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Beautiful Roses

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Summary: He just needed someone to want him....

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anita Blake > Xander-Centered > Pairing: OtherWonderlandJudasFR1569,54798631,68716 Feb 0917 Jun 11No

Teeth

A/N: Okay.... it's been awhile. Being completely honest here, I had no intent of continuing the story. I really didn't- I got caught up in my own world. Hell, I even lost the plot....

But today I was bored and started going through fanfics again and came upon mine... and read the comments. Aww! I felt so bad! So, so, so bad! I didn't want to completely abandon the story! It was so unfair to you guys! So I re-read through it, gained some semblance of the former plot and mixed it with a new one, and I offer you guys this! I'm going to try to keep it going! :) Your pleas and cookies worked! Lol!

You guys are so nice!

A/N2: I hope I got rid of Xander's OOC-ness. Of course Belle's OOC, but it's not like we know much about her character. Also, the scene between Anita, Micah and Nate happened while Xander and Belle were in Xander's dream.

A/N3: A couple of pop culture allusions here. Just a few. Names and mentions. Let me know if you catch em. :)

Disclaimer: Ha! I wish I owned them.

Feedback: Yes, please! (Flames will be publicly humiliated.)



Chapter 6: Teeth


Power poured through Xander, power so thick and rich, stagnant with the scent of flowers. He could see nothing but the two bulbs of a bright light in his immediate vision- light so bright it almost hurt. All he could do was feel; feel the power, feel the light as it seared through his skin. The power reached a crescendo and he could feel Belle Morte, the vampire who ruled the world through her sexual pleasure. His lover, the one who had chosen him.

Xander feel onto his knees in pleasure, as Belle moved to give him space. The room flashed, becoming brighter and dimmer in different intervals. His vision swam as he fell, forced onto his hands, by the onslaught of vampiric energy.

Belle herself was not faring as well. While her own grip of power was not as loose as Alexander's, she too was falling under the spell of energy surrounding her and surrendering to her touch. She could scarcely believe it! With the amount of power the second mark alone was bringing her, 'them' she corrected, she could only imagine how powerful they would be after the fourth mark. The power swirled through her, eliciting small gasps, as it moved erotically throughout her body.

“Mon Belle Reveur, are you alright?” She gasped, taking a step toward her sweet Alexander.

Xander shook with the force of the energy he felt. He gasped and waved, letting Belle know he was perfectly fine.

Belle laughed. “Alexander, mon reveur, do you feel it? The power we command?”

Xander could barely breath. He could hardly believe it, either. Is this how Willow felt when she did magic? If it was he could understand exactly how she became addicted.

“I can feel it, Belle.” He breathed. Xander leaned back onto the balls of his feet, looking up at his lover. His partner? What exactly do you call your vampire master?

“Mistress, would be fine.” Belle smiled flirtatiously.

Xander raised an eyebrow. “I'm not calling you 'Mistress' or 'Master.' Too many Dracula flashbacks.” He shuddered.

“Dracula?” Belle asked. She concentrated on her dreamer's mind, looking for this 'Dracula.' The last Dracula she had heard of, she had put to death for endangering this new legality they enjoyed. A stream of images ran through her mind.

A small shiver ran through Xander's spine. “Great oogily moogily!,” he exclaimed. “Belle, don't do that!”

Oogily Moogily? Belle wondered, to herself. “Did you feel that, Alexander?”

“Uh, yeah!”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, kneeling to face him. “Do you know what I just did?”

“You...went through my mind?” Xander asked. Were they now somehow telepathically linked? That would be kind of... strange. Actually strange wouldn't be the right word...

“Strange isn't the right word, Alexander.” Belle purred, as she grabbed his hand. A small shock of power traveled through their bodies. “You are right.”

“Wha?” Don't let it be known that Xander wasn't eloquent.

Belle giggled. “We are telepathically linked, mon reveur. It is a sign of the bond between master and servant.”

