“Who is she?” Lindsey repeated, though Lilah had no more answer for him now than she had before.

The minion assigned to return them to the ball was likewise silent, though Lindsey suspected that had more to do with fear – of speaking, of Angelus, of probably a few other things – than not having the answer. Still he showed them back to the ballroom, instructing them to return to their rooms within the hour – apparently he had a watch – and disappeared before either lawyer had the chance to interrogate him.

“I don’t know,” Lilah murmured speculatively, as she looked into the now empty hallway her host and his blonde disappeared down. “But I think we better find someone in this asylum,” she looked around contemptuously at the mass of demons who milled about, “Who can tell us more about that missing Slayer.” 

“Agreed,” Lindsey said equally contemptuously. He hated mingling with the scum he wouldn’t have bothered to represent a week ago. “But I’m betting they’re either not talking, or know nothing.”

“I hate this,” Lilah huffed, as she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Downing it in one gulp, she turned to her partner. “I hate not having answers, I hate playing one step behind, and I hate not knowing all the players.”

“Agreed,” Lindsey said again, and marveled for a moment that that was possibly the first thing they truly, totally, agreed on. “So,” he raised an eyebrow, “Any suggestions?”

Lips curling into a predatory smirk, Lilah nodded. “We can’t find anything here willing to talk, fine let’s go see what Angelus is hiding from us, shall we?”

