The weather has grown cooler. It's poured almost every day the past week, and this morning's no different. The magic shop's window is speckled with raindrops. The asphalt and pavement outside have become perpetually slick.

It wouldn't be a problem; actually, it would be a welcome reprieve from the muggy weather that's been plaguing the last ditch of the season, even with the sky dark and gloom, holding the promise of thunder, but the wind is on the edge of being out of control, shaking the entry door with each gust. It's begun to teeter on the dangerous side.

That means hardly any customers. There have been a few brave souls that ventured through the store this morning, but the afternoon so far has been quiet.

Hannah shoves a heavy tome back into its place on the packed bookshelf. She's hidden herself away between the bookstacks. She blinks away a sneeze from the heavy dust that lingers in the air, wafting when she's begun upsetting spell books that presumably haven't been touched in months.

Beyond the high bookcases, she picks up the tail end of a muffled conversation.

The lights overhead flicker.

Hannah can hear a melody of laughter drifting from the front of the shop and knows Reid is probably pissing Kane off. She pays it no mind. After a week, it's quickly become a normal occurrence.

Hannah turns and leans heavily against the bookshelf. The warm necklace dangling against her clavicle shifts against her skin.

Across from her, Valrus stares at her, his stormy gaze distant, his head tilted, and a finger tugging at a curl above his ear. He's wearing all black, from his sweatshirt right down to his shoes; it's not a good sign. She's begun to associate such a fashion travesty with one of his bad moods.

She'd initially been apprehensive to have Valrus poof in when Kane is in the vicinity, somehow the mage has an instinctual feeling of wrongness whenever Valrus is in existence. They've carefully tested Kane's sixth sense. It extends to being on visible edge whenever Valrus isn't in the necklace, but nothing more. Kane can't see Valrus, and even when poked, he reacts to the physical sensation, and that's all.

Hannah keeps her voice low: "It's not here, not in the farmhouse either. It's been days and days; there are no spells about..." She begins counting down with her fingers. "Reanimation, recuperation, rejuvenation, revitalization—"

Valrus interrupts her by prowling into her personal space with a glare. His mere presence pinning her against the bookcase. The breathiness in his hushed voice ignites her with a foolish flush of heat: "Are you simple? Haven't you noticed something is amiss?"

"No?"

Valrus places a palm on the thick edge of a shelf and leans close enough that his breath leaves a wake of heat against Hannah's face. His eyes skirt to the end of the bookstack before returning to pin her in their silvery intensity. "Every spellbook you've come across has been novice, useless spells for amateurs. If your mage has any talent, these aren't the spellbooks he uses."

She chooses to ignore the way Valrus has taken to calling Kane your mage. It's not said with a hint of negativity, more disinterest. Hannah doesn't want to delve into why the familiar disregard Valrus bestows on her churns her stomach every time he utters it. She's almost positive that Valrus knows she had that heated kiss with Kane. She'd asked if he'd helped her when she almost suffocated that night, and he'd given her a baleful, knowing grin. And, of course, refused to answer her question.

The hard edge of a book's spine digs into Hannah's upper back. "So... you think Kane's hiding other books somewhere?"

"Personal spellbooks, yes."

Hannah bites at her bottom lip, thinking. "Okay. Where would he keep them?"

Valrus leans closer, holding her gaze, and it's intense. His hushed voice drips with so much irritation that his honeyed accent slips through: "I'd assume he'd keep them with his other personal effects. You need me to tell you that?"

Hannah fiddles with one of her dangling skull earrings. "If you've figured this all out, why haven't you gone into his room and looked yourself? Huh?"

Valrus straightens, moves back, and gives her space to breathe again. But it's not a reprieve; he's selfishly taking his pleasurable warmth. He averts his gaze to the far end of the bookstack. "I can't."

"You can't what?"

Valrus pins her with a spine-shivering glare. "I can't. That's all you need to know. If you'd only—"

Hannah laughs bitterly. "No way!"

