Violet made her way to her old changing room, her body glistening with sweat. The dancing had left her drained and yet had failed to cool off her temper. She was still angry with herself, angry that she had been getting caught up with a life that was not for her.

Pretty gowns, warm beds and kind men did not fit into her world. She knew hunger, she knew the cold and she knew revenge. She couldn't forget who she was for some pretty material and a few sentences of a book. Grumbling under her breath, Violet stepped into her changing room. 

"What are you doing here, Violet?" the angry question froze her in place. The familiar scent of heather and mountains came to her, followed by the unmistakable smell of women's perfume. Four different kinds of it. Her fingers curled into her palms.

"I was performing."

"Didn't I say you were not to come here?"

Anger began to boil in her veins. How could he stand there, being angry when he had cast her aside for not one but several women? If she did not need him to get closer to Ismail, she would have hit her violin over his head.

But she did need him and so she had to be calm. Counting to three she moderated her tone.

"The way I remember it, you said I didn't have to come here anymore, implying that it was my choice."

"Don't play games with me Violet." He was close now, so close that she was overwhelmed with the sweet floral scents and the smell of blood that clung to his jacket. Perfect. He had been drinking blood with his women, what else could she expect from a blood drinking fiend? 

"What games my Lord?"

"Why did you come here tonight? Did you see that gypsy, whatever his name is? Did he touch you?"

Violet was surprised by what sounded suspiciously like jealousy. He was pretending to be jealous, he who had spent the evening with god only knew how many women? Anger clouded her judgment, making her forget the need to be calm.

"After deluding me into believing that you care for me, you come in here wearing the scent of four different women on you like a medal! You have no right to ask me anything!"

Raging, she spun to face the door, but before she could take more than a step, Patrick's arm slipped around her waist and she was trapped between the cold wood and his body.

"There were women where I went, yes, but I did not touch them, Violet," his breath was hot in her ear. Violet couldn't believe her treacherous body was reacting to his closeness. He was a cad, a lout, how could she want him now of all times?

"Let me go," the words were weak even to her ears.

His free hand came around to press against her belly, pushing his hardness against her skirts.

"I've thought of no one but you all day. Tell me you thought of me too. Tell me you want me."

He was calm now, his words husky and slow, but Violet's heart was still pounding and her knees felt weak. She lifted her hands to brace herself against the door.

"No," she would not admit that she wanted him.

"Don't lie to me, Violet," his hips moved against her in a slow, agonising circle."Can't you smell the lust out there? Those bastards are all fantasizing about you, wishing they could touch you." Patrick lifted her skirt until it was riding on her hips and the cold air made her shiver for a moment before his hand covered the material that hid the hottest part of her. "Do you know how it felt to watch them watch you?"

Violet couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips when his fingers found their way under the thin cotton and pressed against her.

"Tell me you want me, Violet."

He eased two fingers inside her, stealing her breath.

"Tell me."

Violet didn't want to give in. Her breath hitched in her throat when he moved his fingers out, then back into her wet heat.

"Patrick..." the complaint sounded more like an invitation.

"Tell me you're mine, Violet, or I'm going to have to go out there and kill those bastards."

The rough words sent a thrill through her body and brought her close, so close to the edge.

"The other women..."

Patrick growled at her breathless words. For a split second his body moved away from her and then he was there again, one hand holding her skirts while the other crept over her stomach and to the edge of her knickers.

"Do you want proof?"

"Proof?" she was confused, her mind reeling at the loss of his fingers.

His hand slipped down, over the material that covered the little bud that ached for release and pulled the cotton aside. Then he was there, hard as rock, pushing against her entrance.

Violet gasped as he pushed up and forward and slipped into her. The fullness lasted only a moment before he was pulling out again. Unable to control herself, she was moaning in complete abandon.

"I want you Violet, only you. Do you believe me now?"

Violet brought her hands together on the door to keep her head from hitting the wood as Patrick pushed back inside her.

"Yes."

Patrick pulled at her hair, forcing her to face him.

"Tell me you want me."

He moved faster.

"Yes."

"Say it."

Violet was panting now, her body opening around him, wanting more. "I want you."

The admission seemed to break something in him and had Patrick claiming her mouth while his hands lifted her legs to pull her into him. 

"Lady Violin?" The voice from the other side of the door shocked Violet, but Patrick didn't seem inclined to stop. He did release her lips, however, and whispered in her ear.

"Answer him."

"Ah.. Y..yes?" Violet barely got the words out when Patrick grasped her breasts and pulled her down more firmly on top of him.

"Someone sent flowers for you," the boy outside sounded confused.

Patrick growled low and pounded into her.

"Lea-ve them the-re." Violet couldn't hold on much longer. She was going to come apart.

"Okay." The boys' shrug was evident in his voice, and a moment later his footsteps receded down the hallway.

"Patrick," Violet implored but for what,  she didn't know.

"Come with me, Violet." He crossed his arms over her, pulling her one final time onto himself and then the world spun and Violet exploded to the sound of his tortured moan.

It took a few moments for Violet to feel like she could move again. Patrick stepped back, lowering her skirts before turning her to face him.

"Are you okay?"

She tried not to let the concern in his voice warm her, but failed.

"I'm fine."

"I don't know what came over me, Violet. I don't have an excuse, but well, it's your fault."

"My fault?" Strength was rapidly returning to her knees, so she took a step away from him.

"Yes. You make me lose both my sense and control, woman. Now let's go home."

Violet thought about protesting, but decided against it. She didn't know what she was doing anymore, but being close to Patrick felt right.

"Okay."

"Oh and Violet?"

"Yes?" Violet's hand stopped in the process of straightening out her hair.

"Who the hell sends you flowers?"

Violet shrugged as she continued trying to straighten out her appearance, "I don't know. I've never been able to read the notes."