AnK - Black Moon Rising

Black Moon Rising

By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to Yoshihara Rieko

Edited by: Ainzfern

Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze

Rating: Mature – Sexual Situations

Parts: WIP – 19 of 25

Reviews are fuel.

Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.
~
George Eliot

Chapter 19 of 25 – Phantom Pain (Post OVA)

Unfocussed ice blue eyes watched the slow progress of a single persistent beam of sunlight as it crept across white silken sheets and gently caressed the burnished torso of the sleeping figure. It had reached his clavicles now and the hollow between. A hand flew up defensively in sleep and dark brows furrowed briefly, before the well sculpted face relaxed and a soft unintelligible murmur came to full, dry lips.

Iason rose abruptly and hissed in discomfort when the muscles in his thighs seized. He willed his lower limbs to obey ignoring the sharp shooting pains that accompanied him as he quietly padded across the bedroom. He needed to be vigilant and monitor any obvious signs of distress that might require immediate medical attention.

Raoul had assured him that these phantom pains were nothing more than tissue memory due to the abrupt and traumatic amputation of his lower limbs at Dana Bahn. He had promised it would grow infrequent as the network of bio-mechanical nerve circuitry healed.


Leaning forward the Elite brushed his lips over soft damp onyx, breathing in Riki’s scent before carefully coaxing strong, almost coltish arms under the covers again, just as he had done most of the long night.

The victory was short lived however, as the covers were thrown back again petulantly, exposing a bruised hip bone. Iason looked away hurriedly.

He needed no disturbing reminders of the night before, when he had surrendered to the primal urge to conquer his Pet’s flesh like a sex starved droid.

Carefully perching on the side of their bed, Iason smoothed his fingertips over the warm, velvet skin of an arm until tense muscles relaxed sufficiently to allow for movement without waking the mongrel.

A pale brow rose in amused satisfaction as the mongrel sighed contentedly, as anticipated, and threw the other arm out from beneath the covers for a similar treatment.

“My Riki,” Iason murmured, taking bruised fingers in his and examined broken shredded nails, some still bearing traces of dried blood, Iason’s own. Though Riki would never admit it, Iason had found by trial and error, the feral male he longed to poses loved to be petted and stroked at the most inopportune of times. In fact most often post coital, when the Elite desired nothing more than restorative slumber.

The sudden irrational urge to gather the slighter being to him had to be quashed as he placed the arm under the sheets and stood.

~~~BMR~~~


“Fuck!”

Flame red hair darkened to a deep auburn hue when the heavens opened with a violent clap and warm insistent rain pelted the black market dealer as he exited his aircar with a curse. His bangs dripped in his eyes, plastering his scarred cheek uncomfortably while he tapped the keys of his com rapidly.

The uncomfortable feeling as rivulets meandered down his coat collar only amplified the malevolence of the glare he leveled up at the glistening tower that housed his boss and that interfering pest.

No, Donovan’s short message did nothing to improve his current mood. He just knew that inhumanly attractive fuck had demanded his immediate presence for no other reason other than that he could and now fucking with his time honored protocol? Changing the details for something he had scrupulously planned for months?

Not on!

Though loathed to admit it, what truly irritated most was his traitorous dick. It seems it had found a new hobby and was actually excited at the prospect of seeing the sexy bastard again. He could only hope it was just pent up aggression at work. No accounting for taste, he chided himself placing the wet filter to his lips and cursing his fate as he spat.

He crushed the damp mess beneath already sodden shoes, shaking his head as a cold shiver gave rise to a wistful thought. If Jupiter were kind, he might just come down with a case of incurable pneumonia, what with the sudden chattering of his teeth.

If you looked hard enough, he mused while squelching purposefully towards the secured elevators, there was always a silver lining.


~~~BMR~~~


He hated doing the books. The Boss always found fault in the end, but not this time, he thought smugly. Donovan stretched tiredly and yawned.

Cerulean eyes drifted away from the monitor across the darkened bar room to the private nook where the wholly unattractive spectacle of Guy with mouth open, drooled on the surface of a table strewn with empty bottles. The kid and his crew had actually worked the night through as an auxiliary security detail while the usual retinue guarded the new acquisitions, destined for the off-world clientele. Weird but he had chosen to stay, when all the action was over and Katze had hurriedly left the building, the silent rage about him causing both to keep a very wide berth of the mercurial redhead.