And then it's her turn to prowl closer, and Valrus narrows his eyes, backing away in tandem with her every step, until he's flush with the bookshelf. Hannah doesn't miss the way his fingers grip a lower shelf so tightly that his knuckles whiten.

Hannah whispers angrily, "I'm so tired of the runaround with you. You don't tell me anything." Her stomach swoops when Valrus's silvery gaze lingers on her lips before moving up to glare into her eyes. "If you expect me to help you, Val, I can't be left in the dark."

"Help me?" Valrus growls. He's livid, teeth clenched, jaw twitching, but he doesn't move. His body remains tense, his tight grip on the shelf never unfurling, and it's almost believable that he's intimidated by her. "We have a deal. You owe me, and for the forseeable future, you're my servant. That's all this is. You aren't helping me."

Hannah tilts her head. "I don't think that's entirely true." She reaches out and revels in the subtle flinch her touch to his cheek entices. "You're always with me. That's what you said, right?" 

And then, with a thrill, she finds what she's looking for when Valrus relaxes perceptively to the soft brush of her thumb over his cheekbone. "See, I think you're stuck in the necklace. In the dark, when I touch you, it's all you can feel—the only thing that's real to you. Isn't it, Val?"

Valrus grabs her wrist. "The only reason I don't kill you is because I need you to find my spell. Nothing more. Don't delude yourself."

It's foolish, but she smiles widely, revelling in the reaction she's garnered. It's exciting to stoke the flame and tease while hoping she's going to be burned so sweetly.

"So, you need me?" Hannah purrs, and Valrus glares at her so intensely that it should shudder her with apprehension, but it simply stokes the embers in her core. "Why don't you ever just take me? I'd let you."

Hannah's shoved so hard against the far bookshelf that the heavy piece of furniture shakes. Her back protests the treatment, but she's smiling wickedly when Valrus's warm lips descend and steal her breath. Her veins are aflame with the poisonous desire he bestows so exquisitely.

She kisses Valrus with fervour that he returns tenfold, hurting her so perfectly. Her fingers grab and tug handfuls of his soft hair.

It's always soft and gentle with Valrus, to the point of torture, but this unfamiliar roughness is leaving her quaking.

Hannah knows she should feel guilt for exploiting the strange sensory deprivation the demon has been suffering with the necklace that burns hot and shifts against her clavicle, but she's reveling in the undeniable fact that Valrus needs her. No matter how much he denies it, she's the one in power.

Hannah focuses her ears, listening for any approaching footsteps, hoping their blunder with the shelf went unnoticed. It's hard not to lose herself in the sensations.

Her heart is in her throat as his hands ruck the hem of her dress and his fingers grip her thigh, lifting her, so she has to balance on one leg. She hooks her knee around him, purposely digging her heel into his backside.

She moans from the simple feeling of Valrus pressing closer. She can feel his arousal for the first time, not just hear it in his panting breath and wandering fingers.

Valrus wants her.

It bursts her embers of desire into an inferno of need that threatens to consume her if she doesn't snuff the flames, and she'll forget why doing this here is such a bad idea.

Hannah gasps, turning her face away from their kiss. She bites at her lip to stifle her moan as Valrus's soft lips descend on her throat to lick and nip at the sensitive skin all the way up to her ear. It's dizzying. Reality shattering.

Heated breath puffs against her ear, and those perfect fingers she imagines in her sweetest daydreams are under her dress, making her an instrument to his touch.

Valrus's voice is so accented with desire, it could teeter her over the edge if he'd only whisper all the depraved things she's yearning for: "Your mage has cast a spell of protection on his bedroom."

Hannah digs her fingernails into Valrus's shoulders and turns her face sharply to face him with pinched brows, and in doing so, their panting lips hover so close that their ragged breathing mingles. "What are you talking about?"

"He doesn't trust you. After you turn in for the night..." Valrus's silvery gaze is downcast, and his fingers don't still their wandering; they're heavenly, distracting, slipping between her legs so perfectly that it's as if he's touched her one hundred times before in a multitude of universes all coalescing to this moment in time, her maestro. "He's been casting protection spells on his bedroom." His accented voice is low and scratchy with lust. "The vampire's as well; it's even stronger there. I can't even approach the door."

