The Spell ~ Closed for Poohlive and myslef

The Spell ~ Closed for Poohlive and myself

The call that changed Jessie St. Jame's life came on a friday night. Another dateless night that in no way was different then any other unremarkable dateless friday night in her all-too-predictable life, which-she was in no hurry to discuss-were a lot of friday nights.

Sitting in the dark on her her fire escape outside the kitchen window of her third story apartment, enjoying an unseasonably warm autumn evening. She was being a shameless voyeur, peeping around the corner of the brownstone to watch a crowd of people, that unlike her, had time to have a life, and were talking and laughing out on the sidewalk in front of the nightclub across the street.

A leggy redhead and her boyfriend, a dark haired, sun-bronzed, muscled hottie in jeans and a white T-shirt, had kept Jessie riveted. He kept backing his girlfriend up against the wall, stretching her hands above her her head, and kissing her like there was no tomorrow, getting into it with his whole gorgeous, rippling body.

Jessie sucked in a sharp breath. God, had she ever been kissed like that? Like a man couldn't wait to get inside her? Like he wanted to devour, maybe crawl right inside her skin?

She watched them, watched the redheads hands slip free and cup the hottie's ass. The womans fingers curving into his muscled butt, and Jessie's hands curled into fists.

When the hottie's hands skimmed up the redhead's breasts, his thumbs grazing her nipples, Jessie's own went hard as little pearls. She could almost imagine she was the one he was kissing, that she was the one he was about to have hot, anamalistic -

Why can't I have a life like that? she thought.

You can, an inner voice reminded -- after your PhD.

Jessie was sick of being in school, sick of being broke, sick of constantly racing from her classes to her full-time job as Professor Keene's assistant. Her highly demanding, tightly organized schedule left no time for a social life. She wasn't one of the lucky ones to have a free ride through school. Jessie had to scrimp and save, make every moment and penny count. In addition to working full-time and taking a ton of classes, she also taught. Barely leaving time to sleep and eat.

On a few occasions she had tried to date, the guys had gotten so fed up with how seldom she saw them, how low on her list of priorities they were, how unwilling she was to fall in bed with them, that they moved on to greener pastures. It seemed most college guys thought there was something wrong with a woman if they didn't score by the third date.

It would be worth it though. Although some didn't seem to think being and archaeologist and playing with oold, dusty, or, frequently, dead things for the rest of one life was an exciting thing to do, Jessie couldn't imagine a more thrilling career. It may not be on others list of dreams but it was on hers.

Dr. Jessica St. James. She was so close she could taste it. Another year and a half and she'd be done with her corse work for her PhD. Then she might date like the Energizer Bunny, making up for lost time. Right now, she had worked so hard and gone into so much debt she couldn't screw it up because of her hormones.

In a few years, she told herself, staring down at the busy street, the people at that club would probably still be hanging out there, their lives the same, while she would be traveling, digging up remnants of the past, having grand adventures.

Who knew, maybe Mr. Right would be waiting for her out there at some future dig site. Maybe her life just wasn't scheduled to take off as fast as everyone else's. Maybe she was just a late bloomer.

Holy cow -- the hottie was slipping his hand inside the redhead's jeans. And her hand was on his -- oh! Right there in front of God and everybody!

Behind her, somewhere in her cramped and crowed apartment that needed cleaned and have the trash taken ou,t a phone rang. Jessie rolled her eyes. The mendaneness of her existance alwasy chose the most inconvenient moments to intrude.

Ring! Ring!

She gulped anther fascinated look at the unbashed display of sex-on-the-side-walk, then reluctantly booted herself inside the kitchen window. Shaking her head in a vain attempt to clear it, then pulled the shade. What she could see she guessed, couldn't torture her as much.

Riiiiing!

Finally finding the phone on the sofa, buried under a pillow, candy wrappers and a pizza box. She pushed aside the box, her hand hesitating on the talk button. For some reason she had an urge not to answer the phone. That she should just let it ring and ring. Maybe let it ring all weekend.

Later Jessie would recall that feeling.

Time seemed to stand still for that odd, pregnant slice of time, and she had the weirdest sensation that the universe itself had stopped breathing and was waiting to see what she would do next.

Wrinkling her nose at the ridiculous, egocentric thought. As if the universe ever even notice Jessie St. James.

She picked up the phone.

It wasn't hell.

For the longest time he thought it was hell. That the world itself had moved on somehow, jumped into some cosmic slip stream and sent hurling millions of years into the future or past or colliding with the visible ends of the universe to never be seen again.

He thought for a time he was the last living remnant of mankind. Some marker, for future generations, or alien visitors. Something highly evolved will come and find his box, pick it up, and inside the mirror he will pop out...

Earth, civilization, culture, all boiled down to a man trapped inside of a box.

The way he had heard it, modern civilization was like that. Everyone was trapped in their own metaphoric box, some walls they have built up, unable to reach past or comprehend.

For Julian, those walls were real, and his box a small article of wood elegantly carved and designed with flawed intervention.

He'd been released from time to time. From his inprisonment of the box he had been released to see the world, and what it had made for himself. For him it felt as if he were merely hibernating, coming out each spring to find advances and things which he had missed.

People lived in time, they traveled. He only visited. He was a visitor, he lived within his box. He was immortal, a trapped immortal, unable to die.

He would like to die... or live. One or the other. This, was no existance. It was half of an existance some fair shadow of a reflection. He had somehow traded places with his reflection in the mirror, and now lived as a two dimensional figure, only to come out when opened.

Although, it wasn't a bad reflection at that. Long black hair fell down in curles, his face rugged and chiseled. Emerald green eyes pierced anything he looked upon, dark and striking at the same time. Many a woman fell for him during his life time.

Those memories are what kept him sane inside of this containment. The memories of life, the days when he had been free. He lived a thousand years ago, he had grown up in the mountains of Scotland. He lived his life simply and easily, becoming a druid for their religion.

He became driven by power, easy and simple. This was a time when the earth still had so much power to give, when the driven world contained pockets of pure magic.

He sought those pockets. He formed his own cult, own group of men and women to search and use those means to his own end. The women loved him, the men wanted to be him. Everyone fell in line when Lucian uttered a command.

And he found his rite for immortality. Lucien... Lucien, the name sick as acid in his mouth. Lucien told him of the spell, Lucien told him to peform the ritual. Lucien turned him into this slave, what he is today.

There were days... and he used the word days figuratively, for inside the box he had no knowledge of the passing of times, when he desperately wanted someone to open the box. Then there were days when he desperately wanted to be left alone.

