Wednesday November 19th 2014

“Wow, this is early,” Anastasia groaned as the alarm woke her up.

“I have my meditation and then I need to meet Alexandra. She’s helping me with my schoolwork, so we get up early to get in a few hours before classes. I can come back …” Cesare offered as he moved out of the warm bed.

“No … I mean, it’s fine.” Suddenly wide awake, she reached frantically to stop him from leaving.

Gently, he took her flailing hands. “It’s okay, Anastasia. I’m not going anywhere. I wanted to give you the choice, that’s all.” Relaxing, she settled back in bed.

“You want to meditate with me, or go back to sleep?” Cesare asked. The meditation was an hour, and that was one more hour she could sleep.

“Can we do it on the bed?” Cesare’s mind blanked at her choice of words. “I meant the meditation, Cesare,” Anastasia said dryly.

“Yeah, I knew that. We can do them on the bed.” Anastasia followed the sound of his steps with empty eyes. “I had them get your phone. Do you want one I made for you …?” Seeing her hesitate, he quickly added, “dumb idea, you can do whatever ...”

“No, I want to do one of yours. It was just ... it was … nice that you thought of that for me.”

He carefully placed the borrowed headphones over the holes in her head and sat cross-legged next to her, their shoulders and knees touching. Cesare needed this, his life had been butchered from what it was by the needs of others in just a day's time. He’d seen the girl of his dreams naked and had masturbated with … err … for her.

An hour later, he felt almost ready to handle giving Anastasia another bath. It wasn’t that it was bad, it was that it was so good. He looked forward to it with a need that perverted her trust.

Cesare carefully pulled off her headphones. “Feel better?”

“I do. Do you meditate every morning?” Anastasia asked, laying her wrapped hand on his thigh.

“Just about. I miss one here and there, but it’s rare that I don’t start my day this way. I used to do Ashtanga Yoga too, but I have to wait until my muscles heal before I can go back to that,” Cesare said.

“Cesare, could we … do the feeding before we take a bath?” Anastasia asked tentatively.

His heart gave a base thump at the thought. He’d tried to let that experience go, but it had filled his dreams and nightmares through the night. Cesare wet his dry throat. “We can, but why?”

It was the one question she didn't want him to ask. Waiting her out, Cesare’s fingers traced over the bandages on the hand she'd set on his thigh. Sighing, she gave up the fight. “Darkness, I wished you hadn’t asked that. You cleaned yourself up last night after the feeding, but you didn’t clean me up and I was too embarrassed to ask. Just so you know, sleeping in a puddle isn’t fun.”

“I take it feedings like last night aren’t the norm,” Cesare said, both a question and a statement.

Laughing quietly, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Cesare, if those were the norm, we’d never leave our beds. I’d normally get a buzz from a good feeding but nothing like what happened last night.” She hesitated, then asked in a whisper, “You liked it, right?”

“Yes,” Cesare said simply.

“I wasn’t sure ... having some freakish thing moaning like a slut behind you … I didn’t want to disgust you.” Sounding small and wounded, the words were forced out like the poison they were.

Sliding his hand around her waist, he tucked her into his side. It was only natural to lay a soft kiss on her forehead. “You’re not a freak. You’re a beautiful woman and last night … it was wonderful, so great in fact that I don’t know how I’m going to handle it when you get well.”

“Can we do it now?” Anastasia asked eagerly.

“Who am I to deny the Lady of Ruin?” Cesare teased.

Her hands caressed over his body as she moved behind him. She needed this, to move herself on her own, to exercise what freedom she could. Her bandaged hands settled awkwardly on his hips as she molded her body against his back. Large breasts pushed into him, the hard nipples digging into skin. “Undo me, please?” Anastasia breathed into his ear.

Suppressing the shudder of desire that swept through him, Cesare worked the bandages free from her thumb. The worm squirmed out from the skin flap, lashing the air in anxious hunger. Disappearing from sight, he felt her hand caress along the back of his neck before a spear of pain shot through him as the worm latched on.

“I’m ready when you are,” Anastasia whispered into his ear.

Pushing down the front of his boxers, he took himself in hand. He was already painfully hard just from talking about the feeding. That she molded to his back, where he could feel every delicious curve of her body, put a razor edge on his arousal.

Her breathy moans spurred him on. He answered them with his harsher gasps as his desire drove them hard. Images of her nakedness flashed through his mind, of fingers sliding through her slick folds, his hands running over her breasts, the feel of her ass pressed into him all night.

Groaning, his body locked up, a whispered gasp torn out by his rampant need. “Anastasia.” Her name, a pathetic prayer to dark wants and darker needs, it begged for the release that only she could give. His body seized as he drowned in pleasure, black waves running over him, drowning him in currents as strong as they were perverse.

“Cesare! Great Darkness! Cesare!” Panting, she arched into his back. Her arm tightened around him, pulling him tightly against her body, legs trembling in the midst of her own orgasm.