Turning their backs on the party, never noticing Drusilla as she watched from the center of the room, Lilah and Lindsey left the ballroom and headed to the office they were first shown to. Chances were it was Angelus’ office, and Drusilla was merely using it while her Sire was elsewhere. So it was their first stop.
~~~~~~~~~~
“All you had to do, Buffy,” Angelus said, as he released her arm, swinging her into their rooms, “Was follow some simple instructions. Couldn’t even do that, could you?”

“Ha,” she snapped, standing toe to toe with him, rubbing the wrist he’d clasped, noting the claps on her bracelet was as secure as ever. “It wasn’t me who let that whore all but give you a lap dance! I did everything you said, lover, just remember that.”

Angelus’ eyes narrowed, pinning Buffy to the spot. “Everything, eh?”

Buffy felt like she was moving in slow motion when Angelus’ hands curled around her shoulders, pressing her against his body. The aborted slayage hadn’t done her any good, and Buffy was still anxious to work off some of her anger towards the demon before her. No one could ever work her up to this degree; no one ever made her this mad, this out of control.

Only he had the ability to send her careening into uncertainty and (loving) (hating) every second of it.

Leaning down, Angelus kept his glowing eyes on hers, his fangs elongated. Inches from her face, he hissed, “You so much as think about that boy again, baby, and I’ll force you to dance in his entrails as I skin him to the bone.”

‘Was he always this jealous?’
‘Only with her.’
‘This jealous? This insanely jealous?’
‘Yup; jealously makes their world go round.’

“Who?” Buffy wondered as she looked at him, desperately trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about, trying to remember something other than Angelus and her (pathetic) (addicting) (delicious) need of him. “What are you talking about? Oh….That lawyer?”

Angelus growled, and Buffy laughed, mocking him over all this; it was nothing, that guy meant nothing to her. Sure, she’d found him attractive, he was handsome, confident, and wasn’t trying to kill her family and friends. Definite points in his favor. But Buffy wasn’t interested in him. For a moment she toyed with the idea of stringing Angelus along, but dismissed it almost immediately.

That would only put her, Lindsey, and her friends in danger.

“So he’s attractive,” Buffy dismissed, playing it off as best she could, waving a dismissing hand in the air. If she couldn’t convince Angelus she had no interest in the human, then Lindsey was as good as dead. Another death she could’ve prevented on her conscience. Buffy wasn’t sure how many more could balance there before she toppled, before Angelus completely owned her.

“Big deal. A lot of humans are. It means nothing, Angelus,” and she hoped the sincerity in her showed through. Trying for a balance between winning him over, and not moving too fast; if he thought (knew) she was lying, Buffy sighed. Lindsey really didn’t mean anything to her, but she valued his life just as much as she did those in the basement.

Something shifted in her eyes, and Buffy knew that was a lie. She didn’t value Lindsey’s life, not as much as her mother’s, Giles’, Willow’s. The slayer didn’t want the lawyer dead, but she wouldn’t put him above those she loved. Angelus knew that, he had to. So what was the big deal here?

“You really think that I’ll do anything with anyone else? You’re holding all the cards,” she told him, and hoped he didn’t realize that she, too, held some. Held some power in this relationship because of his need for her. “You really think I’ll do something that’ll put everyone below in danger?”

Angelus stared at her for a while, listening to what she said and her body’s response to it. She was telling the truth, but he knew there were things she hid. Walking forward, smirking when Buffy stood her ground, he cupped her face, letting his thumb play over her lips. They parted automatically, and he leaned down for a taste, just a small one.

It wasn’t enough as he knew it wouldn’t be.

“Remember that, baby,” he said softly, lips a breath away from hers, “And nothing will ever happen to them.”

He kissed her again, letting her heat envelop him, letting the suppressed passion she felt for him spiral further upwards, climb along her body and cling to his. Buffy’s hands came up to clutch at his shoulders, her body straining against him in need. Lifting her against him, Angelus ground his erection against her stomach, swallowing her gasp, smirking when she changed the angle of the kiss and deepened it.

Laying her on the bed, the master of the world showed his goddess how he needed her. His murmured words of Gaelic were whispered against her skin as he undressed her, letting the white silk slowly slip down her body. His fangs were still elongated and they toyed with her nipple, causing Buffy’s breath to back up with every nick. His tongue laved at the tiny wounds, and her hands moved from grasping the bed sheets to grasping his head closer to her body.

Angelus growled in approval, another part of her breaking to him. Her skin was soft, smooth, heating to his tongue, his hands and he couldn’t stop the stream of words that continued to lave her body as much as his tongue did. Angelus was unaware of what he spoke, but knew that every word was true.

“Tá tú amhlaidh sciamhach, mo a mhaoin, a luachmhar taisce coinnigh agus cosain. Tá tú mo cheannsa agua amháin mo cheannsa; rud ar bith deoin choíche tadhall tú, blas tú, agam tú. Mo cheannsa, mo gráh.”