She gasps, "A spell of protection? Protection from what?"

Valrus looks into her eyes, his silvery gaze dilated with desire and a slow-rising grin that could have her prostrate on her knees if her legs weren't already shaking terribly. He licks at her parted lips, nips when she chases the sensation, and laughs so darkly that she feels the sound ascend her spine like cold fingertips. Hannah swears the shadows that cling to this dusty, forgotten corner of the shop reach out and ebb along the ceiling, spider webs of darkness answering their master's call.

"Val, please..." Hannah doesn't know if she's asking for him to answer her question, to give more and finally take what she's offering so blatantly for him to conquer, or to free her from the prison that is his touch and stop the ever-tightening bars from suffocating her soul until all that's left is her need for him.

The wonderful fingers cease their sweet torture, and knuckles brush against her thigh. Her stomach twists so tightly that it aches as Valrus shifts. All she can think of is finally. The inner beast she keeps in check save for her most feral moments is roaring with want, and the world around them might as well cease to exist for all she cares.

She drapes an arm around Valrus's neck, and her other grabs blindly behind her for leverage and knocks a heavy tome from the shelf. The loud thud of it hitting the floor snaps her back to reality.

This isn't the place to be doing this.

"Val..." Hannah gasps against his hair. 

It takes all her willpower to not allow her hindbrain to take precedent as his hot mouth kisses up her neck, and between her legs, their bare skin brushes. 

Hannah chokes, "Stop."

It's instantanous. The wooden floor is unforgiving as she falls to her knees.

It hurts, but the lack of touch hurts so much more.

He's gone.

She can physically feel his lack of presence as a shivering chill settles into her very bones.

Hannah tries to calm her out-of-control breathing and leans forward on her palms. The necklace, swaying with each ragged breath, has become unnaturally cold.

She stays like that for a few minutes, trying to come down from her desire-laden high.

Then, from the end of the bookstack, Reid's cheery voice has her flinching: "What are you doing on the ground?"

Hannah's eyes widen. Shit. She fixes the hem of her dress to protect her modesty and grabs the fallen book with shaking fingers. "Oh, uh, I was..." Hannah wags the book in the air. "I dropped a book."

Reid is smiling as he looks down at her, but his blue eyes narrow ever so slightly.

If it were Kane that came to check on her, he'd probably grunt and walk away after seeing she's alive, but not Reid; it's become apparent that out of the pair, he's the most perceptive and curious.

Which bodes a problem for her as Reid walks closer, crouches down to her level, and simply stares at her intensely.

Hannah tosses the book onto the ground with a thud. She's keenly aware her body is still shaky and her skin is still warm where Valrus's bare skin had brushed hers. "What? I'm fine. Go bother Kane."

It's rude and not what Reid deserves, especially when he's been looking so pitiful this last week with his face bruised, lips split, and swollen. He'd had a substantial limp until a day ago. It probably would have been sooner if he hadn't adamantly refused to use crutches, even after Kane had threatened bodily harm.

Actually, thinking on it now, when she saw Reid's injuries for the first time, his state was dismal, but he's healed exceptionally quickly, his bruises fading in mere nights. It's impressive and sort of unnerving.

Luckily, Reid doesn't show any offence at her abrasiveness. "Your red." He twirls a finger in the air, motioning to her entire face, flushing her further. "And your hair's a mess."

Hannah touches her hair. "I, uh, fell..." She tries to smooth out the tangles with her fingers.

Reid laughs. "You're lying."

"No. I'm not lying. I, uh, did drop the book. It's just... I was, ah, reading..." Hannah doesn't know how to lie her way out of this one. She could get up and simply walk away, but he might chase her and bring Kane into the conversation, which will make it even harder for her to keep composure.

She takes to glaring.

It's only for a few seconds that they simply stare at each other. Reid leans an elbow on his bent knee and rests his bruised cheek against his palm. "You're so strange."