They came down slowly. Cesare’s hands holding the outside of her thighs. “Well.” Hoarse from the aftermath, Cesare swallowed. “That’s something we should keep between us.”

She snuggled into his back, her hand falling dangerously low across his stomach. “I’m not ashamed of it, Cesare. Sexual pleasure is woven into our souls. We live and die by its tides. There’s no shame in giving pleasure or in accepting it. But yes, I agree we should keep it between us. If my mother knew, she’d snatch you up and I don’t think anything could stop her.”

He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not, but he was sure he didn’t want to be thinking about Anastasia’s mother when he was sitting next to her daughter with his dick in his hand. He helped Anastasia into her wheelchair, both of them glowing from the post-orgasmic flush.

Cesare couldn't help noticing she'd soaked through the front of her sweats. It was stupid, but a flush of pride ran through him at the evidence he’d made her cum.

This time he kept up a stream of small talk as she did her business, going about the tasks as if nothing was out of the ordinary even as he wiped her ass. Cesare wanted to normalize this as quickly as possible.

Getting her into the bath, he adjusted the water until Anastasia was happy with the temperature. “We didn’t really get into it last night but I have your stuff.” He took out a bag and began setting her toiletries on the ledge of the tub. “Here’s your toothbrush, deodorant, perfume, shampoo and soap … oh look, we got your loofa. Would you like it if I started using that?”

“Please,” Anastasia said. Sitting in the bath, her hollow eye sockets tracked him by the sounds he made. It was the other reason he kept talking, so she’d know where he was at all times. He watered down the loofa and moved it over her legs, the stubble making for a rough ride.

“Could you shave my legs?” She continued quickly. “I know it’s silly, looking like this …” She laughed unsteadily. “No one’s going to care about my legs … but …”

“It’s not silly at all if it makes you feel better.” Lifting her legs, he lathered them up with shaving gel. Carefully, he ran the razor over them until they were smooth and beautiful. “Do you do this every day?”

“We have to wear skirts, so yeah. Plus, the time we spent together training … you would’ve noticed. But we don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” Anastasia quickly added.

“It’s fine. I’m here to take care of you, so don’t be shy about asking.”

“Pretty sure if I was shy, I would have died of embarrassment by now,” Anastasia said dryly.

He set her in the wheelchair and got his own clothes off as he prepared to take his shower. The knocking on the door stopped him with the shirt just over his head. “Yes?”

“Commander? I’ve got your clothes. I’ll leave them by the door and wait for you out here.” Alexandra called through the door.

“That’s fine, killer. Thanks,” Cesare called out as he stepped into the shower.

Alexandra was sitting on the bed by the time he wheeled Anastasia out of the bathroom. The entire thing had taken longer than he thought it would, but he hoped it would get smoother with time. “You going to need help with the stairs?” she asked with a smirk.

“You know it. I’m the brains, you’re the looks and muscles,” Cesare shot back with a grin.

The cafeteria was empty this early, with the staff only now setting up the line. Glancing up from their work, they gave friendly nods to Cesare and Alexandra, but it was Anastasia who got the real attention. Their mouths dropped open and then, as one, they turned quickly away, green with nausea.

Wheeling over to the loser table, Cesare helped Anastasia out of the chair and onto the bench. He wouldn't make her sit in the wheelchair the whole day like an invalid. She had just as much right to sit on the bench and enjoy whatever kind of normal they could carve from the day. Cesare limited her exposure to the school by having her back to the room.

“You want to eat now or wait until later?” Cesare asked Anastasia as she settled into the seat.

She thought it over. “I don’t want to eat with others around,” she said quietly.

He took out the small box of prepackaged food. Even with the straw, a steady stream of the brownish stuff dribbled from between her lacerated lips. Cesare had planned for that. Taking out the stack of napkins he’d swiped for just this reason, Cesare kept up with the stream of liquid.

“Well, that wasn’t disgusting at all,” Anastasia said as she finished.

“They might have other flavors.”

“No, I meant for you. Dribbling that shit from my mouth. Feeding me and wiping my ass. I … I don’t know what I was thinking. This isn’t going to work … I ...” The broken phrases were small islands of pain.

He put his arm around her. “Shh, we got this. It won't be fun, but it won't kill us.” He leaned in closer to her, his whisper running over her violated flesh. “I want to be here. I want to do this.”

Anastasia held herself still for a long minute as he stared at her. It was up to her. It was her life. He could help her, but he couldn’t live her life for her. She laid her head on his shoulder with a shudder. Resting her hand on his thigh, she snuggled into his side.

Alexandra waited for the meltdown to pass before she pushed over the latest book they were working on. She scooted to his side, their hips and shoulders meeting as they got down to the lesson. Anastasia joined in after only a few minutes. Not being able to see the book made it hard for Anastasia, but she was so far ahead she’d already gone over the chapter.