The only thing left was the final med checks and that had apparently been underway for the last thirty minutes or so without the Boss’ by your leave.

Something just didn’t fit.

Sir Am had actually secured his encoded com link not ten minutes ago. As usual, the imperious Blondie shit had assumed that tone they all do while informing his lesser of the alteration in the original itinerary without giving him the slightest opportunity to respond, to question or confirm that it was okay with his Boss. What would the point have been?

Rock and a hard place that call was as Donovan had bristled within while the pompous ass stared through him knowingly as he scrambled to inform his own security team of the changes, but found they had been usurped by Midas covert ops to be left on the periphery as impotent guards with nothing to do but watch.

Blondies did nothing by halves. Jupiter but he hated them.

As soon as the link was severed a single line of text came through. It had been the reassurance he needed.

‘Controlling Asshole!!!’

Oh yeah, the Boss was pissed alright. Just for a moment, Donovan sniggered quietly. Took one to know one, he thought, wondering if Katze actually realized that his usually impassive persona was all ablaze when it came to this Being who set his teeth on edge and his loins on fire in equal measure.

The prompt blinked indicating the link was still open. Donovan waited and began to smile when the much less rapidly keyed text came through.

‘ No choice...Stay frosty. Later.’

Guy began to snore in earnest as he shifted, farted and swatted at his unruly mane which had come undone, tickling his nose.

Sniggering softly the bodyguard stretched and rose to his full imposing height before approaching the sleeping figure. Donovan’s nose wrinkled.

“Damn boy, what the hell did you eat?” he murmured, somewhat amused by the angelic expression Guy’s worn handsome face had assumed having expelled the noxious vapor cloud. Just for a moment, he wondered about the name they had given themselves.

Bison, kind of a strange moniker, an ancient mammal from the antiquated world their lineage had once called home.

The Boss had shown him a capture of the creatures from some ancient text. It was funny lookin’ with its shaggy mane but seen in their thousands kinda regal and imposing walking across grasslands with a permanence that was all but memory now.

Guy moaned softly and slipped off the table onto the plush seating with a muffled thump.

Donovan stopped in his tracks. No sign of life. The bodyguard shook his head as blue eyes took full accounting of the number of empty bottles. Enough stout to poison the uninitiated, but when it was your life blood, the ultimate in sleep aids.

“Come on, little man,” Donovan murmured before hoisting the near comatose mongrel over a broad shoulder and carting him down the stairs to his own quarters. At least one of them would get some rest while he waited for Sir Am’s team’s verdict.

~~~BMR~~~


Self control was everything, Katze reminded himself as he waited for the imposing door that lead into the social space of the Elite’s home to open. It did and as anticipated a set of supercilious emerald green eyes gazed down at him, taking in his current sodden state with pursed lips.

Unconsciously the black market dealer raised his fingers to his jaw line and glared back accusingly. “It’s raining.”

“So I see.”

Katze shivered involuntarily with rage. If he didn’t get it out now before stepping in, he never would.

“Well, Sir Am? Why exactly am I here since I have been informed your crew is already doing a final inspection of the, and I quote,” Katze retrieved his Com and glared at the green filtered screen with narrowed lips, “the livestock.”

Raoul observed the barely contained anger in the little mongrel’s face with satisfaction. The dealer was fit to be tied that his plans had been countered.

Katze had definite control issues. Raoul intended to disabuse him of them. Far too high handed and no one but Iason was to blame for this, the Elite mused meditatively as golden eyes glared up at him in impotent hate.

Disparity in height, breadth and station notwithstanding, given the slightest opportunity at all now they both would be rolling about the hallway making a spectacle, sure to give Deek heart failure. It really wasn’t seemly to be aroused by the concept but testosterone being what it was in the humanoid male of the species, the thought was invigorating nonetheless.

“It appears you are displeased, Katze?”

Citrine eyes raked over the Elite’s informal garb with annoyance and sudden realization. “It appears you aren’t dressed, Sir Am.”

Raoul looked down at his casual attire with feigned surprise at the comment. He saw nothing amiss with his current at home attire. A soft shirt of a most complimentary aquamarine hue and slim fitting trousers that emphasized lean powerful hips and inordinately long, well muscled legs; all entirely appropriate, right down to the soft slippers on his feet.

“Come through, Katze. It is entirely inappropriate to air your grievances like a gutter mongrel in the hallway for all to hear.”

The dealer glared. “This floor is yours. No one’s about, Sir Am or would dare eavesdrop, other than Deek.” Katze stood his ground. “Why am I here?”

He heard the soft preemptive growl rising in Raoul’s chest. “Fine. Where do you want me?”

No, he didn’t much like the lascivious curve of those pale, well formed lips as he passed the Elite and entered the foyer to the social space. He really needed to choose his words more carefully in future, but in the meantime, it was time to get down to business.

Katze turned abruptly to face the Blondie, who still wore the lecherous expression, though muted now by other thoughts as he examined Katze’s shivering form anew and the wet trail left in his wake. “Is it my imagination or are you predisposed to being a sartorial disaster each time I open that door and grant you entry?”

The redhead’s teeth began to chatter. He clenched his jaws to stave off the involuntary tremors.


“Strip,” Raoul commanded with a dismissive wave of an ungloved hand while heading to the wet bar.

If pneumonia didn’t take him, this might just be the day he killed Raoul Am, putting both of them out of his growing misery.

Katze began to do as he was told while pale amber eyes tracked the deft movements of the Elite pouring a generous snifter of brandy with a studious air and the usual telltale smug expression.

That fucker had control issues for sure.

