"You look fine," Harry interrupted, gently brushing Orlando's hands aside before straightening Orlando's shirt collar and meeting his eyes in the mirror. "If you say so," Orlando mumbled, not entirely sure he believed Harry, but he wasn't going to argue. This had all of the earmarks of a total disaster, he thought, as he tried not to panic. It was just dinner. Just meeting the most important woman in Harry's life. No big deal. He took a deep breath and studied himself. The soft yellow of the silk shirt darkened the tan he'd managed to get over the past two months, and he had to admit it went well with the black jeans. A few strands of hair escaped the thong he was using to tie it back. Even as he noted it, Harry smoothed them into place, then retied the thong. "Just remember what I told you," Harry said, brushing a light kiss to Orlando's nape before handing him his cane. "Right, be myself." Another deep breath, then his eyes went wide as the doorbell rang. //Relax, love, it'll be alright.// Orlando nodded jerkily, then cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn't crack. "Um, you better go get that, yeah?" Harry squeezed Orlando's hand. "Come down when you're ready. And remember, she's just as anxious to get to know you as you are her." "Right. Right, I know." Orlando nodded, gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile as Harry left the room and headed downstairs. He could hear the front door opening, but try as he might, he couldn't make out what greeting, if any, Harry gave Monica. "I am so fucked," he muttered to himself. "At least you look good," Josh replied, strolling into the room with Karl by his side. "We thought we'd walk with you downstairs," Karl added, leaning in to kiss to Orlando's cheek. "And so Josh could meet Monica as well." Orlando resisted the urge to lean into Karl's strength. "Do I really look good?" he asked Josh, and was only slightly reassured when Josh gave him a thumbs up. He pulled his shoulders back, steeled himself. "Alright, let's do this." "Relax, little one," Karl said, giving Orlando an encouraging smile. "After you." Navigating each step of the stairs with care, Orlando made his way to the first floor with Karl and Josh right behind him. He spared them a quick glance, received encouraging nods in return. Right then, time to stop being a coward. He leaned on the cane as little as possible as he stepped into the living room and stopped dead, staring at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. //You can come closer, you know. She's not going to bite.// The absurdity of Harry's comment almost sent Orlando into a fit of hysterical giggles. He held it together, reassured by the welcoming smile Monica was giving him. As Orlando slowly crossed the room, he used the time to study her. He'd expected someone of extraordinary beauty this was Harry, after all, and if anyone deserved to be with the most beautiful people on the planet, it was him (although he fully recognized he was more than slightly biased where Karl and Harry were concerned). He also wasn't surprised that Monica pretty much defined elegance and glamour after all, Harry had been with Karl for centuries and Karl was the male personification of class and sophistication, so it made sense that Harry's chosen female companion would be similar. But, all the same, he couldn't help but feel like he was literally staring at a piece of art. Monica was stunning there was simply no other word for her. Her skin was like porcelain and looked soft as satin. Her hair, even blacker and thicker than Katie's, was pulled into a loose ponytail that framed a face so gorgeous it defied description, from long-lashed, wide brown eyes to a generous mouth. She looked like she'd been poured into her sundress, and the cobalt-blue of it seemed to shimmer in the light. The strappy, thin heels on her feet only emphasized the impossible perfection of her legs...and her perfect ass, if he was being completely honest with himself. (Even he could appreciate an ass like that.) This wasn't an ordinary woman. This was a bona-fide straight up goddess out of legend, and Orlando had foolishly agreed to be left alone with her for an entire evening. For a moment, Orlando wondered if it was too late to change his mind and beg Harry to stay. It wasn't until he felt amusement rolling through his bond with Karl that Orlando realized a) he wasn't shielding his thoughts nearly as well as he should have, and b) he was staring. His gaze jerked to Harry, and he was faintly reassured when he saw Harry wasn't laughing at him. In fact, he couldn't put a name to what he saw in Harry's eyes. //Harry?// //It's alright. I just never realized until now, that's all.// Instantly, Orlando started to panic. He had no idea what Harry was talking about, and right now, that wasn't good. //Realized what?// Harry's gaze flickered to Karl for a moment before coming back to Orlando. //How much you and Monica are alike.