As the cafeteria filled, Alexandra went to get their trays so Cesare wouldn’t have to move Anastasia. The whispers in the cafeteria rose as people noticed Anastasia and who she was sitting with. As the whispers gathered, Anastasia wilted under the pressure. She pushed tighter to his side, trying to hide from the snakes that cut through the air.

“They're talking about me,” Anastasia complained.

“They’ve always talked about you,” Cesare said as Alexandra came back with his food.

“Not like this,” Anastasia whispered.

“You have a choice. You can own the power of who you are or give that power to others. If you own it, they can never hurt you with it. If you give it to others, it will always be a weapon against you.” He paused, his thumb moving in a caress on her hip. “You didn’t ask for this, but no one ever does. Today, this is who you are, and you have to own that. I’m homeless, have no family, and am none too clean. I own that. Sometimes it hurts, but I don’t let others cripple me with it.”

Everyone got a good look at her when he wheeled her out. Gasps and whispers filled the lunchroom as people jockeyed for a better look. She’d always been objectified, but now, instead of a sex kitten, she was a moving freak show. Slowly bleeding out on the inside, she held herself together through sheer stubbornness.

The hallway was a gauntlet of staring eyes, sidelong sneers, and satisfied smiles. Elizabeth was grading papers from behind her desk when they came in. Her head jerked up with a smile of relief when they walked in.

She'd replaced their desks with a long table set in front of the room. It was its own row, separate from the class, a place just for the three of them. Elizabeth gave Cesare a wide smile. “I thought you could share the space, easier on all of you.”

Cesare explained it to Anastasia as he wheeled her to the table. “Elizabeth got rid of the desk’s and put in a long table for us to work on. Easier for me to cheat off your paper this way.”

“Cesare!” Anastasia gave a scandalized laugh.

“Hey, just calling it like I see it.”

Jerold walked into the banter, silencing it with his icy presence. The blue suit was pressed and sharp, the blinding white of his dress shirt shining like sun on cruel snow. Blue eyes stripped of warmth slid over the group. They landed on Cesare with a flicker of emotion, there and gone before Cesare could guess at what it was.

The rest of the Thagirion trailed in behind him. Abraxas was Jerold’s black shadow, standing one step behind the ice man, tall and silent. He swept the room with the bored look of a butcher come to see the cows.

Pantagruel ducked his head to clear the doorway. He kept his face down, eyes darting over the floor in a bid to avoid the glares that settled on him. He filled the threshold with his massive bulk, unwilling to enter the room. It was impossible for such a mountain of a man to hide, but he did the best he could.

The trenches carved into Blaez’s face were inflamed, black stitches shiny with ointment, torn flesh red with infection. His skull was a crossroads of deep furrows and sutures. He ducked under one of Pantagruel’s arms to get inside, but ventured only a step into the room. His eyes darted around, frantically looking at anything but the face of his ex until even he couldn’t avoid it.

Stiff with horror, he shuddered at the ravaged face of his old girlfriend. But horror is a lofty emotion, hard to maintain. Horror settled into disgust and finally faded into pity. A sickly, green tinge flooded the wolf’s mangled face as he remembered their times together. Bile filled the back of his throat at the idea of touching her vile flesh.

“We wanted to go over what we’ve learned about the attack.” Jerold gazed down at Anastasia without pity or empathy. Cesare wrapped an arm around the girl as she laid her hand on his thigh. Blaez wrenched his eyes away, visibly ill at seeing anyone touch the grotesque girl.

Anastasia leaned into Cesare. “What did you find?”

“She was obsessed with Blaez. From what we found, she's been since last year. She was an early conquest of his.” He glanced back at the wolf, causing him to duck his head—not in shame, only in submission to a greater power. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t remember her. Given the number of women he’s gone through, that’s not surprising, but what was only a good time for Blaez, meant a lot more to her.”

Shrugging as if to say the vagaries of a teenage girl's were beyond him, Jerold continued, “We found photos of him. Some of them from when he was with other girls. She’d mutilated them, black holes where their eyes would be, slash marks across breasts and sex. You seemed to catalyze this hatred. She had hundreds of pictures of you and him together around the school. When the incident happened, she blamed you for his disfigurement. Seeing him for the first time in the cafeteria tipped her over the edge,” Jerold said simply, already turning to leave.

“That’s it?” Cesare asked as the man walked away.

Jerold turned back, blue eyes locking with Cesare’s. “I know it may be hard for you to take, but there was nothing we could have done to prevent this attack. The student was a time bomb waiting to blow, only the spark was lacking. The incident between you and Blaez was that spark. Once it was lit, it was only a matter of time before she exploded.”

“Anastasia gets acid thrown in her face but it’s just a ‘So sorry, nothing we could do'.”

