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Date Posted: 13:22:21 01/30/04 Fri
Author: Slally
Subject: "Blood Seduction" - Chapter 30 (R)
In reply to: Slally 's message, ""Blood Seduction"" on 04:11:32 01/28/04 Wed

Thank you, readers, for the lovely, lovely comments. Welcome, Maiandra! I love it someone new makes themselves known. And, of course, blessings to those faithful who always respond. I say it again - if you read, please respond. It truly does keep the story coming. Here's some more...

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Sara returned to the library carrying a bottle of red wine, a corkscrew, and three wine glasses. She handed out the glasses, careful not to touch Devian’s outstretched fingers with her own. There was a brief, awkward moment when both men reached for the corkscrew. Dev backed off, hands raised, with that wicked grin on his face. Ian frowned; his lips pressed tight as he opened the wine. He poured wine for Sara and himself. Then, he passed the bottle to the clone. If Devian was insulted by the slight, he didn’t show it. He poured himself a healthy glass of wine, corked the bottle, and set it on the table beside him. When Sara had gone to get the drinks, Ian had settled into the chair across from his clone. To Sara, they looked like a pair of pretty bookends. She sat now on Ian’s lap and tipped her glass slightly toward Dev, saying, “Your plan?” Devian sighed. He knew that this was going to go over like a lead balloon. Even so, putting it off would not make it any easier. “It’s not my plan, really,” he began, “The old man came up with it and I haven’t changed it. I’ve just put my own spin on some of the details. Until he becomes too weak to use his power, Irons is dangerous. Even without me, he has the money to overpower you with numbers.” Ian just looked back at him and Dev said snidely, “Are you getting what I’m saying here, bro?”

Ian snorted, more amused than annoyed at the clone’s sarcasm. “I think so,” he replied with equal snark, “You’re telling us that, even if you stay out of it, Mr. Irons can throw enough bodies at us to ensure that we cannot win. Have I got it, bro?” Devian touched his nose with one long finger, like they were playing charades. Sara grunted. “Okay, sparky. We get that we’re not going to like the master plan, but that it’s going to roll over us whether we join forces with you or not. We get it,” she repeated, out of patience, “Now what is the fucking plan?” Dev laughed, enjoying Sara. “Alright,” he agreed, “Here it is. I’m to overpower Ian and take him to the old man. As I understand it, he will be kept sedated, under lock and key. He won’t be killed because he’s got the Witchblade mojo in his blood now. Yes?” Sara felt the hardness of Ian’s muscles beneath her, bunched with tension. “And Sara?” Ian asked. Dev studied the pair carefully. “He leaves her alone to go on about her business. He does, however, still need a transfusion of her blood once a week to recover his health and then maintain it.” Sara frowned. “But if he takes Ian away, how is he…,” she began. Reality suddenly dawned. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. “Oh no,” she gasped, “You’ve got to be kidding!” Dev shrugged, offering her his most charming smile. Sara snorted. “And I’m not supposed to know the difference between you and Ian?” she asked rhetorically, “Dream on.” Ian smiled. “Mr. Snuggles,” he whispered in her ear. Sara smiled now too, in spite of the situation. There was a pause and Dev frowned. “Did I just miss something?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sara snapped, “The boat. You missed the fucking boat, sport.” Devian raised a negligent hand. “No matter, Wielder,” he responded, “I’m the cat that always lands on his feet. I may miss the boat but it is you and my brother there that are in over your heads. This will not simply go away. You deal with me on your terms or I deal with you on the old man’s terms. Pick your poison.” Ian surprised her by asking, “What are you proposing?” Sara turned to him, outrage written on her face. “Ian…,” she began. Now, he held up a restraining hand and said, “Let him speak, Sara. Let’s hear all of it before we dismiss it out of hand.” Dev fixed Sara with his golden gaze. “First, let me say, that this plan requires patience,” he warned. Sara snorted. It was obvious that his caution was directed at her. It was also obvious what she thought he could do with his concern.“Duly noted, Wielder,” he said, continuing, “I intend to switch Sara’s blood after Immo has tested it. The old man will think he’s getting the elixir of life. Instead, he’ll be getting some of his own blood that the doc keeps for testing purposes. The bastard will continue to decline until he slips into a coma and dies.” Sara’s eyes narrowed. “Why not just poison the blood and kill him outright?” she asked, “Save us all a world of trouble.” Dev smiled ingratiatingly. “I’d love to,” he agreed, “But there’s going to be an autopsy. It’s a stipulation of his will, suspicious old fart that he is. Immo is a weird duck but he’s no fool. Murder is too risky. I want to inherit. Anything that threatens that is a deal breaker.”

