#<- might as well have an fma specific pen name since i got one for mother

[honey-snap]

Happy Judgement Day, everypony!

this image has like two deep cuts and you can use this opportunity to show how autistic you are about this series if you can identify them, your reward is me smiling at you

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul - Chapter Eleven: The Scene at the Crime

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! Sorry for the sudden absence last week; as I posted, I was on vacation, and while that ordinarily doesn’t stop me from updating, this was my honeymoon and so, I awarded myself a break. But now it’s time to get back to our favourite couple. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Eleven - The Scene at the Crime

187 PLUM STREET, EAST CITY

1505 HOURS, APRIL 16

He stood in the doorway of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets and his eyes roaming between the two bodies on the floor. Only the woman had bled, the pool spreading from her neck staining the collar and chest of her printed cotton house dress. The man, dressed in pajamas and tangled in a dressing gown, lay nearby, his glasses skewed from his tumble to the floor.

Riza's voice sounded quietly from his elbow, and he turned toward her. "It would appear that the husband – Raymond Angelini, according to his driver's license — called in sick to work. One of the bedside tables upstairs is covered in used tissues, there's a hot water bottle, and a half-empty glass of orange juice. The bed was also unmade."

"Which if his wife were here alone, it would have likely been routine for her to make it after he left for work." He glanced once at the paleness of Riza's cheeks, still noticeable through the sunglasses now that he knew to look for it, but forced his worry for her out of his mind. He could deal with it later. "Speaking of the wife, do we have a name for her yet?"

"Yes. I found her purse near the front door, and a dry cleaning bill inside identifies her as Joanna Angelini." She looked up, her expression somber. "She must have been the one who opened the door for the killer."

"Especially if Raymond was laid up in bed." Worrying at the inside of his lower lip with his teeth, Roy looked from the front door to the kitchen, and back again. "So Joanna lets the bad guy inside, possibly either already at gunpoint or on some pretext, since there's no sign of forced entry and nothing to indicate a struggle in the entrance."

Riza was nodding agreement. "He follows her back to the kitchen where he either attacks her immediately or waits for an opportune moment — say, when her back was turned — before striking." Her eyes went to the dead pajama-clad man on the floor. "Of course, when her husband heard the commotion resulting from the attack, he came to investigate, and was killed for his trouble."

Roy leaned inside the kitchen doorway, then stepped in and edged around the bodies toward the stove. "Further proof that Raymond was home sick: she was making chicken soup." He leaned in, eyeing the glutinous mass the soup had been reduced to with a doubtful look. "Did the police turn the stove off, or was it like that when they got here?"

Flipping briefly through the first responding officer's notes in her hand, Riza frowned. "The police don't make mention of it. Seems like an oddly nice thing for the killer to do."

Grimacing in distaste, Roy eased away into the centre of the room, away from bodies and goopy soup alike. "I call it getting cocky. He's so sure we won't find any evidence to hold against him that he doesn't want to risk destroying the crime scene. If he'd left the stove on and as a result, the house burned down, we might not realize this was done by him. Instead, he turns off the burner and calls the murder in."

She nodded again, her expression now thoughtful and her eyes on the late Joanna Angelini. Finally, she said, "There's one thing that bothers me about this… and it's that this attack, in relation to the others, is relatively tame."

Roy lifted an eyebrow. "The unprovoked murder of an ill man and his homemaker wife in their own home in broad daylight is tame?"

"Compared to Walston, the hospital administration clerk, the two homeless men, and the Jamieson family?" She shot him a meaningful look. "Keep in mind, sir, this is the first crime scene you've actually seen. The others were, forgive me for being graphic, about ten times more violent. All that's happened here is that Mrs. Angelini has some bleeding from the neck and Mr. Angelini's is snapped. It's not like the others where their throats were torn out."

Frowning deeply, Roy moved to lean over Joanna's body, trying to get a better look at her neck without touching her. The medical examiner was annoyed enough at having Central City officers on an East City crime scene; he didn't need body tampering as an excuse to throw them out. "I see what you mean. All she has are some puncture wounds on the side of her neck."