(You’re so beautiful, my darling, a precious treasure to keep and protect. You are mine, and only mine; no one else will ever touch you, taste you, have you. Mine, my love.)

He’d show her that over and over so she’d never forget that.

Buffy’s arousal hung heavy in the air, and he breathed it in as if he needed to, and maybe he did but he was unaware of doing so. Of needing even that piece of her so desperately, so very much, that he did so without conscious thought. When he reached her center, Buffy was breathless with need, still silent in that need, but her eyes closed, her hands searching for him, her body open and ready, bowing up towards him.

Her lips were parted, chest heaving with her breath, dots of perspiration shining over her soft skin. The slight flare of her hips drew his gaze, the dip of her stomach his fingers. Unable to resist, his mouth claimed hers again, and he drew her passion out and into him, staking it as his own. Trailing his hand lightly down her stomach, toying with the curls that hid her treasures, Angelus brought Buffy’s passion higher, watched her strain to her peak.

Slipping a finger through her moist heat, Angelus closed his eyes, savoring it. Her muscles tighten at the slight intrusion, and she whimpered, moving her hips in a plea for more. She was ready, she needed and wanted, and her body knew it though some small part of her mind resisted it.

It wasn’t enough.

Determined to drive her over the edge and beyond, determined to break all her barriers, no matter what she wanted, Angelus drove on, forcing her passion higher and higher in an unrelenting need to claim all of her.

“Tell me, my darling,” Angelus whispered to her, a second finger entering her. He leaned up on one arm, eyes a swirl of colors as he stared into her beautiful face, her expression telling him she was completely lost in her passion for him. Her eyes were closed, but he knew they’d be silver, a deep pool that captured him just as surely as her need for him did.

“Tell me who owns you.” Angelus waited a moment until Buffy opened her eyes. Just as he predicted, her eyes were silver and glazed with passion and uncertainty. But they locked with his, and it was enough that he was her world right then. Patience, he chanted, he needed patience.

Struggling to focus, Buffy tried to remember what he asked. He did the most exquisite things to her body, bringing her to heights she’d never imagined possible, and then had the nerve to ask her questions? Evil bastard.

“Tell me, Buffy,” he repeated, his fingers driving her higher and faster, but never quite giving her the release she so obviously craved. “Tell me who you belong to; tell me!”

“You,” she said, her voice husky with lust, her eyes burning into his, voice laced with need and hatred. “You do.” Her tongue peaked out to lick her lips, and his gaze was caught by so simple an act. “I belong to you.”

It nearly broke her to admit that, but she did, the answers having been drilled into her for days now, and Buffy couldn’t forget the truth of them. She knew her circumstances, and it was no use changing them; there were too many people who counted on her for her to go against Angelus. (She didn’t want to go against him, she wanted him, she needed him.) Closing her eyes with that admission, Buffy felt a tear make its way down her face, felt Angelus lean down and capture that tear with his lips, murmuring in what seemed to be approval, though Buffy didn’t understand the words.

“Exactly,” he told her, and scrapped a nail over her engorged clit, sending the slayer over the edge of bliss. He didn’t let her recover before bringing her back up, the spiral of needy passion tightening within her once more, binding them together in ways Buffy couldn’t imagine, but knew would be unbreakable.

A part of her was glad, so glad that those bonds were unbreakable; Angelus would never leave her. Another part feared and dreaded the bonds, knowing that if she let him, Angelus would own her, body, soul, heart, and spirit. And he wasn’t one to let go.

“I own you,” Angelus said, and drove her up again, her orgasm shooting through her in a canopy of light, sound, and color. In the midst of the maelstrom that Angelus brought her to, stood her lover, waiting, patient, strong. He was there to steady her through it all, and Buffy grabbed onto him, digging her nails into his shoulders with the force of her climax.

Angelus smirked, triumph lighting his eyes, and he barely let her recover from one orgasm before pushing her to a third. Letting her come down from that, letting her body continue to hum and vibrate, he removed his fingers, and positioned himself between her spread thighs. She was nearly spent, her body boneless and sated, her legs spread wide, arms laying across the bed in supplication, to replete to even think of moving.

She was utterly gorgeous this way, open for him, spent from him. Determined to drive her to one more orgasm, Angelus grasped her hands and pulled them over her head, stretching her body under his, her heat the only thing to warm his perpetually cool body.

“Look at me, Buffy,” he commanded in a soft, lover’s voice, and waited until she did so, laboriously opening her eyes, the silver fading to hazel with the spent emotion. Locking eyes with her, he thrust forward, and smirked when her legs automatically wound around his hips and her mouth breathed a sigh of acceptance and completion and longing as if this was what she really wanted, and no matter how good it was previously, this was even better.