“So you could read my thoughts if you wanted to?”

Belle shrugged, letting go of his hand as he stood up. “If you allowed me to. Your memories and dreams, as well. You could read mine, if you wished and I allowed.”

“So it works both ways?” Xander asked, as he grabbed Belle by the waist. Another shock, much larger than the first, traveled down his spine.

“You are lucky you are handsome and that I like you, Alexander.” Belle said sultrily, the words like silk to Xander's ears. “Most men would have their arms removed by now.”

“Well I'm glad I'm not 'most men' then.” Xander countered, swinging her around.

“So am I, mon reveur. So am I.”



“So what was that, last night?” Nathaniel asked, his voice soft.

Anita gazed into her coffee cup as if it would provide the answers she desperately sought. The wave of power that disturbed the one peaceful night of sleep she was allowed this week (business was booming and sadly, so was the vampire hunter gig, so she didn't get much) had shook her to the very core. Luckily for her, it hadn't happened too early in the morning, and four o'clock wasn't too bad a time to wake up.

“I don't know.” She looked up at Nathaniel, wearing nothing but a small pair of red shorts that left little to the imagination. Her two leopards her risen with her, after they noticed she couldn't stop shaking. The shaking had disappeared after a bit (six minutes and forty-seconds to be exact) and all Anita was left with was a feeling that something was wrong. She didn't know exactly what, but she felt that something was violating the natural order. Something shifting within the natural tenets of the universe left her with a huge pit of wrongness wriggling in the pit of her stomach.

“Did Jean-Claude know what it was?”

“No, he didn't.” Anita answered softly, turning back to her coffee.

Micah walked into the kitchen, wearing slacks and a blue polo shirt. His hair was in a messy ponytail, still wet from his shower. She stood up and embraced him, breathing in his scent.

The leopard in him leaned into her the touch of his Nimar-Ra, as he returned the embrace. Anita looked toward Nathaniel, giving him a wordless invite. Nathaniel walked over to him, wrapping two arms around them. He, too, relished in the touch.

A few moments passed.

“Okay, while staying like this would be great for the next few hours, it wouldn't exactly be productive.” Anita said, her words a bit muffled as she wriggled in the embrace.

“True.” Micah smiled. Nathaniel smiled as he let them go and Anita sat back down, grabbing her cup of coffee.

Nathaniel returned to the stove, and began frying another sausage, as Micah grabbed a cup of coffee. Nathaniel turned to Anita, a plate of bacon in his hand.

“So what do you think it was?” he asked, placing the bacon on the table.

Anita gazed into her coffee cup, once again. “I don't know.”



Belle Morte awoke with a start and, for a second time, alone in her bed. She simply could not wait until Alexander joined her in his rightful place by her side- as her human servant. She simply relished the thought of how powerful they would be once joined- physically.

She rose, brushing away her curly hair from her beautiful face. Just because she was a vampire, it did not mean she could not get what humans termed as “bed hair.” Belle turned to her mirror and fixed her hair, thinking of what she was going to do in order to get Alexander here, to her dimension. She was aware of human experimentation into astrophysics, but she did not know of any that had been able to travel between differing dimensions- much less any whom could travel by any type of astral projection.

Belle sighed as she grabbed her hair brush. She supposed she could have one of her were-leopard attendants search out a few witches. Some of those ought to be able to help her. She just hoped they wouldn't have to be... persuaded. There were rumors of a trio of powerful witches in the States...

She gasped.

Belle quickly turned to the single clock in her bed chamber. Being a vampire, time had little consequence, as watching it tended to be a bit depressing when immortal. But now...

It was ten in the morning. Despite her visit with Alexander, her awakening should have been metaphysically impossible...

Belle smiled.



Xander woke up, startled. The world seemed a bit hazy. He looked around his hospital room.