He was a man apart, ultimately...

Someone once remarked him as a genie. A genie in a box. He supposed he was, bound to whoever opened the box for him. That person commanded and he did as he was told. He held powers, ancient and mystical, flowing through his body. These solid powers could kill a man where he stood, create anything from nothing, do the impossible.

Yet, they were not his powers anymore. He could only use them when someone else wanted him too. He was a slave to whoever opened the box. So, yes... there were days when he dreaded the next person to open it.

He had strived for power all his life, and now he had become that very thing. A piece of power, the ultimate in the entire world. He was an artifact, a living breathing fraction of god.

Julian smiled at that, it would be nice to think so, wouldn't it? Well, all he had here were his thoughts. So, he could think them, everything else be damned.

Sometime later, shortly after midnight, Jessie was back on campus for the third time today, in the south wing of the Archaeology Department, unlocking Professor Keene's office.

She wonderedwhy she even bothered leaving. Given the hours she kept, she'd be better off tucking a cot into that stuffy, forgotten janitors closet down the hall, amid mops and brooms and pail that hadn't been used in years. She'd not only get more sleep, she'd save on gas money too.

When the professor had called her from the hospital to tell her that he'd been in a "bit of a fender bender" on his way back to campus -- "a few inconvenient fractures and contusions, not to worry," he's assured her swiftly -- she'd been expecting him to ask her to pick up his classes for the next few days, but he informed her he'd already called Mark Troudeau and arranged for him to take his classes until he returned.

I've a wee favor to ask of you, though, Jessica. I've a package coming. I was to accept a delivery at my office this evening, he told her in his deep voice that, even after twenty-five years away from County Louth, Ireland, had never lost its lilt.

Hugging the phone between ear and shoulder, she glanced at her watch, the luminous dial indicating ten minutes past ten. What kind of package gets delivered so late at night? she wondered out loud.

You needn't concern yourself with that. Just sign for it, lock it up, and go home. That's all I need.

Of course, Professor, but what --

Just sign, lock it up, and forget about it, Jessica. A pause, a weighty silence, then: I see no reason to mention this to anyone. It's personal. Not university business.

She blinked, startles; she'd never heard such a tone in the professor's voice before. Words sharply clipped, he'd sounded defensive, amost... well, paranoid.

I understand. I'll take care of it. You just rest Professor. Don't worry about a thing, she soothed hastily, deciding that whatever pain meds he was getting were making him funny, the poor dear. She'd once had Tylenol with codeine that had made her feel itchy all over, shrt-tempered and irritable. With multiple fractures, it was a sure bet he'd been given something stronger.

Now standing beneath the faintly buzzing lights in the hallway, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. She was exhausted. Turning the key in the lock, she pushed open the office door. Finding the light swich, and flipping it on. The office smelled of leather and reminded her of a library in a nineteen-century English manor house.

"In here," she called to the delivery man.

The packed wasn't what she expected. She had imagined it an envelope, a small parcel. This package was a crate, a huge one at that. It was tall, wide, about the size of a.... well, a sarcophagus or something, and proving no easy matter to navigate through the corridors.

"I need to sign something."

"More then that. It's worth boo-koo bucks and the shipper's insurer's got to have visual verification and release. That means you have to open it and look inside. If you don't look at it, I take it back. The shipper will be plenty pissed if that happens. If it happens to be shipped a second time your professor will be sure to be pissed too."

"Fine. Let's do this. Open it up."


Give or take twenty minutes later the delivery men left and she was alone with what turned out to be a mirror. Taller then she by almost a foot, the mirrors ornate frame was a shimmery gold. Shapes and symbols, of such uniformity and cohesion to imply a system of writing, were carved into the every inch of the border. She narrowed her eyes, pondering the etchings, yet she could find none that she knew. The silvery glass were marrred with a cloudy, uneven black stain of some sort, but aside from that, the glass itself was startling clear.

The archioligist in Jessie yearned to know the piece's provenance, wondered if the frame had been dated. She frowned. What did the professor want with a mirror anyway? Such an item wasn't his usual taste. How could he aford something worth "boo-koo" bucks on his teaching staff?

Finding the key in her pocket, she turned to leave. Her work done here. Flipping off the light she felt a chill. She felt with great certainty she was being watched. In a manner that prey was wathced. Flincing, she turned toward the mirror.

Dimily lit by the computers screen saver, she saw something move. She sucked in a breath so fast she choked on it, Sputtering, she groped for the light switch.

Overhead light blazed down, flooding the room. Only her reflection stared back. Just her.

"Jessie, your losing it," she whispered.

There was nothing there, no one in the room with her. Turning off the light she left the room. The more distance she put between her and the office, the more ridiculous she felt. Getting spoked alone on campus like that. SHe couldn't afford to be fanciful. At times, though, it was hard not to be, especially when holding a twenty-five-hundred-year-old Druid brooch. Certain relics seemed to carry lingering traces of energy, the residue of the passionate lives of those who'd touched them.

Though not anything like what she thought she'd just seen.

"How weird was that?' she muttered, shaking off a lingering shiver. "God, I really must have sex on the brain."

Watching the hottie and his girlfriend earlier had apparently done quite a number on her. That, coupled with exhaustion and the low lighting, she decided, must have pushed her over the edge, into a brief eyes open fantasy/hallucination.

Because for a moment she atually thought she'd seen a half-naked man -- an absolute sex-god man, no less -- shtanding in Keene's office.

A trick of the light, strange shadows falling, nothing more.

A towering, muscle-ripped, darkly beautiful man, dripping power. And hunger. And sex. The kind of sex nice girls didn't have.

Oh, honey, you so need to get a boyfriend!

Looking at her like she was Little Red Riding Hood and the big, bad wolf hadn;t been fed in a long time.

Definitely a trick of the light.

Looking at her from inside the mirror.


In a place that was not a place, yet was a place to serve as an inescapable fortress prison, a place to terrify, to drive the common man stark raving mad, a six feet five inches of cages ninth-century Highlander stirred.

A hungry animal sound rumbled deep in his throat.

Just as he thought: He smelled woman.

The world opened up once more. He could see, his eyes adjusted to it, his nostrils catching the scent. He could feel the lines on his body, tattoes made from ancient crests crossing his skin coming to life, activating upon request.

He touched the front of his prison, watching as the girl moved. He could see her now, his body stirred. A woman...

How long since he had tasted the supple sweetness of a woman? Everything burned within him, driving him further and further into his own darkness. He was like a caged animal at times, waiting for his release.

