April 13, 1942

It was a particularly dreary day in Paris, France. Genevieve sat outside the Café de Soleil Rouge smoking a German cigarette. She didn't particularly have a brand that she was loyal to, but it wouldn't have been the Eckstein unfiltered garbage sticks that the colonel had gifted her. They served their purpose though. She kept her nose in her book and her mouth occupied around the cigarette, waiting for that time of day when he would surely walk by as he patrolled the streets, flaunting his authority. She didn't know if he would do so intentionally just to see if she was outside, or if he had some sort of reason for his being there. Nevertheless, she sat and waited with Waltz sleeping at her feet.

Every now and then he would rub his snout against the violet heel of her shoe and whine until she scratched him behind his ears, and then he would be content for a few more minutes. She smoked and read and eavesdropped on the Germans until the mid afternoon, before her target finally appeared.

It was a flash of black out of the corner of her eye. It stood out among the green as it moved down the sidewalk. She didn't flag him down or even lift her eyes from her book, instead she waited patiently. If he saw her, he would come over. It was just a matter of time. Waltz was the giveaway. His ears perked up and his tail began to wag.

"Enjoying your book?" His French was so smooth and lush that she could have mistaken him for a native.

"I was. Now I'm getting bored." She snapped her book closed and stubbed her cigarette on her half eaten croissant. She turned around and wasn't the least surprised to see the colonel standing directly behind her chair. "Patrolling?" she queried.

Nicolas smiled warmly, too friendly for a person in his position, and stated, "I was, but now I'm bored."

Genevieve felt the corners of her lips tugging up, betraying her impassive expression she wore. He bent down and gave Waltz a good long belly scratch that had the pup rolling over for more. "Suppose we are both bored with nothing to do. If I were to ask you to go on a walk with me, would you?" He got back to his feet and gave her a hopeful look.

"What if I said no?" she tested his mood, placing her book back into her purse.

"Then I would bid you adieu and be on my way," he answered with the tiniest hint of offense at her query.

"And what if I should say yes?"

He grinned wickedly and took a step closer to her. Waltz's tail slapped melodically against his black boots. "Then I would offer you my arm, and take you somewhere rivaled only by your beauty." She smiled back at him, feeling a step closer to her desired endgame, and slipped her arm into his, silently answering his question.

It was indeed a beautiful setting, though she doubted very much that even she was more beautiful, despite how overly primped the order had made her. It seemed like one of the rare untouched jewels the Nazis overlooked. Either they appreciated the park's beauty, or they simply disregarded it altogether. Whatever the reason, Genevieve appreciated it very much.

They took a gravel path that crunched beneath their feet like fresh fallen leaves. "I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed my time with you very much. I was the envy of the evening," he told her without much reserve.

She smirked at him. "I should hope so. It was held in your honor," she pointed out.

Nicolas stopped and turned to her, holding her hands in his. "I mean it. Every man in that room was jealous of me, and it wasn't for some medal. I truly enjoyed your company." She flushed under his impertinent gaze and let her eyes drop away from his. He released her hands and continued on down the path with her pacing him at his side. He looked over at her and pressed his lips together in a muted smirk. "I can see why you chose the name Waltz. You're a magnificent dancer. Where did you learn?"

She couldn't tell him that she had studied the different dances at the academy where the order picked her up. That would be suicide. "My mother taught me when I was young." It was a perfect lie with no way to fact check.

He nodded, surely knowing of her parent's demise. "She was a wonderful teacher," he said in place of more questions.

"Merci beaucoup."

Waltz blew past them barking wildly. His jaws snapping and snarling at something beyond the small hill ahead of them. Nicolas drew his pistol, readying to shoot whatever came over that hill. Genevieve froze, never seeing the pup behave like that before. She waited, bating her breath, the feeling of the colonel's arm around her waist was the only thing anchoring her.  If he expected her to play the damsel in distress, then she would do it flawlessly.  She had several weapons tucked about her person, but she knew better than to draw them out in front of him.

She could still hear Waltz growling and barking somewhere beyond the trees. Neither of them spoke. The barking grew louder and louder until Waltz came back into view. He was no longer snapping and snarling at something, now he was sprinting away from a tan blur. Nicolas stood straight, aimed his Walther at the blur, and fired one single shot. Genevieve held the hem of her long skirt as they both jogged over to see what had frightened the pup. "A lynx." Nicolas identified it, nudging it with the toe of his boot. The giant cat flopped over, a gaping wound visible right between his eyes.

