His Stoic Mask, Her Bleeding Heart

I lunged forward suddenly, still moving against my own will. I could feel a panic beginning to stir within me, a deep fear that I would hurt Elyria, but I could do nothing to stop the feeling or myself.

Why is she doing this? I wondered as I pulled my clenched fist back and prepared to strike. Why is she forcing me to fight Elyria? If Kyrianna really loved Elyria as she said she did, what was the point of all this?

My jaw clenched as I let loose a powerful punch, one with the strength to break the small necromancer's jaw and send her through the nearby wall. If I hit her, she was doomed; and if she was doomed, so was I. With Elyria out of the way, there was no doubt in my mind that Kyrianna would happily have me behead myself or bathe in a pool of holy water or whatever other demented methods she could think of to get me out of Elyria's life. By some miracle, however, Elyria dipped below my fist with surprising agility for someone so out of practice and let fly a punch of her own. Kyrianna's powers were so underdeveloped, so slow and sloppy, that she couldn't get me out of the way in time. Elyria's fist connected with my stomach, knocking me backward. If I'd been in control of myself, I would've stopped a couple of steps back, but with Kyrianna in control, all I could do was tip over, effectively ending a fight which I had expected to be much more exciting.

My back hit the floor, and Elyria instantly stepped over me. She had Kyrianna by the throat in an instant, and the girl's hold on me broke with a painful tug on my consciousness. I could only lie there for a moment, disoriented, as Elyria slammed Kyrianna's back into the bathroom wall.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Elyria shouted so loudly that her voice cracked halfway in. The scream sounded odd coming from her, someone who rarely raised her voice above the volume required for casual conversation, but at that moment, I loved her for it. I would've screamed at Kyrianna myself if I'd been able to pick myself up off of the floor.

"I...I..." Kyrianna could do nothing more than stammer, eyes wide and locked on Elyria's. The rage burning in those amethyst depths had her paralyzed and almost as disoriented as I was.

"You what?" Elyria hissed. Kyrianna only dropped her gaze, and a soft growl slipped from Elyria. "Have you lost your mind?" she asked the girl, who now looked as if she were on the brink of tears. I watched as Elyria's expression softened, and I wanted to let out a growl of my own, but I hadn't yet regained the energy.

You should be mad, I thought as I crawled to my knees and turned to look at the two women, disgusted. You should still be yelling at her! But my thoughts meant nothing to Elyria, who didn't even offer me a glance as I loudly got to my feet, scraping and shuffling and leaning heavily on the sink as I did so.

"Why are you doing this?" Elyria asked quietly, releasing Kyrianna's throat. Her hand went to the girl's cheek when a tear finally slipped out, and she brushed the droplet away with her thumb. The tenderness of the gesture sickened me.

"I...just..." Kyrianna's eyes finally met Elyria's, and she went on in a voice that could only be described as "pathetic." "After my parents were..." She paused for a moment and swallowed, then went on. "Were...killed, you became the only thing I had left. And with...him around, I just...I didn't think you would be around for long."

"He's not going to take me away from you," Elyria replied, attempting a reassuring smile that looked more pained than anything. The sentiment was apparently appreciated, however, as Kyrianna smiled softly in return. "You should know that. But..." Here, her smile completely vanished, replaced by the eerie nothingness that she was accustomed to. "There has to be more to it than that. You wouldn't go crazy and try to kill someone over just that."

Kyrianna's gaze fell again, her eyes becoming frantic with panic. A moment passed before she could look up again, and her eyes flicked to me before finding Elyria's once more. She leaned close to her love's ear and whispered something, something that I couldn't hear, even with my vampiric senses. It couldn't have been good, though, as Elyria dropped back a step the moment Kyrianna stopped speaking, her eyes wide and her mouth open to match. She tried to say something, her eyes darting to me, but no sound escaped her. She spun on her heel and walked out of the room, her air a combination of anger, shock, and hurt that likely pleased me more than it should have.

"Elyria," Kyrianna called, beginning to go after her.

"No!" Elyria yelled, and that simple shout was enough to stop Kyrianna in the bathroom doorway. She looked to me, her swimming eyes searching mine for some form of pity, but she found none. Without another word, she turned down the hallway and disappeared from view. The front door slammed shut a moment later, and I crept across the hall to where Elyria lay face-down upon her unmade bed. I reached for her shoulder, preparing to offer her whatever comfort I could, but what she said made me jerk my hand back in shock.

"It's you, not me," Elyria blurted into her pillow, and she sounded more angry than sad or hurt. "She thinks she loves you."

