By Lorelei Sieja
Tracy had no sooner sat at her desk when two men from Internal Affairs surrounded her. "Come with us," they said coldly.
She knew her dad must have sent them. Not wanting to make a scene, she followed them out as far as the hallway. "What's this all about," she snapped at them.
"Just come with us, Miss Vetter," the first man said.
She glared at him. He was familiar, some lackey whose loyalties were more to her dad than the law, she was sure.
"I'm going no where. You have no right to take me."
They each took her by an arm and continued towards the door. "Commissioner Vetter wants us to deliver you to the 24-hour clinic for an immediate health examination. He's concerned that you are not fit for your job, Miss Vetter. Now you can come along nicely, or we have permission to cuff you and bring you in."
Tracy was livid. She yanked herself from their grip with surprisingly little effort. If only she knew how to hypnotize, she could get rid of them without further bother. And where was that partner of hers!
"I'll go," she agreed, "but only if we wait for my partner."
"No."
While she whirled on the one who'd denied her, the other carried out his threat and handcuffed her wrists together behind her back. Tracy was mortified. She was ready to scream. Then they took her arms again and forced her out into their waiting car.
Now what, she wondered. It was just a clinic. Maybe, if the doctor didn't do anything too invasive, he wouldn't be alarmed. After all, Nick had been in the emergency room a few times. She muttered under her breath and struggled at the handcuffs. She should be able to break them. But then, how would she explain that? Tracy wished she'd never gone anywhere near her dad.
"Will you go inside like a good little girl, or do we need to leave the handcuffs on," one man asked snidely.
"Take these off me now, if you know what's good for you," she threatened, striving to keep the red-gold glow from her eyes. They sniggered, but removed the cuffs before escorting her inside.
The lights were too bright. It hurt. She blinked rapidly, praying she wouldn't weep the telltale red tears now. A nurse came then and put her in a small examining room. Tracy strained to listen to her captors, wondering if they would leave, or wait around to drive her back to work.
"Now, what seems to be the problem, Miss Vetter," the nurse asked cheerily as she opened a file folder and clicked her pen.
"My dad," she answered. "He's demanding this. I feel fine. So, let's not waste another moment of the good doctor's time, and I'll just go."
"Now, now, that's okay, dear. The doctor has plenty of time to waste- this isn't our busy period. I have orders here for a complete physical- chest x-rays, blood panel, urinalysis... but we'll start with your blood pressure."
Tracy argued. She tried to leave. The two IA men came back in to hold her still for the nurse to strap the blood pressure cuff around her arm. Then, when she had no blood pressure at all, the nurse went to get another cuff, and then another. Tracy struggled harder, but the growing team of nurses, the doctor, and the two IA men held her captive, demanding to know why she had no pulse, no blood pressure, and her skin was so cold. They probed her, withdrawing four large vials of blood and placed a call to the lab to handle them immediately. Tracy was so frightened she started to cry, which alarmed the medical staff even further. Then the door was thrown wide open. LaCroix and Nick stormed inside the crowded little examining room. Nick was furious, but LaCroix looked deceptively calm. Tracy could sense his intense anger. Still, he was very much in control of the moment.
"Nicholas, take her home at once. I will clean up this mess," LaCroix said coldly. When the IA men tried to interfere, LaCroix sent them to search for a red '62 volkswagon with a burned-out tail light. They left at once to complete the assignment without question. "And you," he ordered Tracy, "will go straight to your room and wait for me."
Tracy swallowed back her fear and nodded. "Yes, sir," she whispered.
She felt his eyes on her as she left the room. Even turning the corner and going down the hallway, she sensed his nearness and his anger. She had disobeyed, and she knew what he would do to her. She felt both frightened and aroused, and was surprised at her own reaction.
Nick grabbed her by the arm and dragged her outside. She didn't see the caddy anywhere. He took her roughly and lifted into the night air.
She was so tired. The tension had been especially draining. All she wanted was for this night to end. She was even too tired to be excited about flying with him.
Nick was silent. She could tell by the set of his jaw that he was still furious. A small muscle twitched, and she thought she saw blood sweat forming on his brow. Was it that tiring to fly with someone? Or had he really been worried about her? He avoided even looking at her now. At the Raven, he entered the apartment through the skylight and deposited her on the floor.
"Nick," she said softly. "I'm sorry."