Sara looked surprised. “You inherit?” she asked. The clone shook his head. “No, of course not,” he said, trying to look pained, “Daddy never liked me best. My brother inherits. In payment for freeing you to live your lives in peace, Ian will sign everything over to me. So, you see, we have to trust each other. You trust me to switch the blood and free Ian to come home again. I trust you to sign my inheritance over to me when the old boy kicks.” Sara studied Devian, lounging seductively in his silk and leather. “You don’t actually expect to live here with me, do you?” she asked. His glance shifted to Ian whose golden eyes had hardened and narrowed. Dev tried to look innocent. It was a stretch. “Unfortunately, the old man trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” he said, “There will be watchers. I suspect that he’ll want me to reactivate the surveillance too. I think I can stall my way around that though. Bottom line? Yeah, I do expect to live here with you. And I’ll have to begin teaching those classes at the dojo – I assume that they asked you to teach, didn’t they? I’ll have to do whatever Ian would do, become Ian.” Green eyes flashed dangerously. “In a pig’s eye, you will,” she hissed. Dev cleared his throat. “Calm down, Lady Sara,” he replied, managing to make it sound more like a bawdy nickname than term of respect, “It will be for appearance only. I want to keep all my body parts intact. I’ve become fond of them in the short time that I’ve been using them.” Ian suddenly laughed, startling both Dev and Sara. “You honestly expect us to trust you?” he asked, “Are you crazy as well as arrogant?” Devian shook his head and said, “No, brother. I’m a pragmatist. I don’t see that you really have any other choice.”

Sara turned to look at Ian and was stunned to realize that he was actually considering Devian’s plan. “Ian, you can’t do this,” she begged, “You can’t put yourself back in that man’s hands, put yourself at his mercy. He might not kill you but there’s no telling what else he might do to you.” Ian shook his head. “The clone is right,” he replied, “We don’t have a lot of choices. Irons can still take me and use me to blackmail you for your blood. With five clones dead, if the last one’s loyalty comes into question, Mr. Irons will pull out all the stops because he has nothing left to lose. He has to win or he dies. At least this way, there’s the possibility of an end to it once and for all.” She clutched his arm, digging in her nails. “Are you saying that you trust him?” she asked, waving her other hand at Dev who was watching the conflict with interest. Ian tilted his head to study his smirking double. “I trust his greed,” he replied. Dev nodded. “A discerning man, Wielder,” he said, “You should listen to him more often. We are more alike than different, brother.” Ian made a hissing noise and the smile left Devian’s face as if it had been wiped away. “We are nothing alike,” Ian countered, “How much time do we have?”

Now, Dev tilted his head and Sara was struck again by the similarity of their gestures. “None at all,” he said, “I was sent here tonight to get you, bring you to the mansion, and then take your place. The only reason that we’ve had this much time to talk is that you canceled your dinner reservation. By the way, why did you do that?” Ian ignored the clone’s question. He had canceled their dinner reservation after he and Sara had argued that morning. It was none of Devian’s business. Ian nodded. “So, I would have to go with you now,” he said. Sara pushed off of Ian’s lap and faced him with clenched fists and green eyes hard as emeralds. “The hell you will,” she cried. Ian stood too, reaching out a soothing hand. “Sara, please…,” he began. “Don’t you try to finesse your way around this, Ian Nottingham,” she barked, “If you go back into that mansion, you’ll never get out of it again. I will not lose you that way. I will not let that happen.” Ian turned toward the clone and ordered, “Leave us alone for a few minutes.” Devian saluted and mockingly said, “Yes, sir,” unwinding his long body from the easy chair. “Is there really a roof garden with a pool and hot tub?” he asked. “Or maybe I should check out the bedroom,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows. There was a soft whoosh of displaced air and Ian was suddenly an inch from the startled clone. Ian stretched a long, stiff finger under Dev’s nose. “You lay one finger on her and I will know,” he hissed, “And when I get back, I will take you apart piece by piece. Understand, ‘little brother’?”

