I'm often baffled and confused by some of the things that go on in the world.

Like here in California, if the price of crude oil is down, why are gas prices still rising?

I'm used to paying about 40 bucks a week to fill up my truck, but imagine my surprise as it began creeping from 40 to 50 to 60?

Can someone please explain this to me.

Current Mood: aggravated

Let me preface this by tossing out this quote: "Why should other people worry about having work ethics when your's make up for their shortcomings or failures."

I work as a Unit Secretary in a small hospital, I work the hardest shift of this job; 11pm to 7am. There are 5 floors, plus the ER and me all by my lonesome am responsible for all these floors.
Let me clarify for you that between 7am to 11pm, that entire 16 hours, there are two secretaries on every floor, except in the ICU and these ppl still manage to leave me work from 5pm in the evening, that's two ppl doing the job, yet for 8 hours, I alone can do this job by myself.

*Pulls out hair*

Someone help me.

Now here's my rant: I've been doing this job for the last 3 years, never come in late, actually I'm there 30 minutes before my shift. I'm picking up extra hours when they are short, working all the bloody holidays with no complaints, etc, etc, etc. Now I've been emailing and leaving notes to my "Supervisor" to let her know that my schedule is in conflict with my "Family" schedule.

For some reason the screwy school system here in California, have something called Zero Period. That means my child has to be at school at 7:30, for what I don't know but that means the person who kept an eye on my 5 y/o and my infant is now indisposed and the earliest a childcare provider will take them is 7am. Not only that but why should I have to pay a sitter nearly half my salary to watch my children for 1 hour and 30 minutes?

So last night, let it be know that today my child starts school, Zero Period, and I've been trying to talk to this woman for the past two months, she sends me an EMAIL telling me that she overlooked my email and that she'll talk to me in the morning.

Hello, BITCH, you don't come into work until quarter to 8am, what part of THERE WILL BE NO ONE AT MY HOME TO KEEP AN EYE ON MY CHILDREN DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!?!!!"

Current Location: San Diego
Current Mood: annoyed

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Laurell K. Hamilton; Ma Petite Enterprises and various publishers including but not limited to Berkeley Books.

No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

To all those who support me simply by reading, whether you enjoy the story or not and providing honest criticism; Thank you.

To my Beta’s, KtG, BloodWings, T7lK and on occasion Jepad, and friends that keep me honest, I simply want to say Thank You.

Some situations maybe also include details limited to but not including works from other fanfic author’s with their expressed consent.

Characters: Asher, Anita Blake, Jean~Claude, Jason Schulyer, Richard A. Zeeman, Jordan Rourke, and Kate from Jepad‘s: Anita Blake’s blog. | Rating: (NC-17) | Genres: Work in Progress | Warnings: (NC-17) - Contains graphic adult language, graphic descriptions of violence, and/or explicit descriptions of sexual situations

“How long will you wait?”

A soft groan.

“Is it fair that you are pushed aside to wait until she is gone?"

There was a pause followed by a sharp intake of breath and a deep sigh.

“How long will you wait?”

Jean~Claude bolted upright in his bed, the silk sheets pooling around his waist. His hand automatically went to his side searching for Asher, but finding the bed empty. He refused to let the “dream” bother him and allowed himself the luxury of a soothing bath, musing over the things that needed to be done tonight. He convinced himself that he would be at ease when he finally saw Asher.

He made his way out of the Circus and proceeded to his club, Guilty Pleasures. Once there, he made small talk with those around him, finally arriving at his office. He attempted to look over the books, but his mind was occupied by his dream. After repeatedly assuring himself that everything was going well, he decided to check in at another one of his business ventures - Danse Macabre.

He made his way to the back door where Buzz greeted him as he stepped out into the winter night. His mind continued to roll over that one question, ’How long will Asher wait?’ as his feet carried him through the chilly night.

His ruminations found him at the employee entrance of Danse Macabre. Letting himself in, he was swallowed by humid air and deafening music.

“How are things tonight?” he asked Meng Die as he passed.

“Uneventful,” she answered, as he made his way toward the dance floor. Meng Die cautiously caught his arm. “Why are you here?”

He turned his eyes to her. “She won’t come here. Too much press,” he offered. Jean~Claude looked down at her hand on his bicep, she quickly released him.


Jean~Claude made his way to the bar and was stopped by a sight that caught his eye. He turned to the dance floor to see golden hair caught in the lights. He shook his head and turned away. Smiling at one of the bartenders, he asked, “How are things here tonight?”

She was oblivious to his question; her eyes were glued to the dance floor … something or someone there obviously held her attention.
He turned back toward the dance floor, searching the mass of moving bodies to see iridescent waves pushed back from a scarred and beautiful face.

“Asher!” Jean~Claude breathed. He could not remember ever seeing Asher dance. His eyes watched as Asher moved through the women surrounding him. He was flushed with borrowed life---eyes bright, lips swollen and red. He wore only a thin black tee over white dress pants; his scars visible to the world.

He stalked, glided, pounced, undulated and grinded his way across the floor, earning shrieks of pleasure from the scantily clad women surrounding him. His face a mask of life, more so a mask of unadulterated joy. His eyes met Jean~Claude's and he smiled as the next song started and he was pulled further into the crowd of women and men.

Jean~Claude could not move. He searched his memories and realized that he had never seen Asher so free; even before the scars he had always been so reserved, so … Asher.

He watched as Asher pulled himself away from the group and made his way toward him. The air vibrated around him and he carried the smells of a stranger with him.

“I missed you this evening,” Jean~Claude whispered as Asher met him, running his cheek along his before planting a small kiss at the curve of his jaw. “And I you, but I had a promise to keep,” Asher whispered into his ear before pulling away.


Jean~Claude's eyes roamed over Asher’s face searching for answers. “Whose scent do you carry with you?” Asher watched as the answer flashed across Jean~Claude's face. "I see. You have been with your wolf. Is it she who makes you so bold?" Jean~Claude sighed heavily.
Asher stood shoulder to shoulder with him. “Jealousy does not suit you.” He placed his hand at Jean~Claude's waist. “Besides I am here with you, am I not?” There was no answer, only the light touch of his partner’s hand on his leading him to the dance floor.

They spent the rest of the night dancing, and some time during the night, Jean~Claude forgot about the dream and his recalcitrant human servant. Only one thing mattered to him right then, Asher with his hair, pushed back from his face, smiling and dancing with wild abandon.

They left when Danse Macabre closed at 3 am, and Jean~Claude was happier than he had been in ages. He grabbed Asher’s hand and they walked back to the Circus. When they reached the door, Jean~Claude used his key to open it and gently ushered Asher into his bedroom.

The candles in the room were already lit, and Asher released Jean~Claude's hand. Stripping off the tee shirt, he sat on the edge of the bed.

Jean~Claude slowly undressed on his way to the bathroom and retrieved his dressing gown. The sound of heavy silk against skin filled the dim room as he pulled on the brocade robe.

“I missed you,” Jean~Claude stated into the silent room. Receiving no response, he looked at his partner and saw that he had lain back across the bed. His hands threading through his waves, eyes fluttering softly, Jean~Claude moved toward the bed and straddled Asher’s waist. “Mon Chardonnet, did you not miss me?” he asked, running his hands over Asher's chest, reveling in the mixed texture … the rough scars on the left and the silk on the right. Asher arched into him as Jean~Claude twisted the sensitive nipples, dragging his nails over him.

Jean~Claude leaned over bringing his lips to Asher’s, only to taste someone else on his lips. That simple taste made him envious, and sent him back to the moment when he had awoken alone, wondering where Asher was.



The voice of his dreams mocked him. It was then that he realized when and from whom Asher had received that kiss. Jean~Claude moaned as Asher’s tongue pressed against his lips, and Asher’s strong hands pulled at Jean~Claude's neck deepening the kiss, offering him more of the Jordan's taste.

Jean~Claude suddenly realized Asher had not only kissed the mouth but explored his wolf completely -- and that one revelation sent him over the edge.

He gasped as his cock pulsed and sprayed against his stomach, the heat of it rocking him to the core. He felt weak, nearly ashamed that something so simple would finish him. “Why did you not tell me?” he breathed into Asher’s neck. Asher rolled until his lover was beneath him, his glacial eyes searching Jean~Claude’s sapphire depths.

“Do you tell me everything you do with Anita or any other conquest you happen to take?” Asher nipped across his chin. “How many times have I awakened to the smell of her upon you? And in our bed?”

Jean~Claude turned his head; shame blossomed across his cheek.

“What a waste of blood,” Asher mocked. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. She is your human servant and as such you are free to do as you wish.”

Jean~Claude blinked, swallowing hard. “Does this mean that I am to not ask of your relationship?”

Asher laughed, rolling off of Jean~Claude. “Relationship…I would not call it that. Yet. As of now it seems to be something more of a --- how do you say…plaisir à vide.”

He felt the bed shift next to him and Jean~Claude's hand was upon his chest. “An idle pleasure,” Jean~Claude replied, caressing Asher’s jaw, his hand trembling with the thought that he might lose him.

“Je t'aime Asher, je ne sais pas ce que ma vie serait si je vous perdais encore,” he whispered to him as his mouth closed over Asher’s. He kissed away the taste of the Jordan until it was only Asher’s sweet taste.



“You fear losing me, you plead and beg nightly, but you allow her to come between what we are. What we can be,” Asher answered him between kisses.

Jean~Claude's impatient hands pulled his robe down around his shoulders, revealing his bare skin. Asher’s hard erection pressed into him through the silk robe and Asher’s dress pants. Asher pulled him into his hips, nails scoring the flawless skin on his back, causing Jean~Claude to pull away, gasping his pleasure. Asher rolled Jean~Claude under him, the robe catching his arms and holding them beneath him.
Asher looked down at Jean~Claude, his hands caught behind his buttocks, thrusting his hips and throbbing member into the air. Asher left him as he was, his tongue tracing the burned cross in his chest, trailing over his taut nipples to follow the dark hair along his abdomen until he finally came to Jean~Claude's leaking organ.

“Je fais mal... chardonette de mon…,” Jean~Claude cried out as Asher blew across the engorged head, a crystalline drop suspended like a precious jewel. “You ache?” Asher questioned as he wrapped his slender fingers around him. Jean~Claude gasped at his touch, thrusting forward into his hand.