"Are you alright mon amour?" She knelt down, cooing to Waltz as she stroked his fur. The dog whimpered, licking his front paw. A trickle of blood was beginning to mar his beautiful coloring. "He's hurt," she gasped. Genevieve pulled out a white handkerchief from her purse and began to dab at the wound. It was small, nothing serious, likely just a scrape or small bite. "I'll need to take him home," she told the colonel.

"Let me see." He bent down and took a flask from his belt, pouring it over the pup's paw. The blood began to wash away and reveal the tiniest of wounds underneath. "Oh, that's minuscule! He'll be fine, here, let me see that." He snatched the cloth from her hand and tightly wrapped it over the injured paw. Waltz whimpered all the while until he finished. The pup jumped up and bounded away as though no trouble had befallen him. His tail wagged and his tongue hung out as he chased a flock of birds between the trees.

Genevieve slowly stood back up and gaped at the turn of events. "You certainly know how to dress a wound." She observed Waltz bounding along the grass, not even a hint of his paw bothering him.

"Comes with the territory." He shrugged and held his arm out for her to take, stepping over the dead cat.

"I can imagine." She slipped her arm within his and let him continue down the path. She didn't like seeing the human side of him. She preferred the monster. At least with the monster she knew what to expect and it made her mission all the easier. "What were you doing before the war?" The question left her painted lips before she could stop it.  She inwardly cursed herself for asking such a personal question.  It mattered not if he was a murderer or a veterinarian before the war, she would have to take him in either way.

Nicolas raised his brows, letting his surprise at her inquiry show visibly. "Well," he took a deep breath, "I suppose I was living a much quieter life back home in Berlin. I had a dog, Katja, and a sister and nephew that lived with me."

She couldn't imagine him being a family man. "What were their names?"

"Tilde and August."

There was a touch of sorrow in his tone that she couldn't shake. "Where are they now?" she braved, hoping it wasn't pushing him too far.

"I'd imagine still on the farm was Katja. August will have just turned twelve."

"I had no idea you had family," she admitted, feeling a pull at her heart.  Monster, she reminded herself.

"We all come from somewhere." He shrugged and kept his pace. He pointed up and whispered, "Look."

Genevieve followed his finger to a bird flying low near the trees. The golden brown of its feathers made a soft swishing sound over their heads. "An eagle," she said under her breath.

"A good omen," he elaborated. Waltz spotted the bird as well and began to yap and leap up below it. She giggled at the sight, but stilled when she felt the colonel sweep her hair behind her ear. "You have a beautiful laugh," he complimented. Her cheeks warmed under his intense stare.

She looked ahead at the hills and sighed, "It's getting late."

He retracted his hand and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to say something but she beat him to it. "Would you mind terribly driving me home?" She turned to him, looking up from beneath her mascara coated lashes.  It was a simple question, but it would result in a great triumph should he respond the way she hoped.

His lips pulled up into a delighted grin. "It would be my pleasure."

She felt a swelling of pride at just how easily the colonel was falling for her rue. He practically dragged her to his Mercedes, stuffing Waltz into the back as gently as he could while he yapped and squirmed, and then held the door open for her like a gentleman. It was hard to believe that he was the same man that had assaulted her on their first encounter, but it was that specific memory that was burned into the forefront of her mind to remind her just what kind of man he really was. She didn't want his kindness to cloud her judgment when the time came to take him in. She'd seen his ugliness, witnessed him call for the murder of dozens of French civilians, and seen the blind rage in his eyes as he held the lieutenant's life in his hands. She had to keep those visions fresh in order to carry out her mission.

The sun was beginning to set by the time they pulled up in front of her mansion. The exterior was already looking immensely better since his little gift of five servants had been delivered. The flower boxes below the windows had been getting water more often and weeded just as much. Cascades of blues and tendrils of ivy wound down the planter boxes.

"I see that your housekeeping needs are being tended to. Are you enjoying my gifts?" he queried as he walked her up to her door with Waltz bounding behind them.

"I am very pleased with them. I've become quite fond of Noemi, and she of Waltz," Genevieve replied happily. The little French woman looked to be no older than a teenager, but she had the patience of a mother three times over the way she trained Waltz day and night. She hadn't seen a single accident left on her priceless golden threaded rugs since Noemi had taken over his obedience training.