-?-

Love? I thought, flustered, as I made my way down the stairs from Elyria's floor. Love is a strong word. Especially in this situation. We'd only really gotten to know each other in the month we'd spent without Elyria, and none of what we'd learned was actually pleasant. We'd bickered, we'd shouted, we'd abused one another...yet she thought she loved me? Yes, love was most definitely too strong of a word for this situation. Like was almost too much.

Well, she had lost her parents. She'd felt alone and vulnerable without them, and likely even more so without Elyria. She had to pick someone to cling to. But love?

I swung around the corner on one more flight of stairs, finally nearing the first floor, but I nearly tripped over something before I made it to the door. At the bottom of the stairway, on the very last step, sat Kyrianna, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head bowed in shame. Surprisingly, she hadn't been crying – at least, not that I could tell – but she did look incredibly distraught. She looked up at me, giving me that sad little puppy dog look that no one could ignore, and I sighed. I was trapped.

"Is she mad at me?" she asked softly once she realized that I wasn't going anywhere. "Are...you mad at me?"

With another heavy sigh, I took the last step down and sat beside her. "No, I'm not," I answered, looking at the ugly gray door before us instead of at her. I wasn't sure how to feel about her anymore. "I'm just..." I hesitated, trying to find the word. "Confused. I'm confused about where all of this is coming from." And why she'd been trying to kill me if she'd honestly thought she was in love with me, but I didn't feel that this was a good time to bring that part up.

"I don't know," she said after a brief pause, her voice even quieter than before. I glanced at her, but she was looking down, and she wouldn't meet my eyes. "Just...the time we spent without her, I guess. You were...You were really nice." She turned to me now, just barely managing to muster a small smile, and I could only look at her as if she were crazy.

"I was never nice," I admitted flatly. "I never am. I'm only civil."

She laughed to herself and averted her gaze, looking embarrassed now. "Oh, well...I think you are. Only a nice person would have stuck with me after Elyria was gone. Only a nice person would have comforted me like you did."

I sighed once again, my eyes drifting to the ceiling. "I stayed with you because that's what Elyria would have wanted, and I comforted you because that's what any decent person would have done. I'm not nice."

"But you are," she said eagerly, turning toward me. "You did more than just what a decent person would do. You helped me. A lot."

This time, my sigh came out as more of a growl. Her persistence was becoming irritating. "Don't you remember all of the times I made you cry? The times I mocked you? The times I ignored you entirely?" She shrank back at the spike in my volume and the truth in my words, and I thought she might have finally understood me. "I'm not nice." I looked toward the door, forcing myself into emotionlessness once more. "I'm barely even decent."

She took a breath to speak, probably even to argue, but the door suddenly opened, and she closed her mouth. A man stepped in, tall and pale and slightly familiar, and he smiled down at us.

"Is the elevator always out of order?" he asked pleasantly as the door swung shut behind him. I frowned, searching his face intently as I tried to place him. Light, honey-brown eyes; short, sandy blond hair; thin lips; a strong jaw; the body of an athlete hidden beneath a nice business suit. Where had I seen him?

"No," Kyrianna replied as lightly as she could, even forcing a smile, "but it's out enough to aggravate us all."

The man laughed a light, airy laugh and grinned down at her. A chill shot through me when I saw a pair of small, sharp fangs glistening down at us between his oddly pale lips. "I can imagine. Well, if you'll excuse me," he said politely, stepping carefully around our perch on the bottom stair and ascending quickly.

I whipped around to watch him until he disappeared around the corner, his quick footsteps still echoing down to us. I listened carefully, counting the flights as he took them, until he finally opened a door and went through.

"That's Elyria's floor," I said quietly in case he could still hear, quickly standing and turning toward the stairs.

"So?" Kyrianna asked, confused by the hint of panic in my expression. She didn't even stand, simply gazing up at me quizzically.

My panic turned into a tinge of annoyance as I looked down at her with narrowed green eyes. "He's a vampire. Who do vampires always come for?"

Her eyes grew a bit wider, and she swiftly got to her feet, spinning to face me. "What? How do you know that he's a vampire?"

Really? I thought, my annoyance spiking. Elyria could pick one out of a crowd in seconds, and recognizing one in a face-to-face confrontation was like recognizing her own mother. What the hell was wrong with Kyrianna? Oh, right. She didn't grow up around them like Elyria did. Still, though. Didn't necromancers have the ability to sense the dead and, by extension, the undead?

"Pale, just like me. Fangs, just like mine. And what am I?" I asked slowly, treating her like a child.

She didn't even seem to catch on to my teasing. Her eyes grew even wider, and she started up the stairs without another word.

"Finally," I muttered, then followed swiftly.

In moments, we were standing together outside of Elyria's front door, listening to a pair of voices as they filtered through the thin wood. I had been right; the vampire had come to see her. But who the hell was he? Why did I recognize him? I leaned close to the door and continued to listen, hoping he would offer a clue as to who he was and what reason he had to be speaking to Elyria.