Dawn was by his side, quietly dozing in a chair, a grey blanket wrapped around her. Willow was asleep as well, in a little sofa near the window, a spell book on her chest.

He smiled. At least Willow still cared enough to stay. He lifted his hand to his injured eye, as it throbbed in pain. Of course, it didn't hurt as much as it did when he got it (obviously) but it still hurt quite a bit.

Wait.

He said 'quite.' No, worse, he'd thought 'quite,' which made it infinitely worse! When did he start thinking in britishisms?

Xander groaned.

He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was still sharp, dammit! He obviously knew it had to do with Belle and that telepathy-link-thingy they now had. Hey! Maybe...

Xander began to concentrate on Belle, focusing all of his thoughts on her alone. He felt a bit light-headed as he thought of her... as a stream of rapid-fire french invaded his brain.

He grimaced in pain. Okay, maybe he'll try that later. He just hoped Belle's way of speaking wouldn't completely infiltrate into his mannerisms and terminology.

No! Dammit, he'd done it again!

“Lingo. Say it with me, Xander.” He whispered. “Lingo. Not terminology.”

Xander didn't know what was worse. His new 'terminology' (lingo, dammit!), the pain in his eye socket, or the fact that he'd understood the french that had been injected into his brain. Maybe it was the drugs that were making him believe he spoke french.

Wait, was he even still on drugs?

Hazily, Xander wondered what an astral-projection was and what Belle wanted with it.



It was now midnight and Belle Morte looked around her lavishly decorated throne room, as she sat on the aforementioned throne. She wore a black lace, vintage, Chanel dress, made by Coco Chanel herself. She glided across the room, and she looked like a goddess come to life, to the four people in attendance.

The first one, a woman, stood next to one of Belle's leopards, looking meek and mild, with black hair and brown eyes. But Belle knew what kind of power that body held, and what that power could do. Belle had repeated dealings with the woman, Selene, and knew exactly what she could do with those hands of hers.

The next, a man in his early thirties, wearing an impeccable blue suit, stood rigidly. He was by himself, having needed no escort, but the scent of money and the promise of sex. Etienne would do anything for money and the taste of the ardeur again- no matter whose ardeur it was.

Belle smiled and turned her gaze upon the next woman. The girl, barely in her seventeenth year, looked frightened. And Belle had no doubt of that fear- she could taste it in the air. Tamara was the heir to one of France's most prominent magical families, well-versed in the dark arts and practiced in magical theory. She had no doubt that the girl would help her, as it would add to her prestige as a master of witchcraft.
She was glad her witches so far, were so cooperative.

The next one, however, proved to be the exception. A man in his mid-twenties, Ciaran was a recovering drug-addict- not to mention a power witch, from a powerful coven.

He also seemed to take the idea of helping her rather badly.

Her were-leopard had been forced to hold him down, by twisting the witch's arms behind his head and forcing him to his knees. Ciaran had blood around his mouth, a couple of bruises covering his otherwise handsome face, and seemed content to fight, despite the position he was in.

Belle glided over to him, and bent forward, looking into his eyes.

“Look into my eyes, mon magicien,” she purred.

Ciaran screwed his eyes shut and turned his head. “Fuck you,” he spat.

Belle sighed. She supposed she had to do this the hard way. She grabbed him by the chin and turned him to face her.

“Look into my eyes.” Belle whispered, as she unleashed a bit of the ardeur. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Etienne shivering with anticipation.

Ciaran opened his eyes and Belle captured them with her own.

“Listen to me, mon magicien. You will help me find mon belle reveur.” She whispered. “You will throw all of your power and energy into this task, and you will not disappoint me.”

Belle Morte straightened up again, and with a toss of her head and hair, addressed the other three. “The same goes for you three, as well.”

All three looked at her, nodding their heads, accepting her terms.

Belle smiled, flashing her fangs. “Very well. Let us begin.”

The End?

You have reached the end of "Beautiful Roses" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 17 Jun 11.

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