“You are mine, lover; you look at no one else, you think of no one else, you want no one else.”

Moving quickly, ramming into her again and again with the force of his words, Angelus drove home his point even as he found his home in Buffy. Releasing her hands and holding himself off her, he continued to stare into increasingly unfocused eyes until she could take it no more and capitulated. Angelus wasn’t under the impression that he’d just won, knew that it was a momentary lust-induced thing, but a victory was a victory, and this one was his.

“Mine,” he growled, “Mine,” thrust, “Mine,” thrust, “Mine…”

“Yes,” Buffy answered, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing him down to her, holding him close. Kissing him blindly, pouring something of herself into that kiss, even as she drew something of him into her.

Eyes gleaming, Angelus let himself go, let his seemingly unending need for this slayer, this woman, run through him and release in a wave of basic, primal mating. He broke the kiss, dipping his head and finding her neck. Buffy’s blood raced through her, screaming her need, calling to him. Sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, Angelus took a mere taste of her, not marking her, not even leaving a scar. Simply needing to taste her emotions, her arousal, her luscious self.

Buffy screamed when his fangs entered her, his name tumbling from her lips in a cry of want. Her body convulsed around him, slayer enhanced muscles drawing his own orgasm from deep within him, the small amount of Buffy’s blood telling him all he needed to know about his lover even as her body did so.

She needed him, her blood couldn’t lie. She felt nothing towards Lindsey except a strong desire to protect the lawyer from Angelus’ wrath. That was fine with Angelus; it was simply another form of collateral, another being to hang over Buffy’s head. She brought it on herself, and Angelus wasn’t one to disappoint his lover.

Pulling out of her body, he automatically pulled her close, gazing down at her as she willingly let him wrap her in his embrace. Long, long moments later, Angelus heard her sigh, heard the evening of her breathing, and the slowing of her heart. She rolled in her twilight sleep, and curled around him, unaware that he watched her so vigilantly. He held her for a bit, watching her rest, wondering if she dreamed, and what it was about. Her blood ran strong through him now, even that little amount enough to augment his already considerable strength. He didn’t need to feed, but he did need Buffy.

Buffy murmured something in her sleep, and opened her eyes, not sure what made her do so. Looking into Angelus’ brown ones, she did nothing for a long minute, before smiling. The slayer couldn’t have said what made her do that, couldn’t have named the impulse that had her smiling at her demon lover, but she did. She moved her hand from where it wrapped around his waist, and lay it against his cheek.

Apparently it was what was needed; it was enough, for Angelus gave a slight smile in return, rolling her under him and attacking her mouth in a kiss meant to brand her. Releasing her lips, Angelus stood, eyes not leaving her. He didn’t want her going back to the ball; he wanted her here where he knew she’d be safe. But he knew his slayer, and knew that she couldn’t do that. She needed activity, and until he could provide all the activity she could handle, he’d let her roam their home.

“Get dressed, baby,” he said, and leaned down to caress her face once more. “Return to the ballroom when you’re ready. Do you want me to ring for a maid, or Dru?”

Confused at his gentleness, Buffy shook her head. “No, I can manage on my own.”

What was she supposed to feel now? What was she supposed to say, to do, to need, to want? Angelus made her forget her hate, forget her friends and her mom, and the fact that because of her, the world was now a hell dimension that couldn’t ever revert to the green and blue paradise she knew. Angelus with his confusing moods and his unyielding and unending passion. What was she supposed to feel now?

“Good,” Angelus was saying, “Don’t dally,” he warned. “I’ll be waiting.”

He dressed then, discarding the wrinkled shirt for a fresh one, and, giving her one last inscrutable look, left.

Buffy lay in bed for a while longer, letting the scent of their passion surround her before rising to dress. Her gown was unwrinkled, hanging over a chair near the bed. She had no idea how Angelus managed to do that, and didn’t really want to think on it. The white silk with its diamond starburst slid back on, the virginal connotation again striking Buffy. Except now, she didn’t know what to make of it. Feeling uncomfortable in the dress, Buffy nonetheless left it on, and went to the vanity to try and fix her hair and makeup.

As Buffy slowly finished getting ready, her mind replayed the events that just happened. She enjoyed her time in Angelus’ bed, what he did to her, the responses he brought out in her. Even the little bit of power she knew she had over him made the experience so much more pleasurable. But she knew that every time she freely gave herself to him, a little more of herself died.

Or became his.

Exiting their room, Buffy returned to the ballroom, in search of something numbing like alcohol.
~~~~~~~~~~
The office was a bust.