His eyes burned into her, flaming red passion. "Tracy," he said. "For the first time, I'm sorry I even know you." Then he soared out through the skylight.
Tracy stood there, alone and tired, and wept.
She'd really messed up big time. He'd been telling her a little bit about the code, and how important it was to keep knowledge of their existence a secret. She'd already heard that from Vachon while still a mortal, but just how dangerous the smallest thing could be surprised her. From now on, all contact with a doctor was to be taken seriously. And her biological father was strictly off-limits.
She knew his punishment would be harsh; and she was already hungry and tired. She went to the refrigerator and drank greedily an entire bottle. Then she went in to her bedroom to wait.
An hour later she felt his approach and roused from the light sleep. She heard the door close, heard the lock catch. Heard him call her. She froze. She wanted to run and hide, but knew there was no escaping him. And part of her felt strangely drawn to him. Soon, it would be over, and maybe they would make love again. She got up from the bed and exited her room.
LaCroix stood, the immovable statue, barely contained rage and volatile passion. Tracy trembled at the sight of him.
"You know what you did wrong," he stated. His voice sent shivers up her back.
She nodded weakly. "I disobeyed you. I went to see my other dad."
"And?"
She thought quickly. And what? "And, six strokes for disobedience," she recalled.
"That is only the beginning," he said firmly. "You showed disrespect by obeying Commissioner Vetter's wishes over my own. You erred again when you allowed the doctors to make records of your condition. Breaking the code can be punishable by death, but as my fledgling, it merits six more lashes. Then, what did you do when you returned home?"
"I went to my room, like you told me to," she said, her voice trembling. They were already up to eighteen. He'd only hit her twelve the last time and it had horrible.
"Yes, I told you to go straight to your room. That did not include a side trip to the kitchen. Direct disobedience again."
Tracy felt cold as ice. Her hands trembled. She undid the snap on her jeans and stepped out of them as she bent over the table. She waited long moments, dreading it, as he pulled off his belt. She heard him draw it back, heard the swoosh of air as he brought it down. Heard the smack as it struck her. She gasped, tears filled her eyes, and she bit her lip. One.
He drew the belt back and struck again, the leather bruising her tender skin. Two. Three. Four. The tears flowed freely. Why had she defied him? She had known he would follow through on his promise, that disobedience would always be punished. Had some perverse part of her longed for it? The last spanking had been painful, yet it had also been incredibly erotic. Now, all she felt was pain.
Tracy was certain she would never sit or stand and move again without permanent discomfort.
A part of her blocked out the pain. She tried to recall the last time. The joy of mating with him. Of discovering that he did love her.
Eleven. Twelve. Still the punishment continued. Tracy's fangs erupted as her instincts cried out for blood. The sound of the belt echoed in her sensitive ears, pounding on her brain. She lost count, convinced that the torture would never end.
Finally LaCroix laid the belt down on the table. Stiffly she stood, afraid to move.
"You may think I am severe," LaCroix said coolly. "Our culture has few laws and even fewer punishments. The most common is death. If any other vampire had been in that clinic tonight, you would no longer exist. I demand obedience, and I thought you knew that."
She nodded miserably. "Yes, LaCroix. I do."
"Then, please explain yourself."
How could she? She was so hungry and weak and hurting that she couldn't even think. But she dare not disobey him again. "I'm sorry. I know you said not to see my dad again, but I just felt that I ought to, like say good bye or something. Only I'm so sorry I went. Not just because I disobeyed you, but because I learned what a creep that man really is. I'm ashamed of him. And I never want to see him again!" She couldn't continue. Her voice cracked into sobs.
LaCroix pulled her into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. "My child. Some lessons are painful. Now go to bed. We will resume your education tomorrow."
Tracy's lip trembled as she pulled away from him. Her stomach hurt with hunger that was nearly as painful as her rear. Why wouldn't he put her to bed, like he did before? Because, she realized, he intended that she should endure the punishment a little longer. Dolefully she went into her room.
Sleep did not come. She could not rest on her back, and the mattress was too soft to sleep on her stomach. Even lying on her side was uncomfortable, and she was only able to doze for a few hours at a time. She heard LaCroix leave, and some time later, she heard him return. She sensed a sadness so profound from him that it made her cry again. Tracy vowed that she would try to never again disobey him. Not just because she dreaded his punishment, but because she loved him.