~~~BMR~~~


Donovan carefully wound the long chestnut mane around his fist, keeping it away from the spewing detritus of Guy’s mouth. He needed a better grip on him as his head swung from side to side while heaving over the vanity with alarming regularity and volume.

Guy hiccupped and whimpered between bouts of self pity. “I want to die…let me die. Just let me die.”

“Not on my watch, little man.”

The warm compress was applied to the sweating forehead again, before being wrenched from Donovan’s grip.

“Fuck off! I don’t need your help, Baldy. Get off me, pervert!”

Keen blue eyes studied the pallor beneath the warm tanned skin and the unfocused gaze of pale gray. “Nope, don’t think so. Just behave before I pull down those overly tight leathers and give you a spanking.”

Guy spat a final time into the sink and wiped his mouth across his sleeve. “Pervert! You’re not getting’ any unless you’re into necro …necro…,” Guy’s brows knit in frustration as he looked in the mirror trying to remember the fancy word for boning a corpse.

“Necrophilia?” Donovan offered with a quiet chuckle, reluctantly releasing the surprising soft chestnut silk. “Nah, not my speed, kiddo. I like my mount kickin’, screamin’ and beggin’ for more.”

The mongrel gazed at Donovan speculatively in the mirror, for once choosing to keep his own counsel as he rinsed, welcoming the cool, fresh taste in his soured mouth.

“Who doesn’t?”


“Huh?”

The bodyguard moved away from Bison’s leader to prop up the opposing wall. Too close for comfort. Guy didn’t look like he was going to fall face first into the sink anymore and color was returning to his face. Donovan plucked one of the two white towels from the rack and held it out to the belligerent mongrel.

“What you were thinking. Who doesn’t?”

Guy’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed the offered towel and roughly toweled his face. “What is this Plan B, ‘cause you want to scratch that itch again?

“Guilty as charged, little man. Cleaned up, you’d be amazing.”

“Pretendin’ to be all carin’ and shit….” Guy trailed off, his neck coloring slightly as he tried to ignore Donovan’s reflection in the mirror and the not so veiled compliment.

Their eyes met and Donovan simply smiled. Guy was actually blushing. “It’s a nice ass, I’ll admit. I’m not dead, Guy.”

“I ain’t stupid, Donny Boy. I know what you want.” Guy reiterated under his breath, refolding the towel with unusual precision and placing it on the vanity’s rim. “Yeah, well, just so you know, I’m onto you, any port in a storm and shit.”

Donovan raised his hands in feigned surrender. This conversation was heading nowhere fast.

“Want something for that head?”

Gray eyes looked suspiciously up at the imposing breadth of man who looked kind of tired himself. He didn’t look like he was planning to make the moves. It seemed to be a genuine question.

Donovan sighed in resignation, reading the mongrel’s expression loud and clear. Guy was looking for a fight. His only response to anything he thought represented weakness.

