#and again...

It's not like you care. You tell yourself you don't, when your lonely thoughts begin to stray towards her smooth lips and the cool, invigorating feel of her body fitted against yours.

Because what is Bela to you, really, other than a pretty distraction from the nightmare you're trapped in?

If you stop to rationalize your situation –something you don't often tend to do, as it reveals ugly aspects of things you'd usually rather not see— she's just a coping mechanism. Nothing more.

Considering the circumstances that brought you together and your glaring power imbalance, it is too naive to think anything genuine could ever develop between the two of you.

It's not like one of them could ever actually care about one of us. You muse bitterly, on your way to taking over the night shift.

A strange sound stops you just before you round the corner into the next long corridor.

It's a laugh; a voice you've heard before, yet hued so startlingly different you almost mistake it for someone else's. One careful peek confirms that it is, indeed, Cassandra's, though for how warm and soft it rings, it may as well be an impostor you see, dressed in the garb of the Dimitrescus.

Naturally, you are not eager to step out before the most sinister of the sisters, even if right now she looks anything but. Adjacent to her, your eyes catch the maid you're going to be relieving of duty soon, the beautiful raven-haired one that the rest of the human staff keeps gossiping about.

All cruel, mean things, of course, from 'Cassandra's favorite toy' to 'the sadist's bitch' and everything in-between. None of them are ever said to her face, though and you are starting to see why.

Because the brunette Dimitrescu is reaching forward to take her hand with gentleness you would never think she had the capacity for, drawing her closer to press a soft kiss to her lips, then nuzzling into her neck like a deadly, oversized cat.

“You coming on a hunt with me tonight, darling?”

The way she talks to her, the way she so obviously melts into Alexia's embrace, that isn't how one behaves around a plaything or a pet. If anything, Cassandra, the bloodied monster haunting your nightmares, suddenly looks normal before your eyes, a girl your age in love.

And that image throws you for a loop.

“Sleep is for the weak, anyway.” Alexia chuckles. “Honey, if you don't let me go the maid who's coming to take over my shift will see us. And I know you don't want that.”

Cassandra pulls back with a huff, long fingers trailing across Alexia's jawline. “I'll see you later.” she says and the sound of buzzing flies signals her leave.

You wait a few solid minutes before finally turning the corner, walking forward to greet your coworker as if your entire worldview hasn't just been shaken out of orbit.

...

The castle is eerily quiet on your wing tonight.

It's just you, your trusty duster and the ample moonlight that streams in through the light curtains. You sing songs in your head to keep sad thoughts away, though you're smarter than to do so out loud and attract unwanted visitors.

Any Dimitrescu, at this point, falls under that category.

You are mid-way through your shift yet tired as though you've been through the entire thing several times over. Perhaps your sleepless nights have to do with it. Perhaps a certain blonde not-quite-vampire has to do with them.

It's startling how every time you allow yourself to really think of Bela, it's like you summon her.

You've learned to recognize her footsteps, by now. Regal and authoritative, heavier than Daniela's and Cassandra's, not nearly as thunderous as her mother's heels.

As with most of your problems, you make a point not to look at her and hope that maybe she'll go away.

No such luck.

“Songbird.” she calls, when it's clear you won't turn to her of your own volition.

Bold of her to assume this will make you any warmer in your greeting. “Yes, Lady Bela?” You don't face her. Instead, you continue to scrub the already clean floor with a furious passion.

A huff comes from behind you. “Rhiannon, don't force me into something neither of us will like.”

Oh, she makes that sound like a fatal warning, alright. Only, she doesn't know you very well. When you're mad at someone and you don't want to see their stupid –in her case unfairly beautiful— fucking face, not even valid death threats have much of an effect.

You can either kill me so I stop suffering over the family I've left behind already, or you can shove your warning up your—

“Have it your way.” Bela says.

One millisecond later, you feel a dizzying rush of air, a strong arm grabbing your waist and hear the buzzing of hundreds of flies.