"Exactly. Which, at first glance, made me wonder if this is the work of the killer from Central." Riza crouched near the dead woman's head, pointing with a pen toward the pool of blood on the floor. "However, speaking from personal experience, this is not enough lost blood that she would pass out, let alone die. The medical examiner says that her neck isn't snapped, and that she's showing all the signs of abnormally low blood levels." She looked up. "So where did it go?"

A sinking feeling spread through Roy's chest as he leaned against the kitchen island. "This isn't the first crime scene where blood mysteriously vanished from a body," he said, hating the thought. "A dead body, murdered viciously, but without the room practically being painted in blood? It doesn't add up. If the crime scenes appeared more staged, I'd almost think they were killed somewhere else, losing a lot of blood, and then dumped where they were found. But that's clearly not the case."

Riza stood, hesitating a moment to speak before saying, "It sounds… both preposterous and even more profoundly disturbing than this already is, but…. Is there a way or a purpose for the killer to drain some of the victims' blood for… for his own uses?"

He stared at her for a moment, before his thought processes got over the surprise and kicked into gear. "You mean, if he had some sort of blood deficiency and was using his victims as his own personal blood bank?" He considered, not liking the conclusion, but forced to acknowledge it. "It's certainly a possibility. It would even provide a possible connection, in how he chooses his victims. He would have to know their blood type ahead of time…."

"Meaning he could have access to medical records," Riza put in. Roy could see the gears turning in her mind, bringing light to those brown eyes as they stared into the middle distance. "It would also provide an explanation for why he went after the administration clerk — she could have identified him as a suspect if it came to it. And if she happened to be the right blood type…."

"Hold on a minute." He stood with one hand to his chin, still tracking along with his own thoughts. "I don't want to shoot down your theory, but this is assuming all the victims are, in fact, of the same blood type. If it's the wrong one, he wouldn't be able to use it."

"He would if he were a very specific blood type himself," Riza pointed out. "There's one in particular that's generally known as a 'universal acceptor.' They can take type A, type B, type O, whatever, without it presenting a problem. If the killer has that specific blood type, and is stealing blood for his own use, it won't much matter what type it is."

"Right." Suppressing a shudder, he started for the door. "Let's make a note to talk to either Dr. Knox or Dr. Marcoh, see if they know anything about blood diseases. In the meantime, there's one or two witnesses to talk to and then we'd better make a report to Hakuro before he comes looking for one."

When they stepped out the front door, there were far more people gathered on the lawn than had been there when they entered. A thin cordon of a handful of military police held back the small crowd, half of which were neighbourhood residents, and the other half comprised of reporters. As soon as they recognized Roy from the Central newspapers, the media hounds started clamouring, bombarding them with questions.

"Colonel! Is it true the couple living here was murdered?"

"How are you working this case in East City if you're stationed in Central?"

"Is the murder related to the military?"

"Does this have anything to do with the battle in Central City?"

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Roy reined in the annoyance that swarming reporters always caused, and kept his face professionally blank. "At this time we can only confirm that there was a murder at this address, however, we can't speak to motive or suspects."

Neighbours gasped, some of the women covering their mouths in ladylike shock as Roy turned his attention from the reporters, and motioned the medical examiner — waiting off to one side behind the police cordon —up the front steps. One of the bolder reporters shoved to the front of the crowd, nearly into the officer guarding that section.

"Colonel, do you mean to say that you don't have any sort of lead on this case? That the suspect is still at large and unidentified?"

Roy glared in the man's direction, and belatedly realized the look was hidden by the sunglasses. Slowly, with deliberation, he reached up and removed them, hoping that the reddened tissues would add some clout behind the obvious anger. "What I mean to say is that this is still an open investigation, and therefore, I'm not at liberty to disclose anything I haven't already said."

The man wouldn't be deterred. Even as Roy slipped the glasses back on and stepped out of the examiner's way, the reporter turned his attention to Riza. "Lieutenant, there were reports you were wounded badly during the Battle of Central. Are you really strong enough to be investigating active cases?"

