over my journals from the night you were born.� This brought her to roll her eyes, a youth�s gesture, though she reached out a hand for the book in his lap. �Let me read, please. I almost feel like I have forgotten Father, sometimes. He deserves better than that and I would like to refresh. Besides, I was too young to remember him then.�
He took the hand she extended, turning it over to look at the gold rings she still wore on ring and first fingers. On her left she wore her ring, the one her Father had created for her when she was young for her to wear in her adulthood. It was worn, the imprints of her Father�s coat of arms, a sleek panther guarding it one each side. The one that adorned her first finger was much more ornate, coat of arms impressed in the metal along with other symbols of status and highlighted with diamonds and a ruby, the ring passed through the generations with the title the Draken family bore. Releasing her hand, she automatically placed the other into his open palm. On this hand she carried the plain gold band that had been her brother�s on her first finger, and on her ring finger a beaten silver ring given to her by a member of her biological Grandfather�s Gypsy family, and it held the insignia of the Phuri Dae family.
The Lady had never wanted to admit her biological Father had truly been a Romani Gypsy; something scorned in that time, and hated every trait in her daughter that she could attribute to the wild blood. He smiled at this, the fact that they had come to her and brought her into their own folds, accepting and embracing with deep loyalty one of their own that had been denied her heritage. They had helped in the past few centuries, aiding her in dealing with the gifts that were natural to their family, such as her penchant for hearing the dead speak, and times when the future was apparent to her before it would occur. The Phuri Dae were what was most commonly known as the stereotype of their heritage, with the tarot cards and s�ances, props unnecessary for their craft but good show for those Gajo, or non Gypsy.
He watched her turn away from him and walk across the room to fold her tall lithe form into a chair like a child. He would imagine she would be very frustrated with the way he saw her, the loose comfortable habits of modern teenagers so confident in themselves and their environment. He remembered that so well from years of watching her in her mortal years growing up. She tucked a strand of curls behind her elven pointed ear, a mutation of her sire�s individual bloodline, her eyes skipping over the strange cramped hieroglyphs that were her Uncle�s way of writing, something she had grown used to over the years with him managing so many of her bars and clubs. Emotions flitted over her face at his words, so open and obvious that he could not turn his eyes from her. So much of her life was spent neutral, no emotions shown and her opinions hard put and straight to the point. It was how she had to live to survive. Here, she was vulnerable and didn�t bother to put up the fa�ade, which he took as a compliment above all things. When she looked up at him, the deep blue of her eyes holding a world of cautious confusion and it wounded him, the guard that was starting to creep into her posture and expression. �You were in love with my Father?�
Gareth sunk back in her chair, his body spelling defeat in every line. A deep, world-weary sigh sounded in reaction to her words. �Your Father was like a brother to me. I cared for him so deeply I wanted nothing more than for him to have some pleasure and joy in his life from someone that could give him that in love. Your Mother was so cold and abusive to the young man, he was torn apart. You and your brother were his world, and he deserved to have something good in his life besides that. He deserved a mate, be that male or female, that would give him the support and love that he so desperately needed. He put on a good face for you, Ailynn, because you were his angel and he worshipped you�but when you weren�t there and Morgan was at his studies�he was miserable. He functioned, but there was a hole inside him that pained him considerably.� He saw the deep scowl that marred her beautiful face and shook his head. �Your Mother is long dead, and she cannot be punished further for the deeds she did.�
Another look, something darker touched her features and he had to stand, bearing himself across the room to kneel down before her chair and reach out to cover one of her hands with his own. �Little one, I know you can reach her even now. And if you cannot you have those that are loyal to you that can. But this woman is long dead, something you did yourself. Her blood rests on your hands and you made full confidence in her mind the multitude of her sins when she died. You have done enough. Let her be.�
The expression had not eased enough for his comfort, this woman scaring him at times with the way her mind worked. �Your Father would not wish you to do further harm, my Anne.� The name was deliberate; something that her Father had called her in preference over the nobler name of Victoria her Mother had given her. She softened at that, nodding quietly as she shook off his hands to return his book. With a sigh, she started to uncurl herself from the chair, giving him time to move before standing. �I am going to try to speak with Father.� The smile she gave him was a soft one, tight with sadness, but affection shone in her eyes as she looked down at him. �I�ll see you in a few hours, Tomcat.� With that she ruffled his hair and strode from the room, natural powerful grace in her steps as she went to her task.
