Hellfire

Interval Two

A week. Just one week and he was already like this. He had thought being parted from Susan for so long, aware of the wounds she'd suffered and the threat to her, had been the cause of his strong reaction to seeing Susan on his return from Eva.

Evidently, that was wrong.

The day of his return had been hard. The moment he saw her, he was locked in place. Everything became muffled about him, everything inconsequential the moment he laid eyes on her. She wasn't wearing anything special, just her usual lounge attire, a baggy navy shirt and leggings, but it didn't matter. Her dark hair was messy in her usual uncombed way, her almond shaped eyes bright with barely concealed curiosity when she looked at him. When she moved it was lithe, full of quiet power, a prowl of a cat as she approached him warily, her scent potent, alluringly female, and her pulse a sensual beat. It swelled his teeth with need, his throat becoming rough despite having drunk before he'd come home.

And if the day of his return was hard, today had been terrible.

Clearly Eva had been right.

But that made his predicament worse, not better.

Lucius breathed heavily, sweeping his hand through his hair before knotting his fingers into a fist. His body felt tight with deep frustration, his skin crusted with frost. His body was cold. Too cold. He still felt Susan's soft hands against his chest, melting him with sensual heat, her shape something he longed to explore and that quiet invitation to her throat. That temper of hers, her ferocity, no matter how unreasonable, a fascination. His burning reaction to her was still painfully obvious, his sex uncomfortably full and trapped against his thigh. Longing ruled. Hunger.

He wanted her back.

But instead he remained quiet and still, his throat already drying as her scent lingered. The smell of home.

Lucius moved abruptly, fingers slipping over his buttons as he sat heavily in his chair. The leather cooled him some, but cooling wasn't what he wanted, just her heat.

Think of something else.

He did. He thought of the dangers to Susan she didn't know he was imposing upon her. He thought of that thing in the depths of his home, its claws still in his head and strings controlling him totally, unable to break. He thought of his brother. Those thoughts made him furious, tension tightening through his body and lengthening his teeth as desire to protect Susan grew, but at least he wasn't ravenous any longer, teetering on a precipice of hunting her down and seeking her heat.

Just as he managed to calm himself, his bats reflecting his mood as they settled in the rafters above, watching and listening, something shifted nearby. A wealth of mist rose from the dark. Alistair.

'What is it?' Lucius asked dismissively.

He wanted to be alone. He needed to think and figure a means to gain better control. Not seeing Susan at all seemed the best idea, but already he was beginning to regret it. Not seeing her just made him feel tense.

'You're upset.' Alistair murmured, observing him intently as he slipped a file upon his desk.

'I'm fine.'

'Your eyes are gold, Lucius.'

He knew they were. His teeth ached badly and Susan's touch was still there, a phantom of her in his arms, her lips against his.

'I'll calm.'

Alistair frowned and folded his arms. 'You shouldn't be this bad so quickly. Maybe you need to go back to Eva.'

Lucius brushed his knuckles against his jaw, those haunting words of Eva taunting him, the revelation that she found hidden in his depraved mind. 'No. She warned me I could get worse before I get better.' He said smoothly.

'You've tried this before. You didn't get this bad so fast.'

'Before, I'd only been having Susan's blood a couple of months. It's expected this'll be a tougher fight.' Lucius explained, his tone reasonable, the lies leaving him easily and shielding the true advice Eva had given. 'I'll tell you what I've told Arnold and Susan. She's to keep away from me for now. I'm not to see her in passing.' His gaze flicked to his nephew. 'Make sure she sticks to that rule. You know she struggles obeying them.'

Alistair sighed softly. 'I'll try.'

Try was all he could expect. Susan was strong-willed, something that made her so bright to him.

'Remind Maria not to bring me blood.' Lucius instructed.

'I will.' Alistair promised and, after casting a worried look and sighing another rush of unspoken words, he melted away.

Lucius sat alone. Dangerous for him currently when he recalled the taste of her lower lip and the gentle tilt of her head.

The wordless offer for him to feed.

And then he was lost to her, tumbling down into fantasies he shouldn't be having but was shackled by regardless. Her swan throat bared for him, her hot skin against his own, her mouth seeking his, wanting, her blood in his mouth as his teeth sunk deep.

Lucius flinched out of it, finding his teeth full again, his body tight with frustration and resistance. He hadn't realised when it happened, but he was standing, his breathing husky and his mind seeking Susan's, desperate to bring her to him. He knew she wouldn't resist him. A low call and she'd be here.

It was then it dawned on Lucius how much of a danger he was to Susan and things were going to get harder for him. So much harder.

Susan needed protection from him. He couldn't trust his instinctive drive and, now he was aware of himself, it was increasingly potent. It was like he was falling deeper and deeper into his addiction now he understood his behaviour. It was dangerously controlling. His threads of sanity and civility straining thin against the raw addicted monster in him.

Eva's words flittered by, her voice apologetic but firm as she told him why his addiction had been running out of control, no matter how much blood he had. She had explained vividly what she had seen in the depths of his mind as his addiction ruled and it hadn't been what he expected. Still, the moment he was told, the film of denial lifted and everything clicked. He understood, even if he was furious at himself for it.

And then Eva had told him what he needed to do to become sane again.

Cold raced up his back, ice crackling, stiffening his skin. He wouldn't do as she said. He wouldn't break. He stood by his decision to rid himself of the addiction and his reliance on her blood. He refused to reduce Susan, a child he'd seen grow up, a child he'd taken under his wing, reduced to that. Her mind taken. Her freedom and pride quashed. He respected and cared for Susan too much to ruin her like that and he had vowed to her aunt to give her a safe place to grow, to live freely away from the witches' control, to choose her love and life. He hadn't ensured that had happened yet.

Susan was not a woman he could have.

Lucius eyed the phone, fingers dancing over his throat, his bats racing above. His teeth hurt. They were so full and his throat parched, despite having only drunk yesterday. Susan danced over his vision, expressive almond eyes glittering with flaming fury then half-closed, enamoured by him as he cooled her. He couldn't resist her. He needed to though. He needed the addiction gone. But, if after a day, he found himself ruled by his need, how was he going to ride out the worst of it? How was he going to stop himself hunting her and sating himself? Killing her?

It was then he made his decision, one he knew he had to make now and answer Arnold and Alistair's fury later. Susan's safety came above all else.

Lucius picked up the phone and dialled slowly before placing the receiver against his ear. He listened intently to the ringtone droning, folding himself lazily into his office chair and yanking at his tie to toss it aside. He didn't need it today anyway.

When the voice, old and female but sharp, answered, Lucius spoke firmly, his decision made, one that upset even his bats that whickered pleadingly for him to change his mind.

'I need a witch-chain. Can you make one for me?'