Such destruction on his fingertips.

"The light," He whispered, and he helped the whisper to carry on the wind. It would wrap around her, wind around her skin, touch upon her ears as if a whisper of someone close, someone pressing against her, whispering something delicious and naughty.

He needed the light to go away. The mirror wanted it. She could see him in the light, watch him as he stood here. He bared himself to her, that dark feral wanting release. She could do it, she could release him.

All she had to do was touch it. He urged her, the light and come forward. Come to see what is inside. Some trick perhaps, some wanderous working of the mirror? Did she want to feel the magic, touch and imbue it?

Touch the tempered glass, just one simple touch. Touch his prison, set him free.

He waited, paused, eyes drawn to her. He drank her in. She looked so small, so weak, but so perfect as well. Her hips round, her breasts high. The smell intoxicating, he could not get the aroma from his nostrils. If nothing else he would smell her, smell her deliciousness running through him. Take her, make her wet with excitement, smell the juice from her body dripping down below him.

Come... come little angel, come and play.

A few days later....

When next Jessie unlocked the professor's office -- late on Monday night -- a distant part of her brain noted something askew, some tiny niggling detail, but she failed to process it, as she was currently the guest of honor at her own festive and highly enthusiastic pitty-party.

That she turned the key, and back again, actually locking then unlocking the door, eluded her utterly.

Had she not been muttering under her breath about the huge stack of papers she was left to grade, she might have been cognizant enough of her surroundings to have reconsidered walking through the door. Maybe closed it again, locked it for real and gone and gotten campus security. Unfortunately, enthused celebrant of her own misery, she didn't notice a thing.

She'd made peace with that weird little trick of the eye she'd suffered on Friday -- a product of nothing more than low light and exhaustion. But she was dying to know if the mirroe was a genuine relic. How had the professor come across it? Had any valis dating been done? What were those symbols, anyway?

She knew herself well enough to know that if she took another at the relic tonight, curiosity would get the best of her and the next thing, she'd be digging through reference books trying to determine what the symbols were and doing her best to guesstimate a date. She was just reaching up to take out a book when she hear the soft snick of the door closing. She stiffened, frozen in midreach.

Then snorted and pulled the book down. It ws only a draft. Nothing more. "No way am I getting all freaked out on campus again tonight. That blasted mirror is just a mirroe," she told the bookcasee firmly.

"Actually it's not," a smooth, faintly accented voice mumured behind her. "It's far more than a mere mirror. Who else knows it's here?"

Jessie turned, her book flying from her hand. She could see the silhouette of a man leaning back against the door, arms folded across his chest.

"Wh-what--wh-who--" she stammered.

Light flooded the room.

"I startled you. I understand it was delivered this past Friday. Has anyone else seen it. No other persons such as yourself with a key?"

"What do you mean 'it's far more then a mere mirror"? What so you know about it? Where is it from? What are the symbols? Do you know?' she paused remembering his question. "I'm the only other one with a key."

"I see." He eased forward another step.

That was when Jessie felt it. Menance, it was rolling off him. She had not picked it up at first but it was there. A wolf beneath sheeps clothing. Suddenly it hit her, why she had locked then unlocked the door. He was already inside the office, waiting for her.

She knew she had to keep him talking. What she beeded wasd a weapon. Jessie saw one of the professors blades just out of reach.

"So how old is this mirror?"

Pondering whether or not to answer he shrugged before replying, "You would place it in the Old Stone Age."

Was he kidding? Old Stone Age? He had to be. It was impossible. She wasn't that stupid to believe it. "That would put it pre-ten-thousand- B.C.E.," she scoffed, as she stole a few more inches.

"Yes, indeed it would. Considerably 'pre'."

"So the carvings, the frame is Old Stone Age. The mirror was added later, say the last century or so."

"No. The entire piece, Old Stone Age."

Her jaw dropping. She snapped her mouth closed. "Impossible! Symbols aside, tha't a glass mirror!"

"Not...quite. Nothing about that mirror is what it seems.... Don't worry Jessica St. James I'll make it quick. You'll never feel a thing." His smile was terrifyingly gentle.

The mirror...

"Stop right there. Take one more step and I'll smash it to smithereens."

A muscle worked inhis jaw. His gaze skidding between her and the mirror and back again. He tensed as if to take a step.

"Don't do it," she warned. "I'm serious."

"Interesting you have more spirit then I'd thought."

"If you are wishing to live, lass," came the deep rich purr of a brogue behind her,"best summon me out now."

A chill shuddered through her entire body, and the baby-fine hair at the nape of her neck stood up, quivering on end. Just like on Friday the room suddenly felt....wrong.

He stood poised at the entrance to his prison, watching the world just outside. This is where he spent most of his days, lounging and relaxing. Now, however, he stood on the toes of his feet, hands against the glass, eyes peering in through to the world of movement, of lapse.

His place became hardly a place, his world barely a world, yet here he stood on the precipice, eager to flex his muscles.

He could smell the scent, the woman's and the man's. While the woman smelled much better, and drove him wild with passion, the man drove him wild as well. The growl uttered low in his throat, his eyes turning to slits.

She had not listened, or refused to. He needed freedom, he could save her if he were free. The thought rested right fine with him. He paused, strolling back and forth at the entrance of the mirror.

He was a caged beast, fierce and drawing, wanting to be pushed out into the world, needing the release from these bars.

"If you are wishing to live, lass," his voice calm and deep in his throat, his eyes not on her, but the man beside her,"best summon me out now."

Could she summon him? Did she understand how? He could tell her, could show her, but there would be no time. She only had a few seconds more. Then, all would be lost.

Or, all would be his.

However she wished to play her hand.

Her fate decided, he still poised, waiting. He was a horse, just beyond the gate, in search of a bell to go off so he could run. The anticipation, the true deep brilliance of release when he could do what he wanted to do soo badly.

Yet, behind the bar he stood, and he would stay.

Waiting for her.

"Shut the hell up," her assailany clipped, his gaze fixed over her shoulder, "or I'll smash you myself."

Dark, mocking laughter rolled behind her. It made her shiver. "You wouldn't dare and well you know it. 'Tis why you've not rushed her. Lucian sent you with precise instructions. Bring it back intact, right? The mere possibility that the mirror might be shattered makes your blood ice. You know what he'd do to you. You'd be begging for death."

"Huh-uh, no way," Jessie whispered, her eyes going wide. She could feel the blood draining from her face, knew she'd gone white as snow. "Not believine this." SHe took a shaky little breath. "Any of this."

