Story - Embrace ch. 3

[maderr]

Peach Blossom
(chapter three)

Aubrey had about had enough of foul tempers.

Well, Millie he could not blame. She was tired, and her illness had taken a turn, so she was permitted to be a bit off. Father was as sours as he always was when the weather was foul. Aubrey had not expected cheerful conversation from that corner, at any rate.

Gille was ever nastier than Aubrey could ever remember him being.

Even Stregoni, upon whom he'd been counting for happy companionship, was in a foul mood.

He could not escape outside, the weather was a breath away from being a proper blizzard. Feeling very much sour himself, now, Aubrey trolled the house looking for something to either soothe his ill-temper, or something on which he could vent it.

When his hunt proved in vain, he retreated at last to the small room he had taken over as his private study and office.

He startled upon entering, as he realized someone else was in the room.

Since returning home a week ago, Aubrey had done his best to avoid Ruthven for all but the necessary feedings. Of course, Ruthven slept in his bed. Much to his regret, Aubrey had seen no way out of that particular problem.

Elisabeth and Francois both slept with their respective owners. It would be humiliating in the extreme for Ruthven if Aubrey were to make him sleep above stairs in the servant quarters like he was common help. Neither could he simply give Ruthven a room of his own – his father would put his foot right down on such an outlandish notion.

Currently, Ruthven was ensconced in the window seat, the main reason Aubrey had stolen this room away to be his own. It was wide and long, and gave a beautiful view of the west side of the house, the lush lawn and the forest beyond it.

At the edge of that forest were the faded remains of a path which Aubrey knew led straight to the house of his Uncle – Gille's father – but he had never visited his Uncle, except perhaps when he was too small to recall.

There were other paths, even more faded than the one made by brothers who had once been close, but he'd never been inclined to explore. Something about the forest nagged at him, prickled the same way being locked in a carriage bothered him.

Thoughts of the forest, however, were distant.

Ruthven had made himself quite comfortable, propped on pillows that also served to separate him from the cold glass. He was wrapped in a blanket, and had a book set in his lap. Some heavy tome that looked familiar, but which he could not at the moment place. There was very little light coming from the window, all of it blocked by piles upon piles of snow, the wind whipping up even more flakes and tossing them about.

All the reading light came instead from the various lamps Ruthven had lit, one pulled near the window that he could better see to read there. It made his beeswax hair a rich gold, warmed the sun-kissed skin.

He turned the pages with his left hand, the faintest of smiles curving his pale pink lips. Aubrey noted this only because in his right hand, Ruthven held a teacup – one from the winter set, pale green porcelain decorated with mistletoe.

"Pets drink tea?"

Ruthven looked up, then smiled and closed his book, setting his teacup aside. "It doesn't help us, but it doesn't hurt, either. I like tea."

Aubrey frowned. He did not know much about Pets, because he hated the whole idea and so avoided the matter…but he was fairly certain the breeding grounds and the Pet houses did not feed the Pets anything but blood. "Where did you drink tea?"

"Here and there," Ruthven said, head dipping, eyelids falling so long lashes just brushed his cheeks. Then he brought his gaze up to directly meet Aubrey's. "Mostly during interviews. It is rude not to drink, is it not?"

Drat it, he still could not tell the color of Ruthven's eyes. Why did it bother him so much?

Something else suddenly occurred to him. "You can read."

Ruthven's mouth quirked. "Yes, master."

Aubrey scowled. "My name is Aubrey."

"Yes, master," Ruthven said again, doing that thing with his lashes. A demure move, submissive. Yet something prickled along Aubrey's skin that said submissive and Ruthven did not belong in the same breath.

He was a Pet, though. A blood drinker bound to Aubrey for the rest of his life. If there was any life more submissive than that, Aubrey did not want to know about it.

Why was he even thinking about such things?

"How is it you are able to read? That is expressly forbidden to Pets."

