masterofstlouis | Cerulean Sins

Cerulean Sins - Chapters 10-13

Jean-Claude can't seem to bring himself to sit up straight. He's slumped in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, and so very still. That pleading look from Asher as he'd taken Musette's hand, watching as Musette hurt Asher, drawing his second's blood -- his Asher's blood -- had been enough to rip open wounds he'd rather had remained blissfully ignorant of. But now they were gaping inside him, and the knowledge that it had been Anita to set Asher up for it... that Anita had set Asher up for far worse than just being publicly stabbed...

He is both defeated and furious.

He is also tired. Simply tired. Each step forward for him left him three steps behind by the time Anita was through.

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Asher looks between them, lost and puzzled.

"Has something happened?" He asks softly, fear creeping over him, causing him to shrink in even more upon himself. Has Musette asked for him to be sent to her? Is that what they are arguing over?

Anita slowly shifts to her knees, and then stiffly gets to her feet.

"It's my fault," she murmurs as she stands. "This is all my fault."

Asher's still looking between them, trying to read from their faces what's wrong.

"What is your fault, Anita?" He asks softly, growing more worried.

As she leaves the fur rug behind, her heels clack loudly on the floor.

"It's my fault Musette has any right to ask for you," she says, finally raising her eyes to his. "It's my fault you're in danger."

And it was, in so many ways, and she knows it.

Asher bows his head as she approaches, hiding behind his hair. His eyes glint blue through the gold, still watching her closely.

"You did far more than you needed to," he says quietly. "Far more than most of the council would, out of fear of Belle Morte." And, though it pains him to admit it, far more than Jean-Claude likely would have, on his own.

Anita stops just a few steps in front of Asher, shaking her head.

"Not knowing what you're defying helps," she says with a shrug. "I've never met Belle personally. I mean, even spiritually she's pretty frightening, but I've never been there for the real thing. It's much easier to rebel when you don't really know what it is you're rebelling against."

Asher stills, hiding himself behind his hair. He has no need to, now, his skin perfect. But it's automatic around Anita, still. Once it was to hide his face - now it's out of fear that somehow, she will see how much he wants Jean-Claude, how much he loves Nathaniel. He has managed to avoid it thus far, but he doesn't trust it will continue.

"Nonetheless, you have seen Musette. You have seen what she does for entertainment."

"Musette wants you as hers tomorrow night."

Anita raises her hand to touch Asher's face, to stroke his cheek.

"But she can't have you if you belong to someone powerful enough to protect you from her."

Asher stills underneath her hand, looking questioningly at Jean-Claude, then back at Anita.

"What are you suggesting, Anita?" He asks, careful and afraid. "That you take me to your bed for one night, to protect me, and then cast me aside?"

Anita's heart beats fast in her chest, and her fingers trail down his throat.

"I'm suggesting you come to bed. With us. Tonight."

After tonight, they could discuss it, but right now, tonight is all she cares about.

Asher stiffens, looking away from Anita, towards Jean-Claude.

"Did you suggest this?" He asks quietly, unsure still. He wants, so badly. He needs to touch Jean-Claude again, to be with him. But at the same time, he cannot bear to be given one night, only to be turned away.

Jean-Claude keeps his face and voice carefully neutral.

"Non. She suggested it herself," he says.

So even Jean-Claude does nto want this. Not enough to have suggested it to Anita, to have tried to save him. That fact alone hurts, and Asher lets it show in his eyes as he looks at Jean-Claude.

"I will not be taken to your bed out of pity," he tells both of them, turning away.

Anita wraps her arms around him, holding him, pressing herself to his body.

"No, Asher, no, not pity... Not pity. We don't pity you, you must know that," she whispers against the fabric of his shirt.

It breaks his heart to see that expression on Asher's face. It is betrayal Jean-Claude sees, and it feels suddenly as if nothing has changed between them. There is still this great chasm between them and no bridge to unite the two sides.

He remains silent, allowing Anita to make the choices. Jean-Claude must, lest he lose this chance.

Asher laughs, humourlessly.

"Lying does not become you, Anita," he murmurs. "If Musette had not threatened me, if you did not know how much I feared her touch, you would not be inviting me into your bed." He shakes his head.

"I will not be invited in to such pleasures tonight, to be cast away when Musette departs. I cannot bear it."

"Why does it matter how this has happened?" Anita asks. "Why can't you just accept it. Come to bed, Asher. Please."

Suddenly, her lips begin to move, and she speaks in fluent, flawless French, and barely understands a word of it.

"My goldfinch, come to bed. Accept what she offers. Come and be with us -- with me and cease worrying about the tomorrow. It is not pity that moves me to agree with her, but love. It is an opportunity we have been waiting for, a chance to love without hiding it from her, a chance for us--"

"No, Jean-Claude," Asher shakes his head, answering in English.

"It is your desire, not hers," he counters, catching hold of Anita's hands, holding them away from him, unable to bear her touch.

"You would protect me from Musette, and for that I thank you. But I will not have one night in your bed, when I know it will never happen again. You cannot bear to see your men with other men, Anita, we all know this. How will tonight be any different?" To share a bed with Jean-Claude, and not touch him, not fully, is more torture than the status quo.

Anita reaches for him again, feeling a wave of desperation wash over her.

"I'm trying, Asher," she almost sobs. "Can't you see that? I'm trying to be all right with it. But changing takes time. Time we don't have right now for me to be perfectly okay with you being with Jean-Claude. Be with us. Meet me in the middle and we'll... we'll try. Asher, please, please don't leave, please..."

She doesn't beg often, but she does now. Anita doesn't want to see him hurt. She doesn't want to see Jean-Claude hurt. This was the only way to salvage something.

Asher is stunned by Anita's begging - he had never thought to have her so desperate for him to stay, to be with her.

"And what happens tomorrow?" He asks, softly. "I have seen you cast too many men aside, Anita, I will not join them. Jason, you had once, and never again. Nathaniel, you feed the ardeur from.." he laughs, "mon dieu, how you can sleep beside him every night and not want him, I will never understand. You have the self-control of a saint." Something Asher is very glad of, considering it means he doesn't have to share his lover with Anita.

"Why must we worry about tomorrow now?" she whispers, cupping his face with one hand. "Asher, we are losing time. Dawn will come soon, and this must be done before then. What do you want me to say? Tell me and I will say it."

They were running out of time.

"Say that you will not...how do you say...freak out, tomorrow," Asher murmurs. "Say that it is not just this one night, that you will not cast me out tomorrow."

Anita can feel Jean-Claude's eyes on her.

It all rests in this moment, in her answer now. She either makes promises she knows she very well might break or she is completely honest and watch Asher walk out on them.

The words choke past the lump in her throat. "I promise. I promise, Asher, that we won't cast you aside tomorrow, and I will try not to freak out."

It is the best she can do.

Asher looks between them, and the last of his resolve crumbles.

He gently cups Anita's face in his hands, kissing her softly, hesitantly. He's unsure and afraid, and yes, here for Jean-Claude more than Anita. But Anita is beautiful in her own way, and he would be glad to take her to bed.

Anita's fingers find their way into Asher's hair, and she parts her lips to him, welcoming him. It was their first real kiss, and Anita's cheeks flush slightly as she realizes this.

She wants him. She'd be lying if she said she didn't, though she can't tell if it's her own desire or Jean-Claude's. Tonight, though, she doesn't question it. Anita just feels, allows the lust and love she feels for Asher to fill her as they share that first, sweet kiss.

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