Drops of Crimson: Searching

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: Drops of Crimson: Searching

Chapter Nine: You Can't Escape Your Past
Fandoms: a mash up of the Mutant Sues, the movie Sues, the Supervillainesses, and probably anyone else i can think of tossing in for good measure
Characters: various from the different universes
Rating: going with a pretty strong NC-17 here. seriously.
Warning: violence, sex, language, possibly other things. we'll know when we get there
Disclaimer: i do not own anyone from the Marvel universe. nor do i own anyone from other universe. Dare is mine, but you don't want her. honestly. girl's a mess. oh, Mystery is mine, too. you don't want her, either. she's moody. Rose and Roxxy belong to nanaeanaven i swear i'm not making any money from this. i just do what the sick voices inside my head tell me to. i write purely for my enjoyment. and possibly the comments. please don't sue, harass, or bother me. i have no money to pay you, but i do have a really nasty temper. and i know some good cuss words.

Author's Note: so, its like this. Drops of Crimson: Hunted was only supposed to be a one shot type thing. but i started writing and the bunnies kept twitching their noses and suddenly i was staring down the snout of a plot dragon. and... welp! here we are! is anyone really surprised by this? nobody? didn't think so. hopefully this won't be super long. you know. by my standards...

Summary: "You have to help her. She's in grave danger. You have to save her.""

Drops of Crimson - The Index

"You need to sleep, Elsa," he said from behind her, voice a soft and soothing balm to her battered soul. For just a second, it almost worked in calming her. But her gaze focused on the room beyond the glass barrier and the anger came rushing back. It pushed the calm away to leave her almost violently angry. She spun to face him, ignoring the tender and concerned look in his eyes. She made sure that he saw her frustration and rage in her expression.

"I can't sleep! Not when I've failed yet again!" she snapped at him, one arm lifting to gesture wildly toward the room on the other side of the thick glass. His gaze never left her face, despite the invitation her wiggling fingers offered to him. She knew what he'd see if he looked through the glass. Splashes of blood on the wall here and there. Scratch marks scored into the metal covering the walls. A pile of ash and bone in the middle of the floor. Blinding sunlight pouring through the open skylight. "I'm so close. So close to solving this. I need to get back to it. I need another test subject."

"No, Elsa. No more test subjects. This was the last experiment. You've tried everything. There's nothing more to do. Let it go," he urged. She hated that his face was soft with emotion, with what he felt for her. She hated that his voice was gentle with understanding, with the words he refused to say aloud anymore.

"I will not let it go!" she snarled, the pitch of her voice rising sharply. "I have to find a way to reverse this thing. I have to find a way to stop it from spreading. I have to."

He reached out, his hands curling loosely around her arms to hold her in place and stem the tide of her growing hysteria. "Elsa. Stop. There's nothing more that you can do. Its over. You can't reverse it and you can't stop it from spreading. You need to let it go. That line of thinking is just making you sick, honey. Let it go. Its over."

"Its not over! It won't be over until I find the cure! Until I fix this! Until I save--" The words died before making it past her lips because he tightened the hold he had on her and gave her a look she knew all too well. It was a look of resignation. She'd seen it on her grandmother's face right near the end. She hadn't been able to accept it then. She wasn't able to accept it now. She tried pulling away but he just tightened his grip on her even more. "I am not giving up! I will find the cure. I promised."

"Elsa." It was all he said, and the patience was plain to hear in that single word. How was he always so patient with her? Especially now, when the world was going to hell. The look he gave her nearly shattered her heart in her chest. Because she knew what it meant. "You have to stop, honey. You're killing yourself. You're losing your mind. I can't let that happen. I can't live without your brilliance. I can't live without you."

The tenderness in his voice, the faint touches of fear that lingered there, broke her in a way nothing else had been able to. Tears clogged her vision, raced down her face in hot streams of shame and sadness. He pulled her into his embrace, his hold tight and gentle all at the same time. The thump of his heart against his ribcage was a soothing, staccato beat under her ear where it rested against his chest. She could stand like this forever, if he'd let her.

One of his hands rose from her arm to gently cup her cheek. He tilted her head back so he could look her in the eyes. There was hunger and need burning in his gaze, hotter than the sun. The sight of it made her heart beat faster. Made her muscles clench with desire. Made her blood pound in her veins. He stared at her little longer, as if his gaze was digging deep into her soul. He said nothing before lowering his head so he could claim her lips in a kiss that scorched her right down to her soul. Fire exploded in her belly, the sudden and unexpected burn of desire leaving her gasping for air.

There was nothing special to the kiss. Just his lips against hers. A gentle pressure that made so many promises. But nothing else. No tongue. No teeth. He didn't even pull her any tighter into him. But it sent her pulse racing out of control. Sent the blood rushing through her veins so that desire curled into her fingers and toes. And when he pulled back, she was short of breath and weak in the knees.

Her eyelids fluttered open to find that his look of hunger and desire burned hotter than before. So hot that his eyes practically glowed with them. She let her hands flutter up until they rested against his shoulders. Then she slid them down over his chest until her fingers lingered at the waistband of his jeans. They toyed with the button found there, waiting to see if he would encourage her or put her away from him. Despite his kiss, it was a distinct possibility. He wanted her to sleep, after all. And if he let her hands continue with what they were doing, there would be no sleep.

But he didn't push her away. In fact, he inched closer to her so that he could take her mouth once more. This time, it was more demanding. The hunger was a barely leashed beast, eager to be let loose so it could consume her in one bite. She was fairly certain she wanted it to consume her. She knew, though, that he would never let that happen. It wasn't his style. Then his tongue slipped between her lips and she let all thoughts of style slip away into the ether. All there was left for her was feeling and touching and yearning.

Her hands trailed over the muscles in his arms, gliding up and down as she traced each hill and valley so that she had the feel of them memorized. She loved the way his muscles bunched when he flexed his arms. When he tightened his hold on her. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. She didn't mind in the slightest, despite the fact that she knew he'd been doing so because he was worried he'd lose her. She wanted to tell him that he would never lose her, but the words were lost somewhere in the mush that was her brain. A brain that, if she was being honest with herself, hadn't been able to form coherent sentences or think coherent thoughts even before he'd started kissing her.

He was right. She'd been pushing too hard.

His hands were there to trace the length of her spine. To map the curves of her ass and hips. To keep her steady as he backed her toward the far side of the room. She knew he was directing her toward the door, that he intended to take her to bed. She wanted to draw her mouth away and beg him to fuck her on the work table to her left. But his tongue was doing interesting things against the roof of her mouth, making thought and speech next to impossible. So he nudged her and she let him and she soon found herself in the hallway.