“Oui! No more questions…finish…” Nothing else left his lips as Asher swallowed him whole. That simple action opened Asher’s mind and his body relived the feeling of a hot mouth on him…insistent, gentle, hungry. He tried desperately to shut the link down but failed.

Jean~Claude's cries were distant to him as his mind took him through his earlier pleasures and his own release. The sensations sent his body racing for the end, his own hand snatching down his zipper and grasping himself tight to hold back his orgasm. Soft laughter drifted to him before he was finally released.

With that gone, he turned back to the task at hand, his hand sliding back and forth over Jean~Claude's cock, glistening and wet from his mouth. Jean~Claude bucked against the bed attempting to release his arms but failing miserably.

With his mind at the task ahead of him, Asher could ignore his insistent body and torment the vampire beneath him.



He slicked his fingers with his own saliva and made his way back to Jean~Claude's waiting entry, slowly running his finger around it until Jean~Claude pushed back onto his finger. Unsure of whether to fuck his mouth, or his ass on Asher’s finger, he moaned in frustration.

“Sil vous plais…. Asher…baise…baise!” Asher placed another finger into Jean~Claude, scissoring them until he felt him stretch, and then added a third. Jean~Claude slid his cock out of Asher’s mouth, intent on the fingers that stretched and fucked him...his eyes wide open, drowning sapphires as he looked into Asher’s face.



“Now,” he screamed bucking against Asher’s wrist, his cock pulsing, ready to explode, until Asher grabbed him tight and the feeling receded enough for him to catch his breath. He moaned in regret as Asher pulled out of him, helping him to his feet to remove the robe.
Jean~Claude leaned into him, his mouth finding purchase, their tongues swirling against each other, until Asher dragged his fangs over his lower lip, nipping softly.

A soft cry escaped Jean~Claude's now swollen mouth as Asher pushed the robe from his arms. Once free he skimmed the pants from Asher’s body, dropping to his knees to take him deep into his mouth.

Sighs, moans and cries filled the room until Asher was nearly weeping. His organ was ultra sensitive from his earlier escapades and Jean~Claude's attentive ministrations seemed nearly too much.
He looked down to see dark eyes upon his face; he ran his hands through velvet curls as he pulled out of Jean~Claude's mouth.

“De non cette façon. Not this way,” he whispered, pulling Jean~Claude to his feet then pushing him onto the bed. Jean~Claude immediately turned over on his stomach, his smooth tight ass in the air awaiting Asher.

“Non,” Asher whispered, turning him onto his back and wrapping Jean~Claude's legs around his waist. Jean~Claude's hand reached for Asher but he pushed the insistent hands away with a gentle smile. “La patience, patience,” he whispered.

Asher slid his hips forward, his slick cock brushing against Jean~Claude’s, eliciting a soft groan. He wrapped his fingers around them both and thrust again.
Gasping at the pure flush of heat that rose in him, “Again,” Jean~Claude whispered, the newness of the sensation dragging sobbing moans from his throat. Asher continued working them until they both were in a frenzy. His breath came in ragged pants and Jean~Claude was swearing for release, lost to the sweet sensation of his impending orgasm.

Asher slowly rubbed his engorged head against Jean~Claude's entry, waiting for him to push back on to him. He looked at his lover whose face was buried in the mattress. “Non…. Non…non” Jean-Claude murmured. Asher stepped away, trembling with unrequited desire. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed deeply.

Jean~Claude turned to see Asher stepping into his pants, his erection leaking against his belly. “I am sorry, Mon Chardonnet….”

Asher yanked the zipper of the pants up over him, a stain immediately appearing through the silk.

He turned his back on the vampire in the bed, his body shaking with anger. Enraged, hurt and disappointed, he turned to Jean~Claude, his eyes now a drowning glacial fire.

“Even now you allow her to come between us! You are wanton in your need but it is her that you remember...Her rules...Her refusal.
Always HER.” He spat. "I left willing arms for this?" He looked down at the stain spreading across his pants. "I will not make this mistake again. Ever."

Jean~Claude slid from the bed and placed his hand on Asher’s naked waist. “I am sorry,” he started, but Asher pulled away. “As am I,” he hissed as he left the room.

Jean~Claude climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over his waist. He had just shut his eyes when the voice came to him again. “How long will you wait.”

Richard’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Today was one of those days when he wished that he could go back to being part of the pack. Being “The Ulfric” was getting old, real fast. He had grown tired of being Sir Galahad to every Damsel-in-Distress Today’s DND: Jason.

Richard was racing toward Antioch College to rescue Jason, who had finally decided that he was tired of the “Dumb Stripper” label. Richard outwardly applauded his decision, but he had known that Jason wouldn’t be able to keep up. School five days a week, stripping several nights a week at Guilty Pleasures; add to that, Jason was the resident blood donor, ‘pomme de sange’, for Jean-Claude.

Jason was trying to burn the candles at both ends and all he had to show for his efforts was him taking a dive for the third time in as many months at school. This was the last straw for the school’s physician. Dr. Morton had decided that a blood test was in order, and that was not a good thing. Richard was worried that the blood would be used in some crackpot case to get Jason thrown in a halfway house.

He had finally reached the campus and fought traffic to find a parking space near the medical building. In frustration, he finally parked in the nearest handicapped space. Bounding from the car, he raced across the sidewalk and up the stairs. He followed the signs to the nurse’s office, stepping into the sterile white room. Jason was asleep on the cot, eyelids fluttering. A blonde dressed in glaring pink scrubs was hovering over his arm, the needle ready to break the skin.

“Stop!” Richard yelled, causing her to drop the needle. She turned to him, he caught sight of her nametag: ‘Joyce’, her light eyes flashing in anger. “You should never do that! I could have stabbed him or ruined his vein!” Richard stepped forward, meeting her anger head on. “Listen Joyce, he hasn’t authorized you to draw his blood, and being that I’m listed on his emergency card, neither have I.” He stepped forward, picking Jason up in his arms.

“Where are you taking him?” she bit out, nostrils flaring, cheeks burning in anger. Richard turned his back and headed out the door, making an extreme effort to keep from growling at her. “Too close, Jason,” he whispered, looking down into his sleeping face. He carried him to the car, placed him in the back seat, got in and drove home.

Once there, he placed Jason in his bed and decided to finish grading the papers he had started before he was interrupted. He stared at the papers; two hours later he was still staring. His concentration ruined, he had spent most of the time trying to figure out a solution to Jason’s “incidents”. He looked up to see Jason stumbling from the bedroom, his fine hair mussed and clothes rumpled.

“What happen to YOU handling this?” Richard asked. Jason sat down on the couch behind him. He grinned at Richard. “I thought I could,” he held up his hands and started ticking off his schedule. “A full school schedule, five days a week. Dancing at the club, every other night, plus being breakfast for Jean-Claude or Asher, depending on the feeding schedule…” His voice dropped off.

Richard turned to face him, and Jason reluctantly met his eyes. “When I was able to sleep in, I could handle it, but as of late it’s not working out.” Jason ran his hands through his hair as ragged sigh left his lips. “I am not dropping out of school, Richard. I have put it off long enough. I am not dropping out!”

Richard smiled at him. “I’m not asking you to, what I am asking you to do is find a way to make this work. So, you need to change your schedule, or find someone willing to be there for Jean-Claude and Asher when you can’t.”

Smiling at Richard, Jason laughingly offered, “I guess I need to find a replacement hitter to take one for the team?” Richard groaned at the statement, rolling his eyes in disgust. “I can’t believe you just said that.” He stood up, stretching. “Come on, let’s get something in our stomachs while we discuss who’s going to help you out.” Jason met Richard at the kitchen counter, “Thank you,” he whispered as Richard dropped his arm around his shoulders. “Not a problem. Besides, we can’t keep letting people think that you’re just some airhead stripper, can we?” Jason shook his head, laughing. “Now, who do you think would help us out?” Richard asked, rolling his sleeves up to start dinner.

Over dinner, Jason and Richard had come to the agreement that he would need at least four people to donate, with a fifth just in case someone couldn't make it. Richard had succeeded in contacting four out of five and after several hours of pleading and finally threatening, he had four of the newest pack members scheduled. Jason went home to sleep for the rest of the night now that the situation was under control...well almost.


Jordan Rourke was the last name on his list. He had tried unsuccessfully to contact her at home, and so as a last resort, he called her business number. He was somewhat surprised when the phone was answered, especially given that it was close to 7 pm.

A cheery voice on the other end greeted him. “Dr. Rourke’s, how can I help you?” Richard cleared his throat. “May I speak to Dr. Rourke, please?” he asked. The girl riddled him with questions until finally he told her it was a personal matter. He was placed on hold, piped in alternative music keeping him entertained. “This is Jordan Rourke, can I help you?” The tone was short and he couldn’t decide whether or not to be angry. “Hello,” Richard started, unsure of whether he should call her by her first name or Doctor. Choosing the latter of the two, he continued. “Dr. Rourke, this is Richard Zeeman, I need to meet with you today about an urgent matter.” She sighed heavily on the end of the line. “Can you be here by seven?” she asked. “Yes, I’ll be there at 7.” He smiled. Another heavy sigh. “ Seven sharp, okay. Do you need directions?” “No.” Richard answered. He was watching the clock and suddenly realized that he was listening to silence. She had hung up the phone.

“I guess that means I need to hurry up.“ Grabbing his car keys, he ran out the door. He scrambled into the car and made his way toward downtown St. Louis. He hadn’t heard of the clinic, but being Ulfric meant knowing where all his “subjects” were employed. He wracked his brain in an attempt to place a face with the name...he was failing miserably. Nearly passing the building, he whipped the steering wheel to the right, screeching into the parking structure and pulled into the nearest space. He glanced down at the clock; he had made it with 5 minutes to spare.

Strolling towards the door, his eyes wandered over the cars in the employee parking structure. Only a few vehicles were left, an SUV, a tiny Honda and an older, well kept, motorcycle, obviously loved by its owner. He picked the SUV for the doctor‘s, smiling; he opened the door to the clinic.