Rising from the ground, he sunk into the seat she vacated; staring at the empty doorway she had been only a moment before. He smiled at the nickname, a shortened form of the true statement she used too often to describe him. �Overgrown tomcat with a God complex.� This was in reference to his younger days, centuries before when he felt invincible and having a night�s passion with a woman had been his favorite past time. Those nights, his niece had been off on her own crusades, full of anger and fighting any that would come to drive away her personal demons. And he had let her to it, not believing that there was anything he could do for her until she came to him and was ready to let go and find her peace. That was when she had fallen to his doorstep, a battle axe buried deep into her back to the extent that the blade point protruded from her chest. She had been so pale to be almost gray and he knew she was dying. She had come full circle, and here she would be redeemed if he could safe her life.
Returning to his bed, he looked up only as he started to sink into it, and was caught short. His body stilled completely as his deep chocolate gaze touched and was captured by the glowing blue eyes of the cat still laying quite possessively on the bed. It almost seemed to smile at his paralyzed state, the large rough tongue slipping out to run over his chin. That threw him back a bit, the sudden movement and his recent rise from unconsciousness making it impossible for him to do such and still remain upright. The resulting fall to the ground in his surprise was graceless and left him sprawled and bruised, looking at the animal in a sort of deep shock. In the space of time it took to blink, a more familiar form replaced the cat. Gareth laid in his bed, tugging the blankets over his naked waist with resistant modesty, his eyes anywhere but where the man lay on the floor staring at him. Esiah was stunned, quiet as his mind exploded far beyond what he was able to catch before it went too far. His eyes ran over the hardened body of the man on his bed, dancing over sleek lines and well defined muscles stretched under dark skin. His body shook as he felt his heart speed, and desires that were frightening him started to rise to his limbs. The church and society would persecute him heavily, if they knew what his body craved, and what his mind envisioned in those moments on the floor, staring at a man more beautiful than any woman.
Gareth watched the play of hunger and moral bereavement cross the younger man�s face, the struggle that went on inside with himself over what the Creator had placed within him, the hunger for a man. He knew well that this place would never allow the young Lord to be comfortable with it, he was far too important to be ignored in this �sin� he wanted to commit so badly. So he waited quietly for the man to continue and conclude his internal debate, not giving encouragement or denial to the man�s self arguments. He wanted this to be a decision made without outside influence, and he was patient. Propped up in the bed, his head resting on one palm, he let his eyes run leisurely over the man before him, not sure what was making him so bold considering this could tear their fragile alliance to each other, something that he had so valued over the years. A deep sigh rumbled through the man�s chest, and his eyes closed, receding to his thoughts to give the man privacy.
Esiah looked on with a sensation like a band of steel squeezing his chest, his heart hammering as he forced himself to stay where he was on the floor. Denial and confusion wracked his mind until it started to ache with the strain of his internal war. His body shook with such force he couldn�t have straightened and stood if his life had depended on the feat. He watched in silence as Gareth�s eyes ran over him, appreciation radiating from the deep blue orbs and he felt the path as if it were a warm touch running over him. His body was hardening in response without his consent, and part of him was ashamed of it. It was then that the man sighed, his eyes closing and that magical gaze was lost. He felt that loss distinctly, a gaping hole that opened within him, and a cold that spread through him. It was almost frightening to him, and he rose instinctively from the floor to recapture it. His hand reached for Gareth, pressing his fingers gently, cautiously to the man�s chest. He looked so worried, so scared and frantic�so outside of his experience and desperate for some sense to be made of it. He was so like a virgin, aroused for the first time and frightened at the sensations, eager for some salve to the tension that ricocheted through him.
Gareth heard the movement, but knew it was coming. The scent of the man�s arousal as well as his fear was so thick in the air as to be overwhelming. To his heightened sense of smell, his animalistic nature, this man was desperate and ready for mating and it caused an instant response. Opening his eyes, the depth of his own hunger was heavy in his eyes as they bored into Esiah�s. He looked down at the man�s fingers where they rested against his skin, then up his arm to his face. The regality that the ancient carried in that moment, the strength with which he held himself and the power that resonated through the man, awed the young Lord and he started to retreat.