// What? Orlando snapped back to Monica, certain his shock had to be showing on his face. They were nothing alike. She was all grace and poise and power and he was, well, he wasn't any of those things. He felt Karl's hand on the small of his back. //You give yourself too little credit.// //No, I don't.// //Yes, you do, because I see it as well.// Karl gently nudged Orlando forward. //Now, let Harry introduce you.// Right, right. It was why he was here; it would do him good to remember that. He stepped forward, proud that his legs didn't shake, until he was standing beside Harry. It took everything in him not to lean into Harry's warmth and hide. "Monica, I'd like you to meet Orlando Bloom," Harry said smoothly, bestowing his smile from one to the other. "Orlando, this is Monica Bellucci." Monica held out a hand. Her nails were painted a delicate shade of pink. Her voice heavily Italian was like liquid silk when she spoke. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bloom." Without hesitation, Orlando took her hand. His fingers curled lightly around hers, and Orlando held her gaze. "Il piacere θ mio, la mia signora," he said, and brushed his lips across the back of her hand, then released her. "And please, call me Orlando." "You know Italian?" She smiled in delight, and Orlando felt something inside him loosen even as he felt his face go pink. "Very little," he admitted, with as much dignity as he could manage (which wasn't much, if he was honest.) "I'm still learning, and I'm afraid I've just exhausted my repertoire." "Your pronunciation is superb. And please, you must call me Monica." She nudged Harry lightly with her elbow. "Now, introduce me to the delightful looking creature standing next to Karl." "And deprive Karl of the pleasure?" Harry shook his head, fond amusement radiating from what seemed his very pores. "Absolutely not." Monica turned an imperious brow lift to Karl, who stepped close to her to brush a light kiss across her cheek. "You look ravishing, love," he said, then beckoned Josh to stand by his side. "May I introduce you to Josh Hartnett?" Josh etched out a half-bow and placed his own kiss across the back of her hand. "It's an honor, Ms. Bellucci. You're even more beautiful than the stories my aunt has told." "Ah, yes, Kate Horan," Monica replied, and laughed, the sound of it falling like music to Orlando's ears. "You must give her my regards the next time you speak with her." "I will." Monica turned and gave Harry a lingering kiss, then crossed to stand beside Orlando. "And now," she said, linking her arm with Orlando's (and he noted that she had taken care to stand on the side away from the cane), "I believe it's time for you gentlemen to say your farewells and depart for the evening." Karl just looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. Orlando looked between them, unsure what to say, and tried not to think of the way Monica smelled, so different from Katie, all spice and heat and exoticness. "Of course," Harry finally said, after what seemed like a year (but was probably only a few seconds, at most). He tilted Monica's chin up to give her another kiss, and he must've said something to her mentally, because they both smiled, low and private, a joke just between them, before he turned to Orlando. "Behave yourselves tonight. Try not to get into too much trouble," he said, and gave Orlando the same kiss. He thought he could taste Monica on Harry's lips. "You know better," Monica answered, sparing Orlando the need to reply. "I suppose I do," Harry commented. "But, just in case..." Monica silenced him with nothing more than a look. "We'll be fine. Now, be off. Orlando has promised me a lovely evening, and I'm certain you gentlemen have better things to do with your night than listen in at keyholes." Karl chuckled. "As it happens, we do. Josh? Harry? Are you ready?" "Yep," Josh nodded. He turned back to Monica. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Monica. I hope the next time you're in town we'll get a chance to have a drink together." Her smile was one of welcome. "I look forward to it." Harry inclined his head to Orlando and Monica before stepping back. Orlando noted that Karl immediately placed his hand in Harry's. "I'll see you tomorrow, bella." "And I you, tesoro. Have a good night." "You too." And, with a last wink in Orlando's direction, Harry walked out with Karl and Josh. Once again, Orlando wondered just what the hell he had been thinking. Part of him wanted to call Harry back, wanted that buffer, because he was still a little convinced that Monica was going to...well, he wasn't entirely certain, but it was a little terrifying. The other part, though, was glad they were alone. And that was what scared him more than anything else. He could do this, he mentally reminded himself. He would do this. "Dinner should be ready soon," he said, slanting her a glance as they started to walk towards the library. "Would you like something to drink? We've got a couple of bottles of the 2004 Fuligni Brunello Di Montalcino Riserva." "The 2004 Riserva?" Monica gave his arm a slight squeeze. "Why, Mr. Bloom, I do believe you're trying to impress me." Orlando offered his most charming smile, hoping his