Jerold sighed. “It’s not that we don’t realize the magnitude of the injury she’s suffered. It’s just that there isn’t anything we could have done. We all need to move on from this as best we can and put this episode behind us. Primrose is greater than any one person. We need to look toward that now. The recent troubles have smeared the reputation of the school. Parents are talking about withdrawing their kids, no longer trusting that the Thagirion will protect their young. Their confidence in the faculty has been shaken to the point of breaking. Fixing that has to be our priority.” Jerold’s eyes bored into Cesare.

Elizabeth stepped between them. “I think this has gone on long enough. You can leave now, Jerold.”

Jerold’s eyes narrowed. “As advisor to the Thagirion, I’m allowed to go where the needs of Primrose take me.”

“You stand within my Sanctuarium Virtutis, on land I call my own. I’m telling you to take your lickspittles and get out while you can.” It’s easy to get used to anything, even a murderous force that hovered over you. But it’s one thing to know the blade is there and a completely different thing to feel it rest on the back of your neck.

Blaez and Pantagruel were already out the door, having taken Elizabeth’s hint when she first asked them to leave. Only Jerold and Abraxas were still in the room. Abraxas was the first to notice he’d been deserted, taking a sliding step back before catching himself. With sheer, white knuckled stubbornness, he held his ground. Jerold gazed at Elizabeth, a tight nod acknowledging his defeat, before calmly walking out with Abraxas in tow.

The door closed with a definitive click. “That’s going to be trouble, Cesare. Watch yourself,” Elizabeth said.

He shrugged, his light caress moving over Anastasia’s shoulder to ease her trembling. The entire thing had left her freaked out and on the edge of melting down again. Injured and helpless, she'd faced a group of monsters that had thrown her away as useless meat. She was being forced to face what she wanted desperately to forget … the attack.

Two hours into class, Anastasia leaned in and whispered in Cesare’s ear. “I have to go.”

Alexandra gave him a questioning look. He gave her a nod, and they both got up. Elizabeth cut off her lecture as they stood. Cesare took hold of the handles on the wheelchair. “Can we be excused, Miss Raven?”

“Of course, just come back as soon as you can,” Elizabeth said, immediately continuing the lecture to stave off any questions from the students.

Alexandra led the way to the nearest girls’ bathroom. The vampire gave Cesare a knowing look when he stopped outside the bathroom. “I’ll clear the place, Commander.” Cesare had no doubt that anyone in there would be happy to leave after she got through with them.

It was only a few minutes before she opened the door with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure anyone who comes by understands this one’s closed.”

“Thanks, killer. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The smile slipped from her face, sadness swallowing it whole. “You’d manage; you did fine without me.”

“I didn’t.” He wheeled Anastasia through the door. “Manage just fine, that is. It was a lot harder. It may have looked like I was okay, but I was being bled out at every step. You stopped that.” Alexandra stationed herself at the entrance, but not before he caught the smile she tried to hide.

It was just like the boys’ bathroom, just missing urinals and piss stains. Cesare just knew this wasn’t going to be any fun as he measured the stalls with his eyes. There were no handicap stalls, and the stalls they did have were made for narrow bitches who’d never eaten a hamburger.

Sighing, he helped Anastasia out of her wheelchair. “Okay princess, here’s how we’re going to do this. I’ll pull down your underwear and hold your skirt up, then slowly lower you onto the toilet.”

Anastasia nodded quickly. “Not to rush this, but you’re about to get a surprise if we don’t hurry this along.”

He lowered her down onto the toilet and backed out, closing the stall door to give her what privacy he could. “It’s even worse going out than it was going in! Gods, this is nasty.” Cesare could only agree if the sounds were anything to go by.

“I’m done.” The quiet words echoed from the stone walls in the quiet room.

When he opened the stall, Anastasia was slumped down in shame. “I’m sorry.”

Cesare wiped as she was sitting on the toilet to prevent any of it from getting onto her clothes. “I told you that you’re not doing anything I haven’t done before. Trust me, you don't want to know how I’ve paid for eating out of garbage cans. This isn’t even close to what I’ve seen.” He cleaned her off gently with baby wipes as he talked. He couldn’t take the embarrassment away from her, but he could ease her over it.

Anastasia fretted as he pushed her down the hallway. “Everyone’s going to know what we were doing.”

“No one will know. They’ll think you can’t keep your hands off my hot bod.” Alexandra quirked an eyebrow with a smirk as Anastasia gave a snort of laughter despite herself. But true to her prediction, the class went silent as they walked in.

Lunch had come and gone. Alexandra reluctantly leaving his side outside of Viktor’s door. Viktor wasn’t a guy you wanted to cross, and they both knew he wouldn't let any disrespect slide.

Cesare opened the door as Viktor finished his workout. The barbell hit the floor with a crash, dust rising from the stones. His wife beater clung to his body, muscles forming canyons and valleys along his back. Sweat beaded down his shoulders and streaked his tangled mane.

Viktor locked onto Cesare as the door clicked shut behind him and Anastasia. “It was ham fisted, and I can’t say I’m happy with what happened. All you had to do was tell us what was going on. But after what you’ve gone through, I can understand you being reluctant to trust. I’m willing to call it square,” the man said, holding out his hand.

