Part 19 (1/2)
”If I Shared with you,” Ryan began curiously, ”would I have your Memories?”
This time the tapestry slipped to the floor unchecked. Abigail stared at her across the room and Ryan felt she had just inadvertently crossed some line.
Abigail searched Ryan's face, seeking any sort of knowledge of the implications of her question. She found none.
”You must never,” Abigail began carefully, ”never speak of such things to me.”
Ryan felt as if she had committed some terrible faux pas, but was not certain what it was.
Abigail eyes lingered on Ryan's lips, then on her throat. Her eyes were dark as she regained control, and her predatory smile returned. ”You must not suggest such things, my dear. Even I am tempted by you.” She carefully picked up the tapestry from the floor, and her eyes flickered back to Ryan's. ”You sorely test my loyalty to Victor. It would take very little encouragement for me to seduce you.”
Ryan swallowed hard. She could not hold Abigail's gaze and looked down at her hands. Abigail watched her for a moment more, then returned to her tapestry. Ryan sat in silence for a long while, chastened.
But her thoughts swirled, returning to all they had spoken of. She realized how truly vulnerable she was in this violent and erotic world. This brought other questions to mind, questions she felt she had to ask.
”What would happen to me,” Ryan began hesitantly, ”if something happened to Victor?”
Abigail glanced sideways at her. ”Nothing will happen to Victor.”
”Yes,” Ryan pressed, ”I know. But what if something did?”
Abigail shrugged. ”There would be a great fight for you amongst the Old Ones,” she said, as if it were of no consequence.
”And would you fight for me?” Ryan asked.
Abigail smiled her preternatural smile. ”Yes my dear, I would fight for you.”
Ryan was not appeased. ”And who would win this fight?”
Abigail shrugged, as if it were no matter. ”Probably Marilyn. She is very strong.”
A thought occurred to Ryan. ”Did Marilyn Share with Victor?”
Abigail looked at her shrewdly, but she answered offhandedly. ”Yes, I believe she has in the past. But it has been a long time.”
Ryan digested this information and Abigail continued casually, watching her. ”Marilyn has always wanted Victor, but I watched her at the gathering and I believe she has found something she wants more.”
Ryan looked at her blankly, so Abigail spelled it out for her.
”I believe Marilyn's desire for you is nearly as great as her desire for Victor, perhaps even greater.”
This was another startling revelation to Ryan, who had perceived none of this. She thought this through, returning to her original question. ”And so Marilyn would fight for me and would win, and I would be killed.”
This gave Abigail pause and she was thoughtful for a moment. ”I do not believe so.” She shook her head. ”No, I am not certain that you can be killed. You may already be too powerful.”
This disclosure was finally enough to silence Ryan. She sat quietly while Abigail's fingers flew over the tapestry. Abigail glanced up from her work, aware of the child's deep contemplation. Again, Ryan's lack of self-consciousness was disarming. Abigail reached out to mentally touch her.
Ryan's head jerked upward, unsettled by the contact. Abigail let her eyes linger on Ryan's throat once more.
”You know, my dear,” she said softly but not gently, ”I think the most precarious part about taking you would be not knowing who was seducing whom.”
”I don't think I would have any difficulty answering that question.”
The voice from the doorway startled Ryan, but Abigail had sensed Marilyn's presence a long way off and was unperturbed. She was not pleased with Marilyn's presence but like most of her Kind, any type of stimulation was irresistible, no matter how dangerous.
”Why Marilyn,” Abigail said, making no attempt at subtlety, ”whatever brings you here?”
Marilyn moved gracefully to Abigail's side. She leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ”I came to pay my respects, of course.”
She turned to Ryan as she said this and Ryan felt herself getting to her feet, apparently not of her own volition. Marilyn moved to her side, her movements languid. She grasped Ryan's hands in her own.
Ryan gazed deep into Marilyn's eyes and it seemed to her the dark-haired woman's influence over her was like something alive. Ryan gazed at her lips, at the long, l.u.s.trous black hair, and tried desperately to clear her mind.