-?-

"Yes, I understand that," Elyria said calmly, crossing her arms as she casually reclined on the couch. She sat on the center cushion, offering him no comfortable place to sit beside her, and he stood politely next to the glass-topped coffee table before her, wearing a cheerful smile that just wouldn't go away. "You've taken over as the vampires' new leader. Good for you. But why are you here, right now, with me?"

"I've taken James' position," he repeated, and she let an exasperated sigh slip, rudely rolling her amethyst eyes. He didn't seem fazed, however, continuing as if she hadn't done more than blink. "I'm looking to end the war and return to our world the greatness that it possessed during Terrence's reign."

The name sent a shiver down her spine, but if he noticed, he didn't say anything. "Just how closely are you intending to follow in Terrence's footsteps, Mr. Sampson?" she asked sharply, sitting a little straighter. If he was here, if he idolized Terrence as much as she suspected he did, he likely wanted her for something, just like his precious Terrence had. Blood? Sex? An extra hand in ending the war? A slave?

"Just Mattie, please," he told her nicely, and his smile seemed to brighten. "And I don't intend to follow in his footsteps at all. I just want to return things to the way they were under his rule."

Mattie? I thought, my ear now flush against the door in the hallway. Matthias Sampson? He and Terrence had never been friends. Hell, they'd barely been on friendly terms. I'd met him on only one occasion, when Terrence had taken advantage of their tense alliance, and the way Terrence had mocked him once we were alone...No, they weren't friends, not at all. More like rivals. So why was he so eager to be like him now?

"Sounds a lot like you want to follow in his footsteps to me," Elyria said coldly, her lips tightening as she looked the man over. He only shrugged in response to her words, and she wanted to slap that never-ending smile off of his face. "What do you want from me?" she asked finally, having finished her silent inspection. He was tall, lean, handsome, incredibly charismatic – just like the rest of them.

"A bit of assistance," he said lightly, as if it were no big deal. "That's all."

"Assistance with what?" she pressed, becoming impatient with the way he kept dancing around everything.

"Ending the war. You're close to the werewolves. You could help with the negotiations. They're much more likely to listen to you than they are to listen to us." His logic was sound, but Elyria still didn't quite believe him.

"And?" At the very least, there had to be more than he was telling her.

"Perhaps you could join me in rebuilding Terrence's empire. You knew the inner workings of it well. I only caught glimpses of it."

"And?"

He sighed, and his smile finally, finally fell. He looked much different without it. It was the only thing that brought any light to his face, any kindness, so he now looked dark, mean, evil; he now looked like a typical alpha male. "Why does there have to be more?" But the fading of his smile told her that there was more, more that he didn't want to say.

"Because there is more," she said simply, and oddly enough, the coldness had left her tone. She was calm once again. "Your desire to be like Terrence is proof of that." The tightening of his lips told her that she'd begun to wear at him, and a small smirk graced her lips.

"I've already told you. I don't want to be like Terrence; I merely want to return to the relative peace of his reign." He shifted his silvery gray tie jerkily, acting as if he were fixing it, though she figured it was really just a nervous fidgeting. Her smirk grew, and she languidly eased into the couch's fluffy cushions, arms back to pillow her head.

"You want to use me, don't you?" she said, her eyes glinting mischievously in the dim lighting of the room. She would've been angry under any other circumstances, but getting this polite, smiley, always-composed vampire all worked up like this...She was having way too much fun to be mad. It reminded her of how she'd pressed Terrence's buttons, and it almost made her miss the bastard. "I'm supposed to help you with the werewolves, then come stay by your side while you 'fix'" – and she used the word sarcastically – "Terrence's sad, broken business. I'll tell you how he did things, and you'll drink from me and try to sleep with me all the while." She saw that his jaw was clenched, a death grip on his tie, and she smiled to show her pretty white teeth. "Am I right?"

"Are you going to help me or not?" he asked, much more sharply than he'd spoken before. She wasn't sure if she was right or if she were merely aggravating him with how she wrongly she perceived him, but either way, she had struck a nerve.

"Are you going to answer my question?" she asked in return, leaning forward on the couch. She still smiled, still openly taunted him, and his jaw shifted conspicuously as he gritted his teeth.

"I have no desire to partake of your services," he said, as if he thought that implying that she was a whore was going to bother her like she'd been bothering him. Naturally, she only smiled more, unfazed, and he continued as if he hadn't failed. "I only want your assistance with what I've told you." He paused for a moment, as Elyria searched his face in a most obvious manner in an attempt to gauge the honesty of his words. Finally, he added, just to make her stop looking at him in such a way, "But if you were ever to freely offer your blood to me, I would not object."