They couldn’t even get in; the security surrounding the place was unfailingly loyal to Angelus. They’d need a better plan if they intended to actually get into his office, and possibly figure out whom to bribe to do so. Returning to the ballroom, Lilah left Lindsey to wander on his own while she sought out their host.

She stood to one side of the hallway she’d watch him leave through with the blonde child, and sipped her champagne. Lilah’s mind raced with possibilities of who the girl could be, and what Angelus wanted with her. In the end it didn’t matter, because the lawyer intended to have Angelus, no matter the cost. She’d already sold her soul; there was nothing left for him to claim.

And then there he was. And he was all alone.

“Angelus,” she said as she walked closer to him. He looked different, but his gaze held the same cold indifference that greeted her earlier. “If you have the time now, I think maybe we can reach some sort of…agreement.”

Eyes narrowing, Angelus smirked and nodded. He gestured to an alcove, and waited while Lilah joined him. From this angle, he had a perfect view of the room and the corridor Buffy would walk down. Leaning against the wall and folding his arms, not interested in Lilah or her offers, Angelus waited for his lover.

“What do you think you can offer me?”

The smile on her face was a mixture of lust and power hunger. “Wolfram and Hart is a multidimensional law firm with resources I’m sure,” she emphasized, “You will find useful. I’m authorized to give you whatever you…desire,” she placed her hand on his arm, and smiled wider when he didn’t remove it.

“You think you,” he looked her up and down, the condescending smirk never leaving his face, “Have something I need? I have it all,” he said, and looked out into the ballroom just as Buffy entered. She hadn’t seen him, and he couldn’t help how his smirk widened at the disappointed look that flashed across her face. It was quickly masked and that was just as well, but he saw it, and that was all that mattered.

Just as he was about to dismiss Lilah without so much as a word, Lindsey walked up to Buffy, and handed her a glass of champagne. Buffy accepted with a slight smile and took a sip, still looking around the room. Turning back to Lilah, Angelus let his anger take over.

“Really?” He asked, fingers gliding up her arm. What had he just told her? Angelus raged. What had they just discussed – very pleasurably? “Just what,” he shifted her closer, “Are you willing to offer?”

“Anything you desire,” Lilah reiterated with a sultry smile.

Angelus smirked, eyes straying in Buffy’s direction to see her still talking with Lindsey, though her gaze continued to scan for him. Cupping Lilah’s breast, Angelus roughly manipulated her nipple, tugging harder than Lilah was used to, but nonetheless sending a thrill of pleasure through her body.

“What do you want, Lilah?” he asked disinterested. Which he was. Angelus cared not at all for the woman before him, knew only rage as he watched Buffy’s interaction with Lindsey, and knew only revenge.

The lawyer’s arousal was instantaneous and surrounded Angelus. Frowning at the instinctual need to back away from the smell, from Lilah, Angelus plunged forward. His teeth elongated as he dipped to taste Lilah’s neck, fingers tugging the top of her dress down over her breasts. They lacked the same heat Buffy’s did; they lacked the perfect weight, the feel. Her blood tasted tired and bitter, not at all the sweet powerful slayer blood of his mate.

Angelus ignored that, too. “What do you want?”

“You,” she gasped, “I want you, Angelus.”

“I didn’t give you leave to call me that,” the god smirked. “But because I’m feeling generous today, you may call my King. Otherwise it’s god. Understood?”

Lilah looked at him through needy eyes and nodded. Pinching her nipples, Angelus sneered. “Understand?”

“Yes, My King,” Lilah responded on a moan.

Hiking the skirt of her dress up, he noted that she wore no panties. Her curls were neatly trimmed, her thighs toned and long. He roughly plunged two fingers into her and warned, “Don’t make a sound, Lilah.”

Opening her drugged eyes to look at him, she nodded.

“Say nothing,” Angelus continued, “Not one moan should escape your lips, I want to hear nothing, understood?”

She nodded again, and bit hard on her lip when Angelus withdrew his fingers only to slam them back into her. His eyes remained hard, his expression distant, cold, uncaring. The woman before him did nothing for him, her only use as a tool for what Buffy was currently doing with the other human. Looking to his left as Lilah slumped against the wall for support, Angelus watched Buffy continue to look around the room,  and Lindsey continue to engage her in conversation.