Feeling hot ire beginning to build in his chest, Roy looked to her to gauge her reaction…. And held perfectly still. Riza's face was its usual unreadable mask… but as well as he knew her, he could see the cold fury beginning to bring tension to her shoulders. The tight smile she offered held no warmth or humour.

"The paperwork said I was, so here I am."

That drew low, nervous chuckles from a few of the neighbours and one or two of the less pushy reporters. The one who had challenged her didn't get time for a rebuttal before the officer in front of him nudged him back into the crowd.

Roy turned his back on the group of people, stepping close to her and keeping his voice low. "Nicely done. Don't pay that one any more attention, if he's going to spout lame questions like that. If you can, keep your eyes on the civilians; see if there's anyone that seems out of place."

Her eyes were already sweeping slowly over the gathering. "You mean 'out of place' as in 'seems like they're returning to the scene of the crime?' I've been watching. I can't say anyone is exactly jumping out at me, but if he can blend in on a street in broad daylight…."

"My thoughts exactly."

It was a short wait before the rattle of gurneys sounded from inside the house, the coroner and his assistant each pushing one. A body-shaped featureless lump rested on each, covered by a white blanket and strapped into place. On the smaller lump, where the neck and upper chest would be, a small red stain had already appeared on the sheet.

Roy stepped down off the front stoop as the coroner came through the door; Riza stepped aside, keeping the higher altitude where she could survey the crowd. Neighbours backed up or turned away in shocked silence as the bodies descended the steps; even a reporter or two averted their eyes, but kept scribbling in notepads.

Roy turned his back on the crowd as cameras started clicking away, watching as the first gurney carrying Raymond Angelini went by. He didn't so much see the body as notice his shadow falling on the white sheet. Such stark contrast still tended to play tricks on his eyes. As the gurney with Joanna's red-spotted white sheet was rolling passed, another shadow rose beside his. Roy watched it, frowning, trying to decipher where it had come from.

And in the next instant, there was a collective gasp from the crowd and the sound of an impact. The strange shadow flew out of sight. Just as Roy turned to see what was going on behind him, he felt himself pushed firmly to the side, a blur of colour in front of him.

It took his eyes a moment to register that it was Riza, her back to him and her stance low and ready. One arm held level in front of his chest to keep him back, she kept her eyes on the bold reporter who had challenged her, watching as he slowly collected himself from the ground.

"Lieutenant?" Roy asked softly, glancing from her to the man on the ground, and back again. "Catch me up?"

"He was standing right behind you, holding a camera up over your head," she said, her voice tight and controlled. The chill in it nearly sent a shiver through him; she meant business. "Whether to get a good photo or to brain you with it, I don't know, but after the battle in Central, I'm not taking chances."

"I know." He settled a hand on her shoulder, in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "I think he's learned his lesson. Leave him there, and —"

"You crazy bitch!" The reporter shoved himself to his feet, his face red. Dirt and grass stains were ground into the knees of his suit pants, and his hat had been knocked off in the fall, lying on the grass next to his camera. "I ought to sue you for this! You think you can just push people around when all they're doing is their job?!"

Riza didn't move, other than to stand a little straighter. "If you can show me where in your job description it says for you to present a threat to a military officer, I'll gladly apologize."

The low 'oooooooooh' that sounded from the crowd only seemed to anger the reporter further. He stalked forward a few steps, hands curling into fists. "You want me to present a threat? I can arrange that!"

Her voice was low, her expression as blank as always, and the words had no trouble carrying in the clear air. "Sir, it's only fair to warn you: if you take one step closer, I will drop you."

For a long moment, the reporter stared at her. His fists unclenched… clenched…. His jaw set, and he deliberately picked up his left foot and stepped forward.

Riza didn't even hesitate. She took a half-step of her own to meet him, and threw an easy, slow punch toward the man's left shoulder. His hand came up in time to catch her fist, but he didn't see her free hand coming until it was too late. She made contact with his stomach, knocking the air out of him, then stepped to the side as he doubled over, gasping.