Sara cleared her throat, hiding the hint of a smile behind her hand. It was the first time that she had seen the clone lose his cool. Devian was thrown by the intensity of Ian’s sudden attack. He held up his hands and stepped back. “Easy, ‘big brother’,” he replied from a safe distance, “I was kidding. You have nothing to worry about. There are lots and lots of ladies in the world and I’m not afflicted with this Wielder obsession that holds you in its thrall. I can get my jollies elsewhere.” He almost grinned, remembering the feel of Vicki’s soft lips under his. He managed to repress it. He didn’t want to set Ian off again. Ian just stared at him and Dev frowned. His mobile face suddenly cleared and he said, “Oh, right. You wanted a few minutes alone with your honey. Making tracks now; heading for the roof.” Devian hastily departed in the direction of the spiral staircase, leaving the Wielder and Protector alone again. Ian held out his hand to Sara. She turned her back on him, saying sharply, “No!” He sighed. “What’s the alternative, my love?” he asked, “If you have one, I will give you my undivided attention. As for me, I see no other way out of the cage in which my master holds us.” A sound not unlike a soft sob escaped her. “He’s not your fucking master, Ian,” she railed. He moved close behind her, slipping his arms around her and pulling her back against his body. “Perhaps not,” he murmured, lips close to her ear, “But, at the moment, he holds all the cards. Devian is giving us the opportunity to turn that around. He is dealing us a better hand.”

Caught up in his imagery, Sara said, “Oh yeah? Well, guess what? I bet your little brother cheats.” Ian turned her around in his arms and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Oh course, he does,” Ian agreed, chuckling softly, “In this instance, however, it is not in his best interest to do so – which is the only reason that we can trust him to keep his word.” Sara rested her cheek against his chest, hugging him fiercely. “So many things could go wrong, Ian,” she murmured, “How would I get you out of there if something happened? How long is this farce supposed to go on? How long do you expect me to live with this thing while you’re exposed to all kinds of danger at Irons’ hands? I remember how he beat you right after I moved into the building. I cannot stand by and allow that to be done to you. You are mine now. You belong to me. I will not allow anyone to misuse you that way again.” Ian stood still, holding her close, allowing her to get it all out, to wind down. When she was done, he bent down and kissed her silly, letting his warm mouth convey all the love, need, and passion that he couldn’t begin to put into words.

They finally broke apart, both of them breathing raggedly. “Oh, god. Don’t go,” she gasped, “Please don’t go.” Ian kissed her again, just a hot, firm slant of his mouth across hers. “I have to, Sara,” he whispered, “You know I do. I don’t have any other choice. Don’t make it harder. Okay?” She pushed away from him violently and, swinging around, grabbed her half-full wine glass off the table. She flung it into the fireplace with great force, where it shattered with an explosive crash. Sara dropped her head into her hands and moaned, “Shit, shit, shit.” Hannibal, who had been dozing beside the chair Devian had occupied, was now standing stiff-legged looking around for the danger and barking his head off. Sara dropped into the chair and shut her eyes. Ian turned to the barking dog and yelled, “Hannibal, shut up!” Hannibal whined miserably a couple of times and then slunk behind the vacant chair to regroup. Devian stuck his head around the bookcase wall and asked, “Have the armies of hell invaded? What’s with all the crashing and barking?” Sara opened her eyes to fix the clone with a baleful stare. “You mean this isn’t a normal reaction to your presence?” she countered spitefully. Refusing to be baited, he grinned at her and suggested, “Don’t kill the messenger, detective.” He studied them and asked, “So, have you two come to terms? Said your farewells? Are you ready to go, brother?”