He stopped, suddenly, withdrawing his fingers before she could achieve an orgasm, wiped his fingers on her skirt, and took a step backward. “We’ll have to see, later, how far you’ll go to,” he paused, “Serve me...” Looking her up and down, he told her in that same dispassionate voice, “Now fix yourself.”

Taking her elbow, he left the alcove and stalked along towards Buffy and Lindsey.

Angelus could smell the attraction the other man had for her; see it in his eyes no matter that his face looked only mildly interested. The lawyer was good, but Angelus was better.  Buffy, despite her age, attracted Lindsey; the snippets of conversation Angelus could hear as he approached told the god that the lawyer was attempting to find out who his slayer was, what she knew. The bastard was trying to see if she was receptive to what he was offering. Angelus walked closer, and Buffy looked up as if she sensed him.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in Lilah’s appearance and Angelus close proximity to the lawyer. At that moment, Lindsey’s hand rested on Buffy’s arm and Angelus growled. Buffy didn’t bother to move it, too busy reigning in her considerable temper as she realized just what Angelus was doing with Lilah.

Lilah chuckled, a sound filled with contempt. “That was fast work there, Linds. Nothing like robbing the cradle.”

Angelus, seeing nothing but bloodshed by this time, locked eyes with Buffy. He knew she could smell what he was doing and was pissed at him. Too bad. Her eyes were pure silver with flecks of red and blue, her fist clenched around the champagne glass, the other at her side, ready to strike. He or Lilah, Angelus didn’t know but didn’t care. How dare she talk to this human, not moments out of his bed? Angelus could still smell their combined scent on her skin, now flavored with anger.

A vase popped someplace close by, and the nearest food table rocked with the force of her anger. Angelus noted these things, saw that she didn’t, and filed it away for future reference. She had no idea the power she held, the power that was inherently hers.

Buffy snarled at the demon before her. “You come from our bed straight here to screw her? Think about your own rules, Angelus, they might do you some good.” She gestured with her free hand to indicate his actions with Lilah, the obviousness the lawyer didn’t bother to hide, the fact that Angelus knew she’d know. “Is this supposed to make me forget Angel?” 

White-hot fury, tinged with loathing, and a bone-deep pain rolled off her and bombarded him in frenzied waves. Angelus paused in his instinctual need to lash out at her for the comment. He could feel the pain and jealously she felt, and it pacified the demon in him just enough. Just enough to know what she refused to admit to, but felt all the same: jealousy, hurt, and anger that he would do this to her, and, despite what she said, she did feel something deep for him. 

Why else would she be so hurt by this?

Buffy turned her jealous and hurt gaze on Lilah, deftly masking her pain behind anger and contempt. The lawyer resisted the impulse to step away from the disconcerting look in the girl’s multicolored eyes. The first inkling that maybe this girl was more than a convenient fuck for Angelus crossed Lilah’s mind, but the lawyer dismissed that. Still, the thought stuck with her and she vowed to find out more about the blonde.

“And you. One would think that lawyers would have all the facts before walking into an unknown situation. Then again, there are always stupid lawyers. Just like vamps who are controlled by their fangs, apparently there are lawyers just as pathetic; I guess there’s no real difference, eh, in bloodsuckers and lawyers?” Buffy smirked at the both of them, Lilah and Lindsey. “All those jokes really aren’t jokes after all.”

“Look you little bitch,” Lilah snarled, and tried to take a step forward. She couldn’t but didn’t know why. Looking between Angelus and the blonde, she tried to figure out who caused this immobility, but neither seemed to care. What the fuck was going on here?

Buffy bared her teeth at the lawyer, and laughed. “You can’t touch me, grandma; you have no idea who I am. I don’t need Angelus to kick your ass; I can do so blindfolded,” she snarled at Lilah, then turned towards Angelus. “And you-”

“Don’t even think about saying it, lover.” Angelus snarled back, his teeth again growing into fangs. He released Lilah’s immobility, and strode the remaining feet to where Buffy stood. “You know the rules and they don’t apply to me, my Darling Slayer.” Pulling her closer to him, his eyes swirling with his own colors, he hissed, “Maybe we need a demonstration on what happens when you break those rules?”