"You were warned, Mr. —" She threw a casual glance at the press pass tucked into his hat band, still lying abandoned on the ground. "— Collins. Stand down."

Beginning to breathe a little easier, Collins grinned at her, the expression more than a little reckless. "Ha…. Guess you weren't lying about being fit for active duty, Lieutenant." He straightened, though a little stiffly. "Can't say much for your left hook, though. You hit like a girl."

Roy saw the flash of that same cold fury in her eyes, though she held her ground. "I hit like I was holding back, so that perhaps you wouldn't have your pride wounded too badly," she corrected flatly. Her eyes darted briefly to the side as the military police, recovering from their initial surprise, began to inch toward the irate reporter. "I'll say it again, Mr. Collins; stand down."

Defiance radiated from the man's stance as he stood his ground, watching her with bold, smug superiority. "You can't lay so much as a finger on me, Lieutenant," he mocked. "Much as you might like to, there's just too many witnesses and no probable cause." He leaned forward, clearly mocking. "So why don't you and your boss run along and play detective somewhere else so my colleagues and I can get some actually meaningful work done."

Even before she moved, Roy knew the other man was in deep trouble. He was just opening his mouth to address the nearest MP, the charge of 'disturbing the peace' floating to the forefront in his mind, when Riza did two things. First, for the briefest of instants, she went perfectly still. She didn't so much as breathe or blink.

Second, so smoothly it was like dancing, she darted forward, grasped Collins by the lapels of his coat, and twisted with him in a textbook takedown that ended with him flat on his back in the dirt and her straddling his chest. As if from a distance, Roy watched her right fist haul back and then slam solidly into the reporter's jaw… and then he himself was moving.

She was just drawing her right arm back for a second swing when he intervened, wrapping both arms around her midriff and lifting. Adrenaline momentarily boosting his strength, it felt like she weighed no more than a child. Roy backed off with her held against him, holding on gamely even as she tried briefly to struggle. Teeth gritted, she watched the MPs helping a dazed Collins first to sit up and then stand.

By the time the reporter was on his feet, she had stopped squirming. Roy knew her feet were just barely touching the ground, but he still didn't loosen his grip. Instead, he looked toward the grim-faced police sergeant on his left. "I think we've done all we can here. Once you've got your report ready, submit it to me at Headquarters."

The sergeant nodded. "Yes, sir. We'll handle things here. We'll talk to Collins, make sure he understands that the scene was a little…." His eyes went briefly to Riza's face as Roy set her down, and then away just as quickly. "…A little overwhelming."

Roy nodded grimly, before shifting his arm to around Riza's shoulders, guiding her in the general direction of where they had left their borrowed car. She made one attempt to shake him off in irritation, but he kept his grip. Walking beside her, the clench of her teeth was evident in the tension of her jaw, anger still smoldering quietly in her eyes. Neither of them spoke as he opened the passenger door for her, handed her inside, then closed it and crossed to the driver's side.

A full three seconds of silence passed after he settled behind the wheel, before he broke it. "Spit it out."

Riza didn't hesitate. "You should have let me hit him again," she murmured darkly, brown eyes glaring out the front windshield. "I'll face whatever punishment I have to, but I will not stand by while my work and my reputation are insulted to my face."

"Nor should you," he commented mildly. "That being said, you have to realize that your picture is going to wind up in the paper, and the story of you decking a member of the media is going to draw more attention than the murder itself."

When she didn't answer, he gave her a sidelong look, pulling off the sunglasses. "Riza, look at me." It took her a moment, but she finally dragged her eyes from the windshield to meet his. The anger was fading, beginning to be replaced by embarrassment and the dawning realization of exactly what she had done. "You've withstood worse insults before," he said, keeping his voice low and gentle, trying not to sound reprimanding. "What happened this time? What was different?"

