( distantly, she thinks of mal's first attempts at slipshod snares — twined rope and bent twigs from the earth. how rabbits had still fallen for it, despite its crude design. she doesn't have to take the bait armand has laid down to be guiltily caught, her desire skinned and laid bare; silence is as much an admission as any.
because he's right, of course. she fears that she doesn't fear it as she should. )
A good hunter doesn't lay such an obvious trap.
( tell me, have you been thinking about our encounter as much as i have? stupidly, she knows she's going to walk into it, anyway. subtlety doesn't matter, if your prey is famished and curious enough to paw closer. )
That depends on how often you've been thinking about me, doesn't it. Tell me.
[ He enjoys this, the back and forth of the struggling animal before it knows it's taken. ]
Every day. Every night. [ Easy lies, and not entirely; she's been occupying his thoughts frequently in the long hours, while the manor slumbers. In the pool, he tastes chlorine against his lips and remembers the eager pulse of her cunt. ]
I haven't been hiding. You could come see me at any time.
( this nightmarish echo of the little palace is stupidly (wastefully) spacious, yes, but she has one experience that speaks to his patience. it isn't difficult to imagine him as a restless phantom stalking the corridors, slipping into the corners of alina's usual haunting grounds. pacing. waiting. seeking.
so the implicit, unspoken question becomes: if his honeytrap-words are true, if his want for her is a persistent toothache, then why has he been there while she's been here? )
[ Maybe he has been, at the edges of her awareness. Watching her swim, eat dinner, walk across the lawn. For a sleepless vampire, the time is there to be filled.
Nevertheless, a gentleman has to maintain some sort of form. ]
And deprive myself of the pleasure of being invited?
( not in the traditional sense of bloodsoaked battles, but in the sense of claiming her open desire as though it's a spoil of war. needing, hungering, to hear her admit to it the way she's gorged himself on his confession, so freely handfed to her.
for his trouble, her implicit invitation, sealed like a drop of blood, the teasing whiff of sweet perfume on an absent lover's letter: )
I spend my days by the lake, and my nights in the library. Will I see you?
no subject
because he's right, of course. she fears that she doesn't fear it as she should. )
A good hunter doesn't lay such an obvious trap.
( tell me, have you been thinking about our encounter as much as i have? stupidly, she knows she's going to walk into it, anyway. subtlety doesn't matter, if your prey is famished and curious enough to paw closer. )
That depends on how often you've been thinking about me, doesn't it. Tell me.
no subject
Every day. Every night. [ Easy lies, and not entirely; she's been occupying his thoughts frequently in the long hours, while the manor slumbers. In the pool, he tastes chlorine against his lips and remembers the eager pulse of her cunt. ]
I'd like to see you again.
no subject
( this nightmarish echo of the little palace is stupidly (wastefully) spacious, yes, but she has one experience that speaks to his patience. it isn't difficult to imagine him as a restless phantom stalking the corridors, slipping into the corners of alina's usual haunting grounds. pacing. waiting. seeking.
so the implicit, unspoken question becomes: if his honeytrap-words are true, if his want for her is a persistent toothache, then why has he been there while she's been here? )
no subject
Nevertheless, a gentleman has to maintain some sort of form. ]
And deprive myself of the pleasure of being invited?
no subject
( not in the traditional sense of bloodsoaked battles, but in the sense of claiming her open desire as though it's a spoil of war. needing, hungering, to hear her admit to it the way she's gorged himself on his confession, so freely handfed to her.
for his trouble, her implicit invitation, sealed like a drop of blood, the teasing whiff of sweet perfume on an absent lover's letter: )
I spend my days by the lake, and my nights in the library. Will I see you?