Cesare stared at him. Viktor wasn’t one to be denied. He was the strongest man in any group he was part of, and he’d rip your throat out to prove it if he had to. Respect meant everything to him, and Cesare had spit in his face in front of the school. It was an insult he couldn’t forgive. It didn’t matter if it had saved a life, all that mattered was that the mighty Viktor was slighted. Considering that, it was generous that Viktor was willing to call it square.

Cesare’s hands tightened on the handles of the wheelchair. “Square? So, we’re square on you knowing I was getting my face kicked in on the regular? Square on them tearing me down day after day? Square on me getting gutted?” Viktor’s hand slowly fell. “No, we’re not square. You’re a fucking teacher. It’s your job to protect me, not stand by and watch your students’ minds and bodies fucked for fun. They come to you in one piece, their parents trust you to care. And you send them back fucked, their broken souls held together with duct tape and hope. Fuck you and your square.”

Cesare pushed angrily past Viktor, taking Anastasia to the changing room with him. They were teachers. It was their job to help their students, not stand by and watch as they were beaten into maimed caricatures of who they could have been. People like Viktor had stood aside his whole life as others raped his soul. “Why?” Anastasia asked quietly as he angrily pulled down his pants.

“What?” He did a crazy shuffle as he tried to take off his pants while looking at her.

“Why are you doing this? You’re mad at him for watching while it went down. But Cesare, I was the one that was kicking your face in. I was the one backing the people tearing you down. You can’t forgive him for standing by. I know you don’t forgive me, but you’re still helping me. Is it because I’m pretty? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not that way any longer.”

His pants came off easier when he stopped pulling on them frantically. He took his time, trying to tease out the meaning of something he felt. “You're beautiful, you always have been, and you always will be. That was part of it at first. As time passed, you became more than just a pretty face. Yeah, you sucked as a friend, but I turned that to my favor. Without having you to fight against, I’d never have come this far. Those beatings burned the need to be stronger into my bones. And I always thought there was more to you if I could just get to it.”

Taking her mittens in his hands, he squatted down in front of her. “Viktor’s job was to take care of me. All the teachers really, but they stood and watched it happen. No one raised a hand to help me.”

“It was my job too, Cesare,” Anastasia whispered.

“I know.” Cesare sighed. “I like you. Always have, since the moment you walked into class. Part of that was how beautiful you are, but it’s more than that. I just like you. And I like being with you. When I’m with you, I can believe I’m more than just a thrown away homeless kid. And that means a lot to me.” He swallowed hard. “You mean a lot to me. I know I should've walked away from you, but I just didn’t want to.”

“You’re not a homeless kid with nothing. Alexandra would walk through fire for you and I think Elizabeth was ready to kill Jerold over you. You have me … I’m not much, not anymore … and I’ll never be able to make it up to you for what I’ve done, but I’m going to be a better friend.” She swallowed painfully. “You said you are.”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘Part of that was how beautiful you are.’ You said it like I was still beautiful.” Her empty eyes watched him.

“I keep telling you. You’re still beautiful. Nothing’s changed, princess.”

Viktor was pissed, and he took it out on him. He pushed Cesare harder than he had since his injury, until it was a mirror of the workouts they’d done before the incident. Anastasia’s empty eye sockets followed the sounds as he grunted and whimpered his way through the workout. By the end, Cesare’s shirt was plastered with sweat and spotted with blood from ripping stitches.

“Is it always like that?” Anastasia asked him on the way to Tamlin’s class. Cesare took it slow, his body hurt with the kind of deep pain that meant he’d gone too far.

“No, sometimes he works me hard,” Cesare said with a laugh. Surprisingly, Anastasia didn’t join in.

“Cesare, that was … brutal. It’s not supposed to be like that. Pushing that hard ends up losing your gains by going over the line. Better to make some ground than lose it by pushing too hard,” Anastasia protested.

“It wasn’t that bad, I’ve had worse.” As bad as this was, it was only a taste of the workouts he’d endured before the fight.

She shook her head. “Tell someone about it.”

This time his laugh was bitterly caustic. “You don’t tell people things like that. You either deal with it or you’re broken by it.”

She was silent after that. The teachers had cancelled her electives so she could stay with him. It meant that when she was ready to go back to them, she’d be buried in work. When they’d told her, Anastasia had shrugged and made the comment that maybe they’d be challenging then.

Tamlin walked over to them as Cesare stood in the middle of the room, hands sitting lightly on the handles of the wheelchair. His teacher crouched down to look Anastasia in the face, even if she couldn’t see him. “You are not here to learn. You are not here to critique what I teach. I will tolerate you only if you are silent and keep what happens in this room to yourself. You will not offer Cesare advice on what I teach. You will not talk to him about my lessons after you leave here. You do this, and you can stay. You fail me, and I will cancel this class until you are better.” Tamlin paused to get his next point across. “Cesare will suffer for your lack. He will be left weak and defenseless because of you. Think on this when you look to open your mouth.”

