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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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Ok ok, I'll be nice :) The songs used thus far for inspiration are Spook Show Baby by rob Zombie, the second chapter is a dead give away, and Now I shall break the moon songs for a song my darling is crazy for, not sure who it's by, but it's very pretty and worth the net search to download it. Worthy of your soul, the theme to Reign. Oh and thanks everybody for the reviews! 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.

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Weeks had come and gone, and with each passing night I found myself holding that still mysterious creature dearer. Despite the many envoys and delegations from Padma that came and went from the Circus in attempts to steal her away with promises and thinly veiled threats alike, she had remained a silent doll, closeted away within the rooms Jean-Claude had allotted her.

Being Jean-Claude's second I had sat in on each and every gathering, along with Monsieur Zeeman and Anita. Anita, for reasons know only to her, had taken the hunting of the young woman to an almost personal extent, and she had made it her business to be there for the negotiations. The upstanding Monsieur Zeeman made it a point to be involved as well, but I suspected he came only to act as a buffer between Anita and Jean-Claude. Though he had won Anita’s heart, I suspected his newly won victory was still a closely guarded thing, and he did not trust Jean Claude not to try and woo Anita back.

Even though Richard was the Master of the city's animal to call and one third of Jean-Claude's triumvirate, neither he nor Anita were required, though their presence was a pretty, unspoken threat.
Anita with her guns and knives… and her human law that gave her the sanctions to kill vampire and shifter alike without much reservation. Monsieur Zeeman with his softly thrumming power that brushed over our skins like some heated breeze off the dry desert dunes, the promise of the power of the Ulfric and his sharp wolf jaws lurking beneath his golden flesh.

Every evening before I would make my way to the meeting hall I would move down that silent twisting labyrinth of stone hallways to her rooms. Every evening I would slip into her bedroom and find her still slumbering. Her brow would be a shimmering sheen of sweat and her bed sheets would be askew in such knots that only the most horrid of nightmares could have woven them. And every night I would move to her side and slip my hand to rest upon that snowy cheek to gently coax her awake with movements of my thumb.

Tonight was different. It was if she had awoken already and had only been feigning sleep, waiting my arrival. Her breathing was still deep and rhythmic as it was when she slept, but even as I moved my thumb over that silken flesh and gently told her to wake, her tiny face turned to face the palm of my hand, and there......and there oh how she gently pressed her lips. She then smiled up to me, a smile even softer than her kiss, rest content upon that delicate mouth.

"And what have I done to merit such a reward Mon petit fleur?"
(My little flower)

I asked quietly of her, my eyes drawn to the soft rise and fall of her breath as it flowed within the tender confines of her slender throat.

"I'm frightened...Jason says I'm supposed to join you at the meeting tonight, Gideon will be there...They will take me tonight won't they?"

Her voice was a tiny struggling thing, about to drown within it's own fear and it stirred me to slip further still to sit upon the edge of that ebon silk monstrosity that Jean-Claude had deemed her bed. She slid over even as she sat up to allow me room just next to her. Her svelte form was lost within the sheer darkness of the sheets and the imagery did not escape me as I reached to tuck her against me, trying to shelter her from things I could not prevent.

Jean-Claude did just not have enough reasons to keep her with us, she was but a mere were animal with no ties or power of her own to warrant such a risk of Padma's renewed wrath. He had had lost his son the last visit he made to our territory, what was it to give him back such a small trifling thing as this were tiger?

Honestly I wasn't sure why, but it was everything to me. From the first moment she had opened her eyes to me she had looked at me as if I were normal, not the ruined form everyone else saw me to be. And more importantly not the shadow of my former self that Anita had had of me from Jean Claude. The weeks that she had spent beneath the Circus of the Damned had been a joy, for me as well as the rest that dwelled here or so I would like to think.

Rose had for some reason been as drawn to me as I was to her and had kept me company throughout her stay. It had begun simply enough, a softly spoken question from her about what there might be for her to do while she remained here, then it progressed to books we both enjoyed, and then too a few games of chess.

For one so young she indeed was well versed in the game and seemed in her words and actions far older than she appeared. By the scars she bore it seemed as though she came by those added years through tough trials and tribulations that one as young as she should not have had to endure.

And here it was, she would soon have to endure further still and I felt if my hands were tied. As her face came to hide against the left side of my chest, my face nestled within those milky blonde curls and my right hand began to traverse the length of her silk encased waist. Jean-Claude had been overjoyed to have such a beautiful new doll to play dress up with and last night he had made her to look very much the vestal virgin within an elegant yet simple night gown of snowy silk that had made her skin glimmer as though lights danced just beneath her silvery flesh. She wore the gown still and it held my fingers attention even as the soft scent of sandalwood and rose that permeated her tresses ensnarled my senses.

How could I let Padma have her? And yet how could I keep her? And as if she plucked the very thoughts from my mind I felt a dainty hand slip up and into my shirt, slenderly tapered fingers teasing over the rivulet scars of my flesh, her body stretching up so her face and mine might be next to each other. Just like a cat she rubbed the softness of her cheek against my own harshly ruined one, and upon that seeming angelic face, nothing but want and need shone within her eyes.

Those eyes were what kept me from turning, from running from someone that would touch me in such ways; so brazenly accept those horrendous scars without some ulterior motive or twisted perversion. I knew, even as she must, even if I took her for my lover for these last few remaining hours it would not be enough to give her the sanctuary I so badly wanted to extend to her.
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The swan and the Goldfinch