Logic insisted there couldn't possibly be anyone behind her. And certainly not anyone inside a mirror, for heavens sake!

But her gut was of a different question.

Her gut sensed "Man" with a capital "M" behind her, and he was throwing off all the heat of a small, fiery forge at her back. Enough that it made the side and front of her feel abruptly cold. Made her neck ache with the effort of keeping her gaze fixed firmly on her would-be murderer, and not turning to gape at the looking glass. She could him behind her. Something. Someone. Caged power. Caged sexuality. Whatever was behind her was formidable.

"Don't turn around, woman," he -- it -- whatever it was -- counseled. "Keep you eyes on him and speak after me --"

"I'd advise against that," the blond man warned, locking gazes with her. "You have no idea what you'd be letting out of the mirror. Step away from the mirror and I'll see he doesn't harm you."

"Oh, like I'm believing that. Now you're my protector?"

"Summon me out, woman. I am your protector," came the command at her back.

"This isn't happening."

"It is lass. He will not leave till you are dead. You must summon me out. Touch the glass and repeat these words: Liath bree che bree, Julian Leary!"

Jessie echoed the strange words without missing a beat the moment she heard them.

Because she finally understood what was going on.

She was right -- none of this was happening. She would wake up and find herself asleep on the couch. She was only having a bizarre dream. Everyone knew nothing mattered in dreams. Why not let the man out of the mirror? Who cared?

She echoed the incantation twice, for good measure. Brilliant golden light flashed, the heat behind her increasedm and the room suddenly seemed too small for all that were in it.

The lamp iwas plucked from her. Strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her and swept her aside. Depositing her behind her, sheltering her with his body.

SHe caught the sent of him then -- God, had she ever smelled such a sent? The female muscles deep in her lower belly clenched. He bore no chemical traces of after shave or deoderant. Nothing aftificial. Just pure man: a blend of sun-warmed leather on skin, a kiss of something spicy like clove, a touch of sweat, and the raw, unspoken promise of sex. If male sexual domination had a sent, he reeked of it, and it worked on her like the ultimate pheromone, bringing her nipples and groin to intense, painful sexual awareness.

She glanced up, and up.

It was the same towering, gorgeous, muscle-ripped man from her Friday-night fantasy, his long dark hair a tangle, falling down his back. His bare, oh-so-beautiful, velvet-skinned back.

It occurred to her then since it was only a dream, it was high time she transformed her id's twisted little everyone's-trying-to-kill-Jessie-today dream into something more to her liking: one toe-curling, scorching hot sex-dream.

She slid her palms up that perfect, powerful back, gliding over the ridges of muscle. Fisted her hands in all that magnificent dark hair. Rubbed up against him, molding herself like Cling Wrap to his muscular, deliciously tight ass.

And licked him.

Slipped her tongue right up his spine. Tasted the salt and man and heat of him.

His entire body jerked with a violence that she would have found frightening, were she awake and any of it were real. He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, a long, tight indrawn hiss, as if he were in exquisite pain. He went completely still, made a gutteral sound in his throat.

"You try me," he hissed.

He tossed his head -- hard -- yanking his hair free from her hands. In two strides he was gone. Her assailant was too she now realized. With a sigh, she went and slumped down on the couch. After a moment, she lay down, stretched out, and folded her arms behind her head. She crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Rubbed her eyes. Pinched herself experimentally a time or two.

God, she was horny. SHe couldn't remember ever being so horny. The instant she'd pressed up against him she felt the strangest...well..jolt, for lack of a better word, sizzle through her entire body, and she'd gotten instantly ready. PAnties-slick, ready-for-sex, no-foreplay-necessary ready.

So this was a wet dream, she thought with amuzement. A worrisomely vivid, detailed wet dream, but a dream nonetheless. She was going to wake up any minute now.

Yup. Any minute now.

All at once he had been torn from the task at hand. Her lips on his back sent a chill through him he had not experienced in ages. The good soft touch of a woman. She clung to him, she bordered around him. What in heaven's name was the girl doing?

He wanted to stay, let her finish what she started, but he could not. He saw the man running off, getting away. Julian was not yet finished with him, or who he worked for.

Tearing this nymph from his body, he ran after the man. His cock throbbed painfully against his thigh now, her one touch leaving him in shivers, which had congealed and pooled right into his groin, keeping him this way.

The man ran down the hall, used the stairs. Julian had no problem catching up to him. The soft lines along his body began to glow, making his skin hot to touch.

"Taeka chee, entori-"

Julian caught the man, slamming him against the wall before the spell could finish.

"Do not even try," He spoke through gritted teeth. The man struggled against him, but his grip was as strong as iron, refusing to even budge. Those eyes peered with hatred, but Julian reveled that he could see something else behind those eyes, fear. The beginnings of fear.

Good.

Julian placed his thumb against the man's forehead. All of a sudden his eyes grew white, his body limp. He shook for a moment, before going limp against the wall. Julian let go, taking a step back.

"Go back to Lucien. Tell him if he wants me, come and get me himself. I will be waiting."

The man nodded, limply. He turned, slow and deliberate, walking away. He was nothing more than a ghoul now. Someone who would do as he was told and then drop dead. A messenger... one might have even told Julian it was almost like an email had they understood.

He watched the man for a moment, before walking back. His bare feet made only hushed padded sounds against the tile floor. Tile, it felt weird under his feet. Cold. He hadn't seen much of his surrondings chasing the man. Now he let himself look around.

A modern building, with glass windows, and tile. Dark and empty. There was no one here. No one except...

He looked into the doorway, seeing her still fallen against his mirror. She had some strange serenity to her. It made her look as if she were insane. He supposed that wasn't far off. People acted differentlywhen he emerged from the mirror.

Yet, his cock still throbbing against his leg refused to let go of what she had done earlier. It pulsed now, drawing him deeper. He moved to her, slow and deliberate. Each step pulling him faster and faster until he bent down to where she was.

"Aye, lass," He moved into the curve of her neck, his nostrils against her skin. He took in her scent. He only caught a whiff of it from afar, but now he drank her in. Now he could truly take her scent.

His hand moved down her side. The side of a woman, soft and curved and delicate. Fingers allowing themselves to touch. Just a woman, some woman who had no idea who he was, or what he was, but the pleasent look on her face made it apparent she did not care.

If she didn't, neither did he.

His hands came up to her cheek, pulling her up to look into his gaze. For a moment his eyes inspected hers, they were hard, pulling, taking from her that which he desired.

