"Fire to Fire"

By Vampwrtr

Copyright 1998

For the umpteenth time, Janette rearranged the lipsticks in her cosmetics drawer. She stopped momentarily as she felt his eyes upon her from behind. He was standing in the doorway. She sighed; she could feel his concern. Without turning to face him, she spoke.

"What is it, LaCroix?"

His face remained as an impassive stone as he answered, "What are you doing?"

She smiled, in spite of her mood; in the thousand years she had known him, one of his most irritating qualities had always been his inability to just simply answer a question directly. Unless of course, directness suited his needs at the moment. Fire to fire, then.

"Have you always been so enamored by a woman reorganizing her lipstick drawer, or is this some new found fascination?"

He smirked as he leaned against the doorway, his arms crossing in annoyance in front of his chest.

"I was unaware that I was 'enamored' of your lipstick, Janette." He paused for a moment, a slight smile curving his lips, "I always rather thought that it was the woman behind the lipstick, that held my fascination."

Janette stopped in mid-motion: It was so unlike him to be so free with a compliment. She set the lipstick in her hand back down into the drawer. Slowly she turned to face him, only to discover that he was no longer there. Her moment of hesitation had cost her--what? Janette scowled: It was unclear.

Sighing, she returned her attention to the task at hand. Her mood had been melancholy ever since Halloween. She couldn't quite put her finger on the source of her discontent; she only knew that she was feeling edgy, unsettled. She had tried to hide it from LaCroix, but that was like trying to hide blood from a hungry fledgling. She wondered if he realised just how much he enjoyed interfering in the lives of his creations. That thought made her laugh: Of course he knew. He relished it.

Her mind wandered even further, weaving in and out of eras and settings, reliving the past. People, places, adventures; it was all beginning to meld into one large boiling pot in Janette's psyche. Her thoughts came to rest upon a time and place she thought long buried. A time before fashion had ever entered her mind. A time before the complications of the modern world. A time before Nicolas. A time when she had been at the centre of LaCroix' existence......

1176 A.D. ITALIAN COUNTRYSIDE

She could sense him nearby. She smiled. The water in the Romanesque basin splashed gently and warmly around her body. The smell of jasmine filled her with a sense of peace. The candles in the chamber gently cast their warm glow through the room, causing shadows to dance about Janette's bathing movements. The warmth of the candlelight, contrasted with the cool reflection of the moon coming in through the window, just as sharply as Janette's appearance of outward calm conflicted with her inner excitement. He was getting closer, she could feel him.

LaCroix smiled as he detected Janette reaching out to his mind. She was thinking of him as she bathed. She was eager, he could sense it. He ascended the steps of their dwelling slowly, reaffirming his self-control. He removed his cloak as he stood in the doorway, watching her.

He said nothing; she was not aware that he was so close. He continued to observe her as she bathed, enjoying that she was thinking of him, knowing that he could block out his presence from her at will. He admired the sight before him. Few he had known in his long life could compare with his Janette in beauty, and none could compare in spirit.

Janette's hair was wrapped on top of her head, a few seductive strands curling down her neck. Her body was wet with the water and bath oils, causing droplets to glisten in the flickering candle light. Her shoulders were soft, yet still showed the strength that he knew she possessed. Her back was to him, and he couldn't help but notice the perfect curve of her hips, which disappeared into the basin, obscuring any further view. A smile lit his features; it was more sensuous to him that he couldn't see all of her. He so enjoyed the mystery of it.

LaCroix finally opened his mind to her. Janette turned quickly, surprised that he was standing there watching her. Instinctively she covered her breasts with her arms.

His eyes twinkled with amusement, "Modesty, Janette? How.....unusual."

She glared at him slightly, not removing her arms from their position of modesty, "It is impolite to enter a bathing chamber when a lady is making use of it."

He grinned at the game she was introducing, "Oh, I see.....well m'lady, you'll have to pardon my rudeness, you see, I thought I was invited."

Janette stared at him. He had read every thought in her mind, as if she had simply spoken it all to him. He never was very willing to play games, unless of course, they were his idea. She looked at him provocatively, as she slowly let her arms fall away from her chest. He stared at her appreciatively.