Hannah snorts. "Says you."

"Says me."

An idea lights up her brain. She'll try changing the subject; it's flimsy but could work. Hannah drops a bomb casually. "Are you and Kane sleeping together?"

Not even a flutter of his blonde lashes. Reid smiles wider. "Isn't it obvious?"

"It's really not."

Reid makes a show of looking over his shoulder and then leans closer, lowering his voice into a sultry whisper. "Hannah, are you flirting with me? That's so naughty."

Hannah knows countless poor souls have surely fallen prey to Reid's confident smile and handsome face; even battered and bruised, he still glows with life. She's not his prey. Not her. Never. She'd snuff the alluring light he holds into ashes, and she's begun to enjoy how its warmth feels even from far away. "I'm only asking because I kissed Kane the night we fought that vampire in the warehouse."

It's hard to resist grinning as she finally entices a look of shock to break Reid's carefree façade. He's staring at her, bruised cheek resting against his palm, but it's obvious; he's no longer looking at her, his blue eyes distant and his smile faltering.

Hannah loses all semblance of fun she'd been having at the sudden, uneasy shiver that ascends her spine. She waves her hand in front of Reid's face when she notices he hasn't blinked for an entire minute. He doesn't react.

"Uh, are you okay? Reid?"

It's really unnerving when Reid literally blinks back to life. He raises his face away from his palm and smiles warmly, but it does little to quell the cold feeling of danger that's settled in the very air. "Sorry. I was thinking."

"You kind of went away," Hannah says, laughing nervously as she rises from the floor. Her legs feel numb. She's hyperaware that Reid's blue eyes are tracking her every movement, right down to her palms fixing the hem of her dress.

In a moment of mounting unease, she blurts, "Did I actually upset you?"

Reid rises from his crouch, and there's a fluidity in the way he moves that prickles the nape of her neck with trepidation. "No," he says with a faint laugh. "I was surprised Kenneth didn't tell me. He tells me everything. He never..."

"Never?" Hannah whispers in horror.

"Not never..." Reid tilts his head and mulls for a moment, then says, "Doesn't is a better word."

Hannah let's out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She is not the person to take someone's first thing. Even if it was one hell of a good kiss, the guilt would have weighed on her. 

She shrugs. "He probably didn't say anything because it meant nothing. It might as well have not happened at all, so don't mention it. Okay?"

Kane's been treating her as such, not so much as giving her a lingering glance, since that night, so she is as well. It doesn't mean she isn't appreciating his physique from the safety of his back, but she hasn't tried to approach him. Not to mention, now that she knows he's been laying down spells while she sleeps, it puts a damper on whatever trust she'd thought they'd been building.

Reid inhales. "I can't do that. Sorry, Hannah." He swivels on his heel and she grabs his shirt sleeve, stopping him from leaving.

"Don't," Hannah pleads.

Reid looks over his shoulder, and his blue eyes are alight with mischief. "Hm, did you want to kiss so we're even?" He pouts, "I'm feeling our trio is a bit unbalanced now."

"Do you ever shut up?" Hannah hisses. She rolls her eyes at Reid's toothy grin. She's getting the sense that Reid might have some machoistic tendencies. It explains why he's stuck so close to Kane all these years. "Don't be a bastard. It was in the heat of the moment, and I, uh, kissed him. So keep quiet."

Reid turns around to face her with a triumphant smile. He wags a finger in the air, very close to her face. The ring he wears on his forefinger catches the orange-hued hanging light overhead. It's midnight blue with a flat circle and a silvery design that she hasn't been close enough to make out, but it looks like outstretching vines. 

"I knew it. I knew it! He's always denied it, but he always gets that psychopathic look in his eyes." Reid doesn't seem bothered by the descriptor, with delight coming off him in waves. "He gets off on fighting!"

Hannah's pinched expression must give enough away without words because Reid tips his head back and laughs. It's a sound better kept for a villain in their evil lair upon seeing their diabolic plans come to fruition.