The office was nicely decorated in warm tones, mostly gold and red, with comfortable brown chairs and a sofa facing a television on the opposite wall. The place was empty, most of the lights turned down. He made his way to the reception desk and rang the service bell. “I’ll be right with you,” came a voice from farther in the building. Richard was examining the rest of the room when he heard soft footsteps behind him. He turned to face the young woman, who gasped when she saw him, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Hi,” he offered, scanning her scrub top for her nametag, “Amy, I’m Richard Zeeman. I’m here to see Dr. Rourke.” She was fairly young, blonde hair, green eyes, very petite, and cute if he must say so himself. “Hold on, let me see if she’s available.” She turned and disappeared behind a curtain. Richard checked the clock over the counter, it read 7 pm sharp. She returned and waved him back behind the desk, leading him past several exam rooms, a modest surgical suite and kennels. She stopped at a door and knocked before cracking it open.

“Dr. Rourke, Mr. Zeeman is here to see you," she Announced. A voice answered, “Let him in, close up and go home. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Amy opened the door wide enough for Richard to pass by. "Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Smiling up at Richard, she shut the door behind him.

Richard watched Jordan as she finished charting. She was black, her skin the color of milk chocolate, and she was hunched over the chart. Her dark hair kept falling into her face and she hastily pushed it back. “Please have a seat,” she offered, “I’m just about done.” He sat down, patiently waiting for her to finish. After making a couple of marks on a diagram, she closed the chart and looked up at him.

Once her eyes met his, he immediately remembered her. How could he not, she wasn’t a great beauty but her eyes, the color of amber, were a startling contrast to the darkness of her skin. Her hair was a mass of dark waves that fell into her eyes and around her face, her cheekbones were delicate and her mouth was beautiful. His brain took that moment to take a vacation; it was several moments before he finally could open his mouth to speak. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Dr Rourke." he offered, as she stood up taking off the lab coat to hang it on the coat rack. She moved from behind the desk, circling around to sit on the edge closer to him. She wore a plain white button down shirt, over a pair of faded jeans, her feet clad in a pair of very, un-doctor like heavy boots. Like all shifters, she moved with that same rolling grace, but there was something that belonged to her alone and Richard for the life of him couldn‘t remember why had not seen her before.

Once she settled herself comfortably, Richard noticed that her mouth was trembling. “Dr. Rourke, is there a problem?” A laugh bubbled from her throat and he released the breath that he was holding. “Are you okay?” He inquired, standing up, his eyes trained on hers. He watched as she shook her head rapidly, her hair flying across her face. Suddenly, she excused herself and left, leaving him sitting there confused as hell.

He felt, rather than saw, her return. She sat back on the corner of her desk, her eyes shining with laughter. “What’s so funny?” He asked, returning to his chair, his eyes intent on her face. She took a deep breath. “I apologize and it’s pronounced Rourque not Ro Ark. Why don’t you just call me Jordan.” She shifted farther back on to the desk. “So should I call you Mr. Zeeman, or do you prefer Ulfric?

Richard ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath of his own. “Richard is fine. Thank you.” Looking harder at her, he tried to place her at the last Lupanar. His mind searched for her face among the hundreds of others there. Suddenly it came to him, Jordan had stood at the outer edges. He remembered that for the last few months she had always stood there, not interacting with anyone. Speaking only when spoken to, always alone.

Looking up at her, he made sure that what he was feeling didn’t show on his face. Standing, he stepped closer to where she sat on the desk. She looked over his face, eyebrows raised. “I hope this…” she started, but he cut her off by running his nose over her cheek until it was buried into her hair. He could smell her shampoo, the animals she had taken care of throughout the day, and finally her. Clean, with the lingering smell of the pack, but underneath that, there was the thrumming of power. He allowed himself to take a final breath and pulled away.

Richard waited to see if she would offer him her throat but she only looked up at him. “Am I to offer you my throat because you are my Ulfric, or because you feel you are dominant to me?” she asked quietly. Richard looked at her, amused that this young…wolf, could question a tradition that was older than the both of them. “Because I am dominant to you and I am your Ulfric,” he laughed, pulling himself up to his full height. She stood with him; Richard saw that she was only a few inches shy of his six feet. “No Deal," she smiled. "What do you want?” she asked, sitting back behind the desk.

Richard had to fight to keep his mouth from falling open. Returning to the chair, he crossed his legs in front of him, resting his arms along the armrests. “Jason is the pomme de sange of the Master of the City, and it seems we are faced with a dilemma.” He watched as Jordan leaned back in the chair, taking up the same posture. “We, who are we?” she returned. “And what does it have to do with me?” Richard sat forward. “Why are you making this so difficult?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Believe me, I am not trying to make this difficult for you.” Richard watched her rummage through her shirt pocket, finally pulling out a strip of leather. “I have gone out of my way to keep my life, my beast and the pack separate. As soon as I think I have it together, you show up.” Her hands worked at the back of her head. Richard watched as she pulled her hair back into a thick braid, securing it with the thong. “You run me aground in my office, pull this 'I’m the Ulfric' crap and now you tell me: 'We are faced with a dilemma.'" Her eyes searched his face before she continued. “Just tell me what you want, but please don’t pull the; 'For the Good of the Pack' card.”

Richard didn’t know what to feel. He wanted to be angry; she had just basically told him to shove it, but he understood her. If asked later how he felt about what happened that day, he would tell you that he felt like he was ripping her life apart. But today he had a job to do; he had promised Jason that they would find a solution, and this was it. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Smoothing it out, he continued. “Jason feeds the MoTC and his second, Asher. This won’t be an everyday thing, but now that Jason is in class…we need others to fill in for him.” He looked down at the paper before meeting her eyes. “According to the schedule, you’ll only have to feed Asher and I need you to do it," he finished.

Jordan crossed her arms over her breasts. “How is it that I get stuck feeding the second?” Richard watched as anger darkened her eyes. “I tried to contact you; everyone else elected to feed the MoTC, leaving you with Asher. I’m sorry but that’s just the way it is.” She leaned forward, reaching for the schedule. Richard placed the paper in her hand, her eyes meeting his before she took the sheet of paper. Richard sat back, allowing her privacy to peruse it.

“We will be meeting them both tomorrow night at 8 pm. Do you know where the Circus is?” Richard asked. She simply nodded. Richard watched as she visibly resigned herself to the task. She folded the paper placing it in her pocket. “Let’s go,” Jordan announced, standing up and grabbing her jacket from the coat rack. Richard watched as she pulled on a padded leather jacket and grabbed a dark red helmet from beneath her desk. Tucking the helmet under her arm, she pushed in her chair and moved from behind the desk. She walked past him toward the back of her office, turned and looked at him.

“I’m leaving, you can come with me or I can lock you up in a kennel for the night.” Richard got up from the chair and made his way toward her. Once he reached her, she pulled back a curtain and opened the door. They stepped out together and Richard saw the lone motorcycle. “I definitely had you pegged for the SUV,” he laughed. Jordan shook her head as she continued to the bike, pulling on her helmet and sitting astride the bike.

“You are okay with this aren’t you?” Richard asked. Jordan flipped the visor open, her pale eyes meeting his. “Did I not take the paper? Did I break down in tears or run screaming from the building? Furthermore, are you lying out on the concrete?” Her eyebrows were cocked beneath the visor. “Well then you have your answer. I’ll be there, dressed to impress or should I come naked? I’ve never seen a cow primp before being served.” She turned the motorcycle on, peeling out of the structure, leaving Richard laughing in a cloud of burned rubber. Walking back to his car, he started laughing. “ Asher, I hope you’re ready for the ride of your life.” He climbed into his car and drove home.

Jordan got home at nearly 9 pm; it had been a long grueling 22 hours ...from the emergency surgery that started at 12 am the day before, up to and including her meeting with Richard. Parking the bike in her garage, she pulled off the helmet and sat it on the seat. She took the three stairs in one step, unlocking the door and stepping into the kitchen.

The refrigerator was the first stop for the night. Opening the door, she grabbed one of the last three chicken legs and a beer.

Biting down on the leg and cracking open the beer, Jordan crossed the kitchen and dining room to her living room. She placed the beer on the table, clicked the remote for the television, and as the sound filled the room, Jordan went to the closet and put away her jacket.

Jordan flopped down on the couch and flipped through the channels, finally settling on the news. Picking up the beer, she took a long swallow. “Just what I needed," Jordan murmured, finishing off the chicken leg. Once the news was over, she turned the television off and was on her way back to the kitchen when her cell phone went off.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, she yelled, “This so can not be happening.” Snatching the phone from its holder and flipping it open, she pressed it to her ear and said, “Hello?” Music throbbed across the line.

“Hello!" she yelled, listening to a mumbled conversation in the background. Just as she was ready to hang up, a warm voice answered.

“Uh, hello, is this Jordan Rourke?”

Rolling her eyes, she had a powerful urge to say DUH, but forced herself to answer, “Yes, this is Jordan.”

Silence from the other end.

This was going to be a long conversation, she thought to herself while pulling out a chair from the dinette set to sit down.

Listening as the music faded to a dull echo, “How may I help you?” Jordan asked.

“This is Jason Schuyler. I just wanted to call and let you know how much I appreciate what you are doing for me.”

Resting her head against her other hand, her body wondered if he looked as good as his voice but her mind could care less.

“Did I really have a choice? Neither you nor the Ulfric called and asked for volunteers. It’s like you picked the names out of a hat.”

Jason sighed on the other end. “That’s not necessarily true.” He laughed softly. “I picked you.”

Jordan resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room.

“YOU WHAT?”

Jason was silent for a minute.

“Look, I remembered you from Lupanar. Out of all the newer pack members, you seemed to have yourself together enough to do this. Richard picked the others because they were scared enough to do what they are told. You, he asked.”

Jordan felt a headache struggling to take residence behind her eyes.

“You know what, Jason? I don’t want to argue about this. I’ve had a long day and what’s done is done. All I want to know is what to expect, what is it like for you.”

Muffled voices in the background floated to her while she waited for him to answer.

“I enjoy it. A lot. But I don’t want my opinion to color your expectations. It’s not like you won’t be meeting them before you start.”

Sighing deeply, Jordan asked, “Just tell me I won’t be baring my neck for something that will give me nightmares for the rest of the week?” Laughter, long and hard, was his answer. He was breathless when he replied. “It definitely won’t do that. I’ll meet you outside the Circus tomorrow.” He ended the call.

Jordan hung up the phone, laying it on the table. Shudders ran through her as she wondered if Jason’s body matched his voice. The Ulfric on the other hand was absolutely “Woof, Woof,” Jordan barked as she headed up the stairs to her bedroom.

Pushing open the door, she pulled the leather strip that held her braid, separating the hair with her fingers. It brushed across her shoulders before falling into her face. She used her hands to arrange it behind her ears.