"Are you going to stay there, in the doorway?"

He smiled as he walked slowly toward the basin, stopping right in front of her, "Is this better?"

She reached for the ties on his tunic, "Much."

As she loosened the ties of his shirt, he leaned down, taking her mouth in an ardent kiss. His eyes began to show the first signs of a golden hue, as he pulled his tunic off, and threw it to the floor. Janette put her arms around his waist and pulled him closer to her, as she matched the depth of his kiss with her own. Her arousal had awakened his, and any thoughts of an unhurried coupling, was left to the winds.

1998 TORONTO

Janette's reverie was jolted by the sound of smashing glass, emanating from the living room. She quickly moved down the hall and into the room which served as their main living space. Janette was halted in the doorway by the sight which greeted her: LaCroix was standing near the fireplace as still as a statue, the remnants of an 18th century wine goblet on the floor, at his feet. His golden eyes looked haunted by something. She didn't know if he was aware of her or not, until finally, he turned his gaze upon her. Tentatively, Janette took several steps toward him.

"LaCroix? What's wrong?"

He stared at her, his face showing an odd mix of anger and emotion. She came closer, examining him.

"Are you all right?"

He swallowed hard, as if trying to get rid of a bad taste in his mouth. When he spoke, his voice had a hard edge to it.

"I'm fine."

He abruptly moved away from her, trying to pull his emotions back down. He fought to regain the practiced look of boredom, that normally, he did so well. Janette frowned. She couldn't read him, he was blocking her out. She moved closer again, touching his arm. He glared at her.

"You're upset, LaCroix."

"No, I am not."

Janette stared into his eyes, until he could no longer stare back into hers. He sighed deeply, then surprised her by taking her hands, into his own. He pulled her closer to him.

"I have been....concerned about you, Janette."

"I know."

"You have seemed rather maudlin lately, and yet you've said nothing."

Janette broke away from his hands and walked back toward the mantle, "I'm sorry, LaCroix. I haven't known what to say."

He moved to her once again, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, "You're discontented here, I have felt that...."

"Yes."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, pulling her into his embrace. Janette leaned back into him a little.

"I do not like to see my children unsettled, Janette."

A small smile crept onto her face as the thought of how that statement rang with only a half truth: He didn't like it unless it somehow fit into his game plan. She said nothing.

He finally voiced the thought plaguing his mind, "Are you unhappy being here with me?"

She turned in his embrace to face him, "No, mon pere, it is not that....."

"Then what, Janette?"

She looked into his eyes, and the nickel suddenly dropped for her. She had been so engrossed in her reflections of the past, that she hadn't noticed his mind gently insinuating itself into hers. She looked at him sharply.

"You were reading my thoughts. That's what startled you....."

He looked away, embarrassed. She tightened her grip on him.

"No, LaCroix, do not look away from me. For once, can't you just answer a question directly?"

He looked straight into her eyes, but said nothing. Janette held his gaze, evaluating. She decided to chance it.

"The echoes of our past touched you, did they not?"

"Yes."

"The intensity and passion of the memory startled you."

His voice was barely above a husky whisper, "Yes."

Slowly she stretched her arms behind his neck, her hands gently caressing the back of his head. LaCroix simply stared at her. Whether it was his own passion that was almost paralyzing him or something else, Janette could not tell. She pulled his head toward hers; if there was any fire left between them, she knew that it was up to her to initiate the pursuit of it.

"Relax, mon amour. Just for this one night, let me be the one to take care of you...."

She covered his mouth with hers, gently at first; then, slowly she applied more pressure. His fangs descended, slightly piercing her tongue. She could sense his passion and arousal awakening. Janette felt his arms tightening around her, further kindling her own desire.

LaCroix knew that he could quench the thirst of his lust, but what of the renewed fire within his soul? He tried not to think of it as Janette's hands tenderly caressed him. She allowed all of her love for him to pour out of her every touch. The Ancient could sense her affection for him quite clearly, and even though the strength of his own buried emotions frightened him far more, LaCroix felt himself let go of them with a growl.

Perhaps for this one night, he could allow himself to give into the pull of his desire, and the deep love that he felt for her. The fire he carried so silently within his heart had been hidden for far too long.

fin