Too frightened to speak, Anastasia nodded her head in agreement. Cesare wheeled her over to the sunlight so she wouldn’t get cold before working with Tamlin.

She waited silently, hands lying along the armrests of her wheelchair. Vacant eye sockets tracked him by the sounds of his voice and the impact of blows taken. He was the center of her world. Her eyes, hands, and feet. Without him, she would have to accept a nurse’s help and even with that, who would defend her? As nice as the nurse might be, as competent and trained as they could provide, she wouldn’t bleed to protect Anastasia. No, if Cesare wasn’t here, then Anastasia would have gone home with her mother. It wouldn't last more than a bare few weeks at most, but for right now, he was everything to her.

Did it make him a monster that he loved it? That he gloried in being everything to her? Who doesn't want to be the center of the universe to someone? To be so loved by someone that they couldn't see living without you. To be with someone who rose and fell at your word. He had that. With a girl who’d rejected, beaten, and humiliated him.

Was this fate’s cruel joke or the balancing of the scales? No, it was a test. It didn't make him less for feeling this dark satisfaction. But what he did with the power would decide who he really was. You don’t judge a man by how he treats his equals, you judge him by how he treats the ones under his sword.

Was this how she felt with her harem, ultimate power weighed by the knowledge of self-destruction? The gnawing knowledge that the power was transitory, a power birthed out of fatal weakness. It was doomed by its nature. People are dynamic, powerful things. No one can enthrall another forever.

Cesare wheeled Anastasia down the hallway with a limp that slowly worked itself out with every step. She was silent until they came to the stairs, where they had to wait for Alexandra. “Now I know how you got so strong, so fast.”

Alexandra bounded up the stairs, catching his eyes with a smile. “Same same for today?” Alexandra lifted Anastasia's wheelchair with casual power. His nod answer enough for her.

Crossing the campus, Cesare was once again behind the handles. Anastasia’s head turned as she tracked stray noises. “Where are we going?”

“Training,” Cesare answered.

Anastasia froze in her seat. “I’m blind. In a wheelchair. With my hands wrapped in bandages. I’m seeing a problem here.”

“You missed last week and nothing was wrong then.”

Anastasia’s words came slowly as she picked over the raw wounds. “I thought we were done. I couldn’t imagine you would forgive me for what happened. I couldn’t face you, not after that. I couldn’t come here and wait for you … it would’ve killed me.”

“He came every day. Insisted on it. No matter how much I protested, he made me carry him here. He waited over an hour for you.” Alexandra watched the campus without letting her steel hard eyes drift to Anastasia.

When they got to the trail, he handed the chair over to the vampire. She lifted the wheelchair and Anastasia, her jacket bulged, outlining football sized biceps and triceps, her shoulders thickened with muscle stretching the seams. Never a small girl, in the moment she lifted the chair her body bloomed into murderous light. Despite her size, she moved with a predators gliding grace.

Alexandra set the wheelchair down inside the training area and walked away without a word as Cesare laid a blanket across Anastasia's lap. “Cesare, what the hell am I supposed to do like this?” She raised her heavily bandaged hands in helpless frustration.

Crouching down, he met her face to face. “Your Ebon Flame doesn’t live in your hands or your eyes. It lives in your soul. Speed, accuracy, and tactics are important, but we can’t train them right now.” Falling easily back into the mindset they’d cultivated, Anastasia locked onto him. “But we can train raw power. While we worked on this a little with your meditations, now we’re going to focus exclusively on it.”

“How? I’m crippled, Cesare. How can I work on my power when I can’t even see to conjure flame?”

Cesare smiled. This was what she needed, something that was beyond her injuries. Something born for the nebulous time of when she was better. It was a future she had but couldn’t see from the pit life had buried her in. The critical thing wasn’t the training, it was seeing beyond the crippled thing the world had made her.

“Your power isn’t in your hands or your eyes, it’s your soul. We’re going to hone, sharpen, and grind your soul into a fine blade that cuts and bleeds any who dare to get between you and your dreams. We'll start a new series of meditations focusing on getting you closer to the essence of the Ebon Flame. Right now, you’re calling the power from your soul. I want the Ebon Flame to be your soul.” Cesare gave her a moment to take that in. “While you were on vacation, I was working on the new meditations.” He laid the recorder down on her lap along with the ear muffs she’d used this morning.

“You’re going to listen to this while you meditate. It’s set for two hours. Once you’re done, I have another exercise we’re going to try,” Cesare paused. “Any questions?”

Anastasia wetted her ripped and torn lips. “You worked on this last week?”

“Yes,” Cesare answered. He’d refused to admit they were through. No matter what happened, she was his princess and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe that she'd left him for good. It would happen someday, but that wasn’t today.