Ruthven smiled. "I was…I guess you could say, my upbringing was a bit more loose than it should have been. The woman who raised me in the nursery, until I was sent off for lessons, indulged me overmuch." He dipped his head and looked up through his lashes, the very pictures of subservient and eager to oblige. "If it bothers my master, then of course I shall cease at once."

Aubrey frowned.

It was one of the top rules of Pets – they were taught all the basics of moving in polite society, but nothing that might encourage them to be dissatisfied with their lot. Keeping Pets that drank blood was much like playing with fire, even if controlling them was long ago turned into a fine art.

They were not allowed to read or write. Before being sold, Pets were rendered unable to breed. They did not converse with Pets outside their own household unless given permission and strictly supervised, and even within the household the Pets did not spend overmuch time together. Scores of rules existed, for the good of everyone involved, or so the supporters said.

"What are you reading?" he asked finally. If he was going to be saddled with a Pet, why not one who broke a few rules? At least Ruthven seemed to be in a good mood.

Ruthven lifted the book so he could see the cover.

"What do you think of it?" Aubrey asked, almost smacking himself for not recognizing it. A philosophical volume; not one of his favorites, but a compelling one. He stepped closer despite himself, already eager for the chance at conversation and debate.

This close to Ruthven, however, he noticed what Ruthven was wearing – deep blue breeches, and a simple white shirt. Nothing else, save for a collar around his throat.

Aubrey scowled. "Why do you wear those collars? Where did you get them?"

He had noticed Ruthven wearing them, but only distantly, far more interested in avoiding him altogether. This was the first time he'd paid real notice since the night Ruthven had become his Pet. That collar had been supple black leather.

This one was deep blue velvet, with a small burst of wisteria stitched on the left side.

Ruthven reached up to touch it. "I like them, master."

"You really do not need to call me that," Aubrey said irritably. "My name is Aubrey – Brey, if you like."

"I like 'master'," Ruthven replied, and leaned forward, until he was close enough Aubrey could smell the tea he was drinking, a hint of flowers and velvet and cologne that smelled of peach blossom and apple. "Unless, of course, my master finds it displeasing that I regard him so."

"Do as you wish," Aubrey said hastily, taking a step back, retreating to his desk.

He thought he heard Ruthven laugh, but dismissed it. "Is there more of that tea?"

"I will ring for it," Ruthven replied, and shoved back the blankets in which he'd wrapped himself.

Aubrey saw he had no shoes, only stockings.

Shaking his head, he pulled out his own book, one he had been reading before all the moving and settling had interfered.

"As to the book, master," Ruthven said, returning to his nest of blankets. It looked cozy, but Aubrey turned from that thought immediately. "I think his reasoning carries serious flaws."

"Oh?" Aubrey said, shutting his book again and leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. He'd never argued philosophy with a Pet before; perhaps it would prove interesting.

A couple of hours later, he gave up. "You are remarkably well schooled," he said.

Ruthven shrugged. "I pay attention, master."

"Indeed," Aubrey said. "You are luck you were never caught and killed for being too troublesome to keep."

"Yes, master," Ruthven said, a hint of slyness in his voice.

Aubrey frowned, feeling as though he were missing some joke, hating it. "What other secrets did you keep from your trainers?"

"Only a few," Ruthven said, definitely smirking now. "They are of no interest to you, master." He slid from the window seat and strode to the desk, bracing his hands on it and leaning slightly forward.

The view put his throat, the collar wrapped around it, directly in Aubrey's vision. Ruthven really did have beautiful skin, which the blue velvet only enhanced, though it annoyed him to admit it. "Yes?" he asked, the question coming out snappishly.

Ruthven lowered his long lashes, looking up through them. "It is well past lunch, master."

"Oh," Aubrey said, and saw from the clock on the wall opposite the desk that he was correct. Stifling a sigh, refusing to acknowledge the anxiety that always fluttered in his stomach, he held out his wrist.