Gareth�s hand reached out to wrap around the young man�s wrist, stopping him from withdrawing only to loosen enough to slide his fingers along his hand and capture it. �Come here�please� His voice was thick, rough with his barely checked need, and the sound caused yet another wave of surprise to move through Esiah. It was recognizable what afflicted his ancient brother, but think that he could inspire such a thing in this man left him humbled. He stayed where he was, knelt on the floor next to the bed, his hand held in the cool gentle grip of the man before him. They were in a standoff, neither willing to move for respect or fear of the other. Their eyes were locked, a thousand unspoken messages being passed between them with the fires that flickered in each. With the gentle squeeze of Gareth�s hand over his own, he rose from his place, bringing himself up to the bed and closer to the one that was guiding him without a word. He watched the way Gareth�s eyes flickered over his face but stayed with him as he rose, and his hand didn�t lose contact. He was still afraid, worried and feeling almost damned but this was a man he trusted beyond all others. He could not believe that he would lead him on an ill-fated path.
Gareth heard the man�s worries and frowned faintly, but even this small crease in his brow caused a feral violence to shift to his features and his young Lord drew back a bit in reaction. �I cannot ask this of you if you are so frightened of it, curse yourself so heavily before even the first touch is applied.� He released the man�s hand, turning to slide from the bed and find a cloth with which to cover him suitably until he could return to his quarters and be attired. He was disgusted with himself, that he took this chance and pushed this man so far beyond his limits. He had given into the man a seed of desire that would have his young Lord battling himself for the rest of his life, against his faith and their teachings and the movements and social structure of his time. But that thought was caught short, a warm hand coming to rest on his shoulder before he was fully able to turn to move from his place on the bed. He looked up to find Esiah leaned over him, anxiety running over his young handsome face and worry shining in the depths of those warm brown eyes. He drew back as soon as Gareth stilled, sitting in the middle of the bed and looking for all the world like a child lost and alone, and desperate for something�anything to affirm their place in someone�s life. The depth to which this painful void in the man�s life went, with just the sight of his posture, so defeated, and his expression�Gareth could not turn from it. Rising in the bed to reach for him, he wrapped his arms around the warm mortal man and drew him against the cool wall of his own unliving flesh. One hand slid into the man�s long dark hair, fingers curling into the soft strands as he held him firmly but with careful watch of the strength he used. It was then that he felt the strange sensation of moisture starting to pool at his shoulder. The man he held shook slightly in his embrace, sobs ripping through the delicate frame, silent as not to alert the staff but powerful none the less. Gareth purred softly, just loud enough for Esiah to hear, a soothing sound as he ran his fingertips lightly in long strokes down over the man�s hair and down his back. He spoke very softly, just above the level of his breathe. �There is no shame in what the Creator gives you. All things that are in your nature are of the Creator�s will. This is what I was taught, and this is how I believe. If this tortures you so, speak now and I will rid you of the memory, and do what I can to rid you of the desire. Because never will I see you in pain as this again, not by my inspiration, nor by your own need for me.� The shaking slowed, stilling within moments and the sobs were gone, the reasoning seeming to have eased the man�s mind. When he had collected himself enough to raise his head and look into Gareth�s eyes, his voice shook but was strong in it�s conviction. �I will not deny it, nor will I be rid of it. It scared me, but I am not ashamed.� Gareth scowled at this, hating that he could not even be honest with himself. �You are ashamed, as well you were taught to be. Do not lie to yourself. For as much as I desire you and have hungered for you for many years, I will not take this and be tossed aside as a mistake later. I have had too many nights of dreams to have them destroyed because you are not ready. Until you are, I will keep my distance.� He slipped yet again from the man before him, the action taking more strength and causing more pain than anyone outside of himself could have imagined.
Esiah was lost, confused and hurt. This glorious man that had been his foundation, his savior for so many years was deserting him. He heard the argument, but his mind screamed in protest that Gareth couldn�t truly believe such things of him. He wanted to reach out for him again, bring him back to that moment just lost where they had held each other. But he�d taken that chance once, and the man was still moving away from him. He was so cold now, even his voice, in those words of warning, were chilling him to the bone. Pressing his lips tightly together, he forced his mind away from the situation, unable to deal with it any longer. Intentionally, he ignored the feral man that dominated the room on the other side of his bed and started to rid himself of the heavily wrinkled clothes he had slept through the day in. The cloth was slightly damp and clung to his skin in a way that made him shiver with disgust as he tore them from his body. In an act of a child lashing out, he tossed the shirt across the bed at his companion, back turned to him and hitting him so that the cloth came to rest over his right shoulder. The man lifted it after a long moment, his movements slow and reluctant as he brought the garment to his nose and inhaled the essence of the man�s body that clung to the fabric before dropping it off to one side. Esiah watched him, this action that spoke to him of want and need, but the man refused to take what he wished�.why? A single word passed his lips. �Please