White Star Rising

Chapter Six

A.N.: I am sooo sorry everyone! This has been written for a while; I just kept on forgetting to post it! Stupid!

“You certainly ask a lot of questions about my master.”

Leaving the alley way, Gavan looked up. Perched on the lamppost with all the feline grace to be expected, sat an ocelot changeling. He had to blink for a moment, as he had never seen one before. The eyes were slanted with a green gold tint, and the hands gripping the post seemed more like claws than fingers. It sat balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet, tilting his head to the side in a curious manner.

The Altair sorcerer shook off his momentary surprise, and suavely asked, “You must be the thing I saw at Notre Dame.”

“Oui,” the man responded, hunching his shoulders and staring intently at White Star Rising. “I am-”

“An ocelot changeling, one of Adrian’s fare.”

The already thin eyes narrowed all the more. “You’re a clever one, to recognize a changeling.”

Gavan blinked, and thought to himself, “He doesn’t realize who I am….” Well, that could be played to an extreme advantage. “When it suits me to be clever,” he merely responded with a shrug.

“Why,” purred the changeling, “are you asking so many questions? Just what is it that you want?”

“I would like to talk to Ryuji.”

He could almost feel the muscles of the ocelot changeling tense and loosen, and tense again as he thought, flexing the powerful muscles. “An interesting request. Would my master like to meet with you, though?”

“He would find it most worthwhile,” assured the Altair sorcerer smoothly, stretching out the muscles in his hand.

“Very well….” Powerful ocelot changelings were, clever, not so much. “My master shall be in Paris on New Years Eve for the Paris Opera House Ball. They hold it every year, I’m sure even a mere mortal could find it.” It wasn’t really all that insulting, as mere mortals were mostly the ones in attendance. Besides, White Star Rising was so much more than a mere mortal.

“I’ll be there.” The ocelot changeling began to climb down, before the blond paused him. “Oh, and….don’t tell him I’ll be there. I want to surprise him.”

The ocelot changeling glared at him warily. “Know you, does my master?”

“Knows of me, more like.” He didn’t seem to quite be certain, so the boy pushed him. “Don’t tell him. You’ll utterly ruin the surprise.” Gavan seemed pretty non-chalant about it, so the changeling merely shrugged.

“An enjoyable surprise?”

“It’s to die for.”

“Then I shan’t ruin it.”

With that, he scurried down the side street and back into the main thorough fare, where he stuck out but momentarily before blending in with the crowd. Gavan could do that much more easily, and he followed after a few moments. After all, he didn’t look like a cat.

…

Three days passed without much event, until New Years Eve arrived, and, around eight thirty in the evening, the annual Paris Opera House Masquerade Ball began. Lykaios wore the red dress Lord Adrian had insisted upon despite her extreme dislike of it, and a colorful mask of peacock feathers. Lord Ryuji had donned a black domino, and they arrived at the fashionably late hour of nine thirty. However, this was not intentional.

“If you hadn’t insisted on trying to escape,” the vampire snarled at her, his fingers tightening on her wrist as he led her to the door, tickets in hand, “we would have been here much sooner.”

“If you hadn’t insisted in catching me,” she replied, wincing slightly at the pressure on her wrist, “we wouldn’t have come at all.”

“Yes,” he responded dryly, “but such is the case. I want a race of werewolves, you want your freedom. Both simply cannot be accommodated.” They stopped the banter for a moment, Adrian forcing a smile onto her lips through vampiric measures of his own, and side stepped behind a large statue by the sweeping staircase.

“Why, Ryuji?” she whispered desperately, finally ripping off her mask to plead with him. “Why can’t you choose anyone else?”

He smiled, running a black gloved finger down her cheek. “But, ma belle!” he protested, slowly coaxing her mask back on. “You’ve captured me.”

“And you I, but not in the same way.”

“That’s too bad,” he clucked his tongue, delicately taking her hand. “Let us dance.”

She tried to draw away, thinking to make it easier by the large groups of people. “Don’t touch me.” However, she did not count on his skill of muddling her senses, and, despite any and all protests, she was lured onto the floor. It was about eleven or eleven thirty or so that the unfavorable, unavoidable instant began to occur. It was barely noticeable, except for a slight slumping of the shoulders, and Lord Adrian’s vampire nose detecting a slight change in her pheromones. But what really made it obvious was none of these factors.

She stumbled.