Growling in frustration, Jordan toed off her boots as she walked to the bathroom. She was tired, aggravated and now due to the “Ulfric” and his sidekick, a whole lot of horny. Counting back, she realized that it was coming up on two years since she had been in St. Louis. Two years of being alone, without a lover; nearly a year as a member of the Thronos Rokke clan, although there had been many offers from the males, and surprisingly some of the females.

Jordan had an ironclad rule of not shitting where you live.

The basic premise of the rule was: You don’t date where you make your livelihood nor did you date anyone at any place that would cause everyone else to be uncomfortable should things go sour.

Since the Pack was work, that was definitely not an option.

Undressing, she considered leaving the clothes where they lay but picked them up and carried them to the hamper in the bathroom. Starting the shower, she stood in front of the mirror, looking over herself. Pulling her dark hair off her neck, she asked her reflection, “We’re cute aren’t we?” The answer, in her mind, was a resounding yes. She was nearly 6 feet; skin the color of milk chocolate. A well toned body, not overly curvy, but you definitely knew she wasn’t a man either.

Strange amber eyes, slightly tilted at the corners with dark lashes, reminded her of maple leaves in autumn; in her opinion, they were her best features. Her lips were full, and her face was a lot younger than her 28 years. Releasing her hair, she ran a hand through the steam blurring her reflection. “If we’re so damned cute, how come we haven’t had a date in nearly two years," she grumbled as she climbed into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on her shoulders and soak her hair. Washing her hair to get rid of the animal smell she carried, lastly putting on conditioner and deciding to let it sit, she turned to the task of bathing herself. Once covered in soap, a wave of exhaustion hit her; underneath it was the same old ache. Sex, the need for someone else to worship her body.

Disheartened, she took down the hand-held showerhead and directed it over her head, then her shoulders and arms. Switching hands, she did the opposite arm and then rinsed her legs. While moving up her thighs, the hard stream of the water hit her clitoris. Hissing in pleasure, she closed her eyes. “If not me, then who else?” she told herself. Her left foot went on the edge of the tub allowing the hot water to drum against her most sensitive place. Moaning, her hips rocked against the water, her free hand running over her breasts; her mind attuned only to the pleasure, to the waves that started from her very center and raced outward. Her imagination took her back to the last time she had actually made love. She couldn’t remember his face but she could remember his exquisite hands and mouth moving over her, caressing her breasts and stomach, moving lower, teasing her.

Her orgasm exploded within her, cries echoing through the bathroom, bouncing back to her ears. Sagging against the wall, her hand dropped sending the hot water to pelt her feet. Slowly placing the showerhead back in its holder, she turned the water off and got out. She dried herself off, quickly drying her hair with another towel, and stumbled to bed. The sheets were barely pulled back before Jordan fell into it and within seconds she was asleep.

The incessant ringing of someone’s phone dragged her up and out of her sleep. “What the Fuck!” Screaming, she threw the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed. It took several minutes to realize that it was her own phone that had awakened her. Looking over at the clock, it read 6 am; growling, she got out of the bed. Stumbling into the bathroom, she turned on the faucet, splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. Walking into the closet, she stepped into a pair of boy leg low cut briefs and slipped into a black camisole. Looking herself over in the mirror, taking in long legs, slim waist and high breasts, “Damn you look good girl,” she said to herself. “It’s a damn shame only you get to see it.”

She put on a pair of faded jeans, a red silk button down shirt, and a black belt. Sitting on the bed, she pulled on a pair of socks, stepped into her boots, and went downstairs.

Stopping by the phone, she pressed the message button and continued to the kitchen. “Good morning, Jordan. This is Richard Zeeman. Just wanted to remind you about the meeting tonight. 8 pm at the Circus. Dress to impress." There was a brief moment of silence followed by a loud “Mooo.” "By the way, Jason will meet you outside the Circus.” Shaking her head, she fixed herself a modest breakfast and sat down to eat.

Jordan finished her breakfast and put the dishes in the dishwasher. She got her jacket from the closet and went out to the garage.

Her cell phone danced at her hip as she bound down the stairs. She lifted it from the holster and flipped the phone open... the screen displayed: "Call from R. A. Zeeman ~ See you at the Circus, 8pm.” Laughing, she closed the phone.

After zipping the jacket, she pulled on her helmet, opened the garage and walked the bike out. Mounting it while the garage rolled closed, Jordan turned the beast on and sped toward her clinic.

The day was uneventful; Jordan sat in her office during the last half hour filling out charts. “Dr. Rourke?” Amy called. Jordan looked up at the clock, it read close to 6 pm. Amy pushed open the door, poking her head in. “There‘s nothing else going on. I‘m going to lock up, okay?” Jordan nodded her head, closing the chart. “That’s cool, I have to leave too.”

She tugged the jacket off the coat rack, put it on, and snatched up her helmet. Looking at the phone, she decided to call Richard. Flipping through the Rolodex, she found the number to his home, punching in the numbers as she watched the clock. The phone rang close to 10 times before the machine finally clicked on. “This is Jordan and I’m calling to let you know I’ll be there, so stop being a Jewish grandmother.” She hung up and headed for the door. “Have a good weekend,” Amy called to her.

Jordan couldn’t believe how fast the day went. “Father Time, get off the Geritol,” she groused to herself as she pulled out of the parking structure.

Jordan arrived at home a little after 6:30 and uncovered her old Honda Accord. “Hello Baby." Smiling, she ran her hand over the dark paint before going into the house.

Hanging her jacket in the closet, she raced up the stairs to her bedroom. She went into the closet. “What to wear? What to wear?” mumbling to herself as she searched through her dresses. She pulled out a red silk; looking at the deep neck, she shook her head. “Screams come and get it.” She hung it back up. Next, a black silk; noticing the high neck, she winced and put it back. “Definitely don’t want to have to get undressed.” Her hands passed over a creamy, ivory silk and she pulled it out. Turning to the mirror, she held it up before her. It was a spaghetti-strapped dream. It revealed more than enough skin for a taste test, but it was beautiful and it covered her ass. “Perfect,” she whispered. Grabbing a pair of satin, ivory mules and a small clutch bag, she took everything and arranged it across the bed.

Pulling off her clothes, she carried them to the bathroom and shoved them in the hamper. She started the shower allowing the water to heat up while she brushed her teeth, and put up her hair. Hopping in the hot water, she washed with her favorite scented body wash then got out. Drying herself with a huge towel, she slathered on the matching lotion. Wiping off a clear spot in the mirror, she pulled her hair up into a soft twist, securing it with shiny pins. She darkened her eyes with a soft pencil. Racing into the bedroom, she grabbed a pair of lace thongs from her drawer, stepping into both them and the shoes, before slipping the dress over her head. She went back to the bathroom to add a touch of shiny gloss for her lips, and she was nearly ready.

Back to the bedroom, Jordan opened her jewelry box; a pair of dangling pearls went into her ears and a single pearl on a gold chain went around her neck. Back to the mirror for one last look. “Now I know how the turkey feels," she said to her reflection.

Jordan ran down the stairs and to the closet. Tugging out her heavy ivory cashmere stole, she wrapped it around her shoulders. She went to the garage, pushing the button to open the door as she went down the short flight of stairs. Patting the seat of her bike, “I know…I’ll miss you tonight too,” she whispered. Getting into the Honda she took off, closing the garage behind her. Jordan thought she had prepared herself for the horrendous Friday night traffic. Boy was she wrong. The woman in her screamed her frustration, whereas the wolf wanted to get out and just clear the damn road. At 7:45, she was fighting to make her exit into the District, cursing that it seemed that every resident of St. Louis and its extended suburbs decided that the District was the hot spot for the night.

She pulled up to the Circus’ employee parking lot just as the clock read 7:55 pm.

“I hate being late,” she pouted, shutting the car off. She got out adjusting her dress and wrap before hitting the clicker to lock the door.

Looking up at the dark sky, “Why me? Why tonight?” she breathed into air.

A laugh turned her around. “Because you were chosen.” There before her was a handsome blonde. He was 5’3”, fine hair and clear blue eyes. He was dressed in a black silk shirt, that was a startling contrast to his eyes and slight tan, over looser black pants and black shoes.

He held out his hand to her. “Hi. I’m Jason and you must be Jordan.”

She smiled slightly before taking his hand. “So you’re the reason I’m dressed up like a rack of lamb?”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Ready?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “No I’m not, but I’m here so let’s go.”

He escorted her up the stairs and into the Circus. As they walked through the loud noise and bright lights, Jordan looked down onto him asking, “You live here?”

“Not here,” he tilted his head indicating the noisy carnival. “I live here,” he said, stopping in front of a huge door. Releasing her arm, he opened it onto a large staircase.

“Here?” Jordan asked, as Jason took her arm and led her down under the Circus. She tightened her grip on his bicep as they went deeper under the building, finally stopping before several panels of navy silk.

“Nervous?” Jason asked, taking the purse from her hand.

Jordan just shook her head. Jason moved behind her, removing the wrap from her shoulders.

“Scared?” he whispered softly. Jordan took a deep breath.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she finally answered.



Jason tilted her chin down until their eyes met. “Richard is here and neither Jean-Claude nor Asher are monsters."

Her eyes went back toward the panels.

“Jordan!” he snapped, grabbing her attention. “The other four are here. There’s Dustin, he’s a redhead; Eric, a blonde; Jesse, a brunette; and Arron, the Goth kid. I’ll escort you in. Okay?”

Jordan’s eyes were wide, but Jason couldn’t tell if it was excitement or fear.

“Are you listening to me?” he nearly yelled.

Jordan met his eyes. “Yes"... she was panting and had wrapped her arms around herself.

Jason placed his hands on her forearms. “Jordan, you are going to do the basic greeting, just like at Lupanar.”

He rubbed his hands over her skin. “Relax okay, you’re going to offer Richard your throat, he’ll explain why this has to be done and then he’ll introduce all of you to Jean-Claude and Asher. Got it?”

Jordan nodded her head rapidly, strands of hair falling down around her face. Jason watched as her hands flew to fix it. Grabbing her hands, he tried to push some comfort into her.

“You look beautiful, leave it. Are you ready?”

He watched Jordan take several deep breaths and visibly pull herself together.

“Okay, let’s go.” Jason smiled and watched as Jordan closed her eyes and allowed him to lead her through the heavy curtains.