In the middle of the afternoon Tracy gave up trying to sleep. She showered, but wasn't yet ready to dress. She pulled on a terry robe and cinched the belt, listening for LaCroix. Was he up yet? Would it be all right to feed? The welts on her rear had mostly healed, although it was still very tender and her stomach rumbled painfully.
Hesitantly, she opened her door. LaCroix sat in his favorite chair, sipping a beverage and reading. He didn't look up when she joined him. Was he still angry with her?
"Um, good evening, master," she ventured softly.
He closed his book and eyed her, his face a cold mask. "Good evening, my child," he said. "Have something to ease your hunger, then we will begin a new lesson."
Gratefully, she moved to the refrigerator, although part of her grieved that he wouldn't make love to her right now. The bottled blood was not filling, nor did it do much to heal her discomfort. He was all she could think about.
"Last night's lesson included controlling hunger," LaCroix said. "Going to bed hungry is not pleasant, and should be avoided at all costs. Let it be a reminder to you, never let yourself get too hungry. And when we must hunt for our meal, it should be done well before dawn."
Tracy nodded. She had thought that "going to bed without supper" had just been part of the punishment. Now, she realized that it had been a lesson, and one she would have had to face eventually.
"You did well with controlling your instincts. The ability to control yourself is one of the most important lessons if you wish to live and work among mortals. We will cover this frequently until you have it mastered."
Tracy tried to concentrate. His voice was a balm. She watched his lips move, watched the slight indent in his cheek as it peaked in and out while he spoke. On anyone else, it would be called a dimple, but the word seemed incongruous to describe the ancient Roman. He had such a cultured way of speech. His word choice was eloquent, if not readily comprehendable. Her tongue slipped between her fangs to moisten her lips as she stared at him.
LaCroix laughed softly. Tracy jumped, startled to realize that she had not been paying attention to him at all. "I'm sorry, sir," she said quickly, her words awkward around her teeth. "I'll try harder."
"No, my dear. It is quite all right. You require more sleep."
Her heart fell. Her bed was cold and lonely. She was almost too tired to go there. Then she felt herself being lifted up.
Her master held her effortlessly and carried her into her room. Laying her on her bed with surprising tenderness, he slowly loved her, until his ancient blood healed her completely. Later, she was only vaguely aware as he lay beside her and pulled her into his embrace. She sensed him brush a kiss on her forehead, and thought she heard him whisper.
"My little daughter. It pains me to see you suffer. I fear you are coming to mean very much to me; I wish only to keep you safe forever."
She cuddled closer to his chest. She shivered, until he pulled the quilt up over both of them, and then she slept soundly.
Tracy waited nervously for Nick to arrive. She burned with remorse, wanting to apologize, yet not sure how to make it up to him. It was certain that he wouldn't trust her now. And partnerships had to be built on trust. She put on makeup, but still felt pale and miserable. Hearing a car's horn, she looked out the window. Nick was parked just outside the back door of the Raven. He wasn't coming upstairs tonight like he had every other night. Blinking back tears, she grabbed her coat and purse and started to leave.
LaCroix escorted her down the stairs and to the back door. He placed his hands on her shoulders then and kissed her forehead. "Behave yourself, my daughter," he said lightly.
Rising up on her toes, she whispered into his ear. "Sure, dad!" Then she kissed his neck and went outside, relieved to know that LaCroix was not still angry with her.
Nick was another story. His manners were more than brusque- almost vengeful. He didn't say a single word to her the entire trip. Tracy blinked back tears again, not knowing what to say to make things right.
In the parking lot she bolted from the car to confront him before he could escape inside. "Nick, I'm sorry! I screwed up! All right?"
"Fine," he spat angrily, and sidestepped her.
"Nick, stop! Talk to me!"
"I've nothing to say." How often had she seen him like this before- a seething wall of rage- driving everyone away from him? It had earned him the nickname of the Knightmare. Now though, she was not afraid of him. They had to get beyond this, if she was going to work with him.
"Nick!" She cried and grabbed his arm to stop him. He blanched visibly and gasped in pain. Tracy let go at once, but she knew she wasn't that strong. He turned away from her.
"Nick, what is it? What's wrong?"
Still, he didn't speak. His head hung low and he looked so alone. She wanted to comfort him, but didn't know what was bothering him. "Nick, if you won't trust me and talk to me right now, then I'm going to the captain. I'll tell him that we've been sleeping together, and demand a new partner."
"You can't do that," he whispered.
"I will."