It was scarred, now. He really would need to read up on Pets, because he had never really known that they could close up the wounds they opened. It did not completely heal, for there was the scar, but after each…meal…the scar was there.

Aubrey winced as Ruthven bit down, shivering at the odd sensation of his blood being drained away. He wondered if it was a feeling to which he would eventually grow accustomed. Doubtful, he could not even adjust to the idea that Ruthven would be with him the rest of his life.

No one every stayed long with him; eventually, they all had somewhere else to be. One by one his friends had drifted away, and the knowledge that he would invariably have to return to his family had kept Aubrey from chasing after them, from asking that they stay just a little longer.

He wondered where they all were now, and if they would write. Most of them had traveled abroad, to further studies or simply play another year or two before settling into their own responsibilities. Others had scampered off to the city in pursuit of sport or a wife.

Not that he wanted to go to the city, but travelling…well, it hardly mattered.

He shivered again as Ruthven ceased feeding, attempting to pull away but unable as Ruthven kept firm hold of his wrist. His fingers were warm, a few shades darker than his own, completely unmarked, where Aubrey's always seemed perpetually covered in scratches and paper cuts, and smeared with ink stains.

Ruthven lapped at his wrist, tongue wet and warm, and Aubrey tore his eyes away with a silent curse. What was his problem? Was he really so crass and hypocritical to be so affected? Ruthven was beautiful, there was no denying it. Of course he was beautiful, Gille would never picked out a Pet who was less than perfect.

At last Ruthven released his wrist, and Aubrey withdrew it, immediately reaching for quill and ink, penning a request to his book merchant in the city, jotting down the sorts of books he would like, along with the month's bill.

Setting it aside to dry, he looked around his study, noting the empty shelves that would soon be filled, assuming the weather did not prevent the arrival of his crates.

"Is that your mother?" Ruthven asked suddenly, gazing to the wall opposite the shelves, the same wall in which was built the window seat.

Aubrey did not need to look at the portrait, but he did anyway. "Yes," he said, smiling sadly, ignoring the cold knot of fear that always coiled in his gut. He could not remember that night, but some part of him always would. He hated it.

The portrait was actually of two women – his mother, Lucy, and her Pet, Wilhemina. His mother was beautiful – dark blonde hair and gray eyes, petite and delicate, but vibrant even in paint. She wore a pale blue gown, to match the pale green worn by Wilhemina, who was a bolder beauty next to his daintier mother. They sat side by side on a stone bench, surrounded by the garden his mother had so loved. Together, the two women held a bouquet of vivid red chrysanthemums.

They looked happy, proud, so very alive.

Once, the portrait had hung in his father's salon. After his mother's death, he had apparently ordered it destroyed. Aubrey had found it buried away in the attic when he was young, while searching desperately for a place to hide from his infuriating cousin.

The portrait was unsigned, something which had always puzzled him, but Aubrey was grateful simply to have it.

"She is beautiful," Ruthven said. "The other woman was your father's Pet, back then?'

"What?" Aubrey said, frowning in confusion. "No, of course not. Mina belonged to my mother. My father did not acquire a Pet until several years after they died. Why did you think Mina belonged to my father?"

"But—" Ruthven stopped, and shook his head. "A mistake. I should know better than to make assumptions. My apologies, master."

Aubrey stared at him a moment, but at last shrugged it off. "I do not believe my father ever had a Pet, before Elisabeth. But, what little people have told me about him, my father and his brother used to be quite the men about town. He did not settle down until he met my mother."

"I am sorry he lost her then," Ruthven said quietly.

The solemnity of his tone drew Aubrey up short, and he found he was staring again, but Ruthven's eyes were fastened on the portrait.

Finally he just nodded. "I am told he was quite different when she was around. I wish she still were."

Ruthven finally pulled his eyes away from the portrait. "She lives on in her children, in memories, in the way she is still loved and will be always. You look much like your father, but you have her smile and grace."