"Jessie," He whispered, the sound soft on his lips. He could take it no longer. A soft whimper escaped as he kissed her. His hands held her in place, the kiss hard, drinking in her taste. He had not tasted a woman in so long. His kiss showed that, a man wandering in the desert, desperate need for water.

His lips covered hers, smashing them against her teeth. Low murmurs, uninteligable words, sounds of an animal stirred within his throat. The taste of her lips so feminine, so intoxicating. His tongue found hers, in an instant he felt her soft submission.

He tilted his head down, her head back. He moved into her, she complied. He took and she gave. The perfect combination.

A fire red hot exploded in her. Her mouth, pressed against his. Moving in slow movemnts. His tongue meeting hers, taking from her, giving back only a little. For Jessie time stopped. SHe thought about nothing more than the man in her arms.

Feeling his hands move on her, slipping between her jean clad thighs. He pressed his strong fingers against her, his thumb finding her little nub alread hard and waiting.

His big warm hand rested there a moment, applying a firm but gentle, relentless pressure. Enough to bring every nerve ending brutally to life and awaken an aching hunger deep within her womb.

He said nothing. She said nothing, either, mostly because, at the moment, all she could think of to say was: Excuse me, but your hand seems to have slipped between my legs and you'll move it just the tinest bit, I bet I could come.

His hand was gone.

It returned, lower, cupping her to his hardness.

Reason also returned, accompanied by fury. The sad part was that what he'd just done had made her so instantly, incredibly horny that she wasn't sure if she was more furious at him for doing it in the first place, or for stopping when he had.

And that made her more furious still.

"Let me go," she managed to hiss. So maybe it came out a bit more breathy then sibilant, but it was the best she could do. "Now, release me you brute."

"Cease speaking wench. You will continue to kiss me."

Jessie gaped, mouth open, midword. Snapped her mouth closed. Opened it again. Her head suddenly itched just beneath the skin, above her metal plate. She rubbed her scalp.

"As if."

"Remove your shirt, woman, show yourself to me."

Chocking on an inhalation, she sputtered for several seconds. Numerous were the men who'd tried to go there -- even she knew she had exceptional breasts -- but none so obviously. She clamped her hand in front of her, pushing away from him. "Oh, I don't think that's going to ha--"

"Cease speaking," he roared. "You will not speak again unless I tell you to."

Jessie moved back like a cobra, scratching her scalp. He couldn't be serious. He certainly looked like he was. After a moments stunned silence, in a voice sweet enough to cause cavities in porcelain caps, she said, " You can go fuck yourself, you great big domineering Neanderthal. Wake-up call: Guess what? We're not in the Stone Age anymore."

"Come here, Jessica St. James."

Jessie blinked at him. A sudden thought ocurring; one that would explain so much. "How long have you been in that mirror?"

A muscle working in his jaw. "I told you to cease speaking."

"Obviosly I'm not going to listen so anser the question."

Eyes narrowing on her, his whisky gaze sweeping over her body, "Eleven hundred and thirty-three years."

"Really?" Jessie was in awe, in shock. A real ninth century man was here, infront of her. Somehow traped in the relic. Lost in her own thoughts it took a minute realize he was staring at her. He not believing in something about her.

"Scratch your nose, woman."

"It doesn't itch"

"Stand on one foot."

"You stand on one foot."

He couldn't read her. Couldn't make her submit to him. The thought passed through both of them as he realized it. No matter how hard he tried that part of his magic would not work on Jessie. Now they would have to talk. He would have to help her, protect her, while she helped him make way to his homeland.

First they had to leave. Go somewhere. He pulled her hand and the rest of the young woman through the hall. Asking her where her car was and then telling her to take them there.

Jessie did. She listened and felt okay taking him to her car. He carried his mirror and she took him to where she parked. A young man stoping them questioning if she was okay.

Julian sent him a message. "You will return to your room. Never remembering us, or this moment." Off the man went. Perhaps it was only the tiny woman that it couldn't work on he thought with a grin.

"Come Jessica." Julian closed a hand around her upper arm. "We must away ourselves."

The awayed.

A car.

He sat leaning against the cold window, watching as the city passed them. The darkness had been fought off with the ever glow of florescence. The entire city had been lit up, light pouring down from buildings and through windows.

One pause, to look over at Jessie, pouring through her mind a moment.

"Nightlife," He mused, a funny word in his mouth, especially with his accent. It apparently was the nightlife.

The mirror was in the back, lying down on the seat.

For a moment he tried to make her swerve off the road. He wanted to plant that thought in her head, just move onto incoming traffic. His eyes stared intently, trying to push the idea through.

Yet, nothing. She signalled to turn right and then did so.

Something... something was blocking him. He would have to find out what. Perhaps she knew.

"Back to your apartment," He said, he saw it in her mind. The small place upstairs, next to the nightclub. Something stirred within her at the thought of that nightclub. How interesting. Picking through her mind revealed very the most bizarre of thoughts.

He knew of cars, motorized carriages for transportation. Most of the modern marvels, electricity, plumbing, refridgeration. In fact, inside her own refridgerator there was leftovers. Good.

When the car stopped, he took his mirror, moving up to her apartment. The locked doors opened for him with ease, a wave of the hand. He went into her apartment, placing the mirror down, and then went for the fridge.

"Pizza," He said, again the word funny in his mouth. It tasted cold and delicious.

"He would have killed you. But, he didn't want you. He wanted me. Or, rather that mirror right there. It's my home..."

He saw the blank look on her face. The weird expression. She thought this was a dream, he could sense it. It couldn't be reality.

"Lass... let me show you," He placed his thumb against her forehead, and at once a sea of thoughts entered her. His story, Lucian, why he was trapped, everything came to her.

Email... Julian thought. Or, rather somewhere in Jessie's mind she thought that. They thought it together, perhaps. Some weird connection his brain made with hers.

He sat down on her sofa, finishing up the pizza.

He touched her. Placed his hand on her body and was inside her mind. Showing her things. Showing her his life...

He was a leader, strong and powerful. That wasn't enough for him. He craved more, Jessie could feel that.

There was another man, helping him. Telling him how he could get the power he sought. A spell that would do just that. Only it didn't.

It locked him away. Keeping him in a mirror. If summoned out he had to help that person. People flashed through he minds eye. So many, for so long. It suddenly stopped.

Back once again an the man who put him there. She felt a darkness, an evil. It scared Jessie. More then the man from the mirror did. He scared her because he created a desire, a passion in her she had never known.

This man, this Lucien, was evil. He would hurt her.

Then everything was gone. In mere momvents. Jessie knew she was back in her apartment. The big brute on her couch eating.