voice wouldn't crack like a schoolboy's. "Is it working?" "I'll let you know." She tapped his sleeve with her finger before letting go to meander around the stacks of books and papers. "I can see he hasn't changed too much since I was last here." She trailed a hand along one of the shelves, the touch lingering. "And still the same filing system." "I've been threatened with physical harm if I try to clean up in here," Orlando admitted. He took a moment to watch her, lost in the easy, graceful way she moved. "As for the other..." Monica stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. "Yes?" Setting the cane in front of him, Orlando rested both hands on it and stood there, not flinching from that regal gaze. "I thought that Harry's protectiveness was simply because of me. But after the way he was acting with you just now..." He trailed off, shrugged. She shook her head, lips curving in what Orlando assumed was amusement. "Ah, cara, there is much you still have to learn about our Harry. He is always protective over those he loves." She gestured at the door to the living room, an expansive motion, then turned to full face him. "That display was just as much for me as it was for you." "For you?" Orlando reeled back, confused. "He can't consider me a threat to you, can he?" They'd been lovers for centuries. Orlando'd barely had him a decade. There wasn't any comparison as far as he was concerned. "You live in his home, share his bed, share his mate..." Her shrug was delicate, then she continued moving around the room. "I understand why he thinks that might make me uncomfortable around you, of course, but that doesn't make his chivalry less exasperating. I am not some blushing mortal who needs protection from getting my heart broken." "No, you're not," Orlando agreed sincerely, certain that if anyone had ever tried to treat Monica like a weak female, they would have wound up ruing the day they were born. He certainly knew he'd never make that mistake. "But the two of us," she said, with another glance for him, "we let him think he is keeping us safe, no?" Moving to the bar, Orlando deftly opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses. He smiled as she joined him. "I suppose we do." "It shall be our secret," she declared, clinking her glass against his and smiling at him over the rim. "But I think you need protection about as much as I do." Orlando blinked. "What ?" "No, no, we have no need for games between us." She tapped his chest a light touch, but he still felt it to his toes. "You are much stronger than I think even you realize. And that strength is what both Karl and Harry see in you. They chose well." "You think so?" The question was out before he could stop himself or call it back. "You still think yourself unworthy, even after all this time, all they've given up for you?" Her gaze was soft, sympathetic, seemed to see right into his very soul. "But there is greatness in you. And that you should never doubt. Nor should you doubt their love for you." "I don't doubt their love." He managed to hold that gaze, though a small voice in his head urged him to run. But he refused to look away. "As well you shouldn't." Her arm linked with his again, and she gently guided him to the love seat. "Our Harry is quite good at hiding his true self from the world, but there are people who can get him to wear his heart on his sleeve. Karl is one such person." Dark eyes studied him for a long moment. Orlando would have given almost anything to know what was going through her mind at that second. "You are another," she added, as her fingers trailed delicately along his jaw. "You do yourself an injustice if you don't include yourself," Orlando said, finally understanding how easy it would be to fall in love with her. There was no doubt at all in his mind now about why Harry had fallen so instantly (if Karl's story about their first meeting was true.) Orlando was halfway to it himself and they'd barely known each other an hour. "I do," she answered softly. "Make no mistake, I know my place in his heart, just as he does in mine. But even I had to learn that he would never be fully mine. That Karl would always come first. And that took...some time to get used to." "I know the feeling," he said, even as he marveled at how easily this woman he'd just met could get him to confess something so secret, so private, that he was barely aware he still felt it. "It must be doubly difficult for you, since you have them both in your heart and in your mind." "Sometimes." It was barely a whisper. He'd never been so glad he'd been taught to shield his thoughts in his life. "Mostly, I don't think about it. I know they love me, and I know they'd die for me..." "But you know they will always choose each other over everyone else, and sometimes that frightens you," she finished, and squeezed his hand when he nodded. "It's alright to feel these things sometimes. But it should never make you doubt who you are to them or how much they truly need you." Orlando chewed his bottom lip and looked down to where her hand rested on his. "Sometimes," he said, then stopped to reorganize his thoughts. "Sometimes I doubt that...the need, I mean." Not the love, never that. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that they loved him completely. "I would be surprised if you did not," she told him, flipping his hand over to look at his palm before reaching to take his other hand. "In truth, there are times when I, myself, doubt how much Harry needs me. But those thoughts are fleeting, and I accept them and move on." The very thing Orlando had been trying to do in the past year. She lifted his hands a little, and he looked down again as she pressed his palms together. "You hold his heart in your hands." Her voice slid over his skin like raw silk, whispering across his ears as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. What he saw there stunned him. "I would ask that you share it, if you can find it in yourself to do so, and that you and I continue on as we have begun." "It's I who should be asking this of you, not the other way around. You've had him for centuries. I'm the " "You are the one he has chosen, just as he chose Karl, just as he chose me. You." She pressed a cool, dry kiss to his cheek, then sat back and smiled. "I will promise to share if you do." His answer required no thought or debate. "Done," he said, trying to infuse the word with as much sincerity as he could. Before either of them could say another word, the housekeeper tapped on the door and announced dinner. Smiling, Orlando held out his arm. When they entered the small dining room, Monica stopped, and Orlando was glad he'd chosen to go with an intimate setting, with the best crystal and china and linens on the table. She deserved nothing less. "Cozy," she remarked, and squeezed his arm. "I thought it would be...more enjoyable," he said, holding a chair for her to sit. "Easier to get to know each other." "Such a gentleman," she smiled as she sat and spread one of the linen napkins across her lap. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?" "I have a few," Orlando admitted, hoping she was as pleased with dinner as she seemed to have been with the wine. Even if it did mean never hearing the end of it when he told Karl later. "I, um, I hope you like the menu," he added. "I'm Italian, we love all good food. It's in our blood." "Good. I, um, I mean, Harry told me where you were from originally, so I thought that, uh..." He was spared having to speak further when the housekeeper came bustling back into the room and set down a bowl of Cicerchie con Tartufo on the table, then came back a moment later with two bowls of Porcini Chestnut Soup and a loaf of thickly crusted Italian bread. "Traditional Umbrian food," Orlando finished lamely, hoping he hadn't just made a total ass of himself. "I can see that." Orlando watched in fearful anticipation as Monica lifted a large spoonful of soup to her lips. And let out a sigh of relief when she closed her eyes and let out a small sound of satisfaction. "Superb, cara. Miguel has outdone himself." "You know our chef? Wait, I'm sorry, that's a dumb question, of course you know him. I mean, I'm glad. That you like it, I mean." Bloody hell, he was babbling like an idiot. He picked up his own spoon and shut himself up by trying the soup himself. It was just as amazing as Monica had said thick and hearty, with full flavors that all but melted on his tongue. "Relax," Monica laughed. "I promise not to bite until after dessert." "Oh, well, that's al--" Orlando stopped. He watched her nibble at the cicerchie beans for a moment. "Yes?" She gave him an expectant look, and he decided that the best thing he could do was to dive right in and ask what he wanted to know. If she was offended, he had no doubt she'd tell him. "Would you tell me about meeting Harry? I've heard Karl's side of it, and Harry's, but I'd love to know yours." "Ah, I'm afraid it's not that exciting of a tale," she answered. "There was a party there were always parties back then and I went...I'm not entirely certain why. Boredom, possibly. But there I was, on the dance floor in the middle of a pavane with a most unfortunate choice of partner, and that's when I saw him." Orlando cupped his chin in his hand and leaned in, already entranced by the look in her eyes. "Love at first sight, I take it." "Something like that," she said. "You've seen him, the way he strides into a room like he already owns it " "And everyone in it." She tapped the back of his hand with her finger in delight. "Precisely. I couldn't look away. And when he walked up to my partner and asked to cut in and took me in his arms, I knew right then that I would have followed him anywhere he asked." "Karl said he could feel the electricity when you two saw each other." Orlando grinned and closed his eyes, trying to picture it. "And that you disappeared with each other for several days." "We did," she admitted. "I'm afraid we left poor Karl at the party by himself." "Poor Karl?" Orlando snorted out a laugh. "I doubt he was alone for long." "Well, he is Karl. I believe both a contessa and a viscontessa helped him to