Aubrey rolled his eyes. "Grace? Perhaps you should consult a dictionary and confirm you know the proper meaning of that word. I assure you, I do not possess grace."

"Yes, master," Ruthven said, but his tone this time was not respectful. Instead, it was as though Ruthven was not trying very hard to hide his amusement. He looked at Aubrey directly, dark eyes holding some deep spark.

It made Aubrey's cheeks hot, that spark, and he jerked his gaze away, eyes falling upon the letter to his book merchant.

Ruthven abruptly snatched it up, and stepped away from the desk.

"Give that back," Aubrey snapped. He stood up and moved around the desk to take it back, furious that Ruthven would just invade his privacy so – even if it was just a list of books he wanted.

He was just reaching out for the letter when Ruthven lowered it and stepped forward, and Aubrey found himself hastily taking a step back – and another, and another, until he collided with the desk, grunting in surprise.

Ruthven set the letter down, hands falling on either side of Aubrey, a playful smile curving his too-pretty mouth. "If you want to know about Pets, master, I am more than happy to answer all your questions."

Aubrey scowled. Ruthven was standing entirely too close, and he did not like the fact his Pet had pinned him so neatly. That feeling prickled along his skin again, the sense that for all he was a Pet, Ruthven was not the submissive type. "What are you?" he demanded. "Are you really a Pet?"

"Of course, master," Ruthven said. He opened his mouth, displaying the unmistakable fangs that marked Pets more clearly than anything.

He still smelled like peach blossom and apple, overlaid with hints of velvet and silk, a touch of sweat and the lingering traces of tea. Aubrey breathed in the tangle of scents, heady and distracting. He tried to glare, but instead found himself captive.

So dark. Ruthven's eyes were so dark, and even when they were a mere breath apart, he could not tell their true color. They looked like night, like the sun had finally set and nothing but shadow remained. Not truly black, but too dark for any one real color to shine through.

They stood that way for a minute or an eternity, he could not tell which. It was only the chiming of his clock, striking the second hour of the afternoon, which finally broke the strange spell. Jerking, Aubrey turned his head away. "Get away from me," he said curtly.

Ruthven promptly pushed off the desk, stepped back, and dipped his head and shoulders in an elegant half bow.

"What in the hell are you?" he asked again.

"Yours," Ruthven replied. "Nothing more or less."

"Ridiculous," Aubrey said. "You drink tea, you read, you act like no Pet I've ever met."

"How would you know, master? With all due respect, you do no like Pets, and avoid them. How, then, do you know the way they behave?"

"You are impertinent," Aubrey replied, moving to sit behind his desk once more, feeling slightly dizzy from the loss of blood, but stubbornly ignoring it.

He did not look up as he heard Ruthven return to the window seat, but continued to sort through the paraphernalia he had unpacked but not sorted and put away.

"Do you really dislike me so, master?" Ruthven asked, some time later.

Aubrey paused in the process of sorting through his book lists. "What?" He frowned at Ruthven, who stared implacably back, face devoid of expression, and from this distance the eyes may as well be pure black.

It was more than a little disconcerting, but Aubrey refused to give in to the foolish emotion. "I neither like nor dislike. I do not know you well enough to make such a decision. I know only that you do not act like any other pet I have ever encountered. Friends of mine, from school, had them. Francois and Elisabeth I have never known to act like you." He shrugged. "I do not care for Pets. It brings me no joy to enslave someone."

Ruthven smiled, then lowered his lashes to look through them in that way that drove Aubrey crazy. "I am your willing slave, master."

"There's no such thing," Aubrey snapped. "No one wants to live such a life."

"If you say so, master."

Aubrey ignored him, and went back to pouring over his lists.

Willing slave. Ridiculous.

They remained that way, Aubrey working, Ruthven silent in the window seat, until Camilla knocked softly upon the door, and peaked her head in to announce that dinner would be ready in an hour and he should go get freshened up.