Walking over to her laptop she had a strange urge to check her email. It was filled with the usual. Newsletters, emails from other students, spam and more spam....

She made short work of her correspondence, shooting the newsletters to a suspended folder to look at later, reading student emails.

Just as she was about to log off she got another message. She scanned the email address not knowing it.

Myrddin@Drui.com

WShe didn't know a Myrddin@Drui.com and had a phobia about viruses. If something happened to her laptop there was no room in the budget for a new one.

She went to move it to the trash folder. Her pointer over it, she got an instant bone-deep chill. SHe tried to shake it off knowing Julian was watching her.

Oh it was too weird.

Gingerly she slid the pointer to the subject line: NO SUBJECT. Grimacing at the imediate sensation that her hand had plunged, dripping wet, into a Subzero freezer, she clicked on it hard and fast yanked her fingers from the mouse pad.

She pressed her palm to her cheek. It was as cold as ice.

Wide-eyed she stared at the screen. The email contained three linse.

Return the mirror immediately.
Contact Myrddin@Drui.com for instructions.
You have twenty-four hours.

"J--Julian, you need to read this."

She turned it so that when he rose and stood next to her it could be seen. She watched his face scan the words. Jessie knew who it was from because of his little finger trick.

"Who is Lucien?"

He thought of touching her again, but didn't. She didn't need much to know who Lucien was, certainly not all of his thoughts that went with it. Those mindless boggles of rage that twisted and warped around each other. If they were in her mind, she might go crazy. And right now she was his guide in this new world. He needed her as sane and compliant as possible.

"He's the one who trapped me in the mirror, lass," He nodded towards it, "He's the man who convinced me to do it. You may remember his friend, the one who thought to kill you on the spot?"

Lucien knew who had the mirror. Lucien knew where she was, knew her email address. It hadn't even been an hour since they left, and already he was hot on her trail.

"We need to leave, now. You're not safe here."

His home. He needed to go home. Not tonight though. Tonight he just needed her safe, and protected.

"Is there anywhere you know that's safe?"

Searching her block of mind, he grabbed pictures of relatives, none of them seemed too close, geographically or emotionally. Some random hotel, modern taverns for sleep. Someplace random, Lucien might find it hard to track them.

"It doesn't matter, anywhere," He spoke, looking down at the computer. He clicked the mouse to hit reply. He had no clue what he was doing, but the mindset knew enough. He wanted to reply, so it let him reply.

Just don't hurt me.
Tell me when and where to meet, and the mirror is yours.
He sent it.

Julian would love to meet with Lucien, or whatever minions he had working for him at the moment. Perhaps it would be nice to flex the muscles a bit. Already he felt more alive, thriving with each minute of freedom.

Speaking of which, he turned to the mirror.

"I don't know how much more time I have out here with you lass. Get moving, pack up what you need... including this," He touched the computer, "Come on woman, get moving."

Without having time Jessie grabbed her coat, purse and laptop. They left her apartment quickly and went back to her car. Driving around until they found a hotel. Of course Julian would pick one of the most expensive places she had ever seen. She couldn't afford this. There was no way, and she doubted that he had any money.

"I can't pay for this."

"Do not worry lass."

Don't worry, how could she not. A man was trying to kill her, someone else wanted her to give back a mirror, yet another seemed to need her help. Jessie was lost. What did she want? A shower right now that answer was easy. Some time to think and to plan.

They walked in and Julian headed straight to the desk. Jessie was in awe. She had never been in a place so...RICH. She wondered how they would get a room but was too lost in looking around that she didn't bother to pay attention to what hapened at the front desk.

Within a few minutes he was standing next to her holding a room key in his hand. Thoughts, tons of them floated through her mind. How did he get it? What was going on? Did they steal it? Would she be going to jail?

"Relax woman, everything is fine."

"Fine, how can it be fine. Here I am with you, a man I do not know. Staying in some hotel room that I have no clue how we got. Someone else tried to kill me while yet another wants something that doesn't belong to me. How can I relax?"

He opened the door to their room and Jessie was inside in mere seconds. She needed to shower. She felt dirty, had ever since she had touched the screen of her laptop. She watched as Julien locked the door. Was she safe with him?

"I need a shower. Can I trust that you'll not come in?"

All she got was a simple nod as she went to the bathroom. Turning on the hot water, she felt it for the right temperature. Letting a soft sigh out she began undressing. Her clothes falling from her body into a small pile. It was only then she realized she had never grabbed anything else to wear.

Just my luck, she thought.

Stepping into the water, her body calmed. She felt it running over her skin. Moving softly down her shoulders, over her breasts, down her hardening nipples, past the slope of her belly, into the very tiny patch of curls, then down her long legs. It felt glorious. The heat setting off all sorts of wonderful feelings in her.

What that man beyond that door did to her. She touched her lips and remembered the kiss they shared. She hadn't wanted it to end. She felt her body trembling with just the thought of how he had made her want him with only his tongue.

Jessie had lost her ability to think clearly when he was involved. She wanted things with him. Wanted what she had seen that man and woman have in the alley. Could she do that though, toss away something she held so dear.

Many would think she was too old fashioned, saving herself for the right man. Jessie believed in that. After seeing her mother marry six times, tossing away the men after a year or so. Jessie knew she would wait, hold whomever took her innocence close in her heart. That was her choice.

Washing her hair Jessie rested her head on the tile. Continuing to let the warmth run over her body. Thinking of Juliam, his kiss, his large hands touching her. It was causing amazing sensations to run through her. Could she possibly want more?

He sat on the bed, watching the curtains as they fluttered in the soft breeze that came through the window. The breeze was fresh, cool, bringing with it wonderful smells from outside.

It had never smelled so good, never sounded so good. He just sat there, taking it all in. Electricity. He had remembered making the night turn to day, his spells lighting any object he wished. He remembered keeping food cold, unable to spoil for weeks on end. His magic and alchemy, years of refinement and practiced had led him here.

Now, they were cheap parlor tricks. What he did was a joke.

His stomach rumbled, and he wanted food. His mind went to the pizza once more, cold but delicious, full of flavor. One small caress of Jessie's mind and he dialed the number. Something large with lots of toppings... except mushrooms.

Jessie hated mushroom.

It would be here soon enough. He went out to the car, getting the mirror. He stood it up next to the television, how odd they looked so similiar side by side.

The pizza came, and left, no money exchanged. He put it down on the bed, taking a slice. It tasted just as it had before, wonderful. Cheese and meat and something else he couldn't place but exploded in his mouth.