She didn’t remember her feet carrying her across the room; all she knew is that when she opened her eyes, she was standing next to the Goth kid and Richard was smiling into her eyes. “Jewish Grandmother… cute,” he laughed.

“Jewish Grandmother… cute.” Richard laughed, standing before Jordan. She smiled slightly and leaned forward, offering her throat. Once the greeting was over, Richard stepped back.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking into her eyes. Jordan swallowed hard, and Richard watched as her emotions ran across her face. Placing his hands behind his back, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

“They won’t hurt you. You’re here to help them, not the other way around. Okay?” When he straightened up, Jordan’s smile was a little brighter, even if she was still nervous, but at least she didn’t look like she was ready to bolt.

Richard made his way back to the center of the line, standing before the table that separated them from Jean-Claude. Asher stood near the faux fireplace, looking up at the picture.


“So Monsieur Zeeman,” Jean-Claude started, “you have decided that Jason is no longer up to the task of Pomme de Sange, and you offer these wolves to replace him.” He waved his hands toward the group behind Richard.


“Jean-Claude, it's' not that Jason is not up to the task.” Richard gaze drifted toward Jason, who sat on the couch next to Jean-Claude's chair.

“He’s not getting enough rest with the schedule he’s set for himself. I offer members from my pack to help not only him but you.” Jean-Claude rose from the chair, the leather of his boots creaking softly. He looked at Asher, who came and stood near the chair.

“How long should we expect Jason to be unavailable?” Jean-Claude stopped in front of Dustin, looking him over before running his hands over his shoulders. Richard turned to face the pack members. “Until Jason finishes school at the latest.”


Asher moved to stand next to Richard, his golden hair falling into his face. “How is this going to work?" Asher asked Richard, watching Jean-Claude move between the wolves. Jean-Claude stopped at Jesse, running his hands through the young man’s loose hair, laughing softly as Jesse trembled.


“Jean-Claude,” Richard called before he turned his attention to Jordan. “Dustin, Eric, Jesse and Arron will be here on the evenings that Anita and Micah don’t visit.”


Jean-Claude turned his attention to Jordan, leaning forward to inhale her soft perfume, his hand trailing in the loose strands along her neck. “What of her?” he asked, his hand running across the bare skin of her shoulders.


“Sorry, Jean-Claude,” Richard said. “I don’t think Anita would appreciate you bringing another woman into your bed.” He smiled as Jean-Claude turned to him. “Whether it be for food,” he nodded toward Jordan, “or pleasure. I decided that this way it would keep conflict to a minimum.”

Richard looked over at Asher. “Jordan is here to feed you, Asher.”

Jean-Claude stepped back from Jordan and waved Asher forward. Richard watched Jordan carefully, silently willing her to meet his eyes, but it was useless. She only had eyes for Asher as he stepped out of the dim light. Dressed in a white silk shirt over dark blue trousers, his bare feet in a pair of soft leather shoes, he glided over the floor. He lowered his face as he stepped forward to stand next to Jean-Claude.


“Elle est belle? Oui. Je me coince avec ces quatre petits loups, Et vous l'obtenez.. Regardez-la qu'elle est nerveuse ? Oui, mais sous cela elle est, ” Jean-Claude whispered to Asher, who turned his face away from the wolf. Jordan finished the sentence for him. “ Elle a très peur.”


Both Asher and Jean-Claude turned to face her. “Parlez vous français?” Asher asked, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He watched her amber eyes as he brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Yes,” she replied, watching him cautiously. Asher smiled at her. “Then we will have to be a lot more careful about what we say.”


She watched as Asher pushed his hair back from his face, revealing the scars there. “Are you afraid of this?” he asked, showing Jordan his face. Asher watched the pained look that flitted across her face and pulled back. Jordan stepped forward, placing her hand on his shoulder. She pulled Asher toward her and let her hands cup his face. She cradled the rough side just as gently as the smooth one.


“This is not what scares me,” she answered. She stared into his eyes and they reminded her of crystalline seas and pure glacial ice.


“I don't know what to expect or what you expect of me. This unknown is what scares me.” She turned her head toward Richard and the other wolves, her hands never leaving Asher‘s face. “I don’t know about them, but I don’t like the unknown. I want to know what to expect.”


Asher removed her hands from his face and nodded to Richard, who was now on the couch next to Jason.


“Jean-Claude, I think you have this under control now. Any problems, you know how to reach me.” Rising from the couch, Richard and Jason left the room.


Jean-Claude took his group and they sat down around the glass table, leaving Asher staring at the woman before him. Asher’s eyes wandered over her face, taking in her golden eyes, dark lashes and full mouth. He was both pleased and somewhat disappointed that she was his height. She was afraid, but not of him or his scars.


He sighed eloquently and finally spoke. “I don’t know what to tell you.” Watching disappointment flit across her face, Asher extended his arm toward the group. “Jean-Claude will explain it to you,” he told her.


“No, Asher, that’s not fair. I’m not here to feed Jean-Claude. I am here to feed you, and only you can tell me what to expect, no one else.” Her gaze was intense. “Tell me the truth,” Jordan asked quietly. “As you wish,” he said, guiding her toward the fireplace. Jordan shook her head, her nervousness turning into a low, buzzing irritation.


Waving her hands over her dress, she said, “We have to do this here?” “I got all dressed up for this? Couldn’t you at least take me to dinner before you have me for dinner?”

Asher didn’t know whether to smile or not, as she placed her hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense.

“Asher, it was a joke, and this…” She ran her hand along his shoulder, sending the silk sliding across his skin. “This tension between us is not going to work, because I’m not just going to bare my throat to you until I know what to expect.” Asher’s eyes were on the floor. “Tomorrow night I have to be here for you. The least we could do is not make it a chore. So let’s go out, pretend we are on a date, and talk. Okay?”

Asher took a deep breath and walked away to retrieve her wrap and purse from the back of the sofa. Jean-Claude looked up. “Vous partez ?” Jordan stepped forward and Asher placed the soft wrap around her shoulders.

“J'ai faim, Jean-Claude, sans compter que moindre calcinateur pourrait le faire me portent au dîner avant que je sois démissionné pour être un repas moi-même.”


Watching Jean-Claude smile, Asher escorted Jordan out the door.

_________________________________________________________________

Translations:

1. She is beautiful, Yes. I get stuck with these four little wolves and you get her. She is very nervous? Yes, but under that she’s ….

2. She’s very afraid.

3. Do you speak French?

4. You’re leaving

5. I am hungry, Jean Claude, and the least he could is to take me to the dinner, before I am resigned to become a meal myself.

Asher escorted Jordan up the stairs and out into the cool night. He watched her move toward a dark sports car, pulling out her keys. Stepping forward, Asher touched her shoulder.

“I would prefer to walk.” He smiled slightly.

She put the keys back and turned to him. A small smile appeared on her lips when he offered his arm to her. Tilting her head slightly trying to catch his eyes, she saw that he had let his hair fall into his face. “

“So, you mind?” she asked, tucking her purse under her arm. He took a second too long, and she thrust her hands into his thick hair, pushing it back from his face.

“You are a pretty man, Asher, besides, you’re a vampire. If they stare too long, show them your fangs, and I’ll bark at them.” To prove her point she combed his hair from his face with several long strokes and then laughed at the scandalized expression she had revealed. As he looked at her, the hair fell back to where it was before.

“I have a couple of hair clips.“ She rearranged his hair again, and he muffled a groan at the feel of her fingers stroking across his scalp. Reaching up, he grabbed her hands.

“It is of no use. It will simply fall back into place. Shall we?” He offered her his arm again and smiled when she slipped her hand through his elbow.

They moved out of the parking lot and stepped into the Friday night crowd. Their progress did not go unnoticed, much to Asher‘s chagrin, people parted at their approach. The looks they received ran from quickly stolen peeks to people stopping in their tracks to leer at the pair. Asher moved to pull them closer to the buildings, into the shadows that the streetlights didn’t penetrate. Jordan pulled him back into the light. Shaking her head, she cuddled up to him, feeling him tense again.

“What is this?” She ran her hand over his bicep. “Relax, you look like you picked me up just to whisk me away to the nearest alley to drain me dry.” Asher turned his head, his gaze searching the shadows. “Do you have something to say?’” she paused, using his arm like a handle and turned him toward her. Asher fell silent, closing his eyes, he breathed in the soft scent of her perfume floating around him.

“How long have you been with the Ulfric?” he asked. Jordan started laughing, bringing further attention to them.

Turning to her, he watched her eyes sparkle in the streetlight, loose strands of her hair blowing across her face. The corner of her wrap slipping off her shoulder to reveal skin that shimmered in the light.

She wiped tears from her eyes and pushed strands of hair from her face. “Why, Asher, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking me if I was with Richard Zeeman, like ‘with’ him.” She started laughing again, the sound rolling out into the night. She stepped forward taking his arm again, pulling him down the sidewalk.

“Asher, if it makes any difference in the least. Which I don’t think it does so; unless you plan on having sex with me; I’m very single. I’ve been with the pack for one year and have lived here in St. Louis for two. I’ve turned down more men and my share of women, in this year than I have in my whole adult life.”

She looked up at the smell of food; they were standing outside of an elegant French restaurant. “Is this good for you?” she asked.

Asher nodded; she looked over his face to try to decide what he was thinking. Placing his hand, lightly, on her waist he escorted her up the stairs. The hostess started when Asher approached. He spoke in elegant, hushed tones. His voice sent tremors up Jordan’s spine, she watched as the young girl‘s eyes glazed over slightly at his mellifluous tones.

After several minutes of negotiation, they were seated in the back of the restaurant along the huge glass windows. Waving the waiter over, Asher ordered a bottle of wine, and Jordan ordered a petit filet steak, medium rare, and strangely, no sides.

The waiter brought over a bottle of Merlot, filling both glasses with just enough wine to sample. Asher waited while Jordan actually tasted the wine, taking several minutes before allowing the waiter to fill both hers and Asher’s glasses.

“Are you sure you won’t be having something else? “ he asked, gazing at Jordan as she swirled the wine in her glass. She looked over at him, smiling slightly.

“I’ll be having the Crème Brulee afterwards. “ She smelled the wine again, before taking a small sip, breathing deeply and swallowing. “ The wine is delicious, “ she offered, eyeing his untouched glass.

Asher took her cue, “It seems you are somewhat of a connoisseur. Describe it to me.”