She barked a bitter, caustic laugh. “By the Darkness, I hate my mother.” Mittens covered the recorder, protecting and shielding it as if at any time someone might rip it from her. “After the wendigo fight, I told her I didn’t know how I could ever repay you. She told me that wasn’t the problem because what I owed you then was an anthill compared to what I’d owe you in the future.” Sighing, she straightened up. “Thank you.”

“Friends don’t owe friends. While you do that, I’m going to work with Alexandra.” Cesare placed the headphones gently on her head.

Alexandra had taken the time to slip on her yoga pants and a loose shirt. Gray as a penitent’s soul, the pants hugged every curve and valley of her muscled legs. The loose shirt was tight around the shoulders, straining to contain the muscle she’d burned into her body. Long sleeves stretched obscenely over thick arms, mounds of lethal flesh bulging under the thin fabric.

Cesare smiled at Alexandra as they moved away from Anastasia. “Ready?”

“I still think you should have someone else help you. I’m trained in hand to hand, but my focus is weapons,” Alexandra said. She was still better than anyone he'd find in school by an exponential degree. Trained from an early age to be the best, she was decades ahead of him.

“I know, but you’re stronger and faster than me, and that’s what I want to train against.”

They couldn’t spar, not with his body torn with wounds and throbbing from working out with Viktor. And that wasn’t even counting the brutal training Tamlin had put him through.

This was different from all that. Tamlin and Viktor were focused on aggression and power, killer instinct and savage thoughts. This was peace. They took their stances and came together smoothly without a word.

Gliding in, Cesare threw a punch. Alexandra lightly pushed it aside, flowing into a front kick, which he quickly caught and twisted. Each attack led into a defense that birthed the next movement. Some were counters he’d been trained on, others came from an intuitive sense.

His mind cleared as the moment took shape around him, suffused with soft calm, as unlike the hard-edged serenity of combat as it could be. This calm included Alexandra, not just as something to dominate and break, but as a piece of a greater truth.

It was both painfully choreographed and spontaneous. Deadly and benign, the movements of breaking bones and rupturing flesh turned into a dance of peaceful support. Cesare would never let Alexandra fall and, here in this moment, she’d never think of letting him falter.

Happiness flowed between them, neither having to say the words of how much this moving sanctuary meant to them, this simple dance of support and acceptance. They were worlds apart, but their lives were twin hells. Neither could rest with the killers that dogged their trail. There were always eyes in the darkness, waiting for weakness. Their lives would never be easy, never be without the hunters in the dark, but here, they could find peace from the bloody thoughts that kept them alive.

The other benefit of working with Alexandra was that it helped him understand the gulf between human and Umbrae Lunae. The holds that worked so well on Anastasia were useless with Alexandra. The first time he’d used an arm bar, she’d pulled out of it with ruthless ease. He might as well have arm barred a Silverback Gorilla

He was screwed if he got into a fight with an Umbrae Lunae who was stronger than him. He’d have no choice but to depend on the tricks he cooked up.

They’d never gone this long before. Mistrust and fear had always poisoned the moment before, but the attack on Anastasia had settled the questions. Cesare didn’t fully trust her, any more than she trusted him, but he trusted her more than he had. And that was enough for the moment to take shape, enough for them to accept this moment of comfort.

They parted reluctantly when the alarm sounded. Alexandra wanted to continue, she resented having to give up time to Anastasia. While Cesare was slicked with sweat, Alexandra looked as fresh as ever.

He turned from Alexandra, but not before noting the narrow-eyed glare she leveled at Anastasia. The two grated along each other's soft bits. That was beyond his fixing. Cesare knew that on an instinctual level. They were too different to ever see the other’s point of view, a hyena and a lion forced to spend hours playing nice. The only way to make one happy was to leave the other, and that was the one thing he wouldn’t do for either of them.

Putting it out of his mind, he walked over to Anastasia as her meditation ended. Slipping the headphones off, he knelt beside her. She cradled the recorder in her hands. “How was it?” Cesare asked quietly.

“Intense.”

“Want to give me my recorder back?” Cesare asked.

“Will you let me move this onto my phone?” she asked sadly, uncovering the recorder. He placed his hand on top of hers.

“You can keep it for me. I’ll need it every now and then, but you can hold on to it until we get them moved over to your phone.” Anastasia’s grateful attempt at a smile was enough reason to let her hold on to it. “Now, we’re going to work on something new. You ready?”

Keeping one hand on the recorder, she nodded. Alexandra carefully moved behind the akatharton. When dealing with a blind monster who shoot fire hot enough to melt steel, it seemed prudent to stay behind them.

Helping Anastasia up, Cesare trailed his hands across her body until he was behind her in his regular spot—hands on her hips and mouth beside her ear. Anastasia shuddered at the familiar feeling, her whispered words barely reaching him. “I thought I’d never feel this again, never have you hold me like this. Now I can finally do what I’d never had the courage for.” Taking a small step back, she closed those few inches they’d always kept between them. Bodies flush against each other, they were connected from shoulders to thighs.