Tears rolled slowly down Sara’s cheeks. “No,” she cried, “We are not ready.” Ian knelt in front of her chair and took her hands in his. He bent his head to kiss the inside of her wrist and she pulled one hand free of his to dig her fingers in his thick, silky hair. Ian lifted his head and their eyes locked. “This is a good solution, Sara,” he said, “As long as Irons is alive, you will not be safe. The man raised me; he is the only parent that I have ever known. In spite of the danger, in spite of everything that he has done in the past and would do in the future, I do not think that I could kill him. With this solution, we are rid of my…Mr. Irons once and for all, and his blood is not on my hands. Instead, the bad seed will do him in.” Sara smiled and stroked his bearded cheek. “You’ve been watching old movies again,” she whispered. He smiled back at her and replied, “Guilty.” He lifted a hand to brush tears from her cheek. “Be strong,” he whispered, “I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.” She shook her head and shifted her gaze to the clone, lounging against the bookcases. “How long will this take?” she asked him. Devian shrugged. “Don’t know,” he answered, “I can’t exactly pull Immo aside and say: ‘Hey, doc. If I switch the old boy’s blood supply from high octane to regular, how soon will he croak?’ I think that might tip him off, don’t you?”

Sara made a face. “You’re a real smart ass, aren’t you, sparky?” she asked, “You’ve been around him, watching him. Give me a ballpark figure.” The clone shrugged again. “The old boy’s pretty weak,” he observed, “I’d say two weeks at the outside, sooner if we’re lucky. I will, of course, help him along in any non-incriminating way that I can.” She nodded. “You’re a real humanitarian,” she said, “I want a promise from you. I know you don’t have any honor, like Ian does, but I want you to give me your word – for what that’s worth.” Dev looked a bit pissed for a moment. Then, he replied, “You wound me, Wielder. A strong dose of healthy self-interest doesn’t make me Jack the Ripper, does it? What do you want?” She looked hard into the wide, golden eyes so like and yet so different from her lover’s. “I want you to look out for Ian. I want you to protect him. If Irons tries to hurt him, I want you to find a way to stop it,” she said. Devian took a deep breath, his eyes shifting briefly to Ian who was also watching him now. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, “That’s the best that I can do. I won’t promise something that I know I can’t deliver. I’ll do what I can without blowing my cover, without jeopardizing all of our interests. Will that satisfy you?” She grimaced. “No,” she replied, “It doesn’t ‘satisfy’ me. But I suppose that it’s the best that I’ll get from you. You give me your word?” He grinned. “I was afraid that you were going to ask me to give my word ‘as a gentleman’.” Sara snorted. “Are you kidding?” she said, “I know better than that.” Ian and Sara both stared at Dev until he responded, “Yeah. You have my word.”

Devian glanced at the Spiderman watch on his left wrist. “Time’s up,” he announced, “If we don’t get moving right now, the old man’s going to know that something is wrong. He could send reinforcements. That would complicate things. Let’s keep it simple. Yes?” Ian nodded and stood. Sara stood too. She went up on her toes, snaking her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth down to hers. She kissed him passionately, putting everything that she had into it. Ian gave back as good as he got. It went on and on until Dev finally averted his eyes, feeling the strong tug of carnality in his own untried body. When he impatiently cleared his throat, Ian gently pulled back. They were both breathing loudly in the still air of the room. He rested his forehead against hers and said, “I love you, Sara. Remember that when you get lonely. Think about the homecoming we will have. We’ll stay in bed for a week.” She touched his sensual lips with a single, trembling finger. “I love you too, my darling,” she said, adding, “Promise?” He kissed the finger. “I promise,” he vowed. Dev snorted. “This is really touching,” he observed, “But if we don’t get moving now, we’re all dead meat.” Sara turned away to stare into the fire. “Go then,” she said faintly, “Go quickly before I can stop you.”