“No Guy, this isn’t Plan C. Unlike some, I learn from my mistakes. I brought you down here so you wouldn’t break your stupid little neck trying to sleep in the booth. I repeat; do you want something? Cause in about an hour when that oversized melon of yours begins to seriously pound from dehydration, you’ll pray for death.”

The chestnut haired mongrel shrugged indifferently and pointed at the tap. “I got water. Don’t need nothing else…thanks.”

“Okay. Sleep well, Guy.”

Guy blinked as Donovan exited the bathroom and lazily headed for the door, noting the bed had already been turned down. He was serious. “What? That’s it?”

The bodyguard turned and regarded Guy’s shocked face with amusement. “As I said, Guy, unlike some, I do learn from my mistakes.”


~~~BMR~~~


In portraiture as in life, it is always the subtle interplay of light shun, just so, upon shadow that proved most revelatory. Just as now, when Katze silently padded down the darkened hallway and approached the exquisite portrait of the singular Ruby Elite.

There was no question in the mongrel’s mind that it was placed here in reverence and secreted in such a way that the casual visitor would not encounter it or the passageway that housed it whose watery trill stilled the mind in preparation for the alcove and the sacred relic placed there.

Raoul had loved once.

Katze’s chest constricted momentarily as he pulled the soft crimson robe he had been given more tightly around him and sipped the sweet, viscous liquid. It sent much needed warmth down his throat while he contemplated the depiction, drawn as always to familiar pale amber eyes. He could almost hear the deep register of the Elite in question, but then, his imagination had always been rather vivid.

He shivered at the thought.

“They were gray once, but he had notions. Sir Niiro was prone to a lot of them,” Raoul offered quietly from behind.”I thought you were going to the facilities?”

Katze turned and regarded the Blondie with a questioning citrine gaze. The answer came readily to mind then. “I have. You mean his eyes, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

The mongrel nodded and returned his gaze to the portrait. “I did wonder the first time I saw them. Most of you have varying shades of blue.”

A half smile playing about the dealer’s lips as he turned fully to face the Elite.

Katze gave Raoul a sidelong glance, beneath long lashes before bowing deferentially. “Present company exempt of course.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The dealer examined the bowl of his snifter with a sardonic half smile before inhaling the rich fruity fragrance that sent a warming sensation to his throat.

“Even yours in the right light are a breathtaking aquamarine, I must admit.”

A rich golden wave was tossed indignantly over a broad shoulder as Raoul self-consciously examined his cuffs, coloring prettily beneath Katze’s knowing gaze; Raoul Am was capable of blushing.

“It appears the Allurian Brandy has loosened your tongue. There will be no seduction here today, Katze, unless I so choose.”

Katze snickered and stretched unselfconsciously. “Yeah, good luck with that, Sir Am. You’d be fuckin’ the dead. I’m just saying what you must have been told a thousand times, your eyes are beautiful and defy the norm.”

Raoul glared down at the mongrel thoroughly affronted by the dealer’s tone and yet those emerald green eyes challenged the redhead to continue, while strong digits with a surprising gentle grasp removed the snifter from cold, elegant fingers.

“When did you last take nourishment, Katze? You are not yourself.”

It was the dealer’s turn to stare in shock. “If you remember correctly, Sir Am, I was commanded to come over here before the damn sun was up! When the fuck was I suppose to eat?”

Not for the first time, Katze realized Raoul had selective hearing as the snifter was returned with a long suffering sigh. “Finish it. Perhaps it will stabilize your blood sugar levels which appear to be running riot with your emotions this morning. It is far too early in the day for such commonness of speech.”

Auburn brows worked in irritation. Obviously, Raoul wasn’t biting. By now that vituperative tongue would have found some way of properly attempting to put him back in his place. Instead the damned Elite just stood there looking moderately prosaic and giving him the speculative once over.

“Deek will not be serving the morning repast for another hour.”

Returning his full attention to the portrait in front of them, Raoul’s eyes narrowed assessing the work. “He would sometimes experiment upon himself, hence the eye color chosen in direct defiance to our genetic encoding. Such a tiresome, quixotic being at times, but a genius with far flung ideas.”

Katze shook his head. It really was a beautiful rendering. The mongrel raised his snifter in deference. “I like a man who can think for himself, despite the odds against him.”

“To his detriment, you mean?”

“Some things are worth fighting for, Sir Am.”

“Risk and unchecked ambition are not the hallmarks of intellect, Katze, but willful stupidity.”