He broke the kiss then, assured her brain was addled well enough to afford him time to get her to the big bed that inhabited her room on the top floor. She wasn't going to spoil it and tell him that she was his, to do with as he so wished. His strong arms swung her up so that he cradled her in them, then he started up the hall toward the stairs. Toward that big bed she'd thought a frivolous purchase when she'd bought it so long ago. Back when she'd been single. And a virgin. And not at all interested in anyone or anything.

She didn't think it was a frivolous purchase so much now. Not when she shared it with him. There was plenty of room for two people to sleep. And to do other things. Sighing, she slipped her arms around his neck and held tight to him, her fingers digging into his hair in order to encourage him to kiss her as they went. He obliged and once more took her lips in a fiery, passionate kiss that scorched everything from the crevices in her brain. She wasn't worried that they'd walk into walls or miss the stairs or anything so mundane as all that. He knew where every single corner was located. Where each piece of furniture sat. Where the board on the fourth step squeaked when you put your weight on it.

They made it to the bedroom in record time. Or maybe she'd just lost time because she was so wrapped up in the feel of his lips against hers. In the press of his chest against hers. In the anticipation that built inside of her. She wanted him with every fiber of her being and she was sure it had been too long since they'd last gotten naked together.

And then she was standing by the bed, legs weak like wet noodles and brain little more than a mass of quivering jelly in her head, while he so very carefully and so very slowly stripped the clothes from her body. If he noticed that they were several days past needing to be changed, he said nothing. He simply tossed them away from them so that he could expose every inch of her flesh to his hungry gaze.

When he'd tossed away the last bit of her clothing, a pair of perfectly serviceable and embarrassing granny panties that weren't sexy at all, he let his hot gaze run over her frame from head to toe. One hand reached up to pull the pens and pencils from the messy bun at the back of her head. Her hair slid from the simple knot to cascade around her shoulders and down her back. His hands lifted to sift through the limp length before they shifted up in order to cup her cheeks. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to each eyelid, her eyes fluttering shut only seconds before the barely there touch of his lips against the lids. Then he blazed a trail of kisses across her forehead, down the right side of her face, until his was teasing the corner of her mouth with a series of gentle nips and almost non-existent kisses.

"God, Elsa. You're so beautiful." He pulled back so he could stare at her and his eyes darkened even further. The hunger in them was primal and she responded to it with a faint shudder. She wanted to deny his claim. She wasn't beautiful. Not now, when her eyes were puffy and swollen and lined with red. When her nose was stuffy and snotty from crying. Not when she hadn't been emotional and she was just plain Elsa. She'd never been beautiful and she wanted to tell him that, but his mouth took hers again, harder this time. As if he knew what she wanted to say and refused to let her say it. His tongue swept between her lips and plundered the interior of her mouth until her limbs went weak and she was forced to cling to him or risk falling on her ass.

His fingers roamed, traced paths over her shoulders. Teased along the lines of her collar bones. Slid down to her breasts so he could palm them and tweak her nipples. Hot need zinged along her veins, heading to her brain so that she wasn't capable of anything beyond obscene moans and wanton writhing. Then it pooled between her thighs until she thought she would burst with it.

His hands drifted from her breasts to the expanse of her belly. The gentleness of his touch was teasing. It saw her nails curling into his arms, saw them scoring his flesh. Then his hands moved to her hips, fingers curling around her curves in order to urge her closer to him. His erection prodded her flesh through his jeans, reminding her that she was completely naked and he still wore his clothes. And it was impossible to get any words out because his mouth still covered hers, still plundered hers with expert care. She was at his mercy, just where he wanted her. And she didn't care in the slightest.

He had to pull back when the need for air became too great. Her lungs ached from the lack of breath and instinct screamed that she draw air in in great gasping lungfuls. She fought the urge, struggled to breathe normally. One of his hands stroked her cheek a moment, then she found herself on the mattress, flat on her back with his hands curling around her ankles. She watched as he positioned her feet against his shoulders, then leaned forward so that her legs bent at the knees. So that they bent back until they were pressed against her own chest.

Her hands found the bottom edge of his t-shirt. Her fingers curled into it and tugged, pulling it upward in a silent plea. He shifted slightly, giving her the impression that he was going to allow her to pull his shirt off. Then he lifted one hand and curled it into the soft material of the tee. His fingers twisted until the material was balled up between them. Pulled and pulled. Then there was the soft tearing sound of material ripping and the t-shirt came away in ragged pieces.

She watched as he shrugged the remains off, then trailed that same hand over the swell of her breasts. It teased at her nipples until they stood hard and erect and ached for more. It teased a path down the center of her body, circling her belly button a few times, before drifiting lower. Her thighs shook with anticipation as his fingers brushed the curls that topped her sex. Then he was pressing two fingers deep into her body. She moaned softly, hips arching as best they could with her legs pinning her to the mattress. He gave her a wicked smile that was all masculine pride. "Already wet for me, Elsa?" he asked softly.

His fingers stroked in and out, scissoring open to rub against the muscles walls surrounding them. She panted for air even as she attempted to beg him for more. As abruptly as his fingers had invaded, they were gone and she was left wishing for so much more. Her eyes came open when she heard the distinct sound of the zip on his jeans being pulled. She couldn't remember closing them. He was giving her a look that made her shiver beneath him, then her gaze sought out the length of his arm and followed its length toward the hand at the end.

Said hand was between them, and it had already worked the fly of his jeans open. Had already pulled his erect cock out so that it jutted from the confines of its denim prison. He gave her just enough time to take in the full glory of his hard on, then he was guiding it between her thighs and into the moist opening of her pussy.

Elsa sighed long and loud as the thick, hard length of his cock slipped deep inside of her. He pressed deep, his hips moving slow despite the obvious hunger consuming him. He filled her slowly, fit her perfectly. It was perhaps a little silly and juvenile of her to think it, but she swore he'd been made exclusively for her. She shuddered when he sheathed himself to the hilt and then held there. Good Lord, she could never get enough of him.

He leaned toward her then, once more pressing her legs up against her chest. It stifled her breathing and rolled her hips up toward him. He slipped deeper, filled her even more, and she couldn't help the soft moan that rolled up her throat. Exquisite pain bit its way into her, bringing with it soaring pleasure that hinted at what it would be like when they finally reached the pinnacle of their love making.

They lay like that for several long, blissful moments, his body pressed deeply inside of hers while she struggled to breathe and dissolved into the pleasure and pain that filled her. Then his hips drew back and he pulled out. Held a moment. Then stroked into her, pressing deep and filling her with every luscious inch of himself. Elsa gasped out a breath and curled her fingers into his arms. He was going to take his time and make slow, sweet love to her. He was going to kill her with his tender thoroughness. And she was going to love every moment of it

Silence wrapped itself around them, a welcome companion to their bed sport. His hips thrust into her with intentionally slow, measured strokes. She barely caught her breath between them. She didn't care, either. All that mattered was the slow burn that his tenderness had kindled to life within her. The thick fingers of pleasure that reached deeper and deeper into her soul, sweet and sticky as fresh honey. The rigid length of his erection as it slid in and out, as it sent flames of burning need licking across every single nerve ending in her body.