When Sara turned around again, they were gone. There hadn’t been a sound. Hannibal started to whine softly, as if he knew that his beloved master had just walked off into danger. Sara dropped to the floor beside the big dog, putting her arms around him and burying her face in his fur. “Oh god, Hannibal,” she moaned, “How will I do this? I miss him already.” He gave a soft woof in commiseration. Not for the first time, she wondered about the intelligence of this animal. She nuzzled his head and he planted a slobbery, doggy kiss on her nose. “Ewww,” she breathed, pulling back out of his reach. “Your master does that a lot better,” she observed, then smiled at her own foolishness – sitting on the floor at eleven o’clock at night having a conversation with a canine. She decided that she had had enough of Devian for one night. When he got back, she intended to be safe in bed; not that she expected to sleep. She would be missing Ian too much for that. Suspecting that the clone might yet try to share her bed, Sara left him a note where she figured he would find it – on the refrigerator. It directed him to the guest bedroom that was next to the library. If he had trouble following directions, she would take great pleasure in making him very, very sorry indeed. She climbed up to the bedroom, got undressed, and stretched out in the big, lonely bed. She pulled his pillow into her arms and inhaled his unique scent. Drawing her knees up to her chest with his pillow still captured in her arms, she again succumbed to tears. When she had cried herself out, Sara fell into a fitful sleep.

After Dev and Ian left the building, they walked half a block until they reached the clone’s car. Ian laughed. Predictably, it was a red jag. Dev turned to his brother with a raised brow and asked, “What?” Still laughing, Ian said, “You’re going to go into auto withdrawal, little brother. I drive a jeep.” The jag beeped as Dev opened the doors. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he grinned across at Ian and said, “You mean when you’re not driving the black jaguar. Right?” Ian shook his head and replied, “Sara doesn’t like the jag. She thinks it’s too flashy.” Devian snorted. “She’ll get over it,” he observed. Ian sighed. If the clone intended to manipulate the Wielder, Ian wasn’t going to be the only one in danger, he thought. Dev was likely to come to a rude awakening the very first time that he butted heads with Sara. That realization cheered Ian up a bit. He just hoped that the two didn’t kill each other when he wasn’t there to act as referee. In any case, his money was on her. The clone might be stronger, but his Sara could wear down granite when she set her mind to it.

When they were a couple of blocks from the mansion, Devian pulled over, turned off the car, and faced Ian. “I have to knock you out,” he said, wearing an apologetic expression. Ian frowned. The manipulation done to his body chemistry when he was a Black Dragon meant that tranqs always gave him a horrendous hangover. “What are you using?” he asked. Dev shrugged. “Don’t know,” he responded, “Immo gave it to me. I’m supposed to shoot you with a dart. They didn’t figure that I’d be able to get close.” Ian gave him a chilly smile. “Do you expect me to run from you?” he asked. Dev smiled back. “Nah,” he replied, “Just need to put some distance between us when I shoot. Wouldn’t do to have them think that you let me get companionably close, would it?” Ian sighed and slowly eased out of the jag. He walked to a low wall beside the apartment building where they had parked and sat down. “Go ahead. Hit me,” he called, turning his back toward the jag. Still inside the car, Dev smiled. You had to admire the big guy’s bravado, he thought. Though emotions were still new to him and he was only learning, Dev thought that he might be starting to like his big brother. That was annoying. It made things more complicated. The clone swung gracefully out of the car and took aim with the tranquilizer gun. With deadly accuracy, he shot Ian in the back of the neck. Almost immediately, Ian slumped forward. By some miracle, he did not fall off the wall. Devian slung his unconscious brother over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, lugged him back to the jag, and carefully propped him up in the passenger seat. After he returned to the driver’s seat, Devian studied Ian’s relaxed features for a moment or two before he turned the ignition. So strange, he thought, like looking into a human mirror. Unaccountably, a talking mirror in something called “Snow White” popped into his head. Where the hell had that come from and what was it, he wondered – some old movie?

