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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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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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-I’ll take your love.
- I’ll take your hate.
- I’ll take your desire.
- I’ll take the world when it turns on you, I’ll set it on fire.
- I’ll take your heart.
- I’ll take your pain.
- I’ll bring you to life.
-

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“What have you done ? !”

Startled awake by Jean-Claude’s near panicked cry, I moved lightly turning half-heartedly upon my side. My flesh felt scathed in waves of raw irritation and even the simple effort made my lips curl tight. Jean-Claude swiftly moved to my side, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek.

“What she has done to you mon chardonneret…it is truly a miraculous gift…”

And there he paused, a pause so deep and poignant it caused me to take the situation more gravely, caused my eyes, that still were half drawn against the pain the blinding burst of light had left in it’s wake, to fly wide and find Jean-Claude’s cause for such a pregnant pause.

It was no gift at all, someone had burned her, burned my beautiful sweet flower. Rage, anger, sadness, guilt…all of it boiled within me until I could not discern between them.
Her face, her sweet face was ravaged upon one side, the scars trailed down her throat further still, but I could not see more for she had bundled herself within a robe of sapphire silk. Slowly something within me finally registered that her flesh was scarred and not truly burned.

“Rose…what have you done?”

I asked as calm and as clear as my emotions would allow, my mind roving over what this mirror image of my scared visage upon her delicate flesh meant.

“Asher….I don’t know…”

She managed a pained, near whimper of a reply before she crumpled in upon herself. Those willowy arms that had not long ago been twined around me in the throws of our shared passion now hugged her own body in a tight vice of self-comfort. Jean-Claude and I watched her silently from the bed as she began a restless pace, silent, lack luster tears streamed down her cheeks, some even pooled in the dry river beds of flesh the scars she now possessed formed.

I remained silent for I could not fathom of anything I could say to comfort her, for I still had no idea of how or why this all had happened. Jean-Claude, whom still sat curled against me, remained quiet for other reasons, I could almost feel the cogs turning behind those fathomless pools of cerulean. His hand again caressed my cheek, a thought filled movement that caused me in turn to cover his hand in mine. My fingertips moved attentively over the smooth expanse of the back of his hand until they happened to brush over the flesh of my own cheek.

What I found, or more the lack- there-of sent me flying off the bed. I was a man possessed as I crushed that delicate flower of a female against me. My hands encircled the upper of her snowy arms, constricting her flesh as I began to shake her as if she were some flimsy cloth doll.

“Why have you done this? How…”

I growled out each syllable, bit out each word even as I tried to form some semblance of being coherent. Still I shook her and yet she did not fight back, she simply let herself be shaken. The tears still cascaded down her cheeks; she looked so dejected, so like an abused dog so loyal she would accept the beating and still come back to lick my hand later. That look about her stopped me cold, and I gently gathered her to me, my arms wrapped around her, my hands entangled in her corn silk curls.

“Forgive me mon amour précieux.(my precious love).”

I swept her from her feet, holding her close as I moved to gently place her back upon the bed. Jean-Claude held his arms open to receive her, so in his arms I placed her even as I slipped to sit beside them both. I pressed close to Jean-Claude’s side as he cradled Rose against him as if she were a small child. He whispered to her softly in French, nothing I am sure she could understand, but it seemed to soothe her.

Tenderly I reached across Jean-Claude’s chest to caress her cheek and she responded in kind, nuzzling her face into my palm. Her tears had slowly eased until only their pink trails down her cheeks and her swollen eyes were the only indication she had been weeping at all. Jean-Claude took this as a signal she might be able to speak of what had happened, so he took his chance.

“Ma petite… You say you do not know how this has happened. What do you remember, what were you doing when this happened?”

And as to express his point he gazed at me silently, his hand reached out to trail his fingertips across my once again flawless cheekbone. Rose watched all of this bundled up within folds of rich blue silk curled against his chest. She looked up into my eyes, losing herself there for a brief moment as if she were considering me in her reply before she spoke.

“Asher and I were making love, and at the end…I felt this amazing heat, I think my skin was glowing and then…I think I blacked out, and when I woke up we were like we are now…”

Her lips pursed thoughtfully, as if, even to her, her memories seemed to be lacking. Jean-Claude too seemed to consider her words as he moved his hand from my cheek and to her hair, petting her in a long slow stroke.

“Are you sure that is all Ma petite, was there anything you may have said, or did…even something so small as a thought?”

And here, even though she had spoke of our love making to him without a tint to her cheeks, she began to blush. She spoke quietly then, a mere whisper, as if she were ashamed of the confession she was about to make.

“Only that I loved him, and I thought how I would do anything for him, how I wish I could take away his pain…his scars.”

I was stunned, what had I done to deserve such love and devotion from this mere child of a woman? Jean-Claude gave a soft nod of his head, as if he had expected such an answer, while I could do nothing more than to stare at the ever growing mystery that lay curled in his arms.

“Fate seemed on your side tonight Ma chéri, for had you and Asher made love any sooner than you did then Padma’s servants would have been privy to your new powers. That was quite the wave of power that filled the circus earlier.”

And here Jean-Claude gingerly slipped a finger to her chin, softly raising her eyes to meet his own.

“But I believe it is finally time you told us your secrets Miss Davenport, and give us the true reasons why Padma wants you. If I can have investigators reveal your true name, what would a little more digging unveil?”
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The swan and the Goldfinch