A low growl escaped me, just loud enough to invite Kyrianna to give me a good thwack on the arm and a silencing glare. I wanted to hit her back, but her eyes reflected the possessiveness in my own, and I quieted myself, realizing that she was actually on my side.

Within the apartment, Elyria cocked an eyebrow up at Mattie, barely believing. So, he doesn't plan to buy me; he plans to woo me. She would have let loose a snort of laughter, but she didn't want to lose her suddenly serious air. He's already just like Terrence, thinking his money and his charm and his power will be enough to win him whatever he wants, free of charge.

After looking him over for a moment longer, she stood, and his rigid stance shifted to something a little bit more relaxed. "All right," she said simply, speaking much more lightheartedly than before. "I'll help you. But you're not getting anything more from me than what you've already explicitly mentioned."

Now, his smile returned, much wider and truer than before. His pearly white fangs showed pleasantly between a pair of thin, pale lips, and he clapped his hands together joyfully. "Excellent!" he nearly shouted, elated; then, calming down a bit, he said, "Excellent. Shall we shake on it?" He offered her a smooth, unmarred hand, the hand of someone too mighty to know the meaning of hard work, and a chilly smile made its way on to her own pale lips.

"Shouldn't we discuss the subject of payment first?" she asked lightly, almost playfully, rejoicing silently as his smile faded to a mere polite curve of his lips, forced and painful.

"Payment?" he asked, sounding as if he didn't even know the meaning of the word.

She feigned surprise at his confusion, a hand touching the soft skin of her cheek as she gazed at him, wide-eyed and innocent. "Why, yes, of course. You didn't think I would do all of this for free, did you?" Now, she grinned an evil, taunting grin, her fingers sliding down her cheek to touch her full, feminine lips almost seductively. "I'm a bit of a whore, remember?" she said, recalling his earlier attempt to make a stab at her occupation. "I don't do anything for free."

"Ah, yes," he said, and his smile grew, though it was still obviously forced. "Payment, of course. What did you have in mind?"

"What do you have to offer?" she asked.

"Money," he said, "power, an army, a mansion. Anything your pretty little heart desires." He was attempting to taunt her now, to mock her as she'd been mocking him for the past five minutes. His smile had turned to a smirk that only made his handsome face that much more appealing.

"I have no use for your money, Mattie," she replied with a taunting smile that showed he still hadn't effected her, "or your power. Your army and mansion, too, are of little use to me."

"Then what is it you want?"

Here, her expression became serious, earnest, even, and she looked up at him with those pretty purple eyes of hers entreatingly. They held a haunted look, and for a moment, it was Gabriel, the human she had tried to save only to lead him to a more horrible death, looking back at her, not Matthias Sampson. "I want you to do some good in the world, Mr. Sampson. I want you to stop the human trafficking and the pointless murders and the destruction of this country."

"I don't know what I can do about the country," he said softly, his smile gone and replaced by a sincere expression to match her own, "but I know that I can influence this city. I make no promises, but I'll try." He smiled softly when he saw the relief that entered her face, reaching out to gently cup her chin. He ran a thumb lightly over her cheek and whispered, "I told you that I don't want to follow in Terrence's footsteps. I want to return to the peace of his empire, to end this war, then..." He paused and looked away, his eyes going to the sliver of night sky he could see between a pair of curtains upon the window. An emotion entered his eyes that she couldn't place, something soft and gentle and thoughtful. His cool thumb brushed her lips, and he finished in a murmur, "I want to improve upon it."

She shivered when he looked back into her eyes, that odd emotion striking a strange chord within her. "Just give me your word that you'll try," she said softly, not sure whether she could trust him or not.

Here, his hand fell from its place upon her jaw, and his smile returned. Taking her hand from where it dangled at her side, he brought it to his lips and placed a slow, gentle kiss upon the back of it, never taking his eyes from hers. "You have my word, Elyria Vlorinix. I'll do whatever I can to make this world a better one."

His fingers slid along hers slowly, agonizingly, as he finally released her hand. "Until tomorrow, my love," he said, then turned from her to make his way out of the apartment.

She watched him, stunned, conflicting thoughts and emotions whirling through her. Had she manipulated him, or had he just manipulated her? The door opened, then finally began to close again, and only now did she say softly, "Don't call me that." But he was gone. She was alone.

She looked down at her hand, still hanging in the air in front of her. Never had she been kissed like that before...but she wasn't stupid. He was charismatic, sweet, smart, so damn charming. He was every vampiric alpha male that had ever lived. Even as she swayed under his subtle thrall, thoughts raced through her mind, reasons to trust or distrust him warring against one another as her logic seemed to go haywire. But it took her only a moment to decide how to handle this man and all of his demands.

He was every vampiric alpha male who had ever lived. He was not to be trusted.