In the Blood [ON HOLD]

"Your Hands are Cold"

She tore another truth from him and everything was starting to feel bloody and raw. Yet Remi couldn't deny that there was something sweet about it as well.

"Because I wanted you to say yes," he confessed. "And having a stark reminder of where you'd most certainly wind up right in front of you made that more likely."

Her cherry lips parted, pupils dilating with shock. She looked at him like that every time he told the truth. She'd been looking at him like that a lot tonight.

"Why do you care?" she finally asked, something nearly vulnerable in her voice. "I mean, like I said earlier, there are plenty of people who'd jump at this opportunity."

A laugh bubbled up in his throat and he fought against it for a moment, but only for a moment. 

"Not really," he lied. No reason for her to know this had been an offer centered solely on her. "Most people aren't..."

He got the feeling he should maybe tread lightly here. Too many truths could leave them both bleeding.

"Desperate enough?" she offered, her tone cold enough to freeze the Gulf.

"That, I suppose." He didn't want to say she wasn't wrong. Desperate enough was nine times out of ten what drove people to his world. But that seemed a little blunt, and he got the sense that delicacy was needed here. "I was going to say... flexible enough."

Another silence descended and he slowed down, pulling up outside of the house on Saint Ann. He parked and killed the engine. Something else was tugging at his thoughts. Something he knew needed saying, but he was sure it wouldn't go over all that well.

It's not just for me. It's for her.

Remi shook his head, steeling himself.

"Don't talk back to me in front of those people."

She grew stock-still, and he braced himself for any reaction from her screaming at him, to her turning and slapping him across the face. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. Remi returned her gaze, forcing his expression to a non-confrontational blankness.

He could see the storm brewing in her eyes. She needed  to understand. He needed her to understand.

It wasn't dramatic to say this was a matter of life or death. For her, for him and anyone who professed any true loyalty for his cause.

Before he realized he was going to, he lunged across the space between them, snaking a hand behind her neck and pulling her forward, forcing her to look him in the eye. To see how dead serious he was. 

Fire flared, her temper exploding right in front of him and she jerked backward, making his fingers slip over her skin for a second. 

He let out an angry breath. "What did I tell you earlier tonight, before we left the club?"

Charlie grew still, and he let out an internal sigh of relief. It bothered him when she acted less intelligent than she really was. He didn't have much time for stupid people, or those slow on the uptake.

"Let me go," she demanded, her voice sharp.

He blinked, his fingers loosening their hold as soon as she issued the order. But he didn't remove his hand, brushing his thumb against the skin behind her ear. After a moment, she softened slightly, leaning toward him. 

"What did I tell you?" he whispered, ignoring how warm she was. Ignoring the impulse to touch more of her.

"You said a lot tonight. You're gonna have to get more specific."