She opened her mouth… paused… closed it again, and shook her head. "I… I wish I had an answer for you, sir. It's been a long time since I lost my temper like that, and…. I don't know how or why I lost control. I only know that I did." She had glanced away little by little as she spoke, and now her eyes came flickering back to his. "The last time I lost my temper that badly… was when I faced Lust. When she told me she had killed you and Havoc."

It was not unlike watching a cat calming down after a fit, watching raised and ruffled fur smoothing slowly back into place… but on another, heartbreaking level, he was watching her slowly deflate, slowly draw into herself as she realized the enormity of her actions. Shifting closer on the bench seat of the car, he caught one of her hands.

"And just like last time, there was some exterior catalyst," he assured her. "Whether it was the crime scene, whether it was leftover trauma from the Promised Day…. Maybe even the blood loss. A week ago, you were in a battle for your life, for mine, for the lives of everyone in the country." He touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek. "No one comes through something like that emotionally unscathed. You know that."

"I know." Her eyes were focussed on her lap, her usual businesslike air beginning to faintly reassert itself. "Once Collins files his charges, that will have to be my defense. Hopefully Hakuro will buy it."

"Spell it out for me. Like you will in the report."

Shifting to sit straight, she spoke clearly, choosing her words deliberately. "Collins made a movement that, although innocent in retrospect, I interpreted as a hostile action. Because of everything I experienced on the Promised Day — no, wait. During the Battle of Central — I've recently been overly sensitive regarding sudden or strange emotions near you, myself, or any member of our team. I took steps to stop Collins from whatever he was doing, resulting in a verbal altercation, which — also thanks to the battle — I perceived as continued threatening action on his part, and I reacted."

Roy nodded in satisfaction, giving her hand a brief squeeze before sliding back behind the wheel. "Sounds perfectly plausible to me. I'm willing to bet that's exactly what happened, too. Your track record speaks for itself: you've never been one to react without reason, so if you felt there was a threat, there was likely a threat."

As he turned the key in the ignition, slipping the sunglasses back into place over his reddened eyes, Riza went back to staring out the window. Unlike before, the furrow between her eyebrows was caused by deep thought and worry, instead of simmering fury. "I can only hope Hakuro will see it the same way, sir," she murmured.

Roy hoped the General would as well… but knew it wasn't likely. Deep in the pit of his stomach, worry began to turn over on itself. Worry for the consequences… and for her. He could tell himself all he wanted that it was a delayed reaction to Promised Day trauma, to her nearly bleeding out. He could reassure her in a calm, steady tone of voice… but one thought still nagged at him.

Whatever circumstances might have been for her, Riza Hawkeye very rarely snapped. When she did, it was seldom good.

OAK STREET, EAST CITY

7:00 P.M., APRIL 16

The man loitered outside the house, in the shadowed space between it and its neighbour. Waiting beside the window, he kept himself tucked tight against the siding so that he wouldn't be spotted in the golden light washing outward the failing flow of early sunset.

Inside, a young family — two parents and two children — played or read in the comfort of their living room. Music issued softly from the radio on its table against the wall, the sound flowing easily to the man's keen ears as he waited. His foot tapped in time with the upbeat jazz, and he reminded himself that humming the jaunty melody would only lead to his being discovered. A shame.

Music has charms to soothe the savage breast, the old phrase drifted through his mind. He smiled. As though mere organized sound had the power to to dissuade him, the most savage of them all….

The song ended, and the soft announcing chimes of the seven o'clock news came through the window. Inside, there was a rustle as the father set aside his newspaper and reached over, turning up the volume. A flap of pages as the mother set aside her reading, though the two children continued playing quietly on the floor.

"Good evening, and welcome to the seven o'clock edition of the East City News," the anchor read over the airwaves. "Our top story this hour: East City Murder Spree Continues. Military police were called early this afternoon to the home of a Mr. and Mrs. Angelini in the city's south end, when the occupants were discovered deceased by a neighbour."

"My goodness, how awful," the mother murmured. "Kids, why don't you go play upstairs?"