It took so little for him to bring her to the edge. His mouth rained kissed down on her face and her breasts, spine arched in order to allow him do so, while his hands stayed planted in the mattress on either side of her head where he'd put them. His hips rocked into hers, flesh slapping flesh in a carnal beat that matched the pounding of her heart in her chest. The feel of him around her, inside of her, was more than enough to see her muscles tightening down around him. How he could barely touch her and still make her orgasm was a mystery of the universe that she'd never solve.

Just when she was about to shatter, his hands took hold of her and caught her up against his chest. Then he was standing, his erection driving deep into her as he took her with. Elsa wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to him even as he stepped away from the bed and crossed the floor toward the far side of the room.

The lights in the bathroom flicked on when he brought them into the room, the door clicking shut behind them softly when he swung the panel closed with one hand. It barely halted his steps, the pause little more than a single beat of her heart. Then the sound of the glass door sliding closed on the shower filled her ear. The water came on a second later, and she barely had time to register the temperature of the water before he had her back pinned to the wall and his hips were once more slapping against hers.

His mouth took hers in a heated kiss while his hands came to rest against the tiled wall against her back. She tightened her legs around his hips, curled her hands around his shoulders, and let the rhythmic slap of her skin against the tiles lull her into a state of thoughtlessness. Her brain tuned out everything but the beautiful friction created by his cock sliding in and out of her body. The soft grunts and panting breaths they made and took. The burn of skin rubbing against skin. The prickly sharp rasp of his unshaven jaw against her tender flesh. Every last inch of it felt so painfully wonderful that she wished they could stay in her shower like this forever.

Somehow, while still shifting his hips so that his cock stroked in and out of her hungry pussy, he set about cleaning the dirt and stink of the past few days from her skin. A couple of steps to the side put her under the spray of the shower head, soaked her to the bone. Then a couple more steps put her back against the wall once more. His actions followed a pattern that she barely registered.

He lathered her hair with shampoo and turned her back toward the water to rinse it clean. He worked conditioner into her hair, left it while he stole a kiss from her lips and the breath from her lungs. Found the soap with one hand and worked it into a lather. Worked it against her skin so that the suds covered her flesh. Then he turned again and rinsed it clean. Rinsed her hair clean. The run of water and soap sliding over her skin, sensitive from the continued onslaught of his hands and stubble, felt like silk being rubbed against her limbs. She shuddered and moaned shamelessly from the heightened sense of arousal.

And somehow, through it all, his hips continued to churn against her own until pleasure ate at the edges of her consciousness. Until her body was little more than a living, breathing, exposed nerve. Every drip of water against her skin, every breath of air that brushed her cheek or breast, every glide of his tongue on hers, every stroke of his cock was like being dipped in liquid pleasure. Elsa wanted to beg for it to end and she wanted to beg for more. But there was no breath with which to form words. No words to be found in her brain. No way to shape her lips around anything beyond a moan or a gasp.

It was a heady feeling, having his body surrounding hers. Having his body buried in hers. His mouth moved across her skin, dropping kisses on her lips. Teasing tender caresses to her breasts. Leaving invisible marks along the line of her shoulder. His hands cupped her ass as his hips continued to move in a slow, steady pace that sent him deeper and deeper into her body each and every time.

She didn't want him to ever stop.

Orgasm slid through her without warning, making her muscles clench down around his cock. And still he stroked into her. Still he loved her with his mouth and his hands and his body. She keened out her pleasure, a sound that echoed around the bathroom until it seemed there was a lewd chorus of pleasure singing in her ear.

When her hold on his erection loosened, he added some speed to his strokes. Drove harder into her. She wrapped her body around his and panted her approval into his ear. He kissed a path from her ear along her cheek to her lips and delivered a kiss that curled her toes into the hard curves of his ass. His tongue stroked hers, imitating the motion of his hips for a moment before breaking away to once again leave a trail of kisses on her cheek. He nipped at her earlobe, then let his mouth drift lower until it was pressed against her throat. By then, his hips were pounding furiously against hers.

She felt his lips move against her skin, thought maybe he whispered words into her neck. She thought maybe he told her he loved her. That thought was shattered with a shaft of pain as the sharpened points of fangs pierced her throat and she felt the sweet, gentle suckling as he took her blood. His climax stole over him, saw him slamming his hips to hers hard enough to leave bruises on her hips. He came inside of her, his lips sealed against her throat. Sweet pleasure washed through her, the feel of his lips pulling at her skin bringing another orgasm to life within her. She shuddered her way through it before settling limply into his hold.

His body was still against her own. The sucking sensation had stopped, leaving her filled with a mix of blissful pleasure, light-headedness, and encroaching sleep. The last thought she had before she drifted off in his hold, the only one she was capable of, was that he'd done it on purpose. Then her eyes closed and she felt her head land with a gentle thump against his shoulder.

And then she knew no more.

~*~*~*~*~

He watched the dark head as it bent over something small spread out before him on his work table. He'd been standing there for the better part of a half hour, watching silently as the other man continued to do whatever he was doing with whatever it was he had on his work table. The man's level of dedication to his craft was, at times, really fucking scary.

The world knew Anthony Stark as a shrew businessman. As a genius who could bend his mind to anything. As a superhero who rose to the occasion to save the world. No matter what that occasion might be and what rising to it might cost him. Very few of them saw past the glamour Tony wore, the armor he'd erected around himself as protection long before he'd put on a flashy red and gold suit and taken to the skies as Iron Man.

The man sitting before him, absolutely lost in the thing he was doing, was someone the public never got to see.

Clint was always a little humbled when he had the chance to see the real Tony Stark. To see the man who was much smaller than his public persona. Much less confident. Much more human. It was no different this time. But there was worry and concern threaded in with the humble, because the level of attention Tony was giving his appointed task was slipping from his normal level of obsession and into levels that were known to destroy people. It was frightening.

Clint debated with himself as to whether he should interrupt Tony or not, worried that not putting some distance between himself and his latest obsession would see Tony spiraling downward into a deep pit. One that was hard to get out of. There wasn't room for more than one of them in that pit and, presently, Clint had dibs on it.

Just when he came to the decision that it was time to step in and break Tony's concentration, the man spat a curse as he threw whatever instrument he'd been holding onto the tables flat surface with a loud clatter. When Tony lifted his head to rub his palms over his face, Clint could see signs of exhaustion eating at him.

"Do you make a habit of spying on people, Barton? Or am I a special case?" Tony asked, voice heavy with sleeplessness and frustration. Clint's blue eyes met Tony's to find that there was annoyance there. He wasn't sure if that annoyance was directed at his troubling problem or Clint. Clint decided it didn't matter and stepped further into the room.