pass the time." Her wink was just this side of naughty, and Orlando felt a warm glow inside, amazed at how easy it was to talk to her. "Although, I didn't find out about Karl and his relationship with Harry until much later." "But, Karl was at the party." "I know," she replied. "My gaze stopped at Harry and didn't go further. It was two days before I even learned Harry's last name, let alone that he was the Harry Sinclair, bondmate, but not pet, to the Karl Urban." "The two of them were really that famous even back then?" Orlando asked, fascinated. The excellent meal was all but forgotten as he allowed himself to get caught up in the story. "Of course," she answered, with a puzzled look. "Their bond was unprecedented, which made them famous enough even without the fact that they both sit on the Council. Surely, you knew that much when you met them." "Um...not really," he said, doing his best not to squirm in his seat. "I'm afraid I was...somewhat ignorant, let's just say, of the vampire culture, when I met Karl." Her gaze was steady. Orlando couldn't help but wonder if he'd just managed to come off as a complete idiot. "Ignorant," she repeated, and Orlando wanted to crawl under the table. "Harry said I was either stupid or a lunatic for going off with Karl like I did." "Did he?" "Right after he threw me up against the wall. Or before," he frowned as he tried to remember the exact sequence of events. "Though, really, I sort of backed into the wall. He was looming." "Yes, he does that sometimes," she replied, mildly. "It wasn't my fault," he protested, certain she was laughing at him. "Harry thought I was some vampire-chasing gold-digger cheating on Karl." "No, he didn't." "Um, you weren't there. No offense," he added hastily, afraid he'd insulted her. "But I heard him, clear as day. He definitely accused me of fucking my friend, Elijah." "Oh, I don't doubt that's what he told you," she said, and took a delicate sip of her wine. "But that's not why he went after you or backed you into that wall. He was staking his claim." Which made sense, in light of everything he knew now. "They would've eventually shared me, if it's what I wanted," he continued, aware that he was babbling and telling her things she most likely already knew, but he was powerless to stop under that dark gaze. "But he wouldn't have let Karl, um..." "Bond to you?" Her smile was warm and open when he nodded. "Harry's always been a little possessive about the things and people that are his. You should have seen him the first time someone tried to steal me away from him." Orlando propped his chin on one hand. "There's a story there." "Again, not too much of one, I'm afraid. Although he did loom rather impressively," she winked. "Mostly, I think it amused Karl to no end because, up until then, Harry'd only ever gotten like that when he was involved." "So, he just loomed?" "And growled." She held her thumb and forefinger apart. "Just a little. Enough to make his point clear." "I can see where that would be enough," Orlando nodded. "When he's in fierce warrior-god mode, I'm not sure anyone other than Karl or maybe Sean would have the balls to stick around." "He rarely gets truly angry. Possessive, yes, irritated, yes, but true anger? No, he is too controlled for that," she said. "Karl once told me, even in battle, Harry held back just a little." Orlando thought he might know something someone that could push Harry over that edge, but he kept it to himself. "I remember Karl saying that. And I know Harry holds back when he spars with Karl or Sean." "That's just who he is." She took another sip of wine and shrugged. "I would not want to be the person who got Harry truly angry." "No," Orlando agreed, and shuddered at the idea. Just then, the housekeeper reappeared with the main course, and Orlando waited with just a touch of impatience for Monica's judgment. "Just the right amount of spice," she declared, after a bite of the Pollo all'Arrabiata. Orlando sighed in relief. "I'm glad you like it." "It's one of my favorite dishes when prepared properly." She gestured at Orlando's plate. "Now eat. You need to keep up your strength." "Now you sound like Katie," Orlando grumbled, but it was mostly for show. The chicken, however, was every bit as excellent as Monica had said. Miguel had definitely outdone himself. "Gerry's fledgling Katie? Ah, that's right," she said when Orlando nodded, "she's been monitoring your recovery, hasn't she?" "If by monitoring, you mean bossing me around and being a drill sergeant, then yes." "Surely she isn't that bad." "Maybe not so much now," he admitted, thinking back over the past year. "But in the beginning, she was worse." "Perhaps you were a difficult patient," Monica teased, eyes twinkling. "Most men are. Either that, or you did not compliment her enough." "Comp what? She's my nurse." "And you should appreciate everything she's done for you," Monica replied, with a perfect lift of her eyebrow. "I do appreciate it." Monica just made a noncommittal noise. "I do," Orlando insisted. "She can just be...um, somewhat of a Nurse Ratched