“Perhaps not, but they are the hallmarks of a being who is sufficiently broad of intellect to not be colored by a given society's dictate to maintain the status quo, simply because a powerful minority labor under the delusion of their own omnipotence.”

“Rules are there for the protection of all and the orderly running of a society, Katze.”

He felt tired suddenly as he gazed up at Sir Niiro’s impassively perfect countenance. “I beg to differ, Sir Am. Enslavement of one, is enslavement of all. The history of the humanoid species has proved that time and time again, regardless of where we have made home. When a society refuses to change, it dies. We are dying, Raoul.”

Palpable was the silence that followed the quietly spoken statement as both men continued to regard the portrait, mindfully absorbed in their own thoughts. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Sir Am and allowing me to speak freely. I will not forget this departure from our usual protocol, nor will I indulge in it too frequently in your presence. I do know my place.”

Raoul turned to the lithe figure, currently leaning against his shoulder, as soft golden strands brushed a scarred cheek. He watched in fascination as beautiful pale fingers twinned wavy strands absently, though the owner of said elegantly fluid digits continued to regard the portrait with rapt attention and furrowed brows, deep in his own musings.

Such a fascinating little creature with hidden depth as yet unexplored, rather moody too.

The mongrel softly tugged on the cool strands of wavy silk that insisted on shadowing one emerald eye, currently regarding him with a curiously unreadable expression. Katze felt it as a deep breath was drawn and the pad of a warm digit traced the smooth moist outline of his lower lip speculatively.

“It was the first thing I noticed about you, these waves of silk that would insist, no matter how many times you swept them back, to fall as they saw fit. I use wonder what it would feel like to simply touch your hair. It always seemed like warm sunlight in comparison to Iason’s. Kinda sexy and unruly and yes, I knew it wasn’t my place to think such things as Furniture back then.”


“If you desire rest, such talk is not conducive, mongrel.”

Their eyes met in the ambient light. He was still pissed with the Elite, but just standing here and gazing at such beauty was rather peaceful and almost made him forget. The warmth of the brandy and the robe’s soft caress kinda helped too, Katze thought absently as he was slowly encircled by powerful arms and pressed to a sleek, hot chest. Warm malleable lips found his with a tentative brush, while he sifted the pale silk at the base of Raoul Am’s neck with a contented moan.

Deek’s dark eyes became saucers as he watched in open horror his Master cradling the redheaded ex-Furniture as though he were a rare and priceless object of desire. The dealer was no better with all that indecent grasping of varying body parts, namely the Master’s head and posterior, apparently unable to decide what required his immediate attention as they continued to absorb each other’s living breath with tight shut eyes.

The Furniture gulped and averted his own fixed stare, only looking up with embarrassment post resounding thump as the mongrel’s back met the adjoining wall and a long sinewy leg was revealed in the soft light. Seemingly of its own volition, it coiled around his Master’s midriff possessively. That guttural hiss coming from his Blondie’s throat while hoisting the mongrel’s pliant form further up the wall for better access to the dealer’s blushing member was most disconcerting.

He averted his gaze once more.

The less said about how their bodies adhered and the obvious slow grinding of their lower extremities, the better. This was worse than a Free Party - positively indecent all that moaning and groping. His Master had actually begun to purr while his frantic ungloved fingers and that of the mongrel strove at cross purposes to release the catch of his trousers.

A soft prurient chuckle left his Master’s chest as their lips parted, “Fucking the dead, indeed. You want me,” Raoul murmured against already kiss bruised lips, while slowly beginning to stroke the heated length that twitched its acquiescence within his palm.

The mongrel’s gaze grew hooded as he licked full lips and carded thick tresses with evident delight. “Stop teasing and take me before I change my mind.”

“Not before I taste you upon my tongue.”

It was enough, Deek thought, gathering his remaining faculties and uttering a quiet apologetic cough, which thankfully had the desired effect on both flushed, panting males. The very idea of his Master on his knees supplicating to that creature was unthinkable and he refused to bear witness.

At least the mongrel had the presence of mind to redden under Deek’s censorious gaze. Not so his Master who looked the very definition of the phrase, if looks could kill.

“Breakfast is served, Sir Am. Will your…guest be partaking? His things are dry.”