Lord Ryuji’s black heart leapt into an equally dark throat, and his eyes widened beneath the domino mask. “Feeling alright, amour?”

Lykaios did not respond, putting a hand to her temple. Her head was throbbing, she had to take the mask off. Why was it so hot in here? Why was she so dizzy?

So this is what if felt like, hm? Why did it have to be now. Why did it have to be like this? No hope, no hope…..

She did not notice that he grabbed her elbow, gently steering her away from the dance floor. “Some champagne?” He offered her a glass, and she vaguely wondered where she was, raising the mask enough to take a sip. It tasted bad to her, she wanted a drink of cool fresh water, or….

The savory taste of a dead kill sounded wolfish and delightful.

Adrian took the glass from her, and she felt as though she wanted it back, simply because it had been taken from her. She wanted to fight. She wanted….

Bad things to want.

“Come, we’ll go into a cooler corridor.” Cooler….yes, it was far too hot in here. What was she wearing? It felt so unnatural. “The fresh air will undoubtedly restore your senses.”

Without so much as a muttered word, she followed him meek and supplicant as a lamb, peeling the mask fully from her face. He was holding both of her white gloved hands now, and they were alone. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d started fiddling with the clips in her hair, or the straps of her dress.

“No, no,” he scolded, taking her hands back. “You must stay a girl. Not a wolf. Keep your hair up.”

She tugged, wanting to run far and fast, as fast as she could. “Let go.”

“Not so loud.”

“Let go!”

He yanked her closer, slinking further away from the main hustle and bustle, leaving them even more alone.

Every feeling was heightened. The act of his gloves brushing the skin of her arm sent strange shivers down her spine, her ears could pick up the sound of his breathing. Her bright blue eyes sharpened enough to see every single detail around her, and her nose caught large amounts of his cologne. She liked his cologne. She liked him. She liked this.

She kissed him.

And she like that.

For a moment they just stood like that, Ryuji nearly bursting with excitement. Finally! His, all his! He didn’t have to trick her, he didn’t have to chain her up in her room. Oh no, she’d voluntarily kissed him, there was no going around it. Who cared if it was on her Transformation Date? It was a minor detail, and still as legally binding as anything. Let the marriage be consummated!

Stop. Wait.

Lykaios pushed him off with all the strength she had, twirling expertly away from his grasp. He radiated disappointment. No, she wasn’t playing some silly, wolfess game of hard to get, she was being a stubborn Varian. He’d soon drive that out of her. Oh, she would yearn for him, she couldn’t help it. Her brother had been as helpless in the arms of some female around her age, and her mother had probably already married her father by that point. It was instinctual, she could never escape it. But it didn’t mean he had to like it, he thought to himself as he, sighing, slid the mask off his face. He didn’t have to like seeing her start to cry as she realized the inevitable.

“I hate you!” she seethed as tears began to pool and slide down her pale cheeks. He vaguely wondered what color of wolf she would be once she was allowed to turn. Pushing that thought to the side, he slid up to her, brushing away her tears.

“I know. If I were you, I’d hate me, too. But I promise you, this, too, shall pass.” He delicately kissed her, and her arms slid around his neck of her own accord. Deeper, farther, faster. The blood was beginning to race and he wanted her, and he wanted her now. He shoved her against the wall, enjoying ever simmering detail of the moment as his tongue pushed past her lips, his hands caressing her neck. He was going to love biting that neck come tomorrow evening, love watching her squirm in the odd combination of pleasure and pain. She was his.

He broke away from her briefly to fumble for the phone in his domino jacket, flipping it open and pushing a few buttons. “I’ve ordered the car,” he informed her as she struggled between warring mindsets. The poor thing must be so terribly confused. “Hush now, ma cherie, my pretty little puppy. Soon, soon, I’ll have you quite happy.” He leaned closer to her, his hips brushing against hers. “First, the hotel, and then-”

“Fat chance!”

He barely knew what hit him as the bolt of energy smacked straight into his lower back. Lord Adrian stumbled away from his prey, knees buckling and hands shaking convulsively. It felt like he’d been tazed, and for a good thirty seconds, he could do nothing but swear while Lykaios rocked on unsteady feet. She did not quite know what was happening as a strong pair of arms – part of her confirmed them to be her brother’s – wrapped around her. At this point, she began to rebel until her eyes locked with a set of hazel ones.