at times." "And I'm certain you've been a model patient the entire time," Monica said, sardonically. "Never gave her a moment's worry or cause for concern, never pushed yourself into doing too much, too soon, never argued or whined or complained..." "Alright, I get it, I give up," Orlando laughed, holding up a hand in surrender. "I'll, I dunno, buy her something shiny as a gift or something to say thank you." "It doesn't have to be shiny," she said, and he wasn't sure if she was serious or not. "Perhaps something delicate. But not frilly or too girly. Something unique." "Um, okay." He looked at her, still not sure if she was serious, then decided to err on the side of discretion. "I'll have one of my assistants --" "No, no, it has to be something that you pick out yourself." Monica gave him an indecipherable look. "Women know these things. If you'd like, I can take you shopping." "I...you...you'd do that?" "Of course. One thing all men should learn before they die is the art of buying a personalized gift for a woman." "I know how to buy gifts for women," Orlando disagreed, although he wasn't sure why. He had a feeling he was going to be on the losing end of the argument very soon. "I mean, my mom and my sister have never complained." "They're family," Monica said, brushing off his disagreement with a wave. "That's different. Harry always knew what to buy Lauren, but it took him a few years to learn what it was that pleased me." "You knew Harry's daughter?" The second he said it, he groaned. "Of course you did, that's a stupid question, I just..." Monica placed a hand over his. "Have we not already had this conversation?" Then, she smiled. "It's alright, you know. I know that Harry rarely speaks of her, even to Karl. It's natural if you're curious about her and where we all fit in with each other." "He's better now when it comes to talking about her," he said, looking down at her hand covering his. "I would like to know your part in her life, though, if you wouldn't mind." "Not at all." She pulled her hand back, returning to her dinner. She paused, gave Orlando's plate a pointed look that didn't vanish until he placed another bite of chicken in his mouth. "I love talking about her." "How old was she when you met her?" "She was just a few months old, still so small and delicate, but already with so much personality. I fell in love with her instantly. I'd raised a few children by that time, but " "I'm sorry, but, um, hold on." Orlando made a time-out motion with his hands. "You have children?" He wondered who the father, or fathers, were, since it clearly hadn't been Harry. "Adopted," Monica clarified, and Orlando's face cleared. "Ah, okay, gotcha. Still, though, I didn't know. I mean, it's not like it's my business, but..." "On the contrary, I think it is. Harry and Karl, to a lesser extent were a large part of my children's lives, just as I was of Lauren's." "Did any of them choose...?" Orlando trailed off, sure that what he was asking was either personal or painful, and he realized that the last thing he wanted to do was cause her pain. "None of them asked for the Gift, no." Her smile was a little sad, but also proud. "They all had children, however, and those children had children. Family reunions are a production." "I bet," he laughed. "So, um, you knew Lauren her whole life, then." "I did." She paused, and got a faraway look on her face. "I was the one sitting with her when she died." "Oh. Oh, man, I didn't know, I'm sorry..." Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached out to snag her hand again. "Don't be. She led a full, beautiful life and died the way she wanted with no regrets. I only wish you'd had a chance to know her." "So do I," he replied fervently. "From everything everyone's told me about her, she sounds like she was a remarkable person." "She truly was." "And it never bothered you that Harry had a child by another woman?" he asked, hesitating slightly over the question. She looked at him so long that Orlando began to wonder if he'd offended her beyond repair. He opened his mouth to apologize, and Monica's lips curved into a tiny, sad smile. "A little," she admitted. "At first. I wasn't jealous, I was...sad." For once, Orlando didn't blurt out the first thing that came to mind. He just sat there for a moment, thinking over everything Karl and Harry had told him about the woman sitting across the table. "You were sad that it wasn't you," he finally said, giving her fingers a light squeeze. "A little," she nodded. "But then I met Diane, and she was one of the loveliest people I'd ever met. And anyone could see just how much she loved Harry." "You met Diane?" "Once, yes. She was just starting to show and she had that glow about her... She was beautiful. And Harry doted on her. It was easy to see why." Orlando shook his head. "If I live to be a thousand, I don't think I'll ever get vampires." "You already do," she reminded him. "Need I remind you that you share Karl and Harry with each other and Karl with Josh and Harry with me, not to mention all of their other paramours and companions? Harry