"Just you, Stark," Clint responded and lifted his bandaged hand. "Since I'm stuck here for the foreseeable future, I've got to get my kicks somehow. You're not a vampire, but you'll do."

"Fuck off," Tony ordered, no real heat to his tone.

"What are you working on?" Clint asked, making sure Tony knew he wasn't going to take offense to the man's brusque tone.

"A better way to hunt. Someone's got to watch your girlfriend's back when she's out being a reckless idiot," Tony told him. His choice of words suggested he was trying to goad Clint into a confrontation. Clint chose to let it go. Neither one of them was up to that kind of fight.

"First, she isn't my girlfriend. Second, she isn't a reckless idiot. I was told that honor belongs to you." Clint's words saw Tony staring at him for a moment, then he muttered some very not nice words under his breath.

"Someone's been telling secrets," he said, little emotion in his voice.

Clint shook his head. "There's no shame in admitting that you can't do the same things she can do. Dare is unique."

"Is that what you're calling it? And here I thought she had a serious death wish. She obviously doesn't know how to control herself," Tony snarked. Clint bristled at the suggestion that she'd burnt his hand intentionally.

"She was having a nightmare, Tony. Whatever was in it, she felt threatened. I was stupid to put my hand on her arm when she was still caught up in whatever she was dreaming about. This," he said and paused in order to hold the bandaged hand up where they both could see it. It still throbbed with pain, but it could have been so much worse. Whatever balm Rose had put on it had helped with the level of pain. "This is my fault. So don't forget it. And don't take your temper out on her. She won't hesitate to set your shorts on fire."

"She's a loose cannon, Clint. She's dangerous. Not just to the vampires, but to the people of New York City. To us." Tony stared at Clint for a few moments, his expression haunted with memory. And Clint thought he understood. "I can't lose anymore friends to this plague. Either at the hands of the vampires or at the hands of a mentally unstable vigilante who apparently has enough firepower to wipe everyone off the face of the planet."

Ah ha. So that was it.

Clint sighed and closed the distance between them, barely taking note of what looked like a bunch of seeds scattered across Tony's desk, along with microscope, tweezers, several glass dishes, slides, and a host of other things that did nothing to tell Clint what Tony was trying to accomplish. "Tony, it isn't your fault," he said softly, coming to a halt only inches from where Tony stood.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tony snapped, irritation dripping thick and poisonous from each word. Clint reached out and put his good hand on Tony's shoulder.

"I wasn't there, so I don't know for certain what happened. But whatever did happen, Tony, it wasn't your fault," Clint told the other man.

"I don't know what you mean," Tony spat.

Clint sighed. Shook his head. "Tony. Whatever happened to Steve... It wasn't your fault. You aren't to blame."

The words dropped like a stone into the room. Tony shot a glare at Clint, one hand reaching up to knock the man's hand from his shoulder. He took a step back and raked a hand through the wild, unkempt mess that was his hair. The action left him looking even more unsteady. Clint felt sadness and pain shaft through his heart. Steve had been his friend, too.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Tony shot back.

"Actually, I do. Steve always made his own choices. Whatever happened, he knew that it was possible and he still made the choice to do what he always did. Fight for what he believed in. You're wallowing in guilt that isn't yours."

Tony glared at him, eyes dark and simmering with rage. With hatred. With self-loathing. And Clint knew that every single one of those emotions was aimed at Tony. No one else. He blamed himself and had been doing so for months.

Clint didn't know what had happened that fateful day. He hadn't been there. He'd been elsewhere. Doing something else. All he knew was that Tony and Steve had gone out to fight vampires. It was shortly after the vampire plague had started spreading across the country, after the X-Men had been wiped out. The two of them had gone out together. But only Tony had returned. And Clint had never been able to get from him what had happened. All Tony had said about that night was that Cap had fallen.

For a whole year, Tony Stark had been blaming himself for something that hadn't been his fault.

"Tony, it isn't your fault. Steve did what Steve always does. He fought for what he felt was right. That isn't on you," Clint said in a quiet voice, to ensure the other man heard him.

"Shut the hell up, Barton! You haven't got a goddamn clue what you're talking about!" Stark snarled, one hand curled into a fist that was drawn back and ready to fly. The man's arm trembled with his internal fight. "Just shut up. I've already lost one friend. I don't want to lose another."

Clint closed the distance between them and pulled a reluctant Tony Stark into his hold. "Whatever happened to Steve, it isn't your fault."

Tony tensed in his hold and Clint knew that Tony was getting ready to throw the punch that itched through his fingers.

~*~*~*~*~

You're mine, Rose. The sibilant hiss filled her head, rising from the depths of her memories to send a shaft of sharp emotion through her. Burning hatred. Choking fear. Confused regret. Bitter pleasure. Rose snarled a curse under her breath, the delicate glass vial she held shattering under the pressure of her hand as her fingers curled tightly around it. Pain lanced through her, forcing her to unclench her hand. Broken shards of glass fell to the table with soft thunks. The soft pattering of blood accompanied it.

"Son of a bitch!" Rose blurted, the uninjured hand instantly reaching out for a towel laying forgotten on her work table. It hurt to wrap the cloth around the injured extremity, hurt to curl her bleeding fingers around the material in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. Hurt to realize that she was still susceptible to that voice all this time later. She honestly thought she'd put it all behind her.

On the tail of that thought came the remembered feel of tainted blood burning along her nerve endings, searing its way into her very matter. Muscles tightened in a combination of fear and anticipation. She'd grown to love and dread the sunset every night. During the day, she'd been her own person. She'd known her own mind and she'd known what was in her heart. At night, though, she'd become a mindless creature that lived only for the rush that tainted blood would give her. And it didn't matter to her how she got a taste of that blood. Just that she got it.

The room around her blurred as her thoughts slid toward the not-so-distant past. Things that were best left forgotten poured into her head so quickly that it left her dizzy and gasping for breath. The sweet burn as infected blood soaked into her soft tissues. The press of stiffness between her thighs. Between her ass cheeks.

Need spasmed through her as memory crashed over her. She staggered against the onslaught, hands slapping the hard surface of her work table in an attempt to clear her mind. But the memories were strong and held her tight, wrapping her in their insidious embrace so that she fell down, down, down into the depths of her memories.

She could feel the pinch of the collar at her throat, a thick band of leather with an inset of gleaming silver. The edges were rolled and stiff, sitting against her shoulders and collar bone on the bottom and against the underside of her chin on the top. A posture collar that kept her head up. That kept any vampire with wandering fangs from taking what didn't belong to them.