Comments

[dameange.livejournal.com]

oooooooooooooooo, sexual tension. we likes. {eg}

[darks-nightsky.livejournal.com]

Yay Brey and Ruthven!! ^___^

I also really liked the portrait of his mother and Mina that you described. It sounds very picturesque.

[unusualmusic.livejournal.com]

Ah,. Ruthven is being dominant. Love it.

[moonkitsune.livejournal.com]

*Smirks* I'm noticing that you like the scenario of having one male pin another against a desk. (Not that it's not bad and I say that I enjoy it every time.) I would have really liked to see the opportunity for debate given. It would have been good to introduce something dealing with an ideal being debated and showing both character's viewpoints that could have played back into the present instead of a skip, but I guess it was more of a quick way to show that Rthven has some brains by the jump in time and conversation. I always love scent descriptions. Very nicely done and the idea of freshening up at the end make me intrigued or maybe mislead depending on what the next chapter will be.

[saaski-moql.livejournal.com]

I still feel like there's something...off about Ruthven. There's so much suspense that seems to float around him. I am very interested to see where this will lead.

[charisstoma.livejournal.com]

Aubrey is being worked, Ruthven is doing a good impression of seductive as applied to a reluctant intellectual but he is definitely more than the average bear. I like Ruthven.
Pets are steriled before sale. But I sense a secret with Wilhemina.

[element-rogue.livejournal.com]

Ruthven's supposed assumption about Wilhemina (more of a slip?) makes me wonder if there was something deeper to the backstory.

And, of course, Ruthvan acting all seductive and not in the least submissive is totally awesome!

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

Yes, I'm with those who are most intrigued about Mina now. And why Ruthven made that assumption. Hmmm...

Also, yay more!

And, *pets* Hope you catch up on sleep this weekend. Or something. Maybe splurge on a steak to supplement your iron pills. *snugs*

[madmax0r.livejournal.com]

Gnnnargh. You have me well and truly caught! Ruthven's plan is afoot.

[jladi.livejournal.com]

Somehow Ruthven's exactly where he wants to be, (with Aubrey) lol. Can humans and pets breed with each other? I think Mina and Aubrey's uncle may be connected somehow. Then again, I like to leap at ideas, and the strange recluse of an uncle is nagging at me.

[aqua-eyes.livejournal.com]

<3<3<3

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

HOW DID I MISS THIS? DD: I think Aubrey's real mum is Mina. And THUS HE IS SEEKRETLY HALF VAMPIRE. amirite?

[maderr.livejournal.com]

You are incorrect.

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

Brey's mum and Mina were having a seekret affair? D:

[remote45.livejournal.com]

OK, soooo totally hooked now. (not like I wasn't from the first chapter!!!) I'm with everyone else, Love Ruthven, suspect there is soooo much more to him than meets the eye. Also wonder why he made an assumption about Mina. I'm already in love with all of the characters here and cannot wait to know it all. I've never seen anyone who can take an idea and expand it out quite like you do. It's so intriguing. There is just nothing quite like having a story that you can't wait to see what's going to happen next. Not that all of yours aren't like that but it's always just so thrilling to be at the begining of one I haven't read yet. I try really hard to make myself wait so I can make it last as long as possible, but once I get really into it, I just can't stop. I'm really happy you are so willing to share your talent with us. Makes me all kinds of happy.

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

SQUEEE!!!

I love the cat and mouse game that Ruthven is playing with Brey, and I love that the source of Brey's uneasiness seems to come from the fact that he just can't neatly read and compartmentalize who exactly Ruthven is and what he is. ^_^

I also love that Ruthven is a bit of a rebel pet and I absolutely love the way he's dominate in a submissive way? I have no idea how to describe it, but I like the subtle air of power he has and I like how he uses it to keep Brey just a little off balance and questioning. Methinks that he never would have gained Brey's attention or curiosity otherwise. ^__^ *scampers off to next chapter*