and I never promised each other fidelity, nor do we expect it of the other." "Companions are different," he shrugged, unsure of how to explain himself. "And...getting the Karl and Harry package took some getting used to in the beginning. Josh took...a little longer." Which was the understatement of the year, but he didn't think she needed to hear all about Josh and Orlando's early history together. They'd moved past it and were friends -- even if they still had more than a few arguments -- which was the important thing. "That sounds like a bit of a tale," Monica said. "I imagine you didn't react well to Karl taking another pet." "You could say that," Orlando said, ducking his head as he felt his face heat up once more. "Though I'm not sure if the fight was because of Josh or because Karl and I tried to beat the hell out of each other." "Ah, but you threw the first punch, did you not?" Orlando stared at her, shocked. "You know about that?" "Harry and I don't spend all of our time together having sex," she laughed, and just the mental image of Harry and Monica naked together made Orlando blush all over again. "I, uh, knew that." Gentle fingers caressed over his cheeks, nestled in the hollow of his throat, the touch cool and satin-soft. "You do have the most delightful blush," Monica observed. "Um, thanks," he stammered, and clenched his nails into his palms to keep from leaning into the touch even further. What in the hell was wrong with him? "You're going to break hearts, I think. Once you accept yourself for who and what you are." One hand slipped back up to cup his cheek, and Orlando closed his eyes and gave in, leaning into the light caress, feeling it brush over his skin. Then her words registered, and his eyes flew open. "What do you mean?" Monica smiled a mysterious smile that caused Orlando's heart to skip a beat, then leaned towards him. All he could see were dark eyes, porcelain skin, and that smile. "Just the that past rarely dictates the future," she told him, her voice a little husky, yet soft as silk, "and we don't always know ourselves, not truly." "Right now, I feel like I don't know myself at all," he whispered, afraid if he spoke any louder, he'd break the spell of...well, whatever it was that was going on between them. "I think perhaps you do, but you're fighting against it," she said, and the next moment, he felt cool lips brush against his in a whisper-light kiss that stuttered his brain. It barely lasted two heartbeats, but when Monica pulled back, Orlando knew something inside him had irrevocably changed. "Why did you do that?" His question was barely audible, even to his own ears. And her quiet, assured answer rocked him to his core. "Because you wanted me to." "I didn't...not..." Swallowing hard, Orlando shifted in his seat. Her fingers lingered on his cheek, and he reached up to capture her hand in a light grip. "Do you really think...?" "Yes," she said, and he wasn't sure what question, exactly, she was answering. But then, he didn't know which question he wanted answered. "Let's have dessert in the library. It's far more comfortable and relaxing." He tried to squash the nerves that sprang up, brought up to life by a myriad of mental images invoked by her words. He started to reach out to Harry and pulled back, determined to do this whatever this was on his own. "Um, alright," he said, fumbling for his cane with his free hand. "That, um, that'll be nice." She stood gracefully and squeezed his fingers once before letting go. "Relax. Dessert isn't a euphemism." Oh God... Forget embarrassment, Orlando was skipping straight ahead to total mortification. "I, um, I wasn't...I mean, I don't...I'm sorry, I'm just not...used to this." She matched his slow steps as they made their way out of the dining room. "Having dessert in the library that doesn't lead to sex or flirting with a woman?" she asked, with a teasing glint in her eyes. Somehow, seeing it helped calm his nerves. "Both, maybe," he said, trying to match her easy, light tone. "I don't get kissed a lot by...look, you do realize that I'm not attracted to women, right?" "Do you realize it?" she countered, evenly. Orlando stared at her, barely aware that she'd guided him to the sofa and seated herself beside him. "I...what? Really, I'm not!" A soft voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like Sean, called him a liar. He tried to ignore it. "I don't like women. Not like that." She looked at him, head tilted, one finger resting on her lips. Suddenly, all he could concentrate on was her scent. "Your body says otherwise. If the way your reaction to that tiny little kiss is any indication." Orlando felt his stomach do a slow tumble. "I think there would be a much greater reaction if I were to really kiss you." "It's only because you're Harry's." The protest sounded completely ridiculous, even as he was saying it. Still, he forged on, hoping to convince her, at least, if not himself. "We're bonded, so I'm bound to have some residual attraction for you." One eyebrow arched in a perfect curve. "And do you have this