She could remember the leather and metal chastity belt that she'd been forced into. How it often times held dildos in place during the daylight hours so that she always rode the blissful edge of pleasure. The cutting edge of pain. There'd been an underbust corset in soft, supple leather that left her breasts bared. She'd spent more than one night with her nipples pinched by clamps. With thin needles piercing the sensitive peaks.

And she could remember how every single one of those foreign items that had been forced into her body or through her flesh had been dosed with infected blood, so that it had been allowed to work itself up into her body through the places where she was most vulnerable.

There had been games almost every night. Sometimes she'd been forced to suck blood off a thick length of cock. Sometimes the blood had been fucked into her body in the most expedient manner. Pain had become a living, breathing thing, bound to her by the torture inflicted upon her body. Until she'd come to crave it, had come to need it to feel alive as much as she'd needed the blood to feel normal. Days and nights had blurred until she'd lost track of where and when she was. Who she was.

She'd woken one afternoon, unencumbered by her usual trappings, cold and naked and shivering on a thin mattress in a filthy cell, and she'd realized what was happening to her. She'd known who and what she was, and she'd realized that she hadn't wanted to be that needy, hungry, simpering fuck toy any longer. So she'd dug down into the very center of her and she'd found her powers, slumbering like seeds under the winter snow, and she'd coaxed them back to life.

She'd used them to find a way back from the edge. She'd used them to drive the need from her body, and then she'd used them to make good her escape. She'd found Mystery and she'd found Keira and she'd never looked back.

And didn't it just figure that a brief meeting with Dare's ex had been enough to bring all of it rushing back into her head?

Rose swore under her breath, fighting the rush of memories and the clamoring need and the growing burn that raced through her blood. Jesus fucking Christ, she still wanted it. After all this time, she was more than willing to throw herself back into that madness and sadistic chaos and let them take herself from her.

"You can never escape me, Rose. You'll always belong to me. I'm never going to give you up. You're too beautiful and tasty. I'm going to bind you to me, make you my blood whore. You'll never want to leave. You'll never want anyone else." It had been a promise that she'd done her best to shatter. But the throb of need in her blood, between her thighs, told her she'd only been fooling herself.

"FUCK!" Rose screamed. The bloody towel dropped from her hand as she reached for the jar sitting open on the table before her. The salve inside of it wasn't finished, was too chunky and too strong and too thick. But it had exactly what she needed. She used her injured hand to scoop up a goodly amount of the stuff, then curled her fingers around it.

The garlic she'd used as the base sank into her blood through the cuts, sending burning fire racing along her nerve endings. She let go a hoarse scream of pain as the garlic ate at the memories simmering in her bloodstream. Pain like she hadn't felt in a long time seared its way up her arm. It spread to her brain and then down into the rest of her body. She shook and shivered and moaned as memories were scorched away by the burn of the garlic. Her entire being was consumed by the fire unleashed by the garlic, leaving her blind to the room around her.

Blind, but not deaf.

She heard the faint rustling of leaves as they shivered and shook against one another. The plants shared her pain and misery. And she knew, if she didn't shut the agony off, if she didn't lock the memories away, that her plants would suffer and die. She couldn't let them live through her mistakes.

Setting her teeth against the fire burning under her skin, Rose took a stumbling step forward until her leg bumped the table. Her uninjured hand settled on the surface and felt for the odd notch that she knew rested near the edge. When her fingers brushed it, she used it to orient herself. She knew that the bathroom was six steps left and a dozen steps forward. Bleeding hand cradled against her chest and undamaged hand held out before her, she made her way cautiously toward the bathroom.

It was slow going, her brain sizzling with pain and her body ready to give out on her. It felt like it took her an hour to get there. But her hand eventually bumped the jamb and she inched forward into the room. She found the light switch blindly, groping for it along the wall until her fingers hit it. The light was an added pain, She had to squint against the brightness and fumbled for the sink.

It was a relief when she wrapped her fingers around the knob. She twisted it so that water poured in a rush into the basin below the faucet and Rose shoved her hand under the running water. Slowly, inch by painful inch, the pain pulled back as cool water rinsed the garlic from her hand. Eventually, she could see well enough to make out a pale blur in the mirror that she was sure was her face. And then the burning pain was gone, leaving Rose shaky and gasping for breath.

Her knees gave out and she dropped to the floor, injured hand cradled against her abdomen as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. It felt like it took an age for her to drag herself back to her feet. She leaned over the sink and used her good hand to splash water on her face. She hadn't had a spell this bad in a very long time. It was going to take days to recover from it. Someone would notice that there was something wrong. She was going to have to stay hidden away from everyone for a while.

Rose lifted her head to take in her reflection, watching as droplets of water dripped from her hair. From the tip of her nose. From her chin. Her face was paler than usual and her eyes were a dull brown. Not unusual, given the pain she'd just experienced. She reached up to rub at her eyes with her good hand. And her reflection didn't move. Rose blinked. Her reflection didn't.

"What the fuck?" she whispered, suddenly very freaked out and afraid.

Her reflection moved then, its hands coming up to rest against the inside of the mirror's surface. Neither of them was cut up. "You have to help her. She's in grave danger. You have to save her." Her reflection told her, voice faint and distant and watery. As if it was coming to her from a great distance and the bottom of a deep lake. Rose frowned and leaned forward.

"Who? Who do I have to help? Who's in danger?" she asked.

"Help her before its too late." The voice repeated. Rose opened her mouth, ready to repeat her questions. But lights flashed behind her eyes, bright and strobing. Music thumped across her brain, all loud bass and angry guitar. It was too much and she screamed, hands flying up to cover her ears.

"ROSE!"

The voice, along with a stinging slap across her cheek, brought her back to herself. Rose found herself sprawled bonelessly on the bathroom floor, blood smeared across the tile from her shredded hand and pain pulsing through her brain. She found Mystery staring down at her, eyes wide with fear and concern. The woman's hands were on her arms, trying to pull her up into a sitting position. Rose struggled to help. limbs shaky and limp. "Rose, what happened? You were passed out on the floor, bleeding like a stuck pig!" Mystery demanded. The tone of her voice suggested she was just a touch freaked out.

"I don't... I..." she stammered, trying hard to figure out what she'd been doing. She didn't remember passing out. The last thing she could recall was looking at her reflection in the mirror and seeing... "I have to help her!' she said, eyes widening when the freaky shit in the mirror played back across her brain.

Mystery gave her a skeptical look. "You have to help who?"

Rose ignored the question, instead struggling to gain her feet. Mystery leant her strength, helping Rose into a standing position. Rose staggered for the door, legs shaking with the effort of putting one foot in front of the other. The other woman was there to assist her. "Where are you going, Rose?"

"I need to find Stark. Dare's in danger and he can find her," she said, words slow and thick with shock and worry.

"He's in his lab or whatever he calls it. Let me help you," Mystery said as she hauled Rose toward the door.