~~~BMR~~~


In all honesty something irked about being thought of as a mistake. No one had ever had reason to complain about him in that way.

“Stuck up piece of shit,” Guy mumbled under his breath while blunt nails dug into his own scalp. The shower felt good though. The luxury of shampoo was a bit of a surprise considering Baldy had no hair on his clean shaven head.

Probably for the convenience of the dumb shits he brought back to his quarters.

Guy’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, cause it sure wasn’t jealousy or anything stupid like that. The warm water sluiced over his skin in pulsing caresses, easing tired muscles and alleviating the pounding in his head.

He allowed the water to beat against his skin. Damn but it felt good this small luxury. At least this way, Mr Pristine couldn’t say he stunk up his bedding or anything. That initial comment really had hurt, more than Donovan was ever to know.

A final rinse of the long wet mane with something called conditioner. Cool shit, it smelt good too. If nothing else, his fuck toys were spared no luxury as was evidenced by the choices in the cabinet.

Stepping out of the Spartan cubicle, Guy looked around at the neat, well appointed room. Everything in its place, absolutely no excess in the pristine white room, self consciously he avoided the small bath carpet, selected to stand on the tile as he retrieved the towel he had used earlier. No point messin’ up the other one, which was probably gonna be used by him later.

Sid was right, what had possessed him to stay after the job was done other than free stout? It wasn’t as if he wanted to talk to the big ox or anything. He didn’t owe his crew any explanations. Sometimes he just needed some quiet and not have to watch his own back. Here, even with the derisive looks of the club’s owner, he knew he was safe and could stand any patron a game or two of pool, letting them win where prudent or cleaning their clock, if they were a client in bad standing and the house wanted to get rid.

The fact that Donovan had chosen to stay in the adjoining bar made no difference. It was kind of amusing watching him count too. That usually placid indifference as he checked and double checked his figures, almost counting on his hands had been the shit. For once, just once, he didn’t look all that confident.

Guy smiled smugly, remembering how he had gone over to the bar, all nonchalant like and peered over his shoulder noting a mistake. Sure he refilled his tankard generously, but sniffed and pointed at the display, “Missed the second row, there Donny Boy, that’s why you’re coming up short, again.”

If looks could kill, he’d be two meters under, but it had been worth it when the Bodyguard had begun his recalculation and looked up at him in open shock. The fucker actually said thanks and meant it.

“Never could read big words worth shit,” Guy offered with a self deprecating shrug, “but numbers always came easy.”
Wringing his mane in the time honored way like a corkscrew he studied himself critically in the one luxury in the room, a full length mirror. Okay so he wasn’t exactly built along the dimensions of some fuckin’ Blondie, all height and breadth of shoulders and long torso culminating in way too much machinery that never got used, but if he said so himself, there wasn’t anything to complain about. He’d always liked his legs and the slope of his back with its lean taut muscles. Sure he was called stilts by the other guys, pretty much everyone else with the exception of Riki and Katze reaching his shoulders, but it gave him the edge in a faceoff.

No nothing wrong with the body that faced him, each and every scar worn with pride, evidence that he survived.

Roughly toweling off, he scanned the small vanity, eyeing the clinically sealed tube. Self consciously he looked about him, then snorted at his own timidity. It’s not like he was being watched. He sniffed it – minty. He opened the closet above the sink, true to form he found it. Four sealed tubes with brushes, all brand new.

Well, in for a credit, in for platinum chip he would fuckin’ well use one, that’s what they were there for and he would take it too when he was leaving. His own toothbrush had seen better days and was pretty much worn down to a nub.

Carefully, he opened the dispenser, sniffed it again and put a generous portion on the brushed tip. He closed his eyes as he opened his mouth and luxuriated in the feel of the bristles against his gums and teeth. Fuck but this was better than sex, he thought brushing his tongue.