Terrified that he’d do something to those downstairs, Buffy shook her head as her stomach roiled with fear and champagne. Swallowing her pain and anger, she reined in her impulse to hurt him in kind, and tried to appease him instead. Damn his jealous hide. ”I know them well enough…lover.”

She watched Angelus’ eyes slide to Lindsey, and her stomach clenched again, the alcohol there churning through her and she thought she was going to be sick. “It was nothing, and you know that. Damn it, Angelus!” She whispered, fighting to keep her voice down, “We just went through this!”

“So we did,” he agreed, as his hands lightly slid up her arms to her shoulders, the look in his eyes showing her that he knew how he affected her. He knew she didn’t care for Lindsey, but it didn’t matter. “Maybe our previous conversation it wasn’t enough.”

Fuck, Buffy thought, and frantically tried to think of a way out of this without Lindsey (another innocent, another she could save) ended up dead. The only thing she could think of involved giving herself to Angelus publicly. She wasn’t sure it was going to work, but it was her only plan, poor though it was. Bringing the hand that didn’t hold her glass to his face, she slipped it around his neck, and stood on her toes, the heels she wore lending to her height.

Drawing herself against Angelus, she watched his eyes, and offered her mouth to his. He waited for her, Buffy saw; he knew what really happened, and didn’t care. He was jealous and possessive, and couldn’t let go of that even when he knew the truth of the situation. Buffy couldn’t help the thrill that went through her at the thought (he wanted her, and he wasn’t going to ever give her up; he’d never let her go, and something deep within her loved that, felt safe at that), but shoved it away, nonetheless.

She initiated the kiss, then, her tongue tracing his cool lips, slipping inside his delicious mouth. She tasted blood there, but knew it wasn’t hers; the taste was acidic, hungry. Growling at the taste, feeling his smirk against her lips, Buffy kissed him harder, trying to erase the knowledge that he’d tasted Lilah, trying to erase her blood from his senses. Slowly, sensuously, she traced his fangs with her tongue then flicked it against the tip.

A drop of blood welled up, filling his mouth, and wiping away any trace of the traitorous bitch. Angelus growled his approval, pressing her body closer to his, and now Buffy smirked. He felt the movement of her lips and growled again, sending a shot of lust through her. Because of that, somehow, she also knew that Angelus hadn’t kissed Lilah, only tasted her blood.

That felt like a stab through her, but Buffy ignored it and continued to kiss him, not relaxing even when he kissed her back. Pouring her passion into the kiss, accepting his brand of her, Buffy tried not to think of the wound that cracked inside her as she realized that Angelus wasn’t solely hers. She was just solely his.

“Only you,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. Passion, need, hatred, acceptance, her own possessiveness in her voice, “There’s only you, Angelus.”

She could see in his eyes that he was appeased, though far from happy. That was enough for now, it was going to have to be. She stayed where she was, waiting for his signal that all was okay between them, and that Lindsey was forgotten. She had tried to warn him, but the lawyer was adamant that he could handle himself, and hadn’t listened to Buffy’s words.

“Lindsey, you better be out of my sight,” Angelus said without looking at the man behind him. “You have this one chance, and I expect you to use it. I won’t be so generous again.” He heard the lawyer hesitate before turning to leave, presumably back to his rooms. Lilah was still behind him, and Angelus caressed Buffy’s cheek before speaking to Lilah.

“The same goes for you, Lilah. That conversation is over; if you come up with something better, then we’ll speak, but until then, you’re free to enjoy my…hospitality but do not,” he shot her a look. “Ever talk to Buffy again.”

Hearing Lilah stalk away in her heels, Angelus said to Buffy, “You’ve received this one chance, lover. I hope it was worth it.”

With that he led her into the anxious and watching crowd to introduce his lover, mate. Slayer.

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