~*~*~*~*~

Tony's fingers ached from holding the fist for so long. From holding it so tightly. He wanted to punch the understanding off Clint's face. Wanted to make the man eat his words of pity, as well as a few teeth. The only reason he didn't was because the door slammed open and Mystery practically hauled Rose into his work room.

Rose looked like shit. She was pale and disheveled. Her eyes were wide in her face, and there was blood smeared on one hand. In fact, there appeared to be blood dripping from said hand. And it was obvious that she wasn't really able to move well without help. Which explained the arm Mystery had slung around the woman.

Clint stepped back and turned to take in their uninvited guests. Concern shifted across his face before he glanced at Tony. Tony knew what he was asking and gave a faint shake of his head. "What happened?" Tony asked, already moving in the direction of the first aid kit he kept under the work bench for those occasions when he hurt himself while in the middle of building something.

"You have to find her, Stark," Rose ordered, trying to untangle herself from Mystery's hold. To her credit, Mystery refused to let go of Rose. Tony was sure that Rose would drop to the ground if the other woman took her arm back.

"Who? Who do I have to find?" Tony asked, gaze shifting to Rose's face. She looked desperate. Scared. It set his warning bells off, and he shifted course toward his computer.

"She's in trouble. You have to find her," Rose said, not answering his question.

"What's going on, Mystery?" Clint asked, unease clinging to his words.

"I don't know. I was passing by Rose's work room when I heard her screaming. I found her on the floor, unconscious. And she was bleeding," Mystery said, though the last was obviously not necessary. "She hasn't made sense since she came to. She just said Dare's in danger and you can find her."

"Are you sure, Rose? Are you sure she's in danger?" Clint's words were directed at the chlorokintetic. The unease had shifted into full on panic and Tony was sure the man was about two seconds away from running out to find the daft woman and play hero.

"She's in danger. We need to find her," Rose replied.

Tony glanced at her, his hands working without conscious thought to pull up the tracking program he'd tied to the chip they'd implanted under the skin of Dare's ass. Rose had protested his choice of spot when they'd done it, claiming he'd only picked her ass in order to see her naked butt. Tony had pointed out that he had no interest in the fire starter's ass and that it was a logical place because she wouldn't be able to reach it. What he hadn't mentioned was that Rose's ass was the one he was most interested in. "How do you know she's in trouble, Rose?" he asked. He didn't like that she was shaking. There was more going on than Dare needing to be rescued.

"The reflection in the mirror. It... She... I told me," Rose said. Not a damn word of it made sense. Tony had to wonder if she'd mixed something that she shouldn't have, if it had created some kind of hallucinogenic vapors that had set Rose off. She looked absolutely convinced that her reflection had spoken to her.

He would have asked more, but the map blipped to life just then and everyone's attention was drawn to the giant computer screen. It showed a 3-D map of New York City in real time. Traffic moved on the streets while pedestrians crowded the sidewalks. At least in some areas. Others were dark and empty. Abandoned and derelict until the sun rose in the morning.

Everyone's eyes zoomed in on the small blue dot that flickered to life on the map. Tony kept his surprise to himself. Half the damn time, the tracking chip was as dead as the vampires Dare hunted.. For whatever reason, it was working fine tonight. His fingers flew over the keyboard. The map zoomed in and refined itself until he was sure exactly where she was. "Its a club. The Lizard Lounge. I can be there in ten minutes. Let me suit up."

"Trouble or not, she won't be happy to see you, Tony," Clint said. A glance told Tony the archer was studying the map, his gaze caught on something. "She needs to see a friendly face." One hand reached up to point at a couple of blips not far from the club. "There. That's the answer."

~*~*~*~*~

"I don't think we're going to find him," Haley said softly, her footfalls as light as she could make them while in her stone form. Johnny hovered next to her, his flames lighting up the darkened alley so that she could see exactly how much shit she was smelling. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "No doubt he can see us coming from a mile away."

"Hey, it isn't my fault that I'm blinding," Johnny replied, grin knowing and cocky. She rolled her eyes at his statement before turning to look at him.

"You know I love you, baby," she told him with a smile. "And I'm glad you wanted to come out and keep me company while we hunt. But Remy is doing his best to not be seen by anyone. He knows Dare is looking for him. He's going to wait until he's sure he's got the advantage. We won't find him unless he wants us to. And he certainly isn't going to want to be near anyone who can turn him to ash with little effort."

"We can still be on the lookout for other vampires. Try to take some of the burden off Dare and Clint."

She heard the words he didn't say and offered him a grateful smile. "Thank you. I worry about Dare every time she steps out the door. She's no match for Remy. She is no where near immune to the man's charm. If he gets his hands on her..." Haley broke off, unable to finish her statement. Haley had her doubts that Dare would be able to destroy Remy, if she ever got the chance. She'd been head over heels for him back in the day. Haley didn't think that had changed any. She'd just gotten better at hiding it. And she'd had Logan.

Logan. The man Dare had been forced to burn to death. Dare had never been terribly stable to begin with. No doubt killing Logan had made it worse. There was no way she was mentally capable of dealing with Remy. If he found her, if he got his claws into her, she was lost.

And then the world would burn.

"We aren't going to let that happen, babe," Johnny said, laying a hand on her arm. He'd shut the flames off and stood next to her in the filthy alley, a look of gentle understanding on his face. God, but she loved the man. Even when he was being kind of silly and stupid. Hell, especially when he was being kind of silly and stupid.

She considered giving him a kiss right then and there, but the alley was not the time nor was it the place. The last thing she wanted to do was be caught unawares by the undead. And she had no intention of dropping her stone skin until she was safe behind the walls of their home. She settled on giving him a look that let him know exactly what she wanted to do with him when they were hidden away in their bedroom in the Baxter Building. Johnny flashed her a smile.

The relative silence of the night air was shattered by the sudden ring of Haley's phone. She frowned because it was the ring she'd set to let her know that someone who wasn't in her contact list was calling her. She fished the thin piece of tech from her uniform's pocket and glanced at the screen. All it told her was that the number calling her was restricted.

She considered putting it back in her pocket and letting it go to voice mail, but some instinct told her she needed to answer it. She thumbed the button to connect the call and put it on speaker. "Hello?"

"Haley, its Tony Stark." The voice on the other end of the line didn't have any of its usual businessman savvy confidence in it. Instead, it sounded tired and weary and not just a little worried. "We have a situation and we need your help."

"What kind of situation? Johnny and I are no where near the mansion," she informed him.

"I know. You're actually exactly where I need you to be. To deal with our problem." He paused and she thought she heard a faint sigh. As if he wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation. She was instantly on alert as dread trickled through her slowly. "We have it on good authority that Dare might be in danger and you're closer to her than we are. She's at a club not far from you called The Lizard Lounge."

