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The swan and the Goldfinch	By : Madettica Category: Anita Blake > Threesomes Plus Views: 4157 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter moonlight Sonata

If you like it so far please let me know, if you don't let me know that too. Any questions or constructive criticism greatly welcome. By the by, each chapter has been written by the music each chapter has been named for, hehe see if you can figure out what song the line the story's name comes from.Most characters owned by Laurell K Hamilton, however Rose is all mine.*Disclaimer: I do not own or make any money off of this story. Stuff like that.

~Asher’s Point of view~

I sat within a chair in the corner, unmoving. All I could muster was to stare pensively at what lay in the bed before me. Tangled limbs of varying shades and hues, some dangling out from under the stark whiteness of satin sheets, while others seemed content to remain mere silhouettes beneath that sheen of softness. But in the midst of all that flesh, all that slick material, rest a creature unknown to me, and yet she held me captive with such fascination.

It had been a week since she had been moved from where Richard the local Ulfric had kept her in Dr Lillian’s makeshift were hospital, a week since she had been victorious over her persecutors, and still she had not awakened from her restorative slumber. Jean Claude had deemed it of utmost importance that she be moved to the circus, and the lycanthropes had readily agreed. One could not blame them really. Padma, the Master of Beasts would be a difficult advisory for them indeed if he took it upon himself to retrieve the prize he seemed so desperate to claim.

Nights had come and gone, and with them the many feline shifters that came to offer the warmth and healing qualities of their bodies. The leopard pard Anita watched over had been the first to volunteer, then a few of the solitary local felines that had heard the stories of the brave one that had fought off Padma’s people and wished to pay their respects. Finally, the last to offer up their services, a surprise to us all, was a new leopard pard that had entered Anita’s territory. The Maneater Clan, lead by a very chagrined Mr. Callahan. He and his pard were currently trying to compensate for the grievous mistake they had made in trusting a certain traitorous wereleopard by the name of Elizabeth that had lead them to believe that there was a pard without a leader here.

Anita surprisingly, had taken it in stride and had asked that to begin with, he and his pard partake in helping the young weretiger heal. It had taken perhaps a night for the group en masse to realize that the young woman was not all that she seemed. The mere glimpse of reason as to why Padma may have desired her so greatly came when she finally shifted back to her human guise. And such a charming guise it was. More than one person in the room when it had happened had to grasp the very air back into their lungs.

A petite chéri she was, perhaps not a month over eighteen years. She had long curling tendrils that teased down around the curve of her delicate hips. That shimmering mass of hair was much like her skin, pale and almost without color if it were not for the slightest of silver sheens that encased her. With her coloring, without even having to look at her eyes, one name came to mind. Sidhe. Yet how this creature could be sidhe… a shape shifter in some form or fashion yes, but not possibly sidhe.

Such thoughts seemed to want to elude the vice of my mind until the idle hand of some well meaning were could resist itself no longer and moved itself to brush back some of that milky mane of hers to reveal a subtly elongated ear. There may have not been as many a gasp as there should have been, but I am certain, like myself, many were holding back when what they wish to do was investigate further. But until the young chéri awoke there was not much investigation to be had without disturbing what was some much needed recuperative sleep.

Anita, as well as those who had kept her vigil, witnessed her to be a tiger of great beauty. However lying down next to her, skin to skin, given the chance to test that heated other worldly power against her own Mr. Callahan had confessed to being confused. He had claimed to have not only seen but scented her to indeed be a tiger, but his power sensed something else, something that swam deep and powerful beneath her depths. She was a were to be sure, but as to what flavor of shifter remained unseen for it lay dormant within her, a well guarded thing, even within her comatose like state.

Another strange occurrence that caused more speculation as to her true origins when her wounds responded to the healing practices used by the general shifter community save for a select few. The wounds that had been once covered and or perceived as battle injuries turned into much more horrendous wounds. The battle scars of assumed self-hatred loomed daunting upon that tender flesh, cigarette burns upon one arm, the slashes where a razor had once sliced upon another. I believe it saddened most of the people that came to watch over her, but disturbed us all. Her flesh should have healed when it was bloodied afresh in her battle, and yet those scars had returned, as if they were as natural as one of her arms or legs.

Such bits and pieces of thought danced across my brain as the present shifted itself back to the forefront and my eyes focused once more upon what actually lay within my sights. Laden with thoughts I stood, quietly I moved over to the massive bed that the cocooned pile of bodies lay cradled within, and looked down upon them all. Not a single set of eyes returned my gaze for they all lay content within the warmth of each other. In that moment I longed to be what they were, to belong to that warmth, that seeming love and togetherness.

Anita and Jean Claude had finally come to an end, when Anita had returned from New Mexico and chosen Richard’s warmth and promise of a more mortal life. Still the death of the relationship was only weeks fresh and Jean Claude still remained longingly out of my grasp. So I had given him his distance, let him have his time to grieve, but that did not mean I still did not need. Perhaps she felt that need looming above her, pressing down like some oppressive burden. I cannot be sure even now, but in that next moment of longing my gaze was returned by the most startling beautiful eyes I had yet to ever behold.

Her gaze was like nothing I had come across before. My appearance to her seemed but a fleeting thought, for the main thought upon my mind was her lovely eyes. One eye was shaded with the faintest line of silver on the outermost of her iris. That shimmering ring of glittering gray seemed to filter throughout, for it lent the sky blue that followed a glimmering quality, and the dark sapphire that encircled the pupil seemed as though it were not part of an eye at all, but perhaps a clear midnight sky littered with stars.

Her other eye was much the same as the other, save in shades of new spring grass and thick fir trees in place of the differing shades of sky. In that mismatched gaze I found myself on the other end of what normal humans must experience in my own gaze. She held me in that gaze, trapped between the heavens and the earth that were her eyes.

“Mon dieu…..”

It was the barest of shocked whispers, but I could not have stopped the words if I had tried. In the very same instant as I spoke, I wished nothing more than to have those torturous words ceased from being. Where she had looked upon me with an unwavering emotion that was far from revulsion or pity, she now recoiled as if I had stuck her. Her movement had stirred her companions upon the bed and they now began to shift and stretch as they awoke. She slipped from the bed with liquid grace and speed, moving away from the touch of all around her, and into the nearest corner of the room, her back shielded by the adjoining walls.

Those that had shared her bed lounged still and quiet. They seemed not to dare move nor speak, treating her as if she were a doe in some peaceful forest clearing not to be spooked. But there was no doubt all eyes were upon her, including mine. She shivered lightly as her own gaze slipped over those in the room. She was ill at ease, quite expectedly of course, but she made no attempts for the door. She instead began to visibly steel herself for the confrontation that she believed was to come.

She looked proud and very brave then as she approached me, the only vampire in the room. Her head held high, her chest puffed out, which was very charming indeed when she wore not a stitch of clothing; she came to stand not more than a foot away. All had remained quiet through out, and it remained so even as I stooped down into a short bow. She seemed taken aback by my actions, as if she had expected the strike of my hand instead of the courtly gesture I had made. I spoke then, quite and measured in tone to keep the amusement from my voice.

“Welcome to the Circus of The Damned..."
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The swan and the Goldfinch