Julian stared at the closed door to the bathroom. She had been in there awhile. He knocked on it, placing his ear on the wood. He could hear water running down.

"Lass?" He started to say something, and then stopped, "There's food out here, if you want it."

Jessie was drawn from her thoughts by a knock on her door, then a voice. His voice. The one that seemed to melt her with each word. How he could get into her skin like that she wouldn't understand.

"Lass?" He started to say something, and then stopped, "There's food out here, if you want it."

Hearing the slight pause, she wanted to ask him to come in, to join her but she didn't dare. Things were to unsure. She had some man chasing after her for a mirror that she didn't really understand. A man in the next room that made her think all sorts of thoughts. He claimed, no she saw him come out of that very mirror.

"I'll be out.."

Jessie mumbled. Her hands running through her hair as she rinsed it. Turning the water just a little hotter, she stood under it. Her body shivering slightly and then she turned it off. Opening the the glass door she grabbed a towel and dried off her body.

Her thoughts were filled with choices she didn't know which to make. Her head spun and her tummy was growly. Jessie was glad that Julian had ordered food for them. Even know she could smell it.

Putting on the robe that was in the room with her she step out. the sent of pizza hitting her and noise errupted from her stomach. Had she really been so hungry? Stupid question when she silently knew the answer.

"Thank you. I didn't know I was so hungry."

Jessie looked at him, watched him as she moved to the box of smelly goodness. Taking a bite she sat with her feet craddled under her. Her wet hair falling down around her face. She smiled as he watched her intently.

"Do I have pizza sauce on my nose? Why are you staring?"

For the longest time he didn't move. He became a statue inside of the hotel room, his eyes only wandering when she came in, and then sat down. For a moment she seemed transfixed in just herself, and then her eyes wandered the room, before finding him. She stared just a moment and then asked why he was staring.

She looked good, coming out of the showed. Fresh and wet, the smell coming from her near intolerable. He moved forward, walking towards her, pouncing like some wild predator.

"You smell..." He leaned into her neck, smelling her aroma, catching it before he paused to move back, "Nice."

How long had it been? Too long. He'd given her the year, the thousands of years in between life and whatever could be considered existence inside of that mirror.

"When I first emerged from there... you touched me. You wrapped your arms around me, you even kissed me. What were you doing, what were you thinking lass?"

His tongue so strange, informal with the new speech he heard. Still, it rang some chord with her, as he sat beside her, his eyes everywhere at once, his mind reeling, testing, trying to find her denial.

More then hearing Julian, Jessie felt him. Deep inside her, with every fiber she felt the heat of his breath, the closeness of his body. Her breathing started to catch as she felt him near her neck. She wanted him to touch her. Her need almost instantly consuming her body. To soon though he moved away from her. Whispering she smelled nice. SHe nearly lay back and begged him to take a closer smell.

What was she thinking? Did she want to give her virginty up so easily? Were her passions so out of control?

A simple answer rang through her mind...

YES

She wanted this man to take her, show things she hadn't dreamt of. Yet she resisted. He would leave her once she was safe, Jessie was sure of that. Yet it didn't change her body's need. Lost in her thoughts she barel heard him speaking.

"When I first emerged from there... you touched me. You wrapped your arms around me, you even kissed me. What were you doing, what were you thinking lass?"

Words failed the bright, intelegent woman. She had touched him, licked his skin. Still she could taste the saltyness of it. She hadn't been thinking, her desire had been the reason. A stronge sexual urge to mate with the man. It was all she wanted.

"I don't know Julian. There was, is something about you. I can't explain this lust I feel around you. It frightens me. As does everything about you."

Jessie wanted to be honest. There was no need to lie. Dealing with her feelings would be better. Maybe her magic warrior would have the answers she wanted. Perhaps he knew, understood.

Lust? Oh, a very familiar feeling. It ran through his blood, pushing it harder and faster, adrenaline in his system, heightening every touch, every sound. The scent still caught in his nostrils from her flared up again, and he could not resist.

He looked at her, eyes cross, glaring. He thought of a very simple command. Touch herself. Drop the pizza, run her hands down her body, explore, give into the pulse running through her system.

She did nothing though, she finished eating.

He had no power over her, nothing. She thought and did what she wished of her own free will. The power of the mirror.

"You freed me, you know," He said, moving next to her, sitting down right across from her, one leg under him, "I am yours to own, to do as you wish."

His one hand ran up her arm, and then back down again. The touch sensual and chilling at the same time. A casual touch that never meant just what it was. He could smell it on her now, sweet and ripe. The same thing coursing through her veins as his own.

He took his hand in her cheek, turned her head, that ellegant neck careening to the side. She looked at him, and he could see her fear. He could see everything.

He bent down, taking his kiss. Hard rough lips against hers, tasting her sweetness. The soft pouring of innocence draining from those lips of hers, moving to him, filling him. He took it, begged for it from his lips, and then pursed for more.

Even though she knew it was coming, Jessie wasn't prepared for Julian's kiss. Nothing could prepared her for the mind blowing, sizzling intensity of it.

This was no gentle brush of a kiss like the onthey had shared earlier. This was the real deal. Intense and demanding, it was evry bit as raw and unapologetically carnal as it was seductive.

Gripping a fistfull of her hair, he slanted his mouth over hers. He cupped her cheek with one big hand and pressuredthe corner of her lips with his thumb, nudging then apart. The moment she yielded, he sealed his lips over hers, opening wider, deepening the kiss, taking complete possession of her mouth, obliterating any lingering protest she might have thought to make.

It was a dominant kiss, an expert kiss, the kiss of a man who knew he was a man, liked being one, and knew exactly what he was doing. This was no college boy kissing her, no young grad student toeing the lukewarm line between desire and political correctness. This was a man who was one-hundred-percent okay with lust, who suffered no hesitation ot inhibitions.

It was exactly the kind of kiss, she realized dimly, for which she'd always been waiting. But until now, she'd not been able to define exactly what it was she'd been missing, what she'd been holding out for. She was struck by the sudden realization that the problem with her boyfriends was that they'd been just that - boyfriends, with the emphasis on "boy."

Julian was a man - a formidable force to be reckoned with sexually. She was, quite simple, out of her league with him.

She was struck by another realization then: that she was going to be very, very lucky if she managed to walk out of the hotel room, at whatever point in the future, the way she walked in. A virgin, though she'd never admit it to any of her friends. Nobody was a virgin any more, and peer pressurecould get intense if people thought you were.