"Have you? I'm sure you're the best master of the house that they could have ever hoped for." She expected him to be sarcastic, or belittle her for making friends with her servants, but he didn't. Instead, he seemed genuinely pleased to hear of her fondness.

"I should think so," she said under her breath, but by the smirk that presented itself on his handsome face he had heard. He opened the door for her and stood back while she clicked her heels inside. The sunset sky was glowing a beautiful sherbet pink and orange that reminded her of a raspberries and mangoes back when importing fruits wasn't considered a luxury. She looked to the colonel as he took off his skull and bones cap, lingering respectfully in the doorway as though he were a proper gentleman.  His hair was cropped short, but it still sprouted little waves that would begin to curl if left uncut.  An endearing attribute to an otherwise hostile persona.

"Gute nacht, Bärchen." His thick German accent vibrated through her chest. Waltz ran up the stairs, disappearing, surely, into his kennel in her bedroom to gnaw whatever was left of his ham bone.  It was either that, or he would sprint out the back and wiggle his way into the pool house to be with Noemi.

Nicolas turned away to depart, and for the briefest of moments she felt an urge, rather than an obligation, to stop him. "Wait!" It came out rushed, and she gracefully allowed the apples of her cheeks to redden, surprised by her own outburst as much as he.

She opened her mouth to explain, but only a tiny squeaking noise came out. For once in her life, she was speechless. Perhaps it was the way he was staring at her in a manner that bordered both suspicion and amusement that had thrown her off. She suddenly felt unable to say anything further. She cleared her throat daintily and tried once more before she ruined her chance completely. "I-"

"Yes?" He cocked one dark blonde brow.

"Would you..." She frowned. Fumbling with her words was not something she was accustomed to.

"Yes?" he pressed arrogantly, walking back up to stand in the doorway once more, just a meter or so away from her.

Genevieve hastily toyed with a platinum curl that had fallen in front of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I just...I was wondering if-" She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before the colonel rushed at her, pressing her body against the wall with his own and enveloping her mouth with his. Heat rushed through her body as his hands wound through her hair, tugging ever so slightly as his lips worked expertly against her own. She could barely catch her breath as he kissed her. She gulped in air as he moved from her lips to her chin, kissing along her jaw bone, and down her neck to stop just above her breasts. She felt out of oxygen before anything had even begun. She jumped when he kicked his foot behind him and slammed the door shut before hiking up her skirt and lifting her so that her legs could wrap around his leather clad torso.

Neither said a word, their mouths too occupied to speak, as he carried her up the steps. He navigated the stairs successfully with barely a glance, his strong arms holding her up with minimal effort. She was grateful that Waltz wasn't in his kennel. He had most likely ran when the door slammed and found Noemi if he hadn't went straight to her in the first place. The colonel shut her bedroom door in a similar fashion, and walked her to the bed. She licked along his lower lip and grazed her teeth against it lightly. A low growl erupted from the back of his throat at the action and he gently laid her down on the mattress.

He straddled her on his knees and leaned back, just staring at her fully clothed on the bed. She could feel that her red lipstick had smeared just a smidgen below her bottom lip. It felt sticky and thick. The dusky light filtering in from her western window illuminated the shade on the colonel's lips and she felt a rush of heat all over again. It was her job. It was what was to be expected of her. But it all felt so forbidden all of the sudden. She had never before felt that way about sleeping with her target.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed and trailed one hand from her ankle, up behind her calf, following the curve of her thigh until it reached the apex of her legs. Her breath hitched when he pressed his palm against her silk covered center. Her eyes fluttered closed naturally, but the sensation ceased the moment she did so.

"Nein," he said softly and he leaned over her body. "I want to see your eyes." She let them open slowly and looked up into his pale sapphire orbs. He continued to press his hand against her, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric and taking his index finger back and forth between her folds. He smirked when he felt how ready she was.

She gripped his forearm, her nails digging into his long black coat.  "Non," she found herself murmuring at his demand.

The colonel's brows knit together at her defiance.  "No?"  