It was more than he’d bargained for. Her fever hot warmth spilled over his body, heating his skin until it prickled with sweat. Her soft ass pressed into his growing hardness. He knew she’d feel it, that it might even be what she was looking for. She needed to feel desired and wanted, to know someone lusted after her, and the body never lies. It either wants or it doesn’t, and Cesare’s had never stopped wanting her.

Mittens pushed gently at his hands, pulling them closer, lower, running them along her hip bones until his fingers rested lightly along her inner thighs. Cesare trembled at the intimate contact, the painful closeness that warmed places better left cold and dead. A litany ran through his head, ‘She would leave, she was only using him. She couldn’t like something like him, she’d leave like all the others.’ But he couldn’t help clutching her tightly, needing to devour her warmth, to try to warm the coldness that never left, wanting her to fill the voids he’d torn in his soul.

“This is where I should have been,” Anastasia said with satisfaction.

He breathed in carefully, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. “I think I would have had a heart attack if you’d done this back then.” His whisper ghosted over ravaged red skin and scar tissue.

Anastasia shivered again. “You feel very healthy to me.” She pressed back suggestively, even as his hands tightened along her inner thighs, only inches from her core.

He wouldn’t win this argument, mostly because he didn’t want to. He wanted her, had always wanted her. Someday soon she’d tear his heart out while laughing in glee, he knew that. But knowing the price didn't change the need. You think the alcoholic doesn’t know he’s ruining his life? He knows, but loves the poison too much to let it go.

“Hold your hands palm up.” Cesare’s voice transformed, velvet shadows soothed lacerated flesh, silky nights promised sweet lies. She obeyed without hesitation.

“Call the flame from your soul.”

“The bandages …?” she asked.

“The flame is you. It’s woven into your soul, more a part of you than your heart. Your eyes were taken from you, but the Ebon Flame can never be taken from you. You are the flame, and it is you. Its hunger is your hunger; your hate is its hate. What you love, is what it loves. There is nothing between you and it except what you put there.” Cesare drew her deeper into herself where the living flame lived.

“Call the flame,” Cesare commanded.

Black tongues of flame ran weakly across her hands, flickering and dying. Fear paralyzed her, fear of calling her flames without being able to see them, fear that she couldn’t control what she couldn’t see. “You are not your eyes. They did not make you powerful. You made yourself powerful. You don’t need them to call the Ebon Flame. Do you need to see your hand to move it? Do you need to watch the ground to walk? Call your flame. Have faith, if not in yourself then in me.”

Instantly flame burst from her hands, twisting and snapping with gluttonous hunger, it devoured the world with a hunger beyond hate. The sable flames tore the sky, glittering and malignant. Darker than black and sinfully beautiful, they consumed the air. They fed rapaciously from the pure air as easily as they would consume the flesh of the innocent.

“I may not trust myself, but I will never betray your trust again.” The declaration was made with terrible simplicity, a mantra she’d carved into her soul, night after night, until she’d incised it into the bones of her being. “You will never know how much I hate myself for what happened that day.”

They both pulled away from the moment. It was too real, too bloody and barbed with too much sorrow to deal with. “The flames are over twenty feet tall. Call them down, princess.”

The flames lowered slowly. Striking hatefully at the air, they fought her control every inch of the way. “Good, they are only three feet high. Feel the weight of power they demand. Measure the restraint you need. Delve into the darkness and trace that feeling to the Ebon Flame. See the conduit you open to let it out. Feel how much of it you’re letting pass. This is what I want you to conjure.”

A feeling is a hard thing to weigh. It was the loss of her eyes that had brought him the inspiration for the exercises. The blind have to learn to do everything over again. How much pressure do you use to hold a cup? How quickly do you walk? Opening doors? Holding a spoon? All of it has to be quantified in the darkness of their minds.

“It’s different from before … hungrier …. meaner … I can’t weaken the flame.” Anastasia struggled with the words. “When we were working on the dummies. I’d lessen its power, so we didn’t destroy them. Now it’s … different.”

“Stronger?” Cesare asked.

Anastasia nodded, her voice quiet. “Much stronger, beyond my ability to put in words. And so very hungry.”

“But you can control it.”

“If your muscles suddenly got twice as strong, would that mean you couldn’t control them?” Her question answered his neatly. She was in control, but needed practice.

“Well, this works out well for us. I was going to work on your power.”

“What worries me is why it’s so much stronger. The only thing that’s changed is my feeding on you. But that shouldn’t change anything despite the … aftereffects. I’ll need to talk to mother about this,” Anastasia said, more to herself than him.

“Let it go for now. I want you to concentrate on the flame. You know it’s hungrier, focus on that. Stoke that need, feed its desire.” Cesare’s words brought Anastasia back to their training. They had hours yet before Cesare would let her go.