The sound of the children scampering off drowned out the next few lines of the announcer's spiel, and when it was audible again, the man edged closer to the window. "— two investigators responding to the scene are believed to have travelled from Central City. Former East City anti-terrorism specialist and State alchemist Colonel Roy Mustang has been investigating similar murders in Central City, and appears to have travelled here for the same purpose."

"They got that Mustang guy involved?" the father commented, sounding impressed. "It really must be bad if they dragged him all the way out here from Central. And only a little over a week since that big battle there…."

"They must think that, since he knows East City so well, he could provide some insights others couldn't," the mother surmised.

"Tensions were high following Colonel Mustang's inspection of the scene," the announcer butted in, and the man tuned out the other adults. "One reporter from the East City Standard was allegedly attacked by Mustang's aide-de-camp, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye after he made what she claimed to have been a threatening action against her superior."

The man's ears pricked, and he went completely still. This was newsworthy indeed…. For the ever-stoic Lieutenant Hawkeye to full-out assault a member of the media and in broad daylight in front of multiple witnesses…. He ran a tongue over his teeth. His special brand of toxin must be working its sinister magic after all.

"Multiple witnesses confirm the actions of Lieutenant Hawkeye, though many state that the reporter she allegedly fought was given ample warning not to press the issue and he continued to goad her. There is no word yet as to whether charges will be laid, and no leads in the murder investigation that could lead to the arrest of a suspect."

As the anchor turned to a story about rising stocks in sheep and wool from the Resembool area, the man turned away and prowled off into the darkening back yard of the house.

If Hawkeye was to the point of the anger beginning to overtake her, he mused, then her development was more advanced than he might have anticipated. Perhaps paying her that second visit in Central had been worth it. His transformation had taken no more than twelve hours, but then again, he had had the benefit of springing forth almost entirely whole. All that had been left for him to do was collect himself into a solid form and find easy prey to strengthen himself. Riza, only a week into a her own transformation and starting that from scratch, was bound to take longer than he had. She bore checking on.

Distracted as he was, he did not take precautions to hide himself as he crossed the yard to the narrow strip of trees at the back of the property. Behind and above him, he heard a child's voice call, "Lucy, look! There's a weird guy in the yard!"

The man darted forward, disappearing into the trees and blending instinctively with the shadows. A moment later, a little girl's voice sounded scornfully. "Mama told you about lying, Nathan. There's nobody there. You lie again, you're gonna get in trouble!"

"He was there a second ago," the boy grumbled. The man ignored them both and slipped off through the trees. Normally, he wouldn't have hesitated to pounce upon such soft, unwary targets, but he had already sated the hunger for today. The family was safe… at least for tonight.

He kept his steps measured and silent as he worked his way from the residential area back toward the heart of the city. The night deepened, taking away the burning sensation the sun left on his skin. His eyes stayed steady on the cluster of taller buildings and lights that showed where the downtown core glittered in the dark.

27 WHEELER STREET, EAST CITY

2153 HOURS, APRIL 16

Roy was stretched on the couch, flat on his back with a damp, ice-filled washcloth over his eyes to try and bring the last of the swelling down. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, his fingers doing their absent-minded drumming, indicating that his mind was hard at work even while the body was idle. Finally, he spoke.

"Tell me again what you saw. What he did that made you take him down the first time."

Letting out a quiet sigh, Riza reached down and closed the file. Drawing a deep breath, she dropped her feet to the floor from their place curled under her in the armchair. "I saw Collins approaching the gurneys — and you — while your back was turned. He was carrying his camera, and trying to stay in line with you so that you wouldn't see him in your peripheral." She frowned, trying to recall the incident in clearer detail. "When he was close enough, he lifted the camera over his head, pointing it toward the bodies. From where I stood, I didn't know whether he was simply taking a photo or trying to knock you on the head… and I realized I didn't want to leave anything to chance."

He shifted minutely, turning his head fractionally in her direction. "So you tackled him, because it was the the most direct way to get him away from me."