He glanced off in either direction, then took her and flew to the rooftop. He put her down and glared at her, the familiar obstinate expression firmly planted on his face.
Tracy didn't say anything. She opened her new senses and tried to touch Nick's mind. He didn't really seem to be angry. The anger was just a smoke screen. She wasn't certain what she did sense from him, though. Tenderly, she reached out and touched his shoulder. Again she saw him wince. He sucked in his breath and pulled away from her.
"Oh my gosh, Nick," she whispered, suddenly knowing what was wrong. She stepped closer, tears filling her eyes and spilling over. "But why?" she asked. "It wasn't your fault! I went out on my own!"
"Because I promised to protect you and I failed."
"So what does he expect from you!"
Nick turned his back to her and stared off into the night. She saw the defeated slump of his shoulders and nearly wept. Just yesterday he had been proud and strong... and now he was confused and hurting.
"He wants me to be more like him," Nick said. "And I can't."
Tracy stepped closer behind him. She didn't know where it would be safe to touch, only that she needed to comfort him. The pieces were falling together, parts of the picture. Nick had failed LaCroix, and the ancient would demand he be punished. Only Nick, the proud Crusader, would have refused to submit. So it had been no simple punishment, but a brutal beating. Then LaCroix must have denied his healing blood to his son, who continued to defy him.
Tracy had learned that mortal blood fed and comforted her and over time, would heal. But when she'd been seriously injured, the blood of the ancient vampire healed instantly. If Nick had even fed from Urs, he should have recovered by now. But in his anger and shame, he must have avoided even his lover.
How many times in the past had he come to work, beaten and hurting, using his anger to keep anyone from touching him?
"Nick," she said, moving closer behind him. She put her arms around him on either side, but without touching. She felt for the buttons on his shirt and undid them, one at a time.
"Nick, please, take me. Feed from me! I beg you!" The last button gave way. The soft silk shirt slipped from his shoulders and fell to the rooftop. Nick was shrouded in dark and shadows, but with her new sight, the angry wounds and bruises were plainly visible. Lightly, barely touching, she kissed each one, caressing them with her tongue. Broken ribs, partially set, dark bruises over them... after nearly sixteen hours to still be so vivid, she couldn't even imagine when he had looked like earlier.
Nick didn't move. He didn't stop her, either. Slowly, she saw the tension leave his shoulders. When she'd kissed the entire length of his back, she moved to one arm and then the other, caressing, softly brushing against damaged skin, being careful not to cause any further discomfort.
She was feeling too warm again, which annoyed her. She'd only meant to comfort him, to somehow make up for the fact that he was hurting and it was all her fault. She didn't figure that she should find pleasure in this exchange. She wouldn't drink from him tonight. Not when he was already weakened.
Nick took her wrists and stopped her deliberate seduction. She groaned, ready to beg him to let her continue, but he lowered his fly and stepped out of his trousers. In moments he stood before her, indescribable beautiful, a naked statue of marble in moonlight, and fully aroused. Then his hands went to her clothes and removed them.
She shivered involuntarily, not from cold but rather anticipation. Nick began a slow assault on her senses then, as he touched her skin with feather-light kisses. She marveled at his control and concentration, as she saw sore muscles wince at every movement. She was eager for him now.
Nick stood, giving her a toothy smile. She felt her own fangs descend. She loved his vampire face. It was the most erotic, arousing vision! He was such a contradiction- a boyish, innocent face with the eyes of a demon and the teeth of a predator. She would never tire of looking at it.
Then they made love on the roof of the precinct. Nick, in his passion and pain, drank heartily from her, but Tracy took only a taste of him.
Sated and healed, they stood together and embraced. The winter wind blew around their naked bodies, but they did not notice. Finally, they replaced their clothing and straightened their hair. Nick's movements were more fluid now. She had experienced the vicious beating he'd suffered through tasting his blood and was suddenly grateful that she was not LaCroix's favorite child.
"You, little sis, are a woman of many talents," Nick said huskily.
Tracy would have blushed if she'd been mortal. As it was, she just shrugged and accepted the lightly teasing words as a sign that all was forgiven. "Shall we show up at work tonight?"
Nick lifted from the roof, laughing as she called out to him for a ride. Swooping back for her, he carried her swiftly down to the ground, making her stomach flip at the sudden descent. They were both laughing as they went inside to work.
The gossip makers decided that the lover's quarrel had been resolved.