"I know where that is," Johnny said, his tone all business. "Its not the sort of place I'd expect Dare to frequent."

"We don't think she's really thinking at the moment. There was an incident earlier. Dare was having a nightmare and Clint tried to wake her. Whatever she was dreaming about scared her enough that her body temperature had risen and she ended up burning Clint's hand when he touched her."

"So what you're saying is she isn't rational and she's been drinking. So she's possibly a danger to herself." Haley frowned. Dare and alcohol were a bad combination. So bad that Dare had actually been trying to quit drinking. Something must have spooked her hard if she'd picked a club with a bar as her choice of a hide out.

"Its entirely possible. The tip didn't mention whether or not Dare was the danger she's in or if someone else is. We just need you to go to the club and find her. Get her out of there and get her home. If you've got the time. If you're willing."

"Of course we're willing, Tony," Johnny said before Haley could get indignant. How could the man think she wouldn't want to go find her friend and make sure she wasn't in any kind of trouble? Johnny put his hand on Haley's arm and started pulling her back the way they came, toward the mouth of the alley. "We're already on our way. We'll call when we're en route to your location."

"Thank you, Johnny. I owe you one." The statement came from Clint, then the line disconnected. Haley glanced at Johnny and found a grim expression on his face. She didn't like it one bit. Serious didn't really look good on him. Not that it looked bad. She just preferred Johnny when he was carefree and joking to this version of him. The vampire plague had changed so much. About everyone.

The air on the street was better. Not clear by any stretch of the imagination, but better. Not as much squalor. Not as much shit. Not as much death. Most people wouldn't have noticed it. Hell, at one point, Haley wouldn't have noticed it. But she'd spent a while now hunting down the vampires. And there was a smell that came with them, a smell that was uniquely theirs. A dead smell. Not the smell of rotting corpses. She was familiar with that smell, too. They just smelled dead.

She was glad to be free of that stink.

The stone skin faded in less than a heartbeat as Johnny turned her up the street toward their destination. The street they were on didn't have lots of people littering its sidewalks, but it was by no means barren and desolate. But it might as well have been desolate compared to two blocks up, where lights shone brightly over their heads and where people, young and old, mingled in large groups. As if they didn't have a care or worry in the world. As if Death wasn't stalking them from the shadows.

The club Tony had mentioned came into view. The Lizard Lounge was sitting by itself on a corner, the sidewalk before it clustered with people clad in black. Haley saw a lot of black hair that came straight from a bottle, the color flat in the neon light of the club's sign. Cigarette smoke coiled around many of those heads, and noisy chatter fought with the throbbing pulse of the music that poured out of the darkened doorway. Haley glanced at it and realized that this was exactly the kind of place that Dare would favor. It was dark and loud and so crowded that she could easily get lost in the depths of its interior.

Johnny led her through the crowd, occasionally elbowing someone out of their way with more force than Haley felt was necessary, until they were at the door. The bouncer was a big man with a giant fin of a mohawk topping his head. The sides were shaved bare, giving her a good view of the tattoos that had been inked there. He gave them both a look that said he plainly thought they didn't belong there. Johnny let go of Haley in order to lean toward the guy and say whatever it was he wanted to say.

The bouncer stared at Johnny for a while after Johnny pulled back, then a grin split his lips and he nodded his fin toward the door. Johnny reached out a fist and did one of those complicated handshake things before taking hold of Haley's hand and tugging her through the door.

She wanted to ask him what he'd said to the bouncer, but the question would have to wait because the noise was even louder once they stepped into the club proper. It was dark as sin inside, most of the lights either very dim plain bulbs or brighter red bulbs. It gave the place a bloody feel. Especially when paired with the velvet upholstery that had been used on the chairs and the benches in the booths. There were even curtains here and there that were thick velvet panels. There was a bar immediately to her left, a giant mirror behind it displaying the entire club beyond.

The place was jam packed with people. Tables were crammed with people, while the dance floor was covered with writhing bodies. The music thumping through the speakers was something with a lot of bass and low, sultry vocals. Despite the fact that there was no one smoking inside, the air was clogged with the stench of stale smoke and spilt alcohol and fresh sweat. She could also smell hints of powder here and there.

It was a goddamn good place for Dare to hide and it was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Where do we look?" Johnny asked, shouting the question into her ear.

"Look in the darkened corners. She won't be out in the open. Not her style," Haley responded, eyes already making a circuit of the far wall. There were more tables over there and she was almost positive that it was there that she'd find Dare. She caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to find a waitress shoving through the crowd, a tray held high over her head. There was a beer and a shot on the woman's tray. Haley motioned toward her so as to draw Johnny's attention. His gaze landed on the woman and he gave a slight nod of his head.

Together, the two of them tracked the woman's progress across the floor, watching as she used her free arm to shove and smack people who get in her way. It looked like she knew exactly what to expect and who to expect it from, because she used that free hand effectively. Haley thought she saw at least one or two bodies stagger away from the server.

The woman finally came to a stop before a table hidden away in a corner at the very back of the room. Haley couldn't see who sat at the table, but the server unloaded her burden there, setting the bottle of beer and the shot down on the table top. There was some kind of exchange because the woman eventually threw her head back and laughed, then she turned and slogged her way back through the crowd. A pale hand reached out and took hold of the shot.

Johnny seemed to be on the same page as she was, because when Haley stepped forward, he was at her side. Together, they cut their way through the crammed dance floor so that they could reach the far side of the room. Anyone who tried to get fresh got smacked with a stone hand in return. Haley heard more than one yelp of pain over the loud thump of music.

Dare's dark head was tipped forward, her attention absolutely not on the club and the people around her. There was a fine tremor in her hand when she reached for the beer bottle. Johnny grabbed it before she could. He pulled it out of her reach. The action brought her head up and Haley could see that she was plastered.

It was on the tip of her tongue to read Dare the riot act, but a shiver of fear slid up her spine as the sensation of being watched crawled across her skin. She glanced around, but couldn't see anyone staring at her. Dismissing it as an overactive imagination, she turned back to Dare. "Let's get you home. Clint is worried about you," she said, putting just a touch of the displeasure she felt into her voice.

"Fuck you. You're not my mom," Dare replied, but it lacked any strength. Instead, Dare sounded tired.

"No, I'm not. But I am a friend and I'm worried about you," she said as Johnny pulled the table out far enough that he could just take hold of Dare's hand and haul her to her feet. When she was standing at his side, only slightly wobbly on her feet, Haley shoved the table back in place and turned toward the exit. The feeling that she was being watched once again crept over her. "You seem to have forgotten that Remy is trying to grab you and turn you. Being out here alone isn't in your best interests."