"Exactly. Everything after that — the arguing, the shouting… you know all that." She returned her chin to her hand, her eyes on the floor. "All I can say to explain that is that… well, I was already on edge enough that he managed to get under my skin. And once he did… I just saw red. I reacted without thinking." Her lips thinned into a narrow line of distaste. "That's what the charges will be for. The first tackle was in response to a perceived threat, but I had no valid reason to go after him the second time."

"Don't worry about it too much." Reaching up, he lifted the ice off his left eye just enough to see, looking at her from under the shadow of the cloth. "I'm sure things with Collins can be sorted out. You're both professionals; sitting down and talking things out might be enough to get the charges dropped. If he files them at all."

She gave him a doubtful look. "It was on the news, Roy. He practically has no choice but to file."

"Does he though?" He grinned and dropped the ice back over his eye. "It's now public knowledge that he got his ass handed to him by someone who, a week ago, was down forty percent of her blood supply and recuperating in hospital. It wouldn't surprise me if he's too embarrassed to have you charged."

She smiled, though it faded quickly. "It doesn't make what I did right, though. I suppose that the only thing is for me to learn from the mistake and move on."

"That would be my advice."

The room fell into silence again, both of them returning to their thoughts. Feeling a little more relieved, Riza allowed her eyes to fall closed. She could finally feel herself sinking slowly toward sleep, but didn't bother to get up and transfer to the bedroom. That would only bring her back awake and she would have to start the process all over again. If she fell asleep in the chair, perhaps she would have the small pleasure of Roy gently waking her as he carried her in to bed….

She smiled, her imagination calling up the sensation of his arms around her, of his shoulder supporting her resting head, of her shoulder fitting perfectly into the cup of his hand…. Nestling deeper into the plush chair, she gave herself over to the fantasy.

She dozed lightly in and out for who knew how long, before a hand gently took hers. Not opening her eyes, waiting for the slip of an arm beneath her knees that meant a gentlemanly carry to a soft mattress, Riza held still.

It didn't come. Instead, there was a quiet chuckle, and a pair of lips touched her cheek before travelling down to the uninjured side of her neck. Breaking into a smile, she opened her eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of the dark hair, and gave a soft, contented sigh. No doubt he was trying to help her unwind, help her de-stress in one of the most immediate ways he could.

She lifted her free hand to his shoulder, digging briefly with her nails to express her approval… and felt her pulse pick up as he caught her wrist. In another second, both her hands were pinned to the top of the armchair above her head, what had been a soft, steady rhythm of kisses against her neck becoming more insistent.

Grinning, she turned her head toward him, murmuring into his ear. "Seems I'm not the only one acting aggressively today."

"No, but yours was certainly much more of a show."

She froze instantly as he spoke, fear rising up through her chest as shock and embarrassment catapulted down. The man leaned back, far enough that she could see the broad smile swimming underneath that shifting face. Her eyes cut sideways to where Roy still lay on the couch, his mouth slightly open in the deep, even breathing of sleep.

Anger flooded in to replace the other emotions, and she glared up at the strange-faced man. "Get off of me."

"I will," he promised, then laughed as she pulled against his one-handed grip keeping her wrists pinned to the top of the chair. "Darling, believe me, I do love it when they struggle, but it's mostly tiresome when it comes from you." He caught her chin in his free hand, forcing her to look at him. "Especially when it's only going to make things more difficult."

"That was my plan," she gritted, trying unsuccessfully to tug her chin from his grip. "Why should I make things easy for you?"

He let go of her chin, reaching up to undo the first of his shirt buttons. "Because, my dear, all too soon, you'll begin to see things from my point of view. After tonight, I daresay… you'll never be the same."

Unsure of what to say, Riza watched, dumbfounded as he opened his shirt two-thirds of the way down. Taking one long-nailed finger, he drew it diagonally down across his chest, leaning over her as blood welled into the long, deep scratch he left. Behind the shifting face, dark eyes glittered as they bored into hers.

"After tonight… my revenge will begin in earnest."