"Christ, lass you taste sweet," he purred.

She shivered with pleasure as he sucked yher lower lip into his mouth, nipped it, then closed his mouth hard over hers, plunging deep. He kissed like a man who hadn't kissed in maybe a thousand years, exploring her for all she was worth. Luring and assulting all in a matter of moments. It was making her crazy. He kissed as though he were fucking her mouth, she only existed because he was kissing her.

She had no idea how they ended up on the floor.

One moment she was in his arm, being kissed senseless, and the nest she was flat on her back beneath him. Her nipples were hard and poking throught the robe, the steely bar of his erection jammed against her stomach.

Dazed she wondered what in the world she thought she was doing - even as she buried her fingers in the wet tangle of his hair.

Never had he felt so much like a predator, his actions low and harsh, his breathing deep and full. His eyes were open, watching everything at once, as if they were not big enough for his head. He took it all in, pictures and photographs of the moment etched into his memory forever. Her soft skin, her soundless gasps, her hands as they reached to push away, and then pull closer.

She raked them across his skin, as he took her. Predator. Cold as morning dew, the day dawning upon them. His kisses rough and forced, pressing into her skin, into her flesh. Tongue tasting against her, the warmth pushing through... letting her feel it.

And then his hands snaked through her robe. One small tug and it fell to either side of her, opening up. It revealed her, soft supple skin as he looked down between them. Water still beaded on parts of her, so fresh, so clean, so eager to be taken.

Fingers trailed down her body, jumping at the curves it took. Rounded and full, the contour knew no end. He gasped, hushed by her throat as his hands found her breast. Naked, exposed, daring he pressed against her, kneaded it, just rough enough to feel that hardened nub of her nipple press into his palm.

"There it is," He whispered, moving down her body. His hands along her back, making her arch up, her position feminine, submissive, being taken as he lowered his mouth onto her nipple, taking it in, sucking it deep.

She was so turned on that she was achy, needy with it. His tongue flicked across one nipple, then the next as he doled out moreof those torturously light caress. "Please, Julian, more," she whimpered.

She lost her breath when he drew one nipple into his mouth. He sucked. He nipped. He rolled the taut buds between his tongue, scrapping ently with the edges of his teeth.

"Julian," she whispered.

"Aye, lass?" His mouth moved lower, trailing hot, wet kisses over her tummy, pausing at her navel to dip in and lave it.

"Oh, God, Julian!" She twisted her hips against him. His demanding mouth was hot on her body again, scattering tiny love-bites over the delicate skin of her hips as he moved lower.

Her legs moved, opening wanting to feel him there. To have him tasting her. Her hands ran over her own body, suddenly aware of what was happening. What they were doing.

"Julian, wait..."

He licked at the first bead of juice running from her sex. The touch electric, sending her wriggling and moaning at such bold touching. He never stopped, never relented, wanting to feel what had been missed for so long.

He only paused because he felt it in that taste of hers. So innocent and lovely, so pure and delicious. He looked up, the hazy fog of sex and lust nearly blinding him to her. She lay down, legs apart, face flushed, soft wet hair clinging to her now sweaty skin.

She'd never tasted a man, she'd never let one taste her.

"What is it, lass?" He had to stop himself from growling at her. His own frustrations broke free. To have her here, to know what she wanted, but to do nothing made his pulse thick with acid. He wavered though, he had to. This was the girl he knew, the one who saved him.

She owed him enough to stop his advances for just a few minutes.

He moved up her body, soft, restricting, licking and nibbling as he did so.

"What do you want, Jessie. Tell me. I'm here for you, tell me what you want, tell me how you want it. Let me... Jessie, just let me."

Jessie St James looked into the eyes of the man before her. She wanted him, they both knew that. There was something else though. Something that made her afraid. She wasn't sure what it was but it was there, showing in her eyes, in her voice. Julian had surely heard it.

"I want this, want you but I've never... never been with anyone before Julian," she whispered.

Jessie was scared, the mand between her legs was very large. Could easily split her in two. She wasn't sure she could go through with it. Wanted to yes but her fear seemed to riding her. Getting the best of her this night.

She closed her eyes briefly as she felt tears rushing up. She was trying so hard to make herself appear tough and strong. Inside though she was fragile. Jessie wanted to give herself to someone that would be there for her. Yet she desired this man more then any other.

Her body yelled to her, do this, give him this. Yet there was something in her brain that said you wanted this special. But what was more special then this man. This beautiful highlander that wanted her.

Looking down and into his eyes Jessie smiled. How could she not. His lips found hers, kissing her so heatedly, so passionately and - abruptly she was sucking air like a fish out of water.

Alone on the bed. Her robe opened.

She blinked. Heavens, but the man could move fast! She sat u, looking around. "Where did you go?" she said breathlessly.

He felt that kiss, felt it deep inside, parts of him that had not been awakened in thousands of years. A stir came up through him, deep and set, needful and throbbing.

He'd be easy for her first time, he would. She needed it to be easy the first time, for he wanted nothing more than to have a second and third. She had to know what it felt like, had to know how to like it.

But just as he moved on top of her, his hands helping to unveil her body from that robe, he disappeared, back in his sentence, forced in his prison. He found himself on the mirror's edge, looking back into the room where she lay, panting, legs parted, searching depserately for him.

"I'm here, Lass," He spoke, falling to his knees. The thoughts, the feelings, all echoing around him. Nothing, nothing but the one window to his prison. Nothing more impotent than himself as he paused.

"I'm only allowed out for so long when summoned. Then I must go back inside. You can summon me once more if you wish... call upon me and let me finish what we started. Do you remember how?"

Back into the mirror. Silently Jessie wondered what she had been thinking. Her body had been in the mans hands, dangerously close to giving him everything. Yet something inside still wanted to. Was she crazy...

"Julian, I remember," she whispered.

Her eyes looked to the mirror and she walked over to it. Her robe falling over her shoulders and down her arms. She was naked and walking toward a man trapped in a mirror. A man that she had no idea about, who was older she guessed then anyone she'd ever known. It all didn't matter. The fact that he made her feel things, things she had never known was what mattered.

Jessie wanted Julian.

Julian wanted Jessie.

Simple ideas really but yet so very strong. The pull she felt to him was something she had never thought to feel. He made love to her body with a single kiss. Julian made her forget everything when she was in his arms. Jessie wanted that bliss. She had no idea what tomorrow held for her and she needed this moment with him.

Touching her palm to the cool glass of the mirror she smiled down at Julian before whispering words she would never forget.

Liath bree che bree, Julian Leary