Jordan sat the glass down and took a sip of the water before picking the wine glass up again. “Okay,” she said, a mischievous smile curving her lips.

She picked up the white napkin on the table, tilting the glass against the napkin. “This is not a true Red, it’s more purple, but that can be a sign of aging or it could be the grape that they used.” She brought the glass up to her nose, breathing in the scent.

“It has a woody, spicy scent,” she continued as she took another whiff. “Underneath it is very light, sweet aroma.” She met Asher’s eyes as she took a small sip, her nostrils flaring slightly as she took a deep breath and swallowed.

Closing her eyes, she spoke, “It’s light, which is surprising, because the taste, the spiciness balances out the wood in it, but it leaves a sweet taste on the tip of your tongue.” She looked at him and he smiled.

“I wish I could taste it. I would like very much to see if our tongues would agree.” Jordan met his eyes directly, her own darkening at his double entendre.

The waiter interrupted the moment by placing her steak before her and refilling her glass.

She cut into the meat and pink~ tinged juices flowed onto the plate, very bright against the pristine white china. He watched her put the red meat into her mouth, chew thoughtfully, swallow and take a sip of wine.

“If I remember correctly, we are here to talk about what you expect of me, and what I am to expect from feeding you.” Jordan sipped at the wine, waiting for him to answer.

“You’re right,” he conceded. His thoughts briefly turned to her careful dissection and devouring the meat before her. It was close to the next full moon, and he wondered what she thought as the meat bled onto the plate.

“My bite is not like that of other vampires,” he started out slowly, waiting as she finished the steak. Asher was aware that her pupils had dilated slightly and wondered just how heady the wine was, if it could have that effect on her.

“My bite also has some side effects that are very distracting and you should probably rearrange your schedule until you are used to effects.” He waited to see if she had any questions, and when she didn’t, he continued.

“My bite is orgasmic, and most usually the person suffers flash backs of the orgasm, throughout the day. “ He looked at the wine still sitting in his glass.

The waiter removed her plate and placed the ramekin of Crème Brulee before her. Asher waited until she had taken her first bite before continuing. A soft moan rolled from her throat, her eyes sliding closed in blissful pleasure. Asher shuddered at the throaty sound, his eyes his eyes following the path of her tongue as it slid across her lower lip. She reached for the glass of wine, with her eyes still closed, and Asher watched her throat move as she swallowed the last of it. The waiter appeared again and filled the glass for her as she set it down.

“Jordan?” Asher called to her, watching as her eyes opened, and the pupils had opened to devour her irises to golden slivers.

“I am still with you Asher,” she breathed, pushing away the dessert.

“Jordan, do you understand what I am telling you? “ He straightened up, his body responding to her intense gaze. He waited until she finished patting her mouth with the napkin, before sitting back in her chair.

“I would had hoped to make this clear before you had a little too much wine, “ he chided her softly.

Her eyes skimmed over his face, down his throat, wondering what the skin there would taste like, moving on to his broad shoulders, finally taking a leisurely route down his chest, only to stop when the table the table blocked her view.

“How long do you think this alcohol will last? “ she smirked. “I understand that your bite will be orgasmic and that I may have some side effects from it. But I assure that any thing has to be better than the dry spell I’m going through now. “

She watched as Asher blanched at her comment. An impish light warmed her eyes. Picking up the wine glass she ran her tongue slowly over the stain left by her lip gloss before taking another sip, making it a point to keep her eyes on Asher. She put the nearly empty glass on the table,

“I am sorry. Did my comment shock you? “ Asher didn’t get a chance to answer, because Jordan pinned him with her gaze.

“Asher, I am not a delicate little girl that you have to tiptoe around. When is a woman a helpless animal that doesn’t know what she wants? “

Asher leaned forward, “You, mes huntress doux are anything but a helpless animal. However I want you to understand what I can and will do. Compris ?“ He watched as Jordan’s eyes accepted the challenge. “Je comprends complètement et si c'est votre idée de rendre me la sensation confortable, me crois si je n'étais pas peu un enivré en ce moment, vous échouerais malheureux”

Their verbal swordplay took a pause as the waiter came to clear the table, refilling the water glasses, waiting patiently for Asher to pay the bill. The sight of Jordan caught Asher’s attention, as she pulled a small mirror from her evening bag, and uses her finger to reapply reapplying the shiny lip-gloss that she wore earlier with the tip of her finger. She wiped her finger on a piece of tissue and closed the bag. She arranged herself comfortably in her chair, awaiting the next verbal duel. Finished with the waiter he sat down, looking at her across the table.

Sighing eloquently, he continued. “Jordan, it is possible that I may roll your mind when I feed. “ He paused giving her a chance to respond, pressing on when she didn’t answer. “I will try not to let that happen, but if it does you should not drive or work. You will need to sleep, and you must make sure to eat. If you do not you will suffer not only from the after effects, but you will get ill and I do not want that to happen to you. Do you understand?”

Jordan ran her eyes over Asher’s face and shoulders, her gaze lingering at the skin revealed at his open collar. She ran her hand over her neck. ’Down girl,’ she thought, blinking at the rush of heat that swept over her. A little wine, bloodied red meat and she felt wanton, and Asher’s revelation didn’t help. Asher watched her undress him with her eyes. He could only imagine the things that were running through her mind.

“I believe it is time that I take you home.” Standing, he stepped around to pull out her chair, holding the wrap for her. Jordan rose, wrapping the soft cashmere around her.

“You will stay at the Circus tonight.” He breathed into her neck, the smell of the wine and her perfume mixing to scent the air around her. Jordan nodded softly, allowing Asher to escort her out into the night.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked as they stood outside the restaurant. He watched he reach for the pins that held up her hair, grasped her hands, and their eyes met in one heavily charged moment. She relaxed and let him push her hand aside.

“Allow me. Please.” He gently pulled out the shiny pins, watching as the hair slid from the soft twist to slide down her neck. She turned to him, and saw his face fully revealed as a breeze lifted his hair away from his face. “Thank you, elegant it may be, but it drives me crazy,” she smiled. A shift in the wind blew her hair across her face, and she tossed her head, and the wind sent it trailing behind her.

“It’s a lovely night, and I am at your service, so where ever you wish.” She pushed several strands of hair out of her eyes once the wind subsided, watching as his hair finally settled around his shoulders. She stepped into his body, her hand going to the scars on his face.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his. Asher’s mouth softened under hers, responding slowly, and then he stopped her.

“ No, Jordan.” He stepped back, his eyes serious and he flipped his hair until it settled around the scars, hiding his eyes from hers. She touched her mouth and, without another word, took his arm and they made their way back to the Circus.

Buzz opened the door for them, and Asher led her down the awkward stairs to his room. Pushing open the door, he showed her the large tester bed, dressed in ivory and gray silks. The room held a multitude of carpets, which covered the bare concrete floor, two armoires, a dresser, and at the far end of the room was a sitting area. Lit candelabras cast soft glow throughout the room, and a dim light from a cracked door on the other side of the room, traced across the floor.

“Welcome to my room. There is a change of clothes for you in the armoire there.” He pointed to the one closest to the bathroom, as he showed her to the bed.

A box lay on the bed, wrapped with gold ribbon. “You are in effect my Pomme de Sang, and as such it is my right to give you gifts until your service ends.”

Jordan turned to answer, but he placed a finger over her lips. “I am not attempting to buy you. It is anything but that. You give me life by offering yours and I show my appreciation by buying you gifts. I can only hope that this is the first of many.”

Jordan went back to the box, lifted the top and pulled back the tissue paper. Inside was a gown of soft amber silk. She pulled it out to find a robe of the same color.

“Is this what you want me to wear tonight?” She asked him.

Asher answered softly. “Wear it when you wish. I would like to see it at least once.” Jordan said nothing, only gathered the nightgown to her and went into the bathroom and shut the door.

A moment later she was interrupted by a knock at the door. She opened it to see Asher there with a hanger. “For your dress and wrap.” He pulled the door closed.

Slipping the wrap from her shoulders, she folded it and hung it over the hanger, then placed that on the hook behind the door. Sliding the straps from her shoulders, the dress became a pool of silk around her shoes. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she pushed the panties down her legs and she stepped out of everything.

She picked up the gown, marveling at its weight, and pulled the dress over her head. Examining herself in the mirror, she adjusted the thin straps until the gown hung correctly.

The back of the gown barely covered her ass, glancing right over the small of her back, before falling into a sleek skirt that graced the top of her feet. Leaving her purse on the sink and her shoes, under the vanity, she ran her hands through her hair and stepped out of the bathroom.

She looked up to see Jean Claude and Asher talking. Both turned to look at her, causing her to catch her breath. Jean Claude’s dark eyes swept over her loose hair, the swell of her breast under the silk, all the way down past her hips to her feet and back again. She met his eyes and found herself stepping forward. Asher put his hand on Jean Claude’s arm. Jordan looked around, only to see that she was only a few inches from them only vaguely aware of how she got there.

“Your animal to call is the wolf,” she whispered, stepping back from Jean Claude, her liquid courage, and the alcohol, now worn off.

“Oui, Mon loup. I see Richard neglected to tell you that.” Jean Claude smiled.

Jordan stopped backing up.

“Yes. He did.” Her eyebrows cocked in amusement, “I’ll have to have a talk with him about that, once I’m done beating him.”

Asher had stepped forward, his eyes on Jordan, her power, a steady ebb across the room. Her eyes still on Jean Claude, she asked Asher, “Why don’t you have that effect on me?” Asher shrugged, “I have no animal to call. You are safe with me.”

Jordan’s gazed flicked to him and back to Jean Claude.

“ So this ‘beating’ that you propose? Is it your intention to win against the Ulfric?” Jean Claude inquired.

Jordan’s lips curled up but not in a smile, more of a predatory snarl, “No, just drive home a couple of points.”

Jean Claude laughed at her play on words, “Asher I will meet you at the club?” Jordan kept her eyes on him and guessed from the fact that he glided out the door, Asher had agreed. She turned to him.

“Did Richard know that he would pull me like a puppet on a string?” Asher shook his head as she looked at him. “I will talk to him about this, but I guess now I have to feed you?”

Asher moved toward her, expecting her to run, but she held her ground.

“It’s a beautiful gift. Thank you.” She smiled at him.