Genevieve propped herself up on her elbows, reaching up to capture his lips.  She pulled away, watching his eyes as they stayed shut just a moment longer, savoring her taste.  "You will speak French to me.  I won't make love to any other language," she explained heatedly.  A devilish grin spread over his face as he nodded his agreement.  A single moan escaped from her painted lips just as one finger pushed inside of her and the colonel swallowed it up. Her lips parted and his tongue entered, exploring every corner of her mouth with it as his hand continued to work. She felt a giggle bubble up in her throat when he pulled away, his hand retreating. "Don't you ever grow weary of wearing that dreadfully heavy coat?" She playfully pulled at his sleeve.

"Right now, I'm weary of every stitch of clothing," he said breathily and ripped his jacket off, tossing it behind him. She sat up, undoing the first button on her blouse. He was too busy ripping his own shirt off to notice until she reached the second button. He stopped, his eyes moving to her hands and watching hypnotically as she undressed herself slowly. His hands remained on the waist band of his trousers, steady despite his irregular breathing.  A soldier's hands.

She reached the last button and slowly slid the blouse down her arms until it pooled around her waist. Her thin white brassier was all that concealed her breasts from him. Her chest heaved up and down as the room grew stiflingly hot and stuffy all at once. He leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of each mound before finishing with his own shirt that hung loosely off him. She watched as the crisp fabric fell away to reveal the blond tuft of hair that covered his chest. She ran her hands over his through it, clawing lightly, until she moved to his back.

He held the back of her head with his free hand, balancing with the other, and deepened his kiss. Genevieve let her hands trail up and down and stopped when she felt the puckered skin of old scars. She broke the kiss and peeked over his shoulder to see long, pale, pink lines in all directions. "You've been lashed," she breathed out. She hadn't expected a man like him to have such markings on his body. She assumed, if anything, he was the one holding the whip.

"Nein." He pulled back. "Those were not made with a whip." She furrowed her brows as he turned around so she could see. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots with a loud thud when they hit to floor. "They were cut into me with a knife."

"A knife?" She traced the lines with her fingertips ever so gently. "Who would do that to you?" The moonlight hit his scars and she gasped, seeing it was less of a wound and more of a mark. It was a swastika from between his shoulder blades down to his hip bones. "Oh," she muttered, understanding a bit better.

He reached back and touched her hand that had paused over his shoulder. She felt him give her a light squeeze before looking over at her. There was a flicker of some emotion she wasn't accustomed to seeing on him. Shame? Embarrassment? She couldn't decipher it.

"I was marked by the British, before I joined. They came to my farm and branded me as a supporter. They didn't ask if I was one, they just assumed because I was German that I was a Nazi supporter."

"And were you?" she inquired softly.  Monster.

"Was I what?" He turned a bit.

"A Nazi supporter before you joined?"

He chuckled lightly. "Doesn't matter. They made the choice for me." Something in the way he said it made her heart hurt for him. She leaned in and kissed the old scars, feeling the smoothness of the healed flesh and leaving little reddish pink lipstick stains in her path. She felt him stiffen at first and then relax into her touch. Genevieve continued to kiss his back and let her hands drop into his lap, unfastening his belt from behind and tugging it out of the loops.

She nipped his shoulder lightly and ceased her touching, turning her attention to her own clothing and suddenly feeling claustrophobic beneath the layers. Nicolas stood up, letting his trousers fall down until he was standing before her wearing only his socks and white boxers. His stomach was toned and a shade or two lighter than his face due to constantly being confided under layers of dark clothing and heavy leather coats. She swallowed hard under his gaze. The way he looked at her wasn't how she imagined, not after he had already seen her half naked before. He wasn't staring at her like he had in the wine cellar; hungrily. This time was different. His eyes were soft...mesmerized even. His expression reflecting something more along the lines of longing than raw lust. It made her feel a bit self conscious. He was a man notorious for his way with women. His sexual exploits were talked of more than his war ones were.

"What?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

He smiled, calming her nerves a bit. "Nothing," he said finally, shaking his head. "I just want to remember this moment."

She felt her heart beat faster as he knelt in front of her, beckoning her to the edge with his curled finger. She shifted over and let her legs dangle over the side. In one swift movement he unfastened her bra and took a nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue and moving over to the other one, going back and forth and forcing her into madness. He pulled her to a stand before she knew what was happening and unzipped the back of her skirt, letting it drop in a heap at her feet.