residual...attraction...for Josh since he's Karl's and you and Karl are bonded?" "No, of course not. He's like a brother to me." He knew he'd been caught out when she tapped his chest. "Precisely." "It's...it's because Harry's is the alpha bond," Orlando said, trying not to wince at how inane he sounded. "So you're saying this is Harry's fault?" "No, not at all!" God, just the idea... With a quiet sound, he slumped a little and looked at her from the corner of his eye. "You're not like any other woman I've ever met. Well, except maybe Katie." "I'll take that as a compliment, then," she replied, as the housekeeper wheeled in a tray bearing dessert and two cups of coffee. Monica waited until she'd had set everything out on the coffee table and left before she spoke again. "Tell me, how much experience do you have with women?" "Not much," Orlando shrugged, handing Monica her coffee before taking his. The first hot, bitter sip helped somehow to center his thoughts. He could deal with hypotheticals it was much safer territory. "Went out with a few girls in school, they didn't do much for me." "And when you first had the Gift, nothing happened to change your mind during that ten years?" she asked, kicking off her shoes and curling her feet beneath her. Orlando tried not to stare at the way the movement pulled her skirt up over her knees. "No." Orlando stopped abruptly as he remembered something. "Well, there was the whole thing with Josh's aunt." "Kate? What thing?" "It wasn't really a thing," he said, staring into his cup. "It was just...the night of Josh's pet ceremony. She was...and Harry...and our bond wasn't complete yet, and, well...she might've been...well, hinted, I guess, that she wanted to know what I looked like naked," he muttered, feeling the blush sweep up his face. "And then she invited me to dinner." "And did you want her to?" "What, take me to dinner?" When Monica just looked at him, patiently waiting, Orlando sighed. "Alright, I knew what you meant. And maybe I was a little curious. Somewhat terrified, but...I wondered. I think she wanted me to join her and Harry." "Sounds like that would have been fun." She shifted a little, the movement pulling her dress snug across generous curves. "You're attracted to women? But you're so..." He stopped, flustered, and gestured at her. "I mean, every man that's ever met you sounds like a schoolboy when they talk about you." "And because I love men means I should not also enjoy the beauty and softness of a woman's touch?" Monica asked, giving him another one of those imperious looks that made Orlando feel a little like he needed to beg her forgiveness and a little like he needed to do something elaborate to make her smile. "Well, no, I didn't mean...I don't know what I mean. Ignore me." "I won't. This is a very enlightening conversation." Orlando snorted. "Maybe for you." "It would be for you as well if you'd pay attention," she replied, with an impish smile that thoroughly unsettled him. "Um, yes, well," he began, then shook his head. "I'm sorry." "For what? No one will think less of you, you know." "Think...what?" "If you stop hiding from yourself." "I'm not hiding from anything." "If you say so." "I do," he repeated, well aware that he sounded completely petulant, but unable to stop himself. This was the most maddening conversation he could remember having in months. "Anyway, I didn't invite you to dinner to talk about...hypothetical situations that aren't even relevant." He ignored her laughter and moved on. "I thought we were supposed to be getting to know each other." She reached across the sofa to pat his hand. "We are getting to know each other. Perhaps that is why you are so uncomfortable?" "You're a dangerous woman," he muttered, well aware that she could hear his every word. "No wonder Karl warned me about you." "I could always leave if you find yourself finished with my company," she offered. "Perhaps we have shared enough for one evening..." "No!" He took a breath to calm himself. "No, don't, please," he continued, softening his voice and offering a small smile. "Besides, you said you'd help me pick out a present for Katie." "I did," she said, looking amused again. Orlando wasn't going to complain, because it was better than the alternative. Much better. "Have you any thoughts as to what you'd like to get her?" "I dunno," he said, chewing his bottom lip. "Maybe a...bracelet? Something." "I think maybe you should tell me a little more about her so I can give you an educated opinion," she said, settling back amongst the cushions with her dessert plate. She looked so at home that his breath caught for an entirely new reason. "Uh, right." He shook his head to clear his thoughts and concentrated on telling Monica everything he knew about Katie. He still wasn't entirely certain what had happened tonight, or what he'd tell Harry and Karl when they asked how the evening went, but he definitely knew one thing. He and Monica weren't nearly done with each other. And the thought scared him just as much as it thrilled him.
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