He circled around her, his movements sending small gust of air to move the skirt of the gown. The silk brushed against her skin, sending small tremors through her. Asher inhaled the scent of her hair and perfume. Laying his hands on her arms, he ran them lightly over her skin, and she sighed softly. As her body reacted to his touch, his hands moved up over her shoulders, caressing the sensitive areas behind her ears and up to her face. His hands moved to cup her face and she stopped him, searching his eyes.

“No, Asher. If this is not what it will be like all the time, don’t start now. I know that you are trying to make this easy for me. This,” she nodded her head down her body, “this is not the way. I don’t want you to seduce me today, only to never do it again. So just drink and let me go to bed.”

He released her, and extended his hand toward the bed, mesmerized by the sway of her gown as she moved to it.

She never turned back. “I’m ready,” she sighed.

Asher moved up behind her. Sweeping her hair from her neck. His hand pressed her face into his shoulder, and his arm wrapping around her waist.

She held her breath as he struck, then hissed at the flash of pain when his fangs sank into her neck.

Jordan felt part of Asher reach her mind and she thought of the Great Wall of China, closing her mind off. All that was left were her baser feelings. Anger, that Richard had put her here, upsetting the delicate balance of her life. Fear of Asher’s words. That he would indeed roll her, and what would that mean for her? Lust, Asher’s looks alone inspired that emotion, but his touch fed it. Her anger was short- lived, as was her fear, both over ridden by lust. Her mind struggled with it; was this hers and hers alone or was this his doing? Her body answered for her, she rose to Asher’s call. She struggled to turn into his body, but the arm around her waist kept her pinned to him.

She had no control over the orgasm that raced through her, crashing her over the edge, then a second and third, until she sobbed against him, her nails flexing into his arms. When he finished, she trembled in his arms, her cries nearly bordering on hysteria.

For the first time this night, Asher saw her as frail and pulled her up into his arms. He sat across the bed and cradled her in his lap. He pressed his lips to her forehead, shushing her softly, cradling her until her breathing took on the even pacing of sleep. Pulling down the sheets, he slid her to the mattress and covered her. He stayed there staring down at her, until he was sure she was asleep and then left, reluctantly, to join Jean Claude at the club.

Stepping out into the night, Asher shuddered with the power racing through his body. A smile creased his lips. A Pomme de Sange of his own, temporary or not, she was his until the Ulfric deemed otherwise.

A slight breeze ruffled his shirt as he moved down the street, releasing the scent of Jordan’s perfume. His thoughts replayed the feeding. Jordan’s back pressed into him, her nails scoring his arm, cries soaring to the heavens, and it was all for him, because of him. He noticed a halo of red, light surrounding him, and he looked up to see that he had arrived at Guilty Pleasures.

Groaning, he entered the club through the employee entrance, pushing through the crowd and back to Jean Claude’s office. He raised his arm to his nose, smelling Jordan’s perfume. Sighing, he pushed open the door. Jean Claude was on the phone, and he waved Asher in. Asher stood there for a moment. His gaze slid over Jean Claude’s dark hair, such a sharp contrast to the alabaster skin peeking from the opened throat of his shirt. His sapphire eyes met Asher’s, and he beckoned him into the office. Sighing again, he shut the door and took a seat on the couch.

His musings took him to his relationship, or lack thereof, with Jean Claude. He grew angry that a relationship built long before the dreams of coming to America, was now treated like a dirty secret; that he was treated like a dirty secret.

Jean Claude had finally taken a human servant, but Asher thought it was more like the human servant had taken Jean Claude. When the servant was away, they were together as of old. Stopping at the clubs only to check in and then disappearing into the night, to spend it in each other’s arms. He was Asher then, no title or pretense.

He felt his eyes roll in his head as the next thought came to him. When the servant was around, he became; "My second, Asher," demoted to listening to them make love, unless the three of them; Asher, Jean Claude and the Human Servant, needed to appear as something more. Then he was given a pity fuck.

Asher pushed his hair out of his face, the lingering perfume filling his nose. He let his gaze rake over Jean Claude’s face, stopping at his mouth. He shifted to accommodate the erection that sprang to life in his pants.

If things were what they once were, Jean Claude would take care of this ache in his pants, but times had changed. Jean Claude had changed. Sighing, he pulled down his zipper, the erection springing forth. Jean Claude paused in his conversation, his eyes searching Asher’s.

A smile passed over Asher’s lips as he used his fingers to spread the glistening drop of precum over himself. He watched Jean Claude’s eyebrows arch in question.

Asher’s hand glided up and down, the strokes slow and sure. His mind searched for the last time he and Jean Claude were together. Then to the time that they were happiest, when they were with his human servant, but nothing seemed to suffice. He distantly heard Jean Claude end his conversation.

His thoughts returned to the werewolf he had held in his arms tonight. She had slammed her mind shut to him, but left her body vulnerable. Her cries of fear, and pleasure had excited him. A reminder of long- ago nights spent making love until dawn. His hand sped over his flesh, and he forced himself to take up a leisurely pace. He rested his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes, he let his hand stroke up and down, running his thumb slowly over the head on every other stroke. He let his thoughts settle on the last time that Jean Claude had taken him in his mouth, but along with that memory came anger. Anger that Jean Claude allowed his human servant to dictate when they could be together.

He groaned as his mind replayed the feel of Jordan pressed into him, her hands clawing at his arms, the sounds of her cries rising up to the ceiling. His hand took on it’s own pace, until his orgasm was roaring in his ears, his cock jerking in his hand, spilling hot, precious, semen over his fingers. He held onto himself, feeling the aftermath of the orgasm thrumming in his hand, listening as Jean Claude moved from behind his desk. He turned his head away from the weight settling next to him, shuddering at the feel of cool silk over himself.

"I take it that your feeding was satisfactory?" Jean Claude murmured softly. Asher ignored him, cleaning himself first and then his hands. "Or perhaps, your feeding left you wanting more?" Jean Claude inquired, smugly.

Asher stood up and zipped his pants, looking down on Jean Claude. "It is not the feeding that I found wanting, but my erratic sex life." He tossed the stained silk handkerchief on the sofa.

"I am tired of being an ill used play toy, Jean Claude. I have grown very resentful of the fact that I am stuffed in a closet when ever your human servant decides to bless you with her presence."

He watched as Jean Claude opened his mouth to speak.

"Hold your tongue. I don’t want to hear about her rules and how you need to follow them. I am not bound to her, or to you, for that matter. Why should I be bound by her human rules?"

Asher moved to the door and pulled it open. "Why do you allow her to make you follow them? Or have you forgotten that you are not human. I will not be your comfort when she deserts you again. You will need to find another. That is, if she lets you." With that, he stepped out into the noise of the club, pushing through the crowd to reach the door and step out into the night.

Asher wandered the streets of the District. He had threatened to leave St. Louis once before, but it never happened. He had allowed his feelings for Jean Claude to stop him. He had allowed what he thought was love for Jean Claude’s human servant to bind him to them. Her love had proven false. The first and last time he had been in their bed, she had accused him of tricking her. Of using his power to roll her. That accusation was proof enough as to what type of person she was. She was living in a lie. She thought to make vampires, human by attempting to apply her moral code and rules to their lives. It was an exercise in futility. They were not humans and by their own existence existed outside of moral boundaries.

He looked up to see that he had reached the Circus. A light breeze stirred his shirt, once again lifting Jordan’s scent from it. Sighing, he went into the building, and down to his living quarters.

Pushing open the door, his eyes went to the bed. He watched the way the candlelight flickered across her skin, setting the gown aglow. He kicked the door closed, and moved to stand at the foot of the bed. Smiling, he pulled the sheet from her, taking in every inch of her as it was revealed. He leaned forward, one of his hands tracing the outline of her calves through the silk gown. She groaned softly, shifted slightly. He moved over to his armoire, undressing and pulling on a pair of gray silk pajama bottoms. He climbed into the bed. Turning towards her, he gently traced a finger over her lips. He smiled when her tongue appeared, wetting her lips, and she rolled towards him. Her hair fell over her face, a dense veil over her eyes. Asher ran a finger over the silk cupping her breast, his fingers trailing over the exposed skin. She pressed her head into the pillow, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.

He reached out to push her hair back, his hand hovering over her face. Sighing, he pushed the hair back to see amber eyes watching him.

"You Are the one who turned me down, right?" she asked, her voice husky with sleep. Asher dropped his hand to his side. She propped her head in one hand and reached out the other to stroke his face. She decided against it and placed the hand on the mattress between them. Staring into Asher’s eyes, she asked, "What do you want, Asher?"

Asher looked at her, "I apologize, Jordan. I was wrong to touch you without your permission. It will not…"

Jordan shook her head, "It’s not necessary Asher. Answer the question."

He blinked slowly at her before continuing, "As to your question, I do not know what I want…not from you." Jordan touched his face then. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds coming from Jean Claude‘s bedroom. She could smell the semen on Asher‘s skin, and she also sensed his anger.

"I didn’t mean me, specifically. I know that you are upset about what is going on in Jean Claude’s room. I can feel that. What I don’t understand is what is going on with you and Jean Claude, or his human servant. I only think it is fair that I’m told what I have stepped into here."

Asher turned his back to her. "I love Jean Claude," he answered.

Jordan laid a hand on his back. "Okay, you love Jean Claude, but do you love yourself? From what I understand and what I’m getting from you, is that you and Jean Claude are not allowed to express that love, so how long are you willing to wait? What constraints are in place that doesn’t allow you to be together? Is it him or is it his human servant…"

Asher rolled toward her, slapping a hand over her mouth, "You know nothing of my life. Who are you to question?" he snapped at her, his face a mask of anger.

He watched her eyes, flicker gold, as she peeled his hand from her mouth.

"I am an interested third party, and if I can see this standing on the outside, what in the hell do you think everyone else sees?" she answered. Asher opened his mouth to speak, and Jordan slapped her hand over his lips.

"No, you are going to listen. Not because I’m feeding you but because I have nothing to gain in passing on this wisdom. You… you are a beautiful man, scars or no. Any other vampire could see that. Your power alone could help someone rule empires if applied right, but you’ve allowed yourself to be hamstrung by a human? You say you did this because you love Jean Claude. How much do you love yourself?" She released his mouth, tears of anger and sympathy rolling down her face.

"When is the last time that you have loved someone? Not centuries ago, I mean since this has happened to you? Does Jean Claude love you or is he sorry for this happening to you? How long will you wait? How long will you wait around for him to realize what he has?" She looked at him.