The next thing you register –when your stomach stops free-falling— is the harsh impact with cushions.

You realize you're on a couch, in a room rather than the hallway you were previously mopping, thrown onto it like a sack of potatoes. With an irritated mutant staring you down through flashing yellow eyes, at that.

Your waist is already starting to hurt. What the fuck, you assh-

“It's not like there's a universe where I don't get my way, so why can't you just listen?” Bela demands, low and one step away from hissing.

You stand up despite the protest of your muscles and the height difference between you, eyes locked with hers. “Well, I was listening.” Somehow, you're equal parts caustic and a polite maid.

Bela runs a hand through her blonde hair, almost as if that's the alternative to squeezing your throat till it breaks for your general audacity.

If you die here, you'll die happy you at least got through to her impassive shell.

“Look. I understand that you are angry about the other night.” she begins and boy, is that an understatement. “And normally I wouldn't give a damn, but the whole... incident is bothering me, too.” And she has nobody else to talk to about it because evidently no one from her family can know.

How magnanimous of you, you narrow your eyes at her.

“Nothing needs to be said, Lady Bela.” you sigh, more parts tired than angry, this time.

Rage is toxic to hold onto for too long and looking at her now you're pretty sure she won't even see why you're feeling what you're feeling, so this conversation is just pointless. God, this woman and you exist on two different worlds...

“Stop with the 'Lady Bela', it's getting on my nerves.” she says, voice lower than earlier.

“Bela.” you call, quiet. Her tension seems to ease a tad, at that. “I already know.”

“Do you?” she asks, doubtful and cold.

“Yes. We're not even on the same book, on many things, let alone the same page. I didn't think that kiss meant anything to you and we can call it an adrenaline-induced irrationality on my part. Nobody is going to know, if that's what's troubling you.”

Bela shifts her weight, uneasy. “...that's good.” she agrees. “The whole thing was a mistake.”

That shouldn't sting as much as it does, but you brace through it. You don't really have another choice.

She looks stunning under the moonlight, by the way. The uselessly into her part of you adds. There's just something about her hair and the way her eyes glow—

“Yes.” you nod, to hide the fact you're distracted. Why are you suddenly growing hotter, remembering the taste of her lips? “It was a mistake.”

“Big mistake.” she adds.

“Massive.” You chew on your lower lip, a nervous habit.

Bela's smokey eyes follow the motion as though she wishes she were the one biting that very same spot.

And...

The next second she is, balmy lips over your own, firm yet gentle hands resting on your side and bicep. You think that counts as solid enough permission to reach up and caress her neck, weave your fingers through her hair, like you've wanted for a while now. The silken strands feel as amazing as they look. Like the rest of her.

Bela is more assertive this time, taking the lead, dipping her tongue into your mouth when you eagerly part it for her.

The distance between you vanishes. She lets out a low sound, between a sigh and moan, when your nails drag against her nape. A tingle of fire has started from your lips and rolled lower, bellow your stomach.

Bela's fingers press harder into your skin as you nibble on her lower lip. She loosens her hold only when you break apart for air. Words cannot describe how hot it is to see her doubting her control over her strength.

And knowing you've caused it...

“Everything okay?” you ask, the words a faint whisper against her skin as you press little kisses down the corner of her mouth, across her nice jawline. She smells so wonderful, you just want to hug her and forget everything else.

“It would be easy to break away from you if it was just okay.” She says, breathless by your ear.

Her hands on your back, strong, secure, make you wish they were lower, but you don't think either of you is prepared for more right now, despite how ready your body always seems to get for her.

“So... nice chat.” you say, because if she keeps testing her lips and the edge of her fangs like that on your skin you won't be responsible for what happens next.

You can feel Bela roll her eyes as she draws the slightest bit back, enough to lock gazes with you.

“I should get back to work.” you breathe, hesitant.

“Mhm.” Bela nods, but she's already moving her tantalizing mouth on the corner of yours again.

Well.

On the other hand, work can wait for a few minutes.