She knew those eyes. She’d seen them often. A boy….and a painting…and…

“Sleep,” Gavan whispered, drawing her eyelids closed tenderly with his finger tips, catching her as she fainted from Zeff’s grip. He then awkwardly drew his arm in a semi circle, muttering words in Latin. That made a shimmering, blue, transparent wall between the adversaries, and left Lord Ryuji to pace like a tiger on a chain.

“She is mine!” he shouted, hands balled into fists.

“What, so you can copulate with her?” Gavan snarled. “Don’t think so, pal, go get a girlfriend like normal people.”

“Why, you insolent little whelp, I-”

“Can do nothing until that wall fades except for maybe try and find a way around,” the Altair sorcerer denied smoothly. “And that won’t be for another two hours.”

“Enough of this,” Varian snarled, gently taking his limp, beloved sister in his arms. “You’re sure she will stay knocked out?”

“Until dawn, yes.”

“And she won’t turn Wolf?”

“She’ll be as human as you or I.”

“Give her back!” The vampire briefly launched himself at the wall, pounding with his fists, only to draw back in sudden pain. “You don’t understand,” he whimpered, clutching his hands. “She loves me, she wants to be with me.”

“Only in your sick fantasy world, Adrian,” White Star Rising shook his head, slowly backing off and away with the wolf changeling and his sister. “Catch you on the flip side, Ryuji!” With that, they turned and ran, leaving Lord Adrian to wallow in hatred, anger, and self pity.

…

It was around seven in the morning the next day that Lykaios awoke with a monstrous headache. Otherwise, she was fine, and the critical moment that would have made her turn had come and gone.

The Princess of the Wolves was not Wolf.

Gavan found her sitting in the banquet hall, all dark except the roaring fire, awaiting the rise of the sun. She rubbed at her arms constantly, wondering if she’d ever be warm again.

“I…wanted to see how you were doing,” he whispered gently, coming up behind her. She did not move in her chair, but after a moment, motioned him into the seat next to hers.

“Can we talk, you and I, Lord White Star Rising?”

The Altair Sorcerer blinked, sliding into the chair. “Of course. How are you feeling?”

She stared into the heart of the fire, not answering, not blinking. “Frightened,” she whispered. “I’m also very cold….”

He slid out of his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. She managed to look up at him and smile, and he smiled back at her. “There,” he comforted. “No need to be so gloomy. You light up the room when you smile.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“It’s true.”

She flushed and looked away again, no longer so spellbound by the flames. “He’s coming back, you know. I’m still just as valuable to him.”

“He won’t come back.”

“He will!” she cried, turning to White Star Rising, fists clenched in frightening desperation. “I’ve seen him!” She sank into the chair, shivering. “In my dreams…”

The blond leaned foreword, almost reaching out to the brunette in the chair opposite. He stopped, however. “You still have dreams?”

“I still have nightmares.”

After a moment, he managed to swear, “I won’t let him come back.”

She gazed at the boy, said nothing for a moment. “He makes you want it, you know. He makes you want to be a vampire.” Gavan blinked, said nothing. “He gets inside your head and he whispers things and for a moment you’re sure you thought that yourself. But then you couldn’t have. But you did. And he makes you think about all these wonderful, terrible things, and you want so badly to be a vampire….” She began to break down, crying, and the Altair Sorcerer rose to kneel at her chair, opening his arms to her. The Wolf Princess launched herself into those protecting arms, holding on as best she could. “But I don’t want to be a vampire, Gavan! I’m so frightened, and I don’t want to be what he wants me to!”

“It’s alright,” he soothed, stroking back her slightly matted hair. “You won’t be a vampire, never, ever, ever.”

“How can you promise something like that?”

He pushed her away for a moment, staring into her blue eyes. Why was his heart pounding? She was beautiful. “I am the Altair Sorcerer. I can make promises.”

She nodded and believed him, sinking back into his arms again, sighing and slowing her tears.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered. And to his thoughts he added, “I’ll protect you until the day that I die.”

“He’ll never stop,” she reminded. “Not until he gets what he wants.”

“Then we’ll have to be the ones to stop him.”

She began to bolt before he drew her back again. “Are you insane? You’re talking about killing-”

“Adrian Ryuji, the Lord Vampire. No, I’m serious. It can be done. It must be done. Or you’ll be right. And he’ll never stop. I’ll protect you for as long as it’s necessary, Lykaios, that you can know. But…I’ll need your help.”

To Be Continued….