Asher looked away, "I don’t know. No one has ever asked me what I wanted or even seemed to care. As long as I was here, they seemed satisfied."

Jordan wiped her tears away. "Are you satisfied, Asher? I’m asking this as a friend."

Asher shook his head against the pillow, rolling toward her. "What of you, my friend? What do you want?" His eyes watched the silk slither over her skin. She laughed at him. "Well, Asher, I know that the sun is coming up, and even if you hadn’t turned me down, we don’t have time for that or this, so I’ll answer you later. But for right now…" She slid into his body; and felt him tense up.

Irritated, Jordan sat up. Shoving his pillow further under his head, she stretched out his arm and laid down again. She pulled his arm down under her head, pressing her face into his neck. Still uncomfortable, she slid her knee between his thighs. An uncontrollable tremor passed through her, when his hard penis jerked against her belly. She smiled when he groaned, and wrapped his other arm around her.

"Pull up the sheets." she asked, muffling a yawn into his throat. She leaned back enough to allow him to reach the sheets, and rolled back into him. "Hold me, Asher. Hold me like I’ve been here all along." He tucked her into him, his hand settling into her lower back. Asher shuddered at the feel of her breath against his neck. "Is this on your list of wants?" he asked into her hair. Moaning, she repositioned herself. Her nipples were hard against his chest, and the moist, heat of her sex only increased his burgeoning erection.

"Close, Asher, not as close as I’d like, but it will do for now."

She pressed a soft kiss into his neck and fell quickly to sleep. For the first time in ages, Asher, surrounded by Jordan’s heat, didn’t mind closing his eyes with the rising of the sun.

Jordan awoke still wrapped in Asher’s arms. She took this opportunity to truly look at him. Using her fingers, she traced his eyebrows, marveling at their texture. Her fingers trailed over his golden eyelashes and down his nose.

Tracing the bridge until she got to the cupid’s bow of his mouth, her fingers moved over rough scars to the smooth side. She had an overwhelming urge to run her tongue across his lips to see if they were as soft as they looked. A childish urge crushed it, and she lifted his upper lip to look at his fangs, giggling at the length of them. Her growling stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had a real meal since, -- well, since the day before.

She crawled out of the bed and went to the armoire. Opening it, she grabbed an outfit and went into the bathroom. She glanced around at the black marble and silver fixtures before brushing her teeth and taking a shower. Once she was dry, she looked at the outfit, cream and black. At least the shoes she had would match. She padded out to the bedroom and grabbed a pair of panties. Back in the bathroom she got dressed. Then, carrying her shoes in her hand, she left the room, immediately bumping into Jason.

“Good morning.” he grinned, his eyes dropping to the open collar of her shirt. Jordan growled at him, wiping away his grin. Jordan remembered the incident with Jean Claude, and her temper flared. She looked over the blonde wolf, taking in his fine hair and blue eyes. “Do you serve a purpose, or are you just gonna keep undressing me with your eyes?”

Jason nodded his head toward the stairs. We can get something to eat here," he offered. Jordan shook her head, “No, I need to get some air, so let’s go.” She grabbed Jason by his arm, propelling him toward the stairs.


“This sure is a change from last night,” he laughed. Jordan whirled him around, spinning him to face her. “YOU and the ULFRIC have some explaining to do. So keep your smart ass comments to a minimum or I’ll have to put my foot in your ass.” She jerked her head toward the stairs and watched him sprint up them.

Outside, she popped the lock on the Honda and waited for him to slide in on the other side. She started the car and looked at the clock. It read 12:00.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Jason pulled on his seatbelt. “The Lunatic Café.”

Jordan pulled out of the parking lot and followed his directions.

The restaurant was located about 20 minutes away from the Circus. She pulled into the gravel parking lot, shutting the car down and getting out into the wintry sunshine. Jason climbed out of the car and went ahead to open the door for her.

Stepping into the dim building, she noticed that it was operated by wolves from the pack, she let Jason usher her to a booth at the rear of the café. He waited until she sat down, and then slid into the booth. The waitress brought them water and menus, grinning at Jason all the while.

“So how was it?” Jason asked. Her cell phone rang; she opened the evening bag and took the phone out. Checking the LED, she saw that it was Richard and flipped the phone open, pressing it to her ear.

“Good afternoon,” came his cheery greeting.

Jordan’s mouth turned down in a scowl, “Why Mr. Zeeman, it’s so nice to hear from you. “

“From your tone, I take it things didn’t go well last night?” he asked.

She scoffed, “That’s not the issue and I don’t want to get into this on the phone. We’re at the Lunatic Café, so that means I can expect you to be here soon.”

He sighed over the phone. She shook her head, her hair swinging across her face.

“I really need to talk to you,” she continued. “I need to talk to you now, Richard. Can you be here in 30 minutes?”

There was silence on the other end. “Richard?”

“I’m on my way Jordan,” he answered. She closed the phone and placed it back into her purse.

The waitress came back and took their order; Jason ordered eggs, and a double order of bacon and toast. Jordan ordered eggs, four sausages patties and biscuits. Jason shrugged out of his jacket, his blue eyes cautious. “So, Jordan, how was it?” She took a sip of water and looked at him. His face was lit up like a Christmas tree.

She knew what he wanted to hear, and quite frankly, she wasn’t in the mood to hear, “I told you so.” She waited until his mouth was full of water and then answered, “Interesting.” Jason choked, coughing and spilling water all over himself.

Once he caught his breath, he leaned across the table. “Interesting! Interesting?” he laughed. “You know, I’ve fed Asher and interesting is not the word I’d use to describe it. Orgasmic, mind blowing,” his voice was rising, “Hell. Are you still hungry? But interesting, that is definitely an understatement.” The waitress came back and set their plates on the table. She nearly dropped Jordan’s plate onto the table, but gave Jason the blue plate special. She leaned all the way forward, showing Jason all of her breasts before placing his food in front of him and then leaving.


“Can you give that wench your number before we leave?” Jordan asked, cutting into a sausage patty.

“Is she going to lift her leg and spray you when she comes back?” Jason waggled his eyebrows at her, filling his mouth with eggs.

Jordan could feel Richard, even before he entered the building. His aura rolled out before him like a red carpet. Jason slid over, just as Richard reached the booth. Jordan pushed her plate away, her appetite destroyed in a wash of rage. Richard placed a hand on her shoulder. He was totally unprepared for her blow.

Her fist connected with his chin, rocking him back against the bar. The sound of Jason’s silverware hitting his plate was the last thing she heard. Her anger pounding in her ears, and she watched the rage well behind his eyes. His power roared over her, but it receded just as fast, as she watched something akin to shame cross his features. He rubbed his jaw gingerly.

“I take it things didn’t go well?”

He smiled at her sheepishly. Sliding into the booth, he gestured to her seat. “Please, have a seat” As they sat down, the waitress brought another glass of water. She flirted shamelessly with Richard. Jordan looked up at her, “Make up your damn mind.” She snapped at her, sending her running from the table.

Jason pushed his plate away, watching the subtle power play between Richard and Jordan. He laughed as Jordan pinned Richard with her gaze, never blinking once, while Richard apologized with his eyes

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Jordan bit out through clenched teeth. Richard and Jason looked at her.

"Why didn’t you tell me that he could pull at me like a puppet on a string?" Her gaze seared them both.

"Asher?" they both asked, bewildered.

"No!" she shook her head, "Jean Claude!"

Richard’s eyes slid closed, "Jordan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think…"

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers.

A shudder ran through her, and she grinded her teeth against a moan. Richard moved his hand, looking over at Jason. Jason’s face had split in a huge grin, "Asher," he answered.

Beads of sweat had broken out over Jordan’s forehead. Her hand went to the marks at her neck. She could feel Asher’s lips, his tongue flicking across her speeding pulse. She remembered the feel of his hand pressing her into him. The smell of his skin mixed with her perfume. Gasping, she remembered the hardness of his erection against her back. She felt like she was spiraling out of control. She gripped the edge of the table and heard her nails scoring the wood.

Just when she thought she could take no more, the feeling was gone.

Sighing, she pushed wet strands of hair from her face. She picked up her glass and emptied it. She grabbed Richard’s glass of water, raised it to Jason and draining it in a single swallow.

"You’re absolutely right. Interesting is very much an understatement," opening her purse, she pulled out twenty dollars and laid it on the table.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me about Jean Claude?" she asked Richard.

She watched as Richard’s eyes moved up from her chest, looking down she saw that the silk shirt and camisole were soaked with sweat, and had become nearly transparent. Her nipples were hard buds pressed against the wet fabric.

Jason broke out in laughter, “Mr. Zeeman?” she asked. Drawing out his name, “Is there anything else?”

He shook his head, his mouth opening to answer, but it was Jason who answered first.

“Jean Claude is interested.”

Jordan and Richard turned to him, “Interested in what?” they asked together. Jason became very serious, his cornflower blue eyes on Jordan, but he was speaking to Richard. “He’s curious as to why you would introduce her to Asher.”

Jason’s gaze became lecherous, taking in her breast, flushed throat and the wet strands of hair that stuck to her face.

“You, well, you are simply uncharted territory.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled a twenty out and added it to Jordan’s.

Jordan trembled with the effort to keep her smoldering temper in check, looked over at Richard, “Am I the only uncharted territory in the pack?”

Who just shook his head, she could see his mind racing, trying figure out what was going on.

“Then can one of you please explain what in the hell is going in.”

Richard looked at her, his mouth opening to answer, Jordan held up her hand, "I’m not in the mood for apologies." She got up from the table, watching as Jason slid around to get up. “Uh, where do you think you’re going, Confucius? You can catch a ride with the Duh Fric. Between the two of you, I would have though one of you might know what’s going on, but you don’t.”

She started to cross he arms but thought better of it. Looking down on the two men seated at the table.

“You, Richard, you have no clue what’s going one.”

She grabbed he bag, shaking her head at them both, “Jason you know what’s going on, but chose to dole out the information like little fortune cookies.”

Like I said before. Confucius, you can ride with the Duh-fric. You had just as much of a chance to tell me about Jean Claude as he did," she said, pointing to Richard.

"Excuse me,” Richard stood up, glaring at Jordan. She arched her eyebrows at him, "You got me into this, and, the both of you, need to figure out what the hell is going on."

She stormed out, leaving them both staring at her back.