A bad winter has struck the capital. Thia is sneaking
around, trying to find members of the underground organization known as the Red
Garters so she can join them, which puts a strain on her relationship with
Henri. James and Alyssa come to an uneasy truce that they both know can’t last.
James let himself into the girl’s
chambers. Sometimes, unbeknownst to her, all he wanted was to watch her sleep. Taking
a chair beside her bed, he opened a bottle of wine. She didn’t stir, though it
didn’t look as if she were having a particularly restful night. The bedding was
quite rumpled from where she’d tossed and turned. Usually, she slept on her
side, but at the moment, she was sprawled on her back, one arm thrown out, one
leg folded beneath her, hair tangled on the pillow. She’d kicked off the sheets
and blankets, and her nightgown had gotten twisted up, exposing her bloomers,
one bare leg, and her smooth little belly. Through the light cotton of her
drawers, he could see the triangle of her sex, a shadow of pubic hair.
He wasn’t halfway
through the bottle when she shifted. Frowning a bit in her sleep, she turned
her face away from him, towards the window. Murmuring something too low for him
to hear, (it was probably in that foreign jabber of hers anyhow), she stretched
out her bent leg and wiggled around a bit, seeking a comfortable position. It
occurred to him to wake her then, but for some reason, he did not. Merely
observed as her brow furrowed again.
All at once, her
limbs jerked as if she’d been electrocuted and she screamed. Without opening
her eyes, she began to fight, defending herself from some dread adversary that
only she could see. And all the while, she screamed.
Quickly, he set
the bottle down. Moving onto the bed, he took her in his arms. “Shhhhh. Chèrie, chèrie, it’s all right. You’re
having a bad dream.” He held her tightly, trapping her arms against her sides
so she wouldn’t hurt herself—or him. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”
She didn’t appear
to hear him, but continued to thrash and cry out, utterly lost to the world. He
peered at her for a moment, speculative. Shrugging, he slipped his hand down,
into the waistband of her bloomers.
At that, she
gasped and jerked again. Then quieted.
Her breasts rose
and fell as she breathed deeply once, twice. Her body relaxed, head falling
back against his cupped palm. At first, he thought perhaps she’d sunk back into
slumber. But then she began to move. Her eyes were still closed, but she was
responding to his touch. The muscles of her thighs clenched around his wrist. Her
hips began to rock. His fingers worked gently at first, then harder, matching
her urgency. She shifted, opening herself to him more fully and he felt the
growing wetness, the deep, inner heat of her. She began to make the sweetest
little noises, her lips parted in pleasure, and she looked so kissable that he
laid her back against the pillows and leaned over her, intending to do just
that.
But as he did, her
eyelids fluttered. Then opened.
Seeing that it was
he, she uttered a cry of disgust. Pushing him off, she scrambled backwards,
practically climbing the headboard in her haste to get away.
James bellowed
with laughter. “Oho! That brought you right around, didn’t it? And here I
thought you’d been exaggerating-- that whole bit about sex acts being
grounding? But you weren’t.” Very deliberately, he brought his fingers to his
nose and sniffed.
Outraged, she
glared at him. She looked like a scalded cat—an observation that only made him
laugh harder. Her fist shot out, striking him on the shoulder. “Pig!”
“Ouch!” Still
guffawing, he rubbed the sore spot. “No need to get angry. You were enjoying
it.”
“I was asleep! I
thought I was dreaming!”
“About me?”
“Like you haven’t
invaded my dreams before, you perv!”
Smugly, he stood
up. “You liked it then, too.”
Alyssa stood as
well just so she could shove him again. “Why can’t you stay away from me? Why
can’t you leave me alone?”
“I was only trying
to help.”
“You wanna help me?” she shrieked with
sudden ferocity. “THEN FUCKING SEND ME HOME.” With that, she burst into tears.
Her body seemed to curl in on itself and she sank back down onto the bed,
sobbing.
Shaking his head,
James sighed. “When are you going to realize you are home? All this unhappiness—you bring it on yourself, you know.
It’s quite unnecessary. Do you hear me? All you have to do is stop. Stop
fighting.”
Turning her back
to him, she continued to cry, deep, horrible, gulping sobs. Alyssa hated to
break down like this in front of him, but she couldn’t help it.
James sat down
beside her. For a moment, he said nothing, just stroked her back. She wanted to
pull away from him, but she didn’t want to pull away from him. This only made
her cry harder...