Dare snorted. "Fuck Remy. I'll burn his nuts off," she said. But she didn't argue when Johnny nudged her forward. Haley took up a position on Dare's other side, one hand stone in case she needed to run interference. Despite the fact that Haley kept an eye on the people around her, she couldn't help but notice that Dare barely stumbled through her steps. Which was odd, because she'd seen Dare fall down drunk and the woman could not keep her feet, even with help, when she was that plastered.

It didn't take as long to make their way to the door as it had taken to make their way to Dare's table. Outside, the crowds were as thick as ever, but they pressed themselves close to one another so that Johnny could steer Dare up the sidewalk toward the vehicle they'd left parked in an twenty-four hour lot not far from the alley where they'd been hunting. Dare leaned on Johnny, but kept pace with him. Her feet stumbled only occasionally and there was little in her movement to suggest she'd been drinking heavily. And that was weird, because Haley had been sure that Dare was plastered.

Which left Haley wondering if there was something else going on with her friend.

~*~*~*~*~

He didn't like skulking in a darkened, dirty alley that stank of shit and piss, but it was the safest place for him at the moment. He watched intently as the trio made their way up the street, away from the club and where he was loitering. It would be a lie if he said he wasn't surprised by the obvious rescue team that had shown up to claim his prize away from him. He'd expected Barton, all heroic intention and shit for brains, to come charging in and grab Dare. Which would have allowed him the opportunity to end this chase once and for all. He could have called Barton to his side and taken Dare as easily as a picking the pockets of tourists in the French quarter during Mardi Gras had been.

But he was pragmatic and he knew, without a doubt, that there was no way he'd have been able to fight off Storm and Dare. She was a powerhouse unto herself. Add the Human Torch into the mix and there wouldn't be a soul in the city who could have gotten past their flames. Throw Haley into the mix and the odds had been skewed so far out of his favor that it wasn't even funny. He'd bested Haley once. He was sure he'd never get the chance to do it again.

He watched them head toward a street corner, his mind turning over this new information. It had been a year since he'd seen Haley. The last time had been on the lawns in front of the school, when she'd been trying to defend the children at the school against the likes of him. She'd almost succeeded. She'd almost driven him off. He'd had an ace up his sleeve, though, and it had come in handy.

Morgan had proven the weakest link in that little group. The moment he'd convinced her that he needed her, the moment she'd put her hand in his, he'd had her. And the fight had been over. He'd almost had them all that night. Haley had been down because of his cards. Scott had hit Roxxy hard enough to force her to lose her cat form. As a human, she'd been especially vulnerable. Jehnna had been little challenge once she'd seen him take Morgan from them.

It might have ended that night, but Roxxy had been the wild card. He'd sent Scott after her and Scott had come back empty handed, The former leader of the famed X-Men had told him that Roxxy had disappeared. The only thing he'd seen had been a giant bird soaring off into the night sky. An argument had ensued, during which time Haley had run from them. Scott had spent more than a week starving for his mistakes. He'd ensured that Scott would never fail him again.

He watched as Haley disappeared around a corner, she and Storm taking Dare with them. No doubt they were returning her to Barton. He was annoyed by the turn of events, but not as angry as he should have been. Because his mind was turning around what he'd learned.

He'd thought Haley had run to safer lands. He knew that there were some countries that had been able to hold out against the vampire onslaught. Latveria, by nature of Doom's iron control and the army of Doombots he had patrolling the borders. Wakanda was still vampire free. He had no doubt that Haley could have gone to either one and been allowed entry. In fact, he'd been sure that's what she'd done. So he was surprised to find her still living in New York.

Surprised. And thrilled. Because he knew that Haley could be a useful part of his plans. Haley could be a lieutenant in his army, in his new world order. With her at his side, with her and Dare at his side to lead his small, hand-picked army, he'd be able to take over the world.

All he had to do was find a way to bring Haley into the fold.

~*~*~*~*~

She stared at him from across the room, eyes narrowed as she watched his hands caress the stack of glossy cards that were never far from his person anymore. He was obsessing. She could tell. She knew the signs better than he thought she did. He had been since he'd left the club earlier.

Truth be told, she was annoyed with him for going to a club without her. When she'd asked why, he'd told her simply that he'd needed a drink. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. He hadn't looked like he'd had anything to drink when he'd returned. And he'd been thoughtful. Considering.

She didn't like it. She didn't like being left out of the loop. They were a team, weren't they? They were in this whole sordid mess together. That's what he kept telling her. If that was the truth, if that was what was really going on, then he needed to be more forthcoming with her. Time to find out what the fuck was going on.

"There you are, Rem. Missed you," she said as she moved up behind him. Her arms wound around his waist and she pressed her cheek to his back. One of his hands reached up to pat her hands, his fingers trailing slowly along the flesh of her arm. "Did you have your drink?"

"Non," he replied with a shake of his head. He turned to look at her, then, and his eyes burned brightly in his pale face. "I met up wit' an old friend."

She frowned. An old friend? Who? Most of his friends were dead or turned. Who would he have met up with? "Oh?" she asked, doing her best to sound non-chalant and disinterested.

The smile that lit up his face told her she'd failed in that task. Damn the man, he knew her far too well. "Dare. I met up wit' Dare."

Her heart pounded against her ribs as excitement raced through her. "You saw her? Did you bring her home? Is she here?" she asked, gaze darting around the room as though the other woman was hiding in one of the corners. Remy smiled and shook his head, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

"Non, petit. She not here. But she will be soon." With that, he gave her a smile that would have frightened Dare if she'd been able to see it. "Found a way to break her. She gon' be ours."

It was a promise that he'd made before. This time, though, she could hear that he believed it. This time, he meant it. She wondered what had brought about the change. She was aware that he'd made the promise before without really intending to deliver on it. So what had changed now? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him, but he cut her off before she could even think to speak. "And we gon' have more company."

"More company?" she asked, eyebrows pulling down with her frown.

"We gon' add Haley to our family," Remy told her. There was something in his voice that she didn't like. Something she couldn't quite place. She frowned at him, letting him see the confusion she felt. "Saw her wit' Dare tonight. We gon' turn her and add her to de family. Dat a promise."

He left her then, pulling from her hold to move for the door. Her frown intensified. Why did he want Haley? Haley didn't belong to them. She wasn't part of their family. Dare was their family. Dare was the only one she wanted him to bring home to them. The only one she cared about. Why did he suddenly give a shit about Haley so much? What made him think she wanted to share him with Haley? She already shared him with too many people.

Dare was okay. Dare had been hers before she'd been Remy's. And Dare would be hers again. As soon as Remy broke her spirit and brought her home to them. Haley had no place in their family. Haley didn't belong with them. She wasn't about to let him ruin their family by bringing Haley into it. She would do anything she had to in order to keep Haley out of their family.

Her gaze shifted to the window, staring out into the darkened sky and city lights winking beyond the glass. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails slicing through the flesh of her hands. She would do anything to protect her family.

Even if that meant killing Haley.