As expected, Sara had slept poorly. Up much earlier than usual, she had taken a grateful Hannibal out for his morning walk and had fed both animals. She was now sitting on the kitchen counter impatiently waiting for the first coffee of the morning to finish perking. That gave her a front row seat when Dev came ambling out of the guest bedroom, yawning and carelessly zipping up the skin-tight leather pants. It was clear that he wore nothing under them. At the moment, they were his only article of clothing; his chest and feet were bare. The light-streaked, chocolate hair was loose and tousled. If it had been Ian, Sara thought, he would have looked delicious and she would have had him for breakfast with her coffee. But it wasn’t Ian. Only God and Dev knew where her Ian was right now. Although she was aware that he had not put them in this situation – Irons had done that – he had certainly exploited it and she hated him for that. Halfway to the kitchen, Devian saw her perched on the counter and he grinned. It was quite obvious to her that he was remembering the tape of her and Ian making love in that same location. The clone was not making an effort to be subtle. If he mentions that, I’ll deck him, Sara thought. “Coffee ready?” he called to her. Sara narrowed her eyes at him as he approached her. “Tomorrow morning you better be up to make your own coffee, sparky,” she hissed at him, “This isn’t the mansion. You wait on your own ass here.” Dev held up his hands and said, “Yes, maam. No need to bite my head off. Just asking.” He leaned back against the refrigerator, arms and ankles crossed, to wait with her for the coffee.

The silence between them lengthened until she asked, “How is he?” The golden eyes so like Ian’s met hers. “He was fine when I left him,” Devian replied, “There was no immediate threat. Irons was already in bed asleep and Immo was, of course, gone for the day.” Sara rubbed her red, swollen eyes. “I’m so worried about him,” she murmured. He frowned, feeling a disorienting tug of sympathy. “I know you are,” he responded, “That’s why I want to get your blood and get back to the mansion early – before the doc gets in and the old man gets up. If I do, maybe I can run interference for Ian.” He turned to get a couple of mugs from the cabinet. He filled them both with the fresh, steaming coffee and handed one to Sara. Dev took a sip and winced. “You make lousy coffee,” he observed. She snorted. “Fucking critic,” she mumbled, then added, “That’s what Ian always says.” The clone grinned again, nodding. “Like his brother,” he suggested, “Ian is obviously a man of taste and refinement. I’ll make the coffee tomorrow.” Her lips thinned. She had no intention of getting too chummy with this little shit. “Look. Why don’t you just take the blood right now so that you can get going?” she asked, “I don’t want him there alone.” It was as if a curtain had dropped. The golden eyes went cold and the clone was suddenly all business. “Sure,” he agreed, “Whatever you want.” He headed back to the guest room to get the syringe and vial while Sara finished her coffee.

When he came back, he had added the red silk shirt to his ensemble, though it was unbuttoned. As he dabbed a cotton square with alcohol, she studied his clothing critically. Her lips quirked. Instinctively, she knew that she was about to piss him off and it pleased her. “If you’re planning to pass as Ian,” she began, “You’re going to have to give up the disco pimp getup.” Dev turned to her, holding the syringe and saturated cotton pad, eyes flashing. “The what?” he asked. Sara damped down her smile. “You know,” she clarified, waving a disdainful hand at him, “The leather and…stuff.” Sara frowned, belatedly realizing that it was probably the wrong time to make him angry. He was about to stick her with a needle and, boy, did he look pissed. “Take it easy with that needle. Okay?” she requested. The clone gave her a measuring look. “I’ll try,” he replied, “But, you know, we disco pimps are notorious not only for our leather, but for our shaky hands.” He treated her to a daunting look at his jittering fingers. She narrowed her eyes and said, “I have a gun.” Dev smiled politely, easing the point of the syringe expertly into the crook of her arm. “How nice for you,” he murmured. It was done in seconds and the clone wrapped the vial containing the blood with its rejuvenate gene. Turning back to Sara, he said, “I guess that you better dress me then.” Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Hey, sparky,” she sneered, “I didn’t even like Ken dolls. Dress yourself.” Devian shrugged and said, “Alright. But if I get it wrong and your friends know I’m not Ian, it puts him in greater jeopardy.” She sighed theatrically. “God, you’re an annoying little shit,” she barked, “Do you know that?” He grinned back at her. “Absolutely,” he purred, “I’m told that’s part of my charm.” Sara threw up her hands and headed toward the sleeping loft with the closet containing Ian’s clothes, glancing back over her shoulder and calling, “C’mon, asshole.” Devian sauntered after her, chuckling.

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