He bent down, never taking his eyes off of hers as he unsnapped her garter belt from her stockings and slid them down her legs painfully slow. He plucked the heels from her feet and kissed his way from her ankles to the top of her panties before dragging them down with his teeth. He finally tore his eyes from hers once she was completely bared for him and stared at the image before him. His jaw slackened at the sight of the dark hair between her legs, and she gulped.  Her mind was caught between the insatiable need to have him, and the fear that he would question the difference in color of her hair. He glanced up one more time, no trace of accusation in his eyes, rather it was as if he was asking for permission. She entangled one hand into his perfectly combed blond hair, mussing it and gently guiding him forward until his face was buried in her sex. She moaned in pure bliss as his tongue flicked up and down her glistening folds before it settled on swirling around her sensitive little nub.

He growled into her, sucking and licking. The vibrations of his own groans made her legs tremble, threatening to give out. His hands slid up the backs of her legs and cupped her her backside, kneading it gently in his palms. "Nicolas," she breathed shakily and he raised his head to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, "make love to me."

He stopped moving, his hand stilled against his bottom lip. Slowly, he rose up, towering over her and making her breath hasten. "Are you sure?" he checked, taking her cheek into his hand and searching her eyes for a hint of hesitation. She was certain he found none when he lowered his lips back down onto hers and kissed her so deeply that she stumbled backwards onto the bed. A small giggle bubbled up in her throat at the motion.

"Its hardly fair that I'm the only one that is naked," she teased, toying with the band of his boxers. Her fingertips grazed the erection beneath and made him shudder.

Nicolas smirked against her skin. "Allow me to rectify that." He sat up, shedding his socks and underwear in record time before climbing back on top of her. Her eyes widened at the swollen member between his legs. It was a great deal larger than she would have imagined, judging by her colleague's description of their own experiences with the Nazis, and she suddenly felt a bit nervous. She assumed he could see it written plainly on her face because he cupped her chin in his hand and pressed a kiss to her lips. "I'll be gentle." It was a sentence she never thought a man like him would say. She just guessed that he lacked the capability to be courteous. All Nazis, for that matter.

"Not too gentle." She nipped lightly at the skin of his shoulder.

Nicolas nuzzled into her neck, positioning himself at her entrance. He pulled away, his eyes piercing into hers and for a moment she forgot everything else. Pushing all the bad to the back of her mind, and focusing on the way he felt on top of her. His muscles bulging beneath her fingertips, the coarse hair on his chest tickling her bare breasts, the scent of tobacco and cologne invading her nostrils. He leaned on one elbow, holding her head with his other hand, and slowly pushed inside of her.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation as her breath hitched. He didn't stop until he was buried within her. "Genevieve," he moaned as he pulled back and pushed in once more. She lolled her head back and moaned with each thrust, meeting him with her lifted hips. He pumped slowly at first, allowing her to adjust to his size. She felt so full and satisfied with him that she could hardly contain herself and her moans grew louder, bordering on screams.

He panted over her, thrusting harder and relishing in the way she clawed at his back. He straightened his arms, angling himself deeper.

Genevieve felt her eyes roll back in her head, the pleasure overwhelming all her senses. She bit her bottom lip, holding back a scream as the fire in her belly threatened to be her undoing. He bent down and swallowed her cries whole as she came undone beneath him. His thrusts grew rapid until he moaned into her kiss. She felt a heat within her and an undeniable fullness as he filled her. He broke the kiss, resting his sweaty forehead against her own.

An unmistakable grin broke out over his face, though he tried to hide it by shifting off of her. She sat up on her elbows, smirking at him and catching her breath. "You look as though you've been through hell," she commented on his messy hair and sweat clad torso. His shoulders shook with stifled laughter.

"You don't look so put together yourself," he jested, turning to muss her hair with his hand. She felt it sticking up in all directions when he let go and she huffed in mock offense. "Still the most beautiful girl in all of France." She blinked. The compliment caught her off guard.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, refusing to look up at him from her sheets. It was odd, feeling the pull at her heart. It was the proper thing to want him to leave afterwards. She got what she needed, he as well, and there was no need to continue the charade for the time being. Though, even after knowing what the outcome would be, she couldn't help but feel a bit of sorrow at the thought of him leaving so soon.

He must have sensed her apprehension, for he swiveled around and clasped her hand in his. "Not unless you ask me to," he said gravely.

She smiled tightly and lay back on the bed, running her fingers up and down his back and mimed locking her lips and tossing a key. He chuckled and crawled back onto her, kissing her so deeply that she felt the tiniest pang of guilt.