Well almost, he chuckled to himself before rinsing. God he was pathetic, no wonder Donovan thought nothing of him.


~~~BMR~~~


Instinct told the ex-Furniture that the Master of the household would need a private moment or two with his own Furniture. It really would be best if he remained here at a discrete distance while Raoul ably communicated his displeasure at the unsolicited interruption.

Katze did not envy Deek in the least, judging by the look in Raoul’s eyes. Cold fury didn’t quite cover it. He passed his fingers over the no longer raised scar on his cheek. When angered they were a force to be reckoned with and some knew no bounds in the art of correction. What Deek had in his favor was age and Raoul’s predisposition for introspection.

“May I remain here for a moment before joining you, Sir Am?”

No amount of feigned indifference to the request could dampen the pleasure he saw in those inquisitive eyes. Katze was laughing at his current domestic predicament and was choosing to stay well clear. Well two could play at this game.

“Why?”
The mongrel pursed his lips in thought, deciding to opt for the truth as he carefully walked into the light below the portrait.

“I don’t know, Sir Am. This portrait draws me, almost as if I knew him, but that’s impossible. Perhaps it is simply the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on and probably ever will again outside of a book.”

Raoul peered at the mongrel curiously, hearing the reverent sadness in the observation.

“Explain yourself.”

Why was Raoul being so tedious? Couldn’t he just accept his word?

“Go on.”

Katze waved a long elegant finger toward the shimmering mass that wound to the Ruby’s lap. “The brush strokes must have taken an age for the hair alone. It’s as if each strand was rendered individually and the colors used were expressions of character, just amazing in their complexity and the juxtaposition of shades.”

The dealer turned with a wry smile to look up at the Elite who had come to join him by the portrait, entirely ignoring the hovering Furniture that stood a discrete distance behind. He could feel Deek’s angered eyes upon his back.

“Look carefully, Sir Am, it’s like a burnished halo about his head composed of purples, greens, ambers, blues even in the right light. All winding like a helix in an endless flow, a lot like the fountain chosen to mark this passage and the secret hidden here, whatever it is. Something tells me it has to do with genetics. It was and is your mutual passion.”

The mongrel smiled to himself absorbing as much detail as his mind and eyes could hold, storing it in memory for a coming time of need. One perfect moment would suffice to clear the gloom to come; damn but he knew it would.

There was a finality to the sigh that left his chest as he turned to face the Elite, who had grown inordinately still at his side. He wasn’t here for this, even though he would give his life’s blood, to own something of such exquisite beauty.

It was flawless and what was more it held a secret. “Usually I don’t hold with it, but this was done with love, Raoul. Sir Niiro was loved, whether he knew it or not.”

Katze stilled.

He had overstepped but the path was downhill anyway, he had to ask.

“You were in love with him, weren’t you, Sir Am, when you painted this?”

It actually hurt to utter those words, but he wasn’t a fool. It would explain the fundamental attraction held to his appearance. The superficial likeness in pallor, coloring, bone structure, right down to eyes, spoke volumes.

The mongrel shrugged. “I’m not stupid, Sir Am and I accept what is offered for as long as it lasts.”

Raoul had yet to address any of his running commentary and he felt somewhat embarrassed for showing his hand, but it had to be finally said. The mongrel’s spine tingled with foreboding and the air about him grew cold as he carefully turned and faced who he knew could only be the artist in question.

He was met with a narrowed stare. “Was, being the operative verb, Katze. How clever of you to have spotted the helix. It is the insignia of his house and a representation of the work conducted in our youth at Guardian.”

Katze inclined his head, feeling a slight reprieve in the succinct reply offered by the Elite. He would push no further for the time being. That foreboding shiver returned again as he gave one final look to the portrait. Those eyes felt familiar and not just because he saw them in the mirror each day.

“You’ll find your things in the bedroom no doubt. Dress and join me in the study for a light meal before we visit Sir Mink and his mongrel pest.”

“Of course, Sir Am, as you wish.”

“Since when,” Raoul murmured, turned and left with Deek the correct interval behind. Katze did not miss the hate-filled glance leveled at him by dark gimlet eyes.

Well, it was comforting to at least know your enemies he thought, dutifully following in their wake.

~~~BMR~~~


Author’s Note

As always, the damned chapter had taken over and was getting long. So the rest will wait until next weekend. Sorry about that. Still, I hope you enjoyed. I like to keep my word about having a chapter out in the time frame I set.

Let me know.

EP