There was wicked glint in Marilyn's eyes and Ryan knew the fury directed at her the other night had been displaced by other, more powerful emotions.
”Marilyn,” Abigail said with warning, ”do not toy with the child.”
Marilyn released Ryan's hands and Ryan sat down heavily on the settee. Marilyn sat down next to her, smoothing her flowing skirt.
Abigail watched the two, warring with herself. She knew she should not allow Marilyn here with Victor's progeny, but she was also immensely enjoying the sensations present in the room. She inwardly shrugged. What harm would there be in allowing Marilyn to trifle with the girl?
Ryan sat on the couch stiffly. She felt very much in over-her-head. Marilyn was not only powerful, she was also extremely beautiful. Ryan was conscious of her rough attire next to Marilyn's elegance.
Marilyn in turn was very aware of the effect she was having on the girl and found it captivating. Young Ones normally did little more than annoy Marilyn, but this one was special. She reached over and took a lock of Ryan's hair in her hand, twirling it around her finger.
Ryan looked to Abigail, who was dividing her attention between her st.i.tchery and the scene. Ryan realized she would receive little help from the older woman. Abigail had laid out boundaries but she would do nothing until Marilyn crossed them, leaving her plenty of room to torment Ryan.
Marilyn was now stroking her hair, which had a hypnotic effect on the young woman. Ryan's head began to feel too heavy for her neck and she had to lay back and rest it on the cus.h.i.+ons. Her eyes became heavy and she fought to keep them open. All of the stiffness left her body and her limbs became leaden as she was forced to relax. Her eyes closed.
Abigail paused in her st.i.tchery. She could not help but stare at the child who appeared drugged on the couch. Abigail tried to ignore the sudden ache inside of her and Marilyn looked at her knowingly.
You could have her too, came Marilyn's voice inside her head.
Abigail looked at Marilyn in fury, angry that the woman had chosen to invade her mind without her permission. But the taunt was in Marilyn's eyes as well, and Abigail knew that Marilyn had manipulated her into a dangerous s.p.a.ce. How could she stop Marilyn if it took all of her willpower just to keep from joining her?
Marilyn returned her attention to the girl. Ryan was already half-leaning on her and it was a simple enough maneuver to gently guide her head so that she was lying on Marilyn's lap. Marilyn ran her thumb lightly over the veins in Ryan's throat, feeling a kindle of excitement at the strong pulse. This would be satisfying, but far too easy. Perhaps the girl was not as powerful as she thought.
Abigail felt as if time had stopped. She was powerless against her own voyeuristic pa.s.sion. Their Kind was ever more motivated by instant gratification over abstract concepts such as consequence, and she could no longer contemplate Victor's wrath. She wanted nothing more than to see Marilyn's teeth on the Young One's throat, and to watch the blood spill.
Marilyn lowered her head and brushed her lips lightly across the girl's veins. The throb of the pulse against her lips aroused her even further and she parted her lips so that she could brush her razor-sharp teeth against the skin.
But it was not to be because Marilyn felt a hand at her own throat, holding her head away.
Ryan looked up at her, her limbs still leaden but her eyes quite clear. Her hand was wrapped around Marilyn's throat and it took all of her strength to hold the woman away. Marilyn stared down at the child in stunned disbelief.
Ryan held Marilyn's gaze, watching her carefully. She slowly loosened her grip until her hand was merely resting against Marilyn's throat, and now it was her turn to gently caress Marilyn's veins with her thumb.
Fury flashed in Marilyn's eyes and her hand moved swiftly. Ryan could barely deflect the hand away from her and just managed to grip the wrist, which she could barely hold onto. Marilyn's other hand moved faster than her eye could see and she just managed to get a weak grip on the forearm to protect herself.
But she was no match for Marilyn's strength and Marilyn easily pressed her arms downward, pinning her. Ryan realized she should have left one hand at Marilyn's throat.