Nicholas Bargain Ch 07

I hope this is a satisfying ending for those who've stuck with story :)

I've also spent the past few months re-going the whole story as long absences in posting meant it was inconsistent and clumsy in many places - it's up on Amazon if anyone is interested under the same title by Amanda Rieu

***

Lara woke to the sound of crunching gravel and birdsong. The realisation that she was being carried came to her belatedly – and despite the urgency in her mind, her limbs remained weighted and mobile, as did her tongue.

Her panicked eyes lifted and clashed with Mica's watchful ones, and she was sure she detected a tinge of regret before he looked ahead once more, his strides long and steady until he stopped before imposing double-doors capped off by an ostentatious bronze knocker in the shape of a lion. It had been years since Lara had faced the grotesque spectre that she'd so feared as a child.

They were at her father's country estate.

Mica manoeuvred her inert body, raising a fist to knock, but before his fist had fallen, one of the lacquered doors opened to reveal the head servant who had worked there for years – who had looked over Lara and Amelia during the summers they had spent there when the adults were too indifferent to have a care over them as they socialised. Old Emma looked thoroughly harassed, and on identifying Lara, gushed worriedly over her state but Mica cut off her concerns, saying:

'Your employer is expecting me, I believe,' his voice rang out mockingly, and then he was passing the older woman, making his was surely across the large foyer as if he knew the layout well.

'My lord baron,' Mica declared softly, stopping in a darkened doorway. 'That will be all, dear,' he turned then, slamming the door in Emma's face as she hovered close behind, enclosing them within the stuffy room, the heavy drapes drawn, blanketing them in darkness.

'What have you done to her?'

Lara cringed at her father's voice – sounding fretful and tetchy – so different to the authority he would have once exhibited.

'Oh, she is

quite

well,' Mika assured before setting Lara down before him.

True to his words, Lara's legs, although slightly clumsy, held her up – but she recoiled as she took in her father's thin, frail form, staggering away from the sight of him.

Testing her heavy tongue, she moved until enough distance separated her from both the demon, and the man who had sired her. 'Nicholas will-'

'

Nicholas, Nicholas

! Oh, yes,' Mica mimicked her high voice on a sarcastic roll of the eyes. 'Do not fret; Nicholas will be here soon enough. I believe my directions were

quite

succinct, after all.'

'It will be well,' a clammy hand suddenly closed over Lara's wrist as her father sought to soothe her. 'It will all be well now.'

'Haven't you done enough?' she cried in disbelief, smacking his hand away. 'Why can you not leave us be? I-'

'Child! You cannot allow the demon to

possess

you – your mind is not your own after his manipulations!' her father declared feverishly, his eyes bulging as he tried to appeal to her, his fingers clutching bruisingly at her arms. 'But that will change, aye it will!-'

'He is here.'

Lara whipped away from her father's clutching hands at the monotone pronouncement, staring at the open doorway in betrayal as Amelia stood there, a defiant expression on her face.

'I shall never forgive you for this,' Lara gasped, and her words were for Amelia alone. 'Just what did you think do achieve, spiriting me away here? To keep Nicholas and I from exchanging vows tomorrow? But that can be rearranged! Or not. I find myself caring less and less about this damned business!' she cried furiously, not scared or melancholy any longer at what had transpired, but violently angry

Pinning each person – and demon – with a hard look, she said finally, 'If you are planning to anything to Nicholas, I-'

Amelia cut her off, flaring, 'To

him

? My God, Lara-'

'Yes, to

him

! It is because you do not understand him – his kind – that you act in such a way, is it not? He is not this – this

beast

you accuse him of being! In fact, I have known greater misery and hurt at the hands of my own father than I have the demon you all so fear and loathe,' Lara said bitterly, her eyes running over the man in question, 'and from my sister, too,' she added, turning back to Amelia. 'You all act as if your word is sacrosanct, that you know better – but it is my life and my choice! I am Nicholas' – just as much as he is mine. I

cannot

explain it to you, cannot not even grasp myself just what he means to me, nor the extraordinariness of it all,' she whispered hoarsely, bracing herself as the sound of booted feet sounded on the marble floored foyer outside.

A feeling of doom filled her, pulled low in her gut, as she watched the door. This was wrong. She should be jubilant that he was here, that he had come to her to make everything right.

When at last Nicholas entered the stagnant room, his expression savage but loosening somewhat as his eyes scanned the shadowed room and fell upon her, everything within Lara pulled tight before releasing. She ran to him, half expecting to be pulled back – but she found herself in his arms, her face pressed to his chest, her arms clutching harshly at his back.

'Hush, sweeting,' the soft words whispered above her before hardening. 'You betraying swine,' Nicholas' voice hissed.

'I was called. I answered-'

'There is a choice!' Nicholas thundered. 'There is

always

a choice,' he repeated, modulating his tone as he cut off Mica's stuttering reply. And then saying simply: 'I will see you fall for this.'

'You will no doubt try. It is too late, Nicholas,' Mica sneered.

The finality of his words seemed to hold weight, and a heaviness settled over the room, the very air feeling thick, suffocating.

Lara pulled away from the security of Nicholas' arms to watch him, desperately scanning his cruelly handsome face as she tried to read the dissent on his face, as she waited for him to assure her that Mica's ambiguous words were hollow, that everything would be well.

But there was no assurance on Nicholas' face. He looked beyond her.

'What have you done?' he uttered.

'Ha! You begin to see now, do you not? You gave up all claim to the girl when you allowed her father to reengage on the bargain, you fool – and you know what happened then: her soul was free to claim. Two days ago,

I

claimed it. And I have come to collect.'

Lara shook her head disbelievingly as Mica's lips moved, denying the impact of his words as their earlier light and friendly conversation roared through her mind in mockery.

'But I've always be the magnanimous sort,' Mica continued jovially, 'and we are, after all, old,

old

friend's - therefore, the choice of what happens now is yours. The terms of the bargain are thus: leave and

never

again encroach upon her. If you agree to this, the girl is free and I take her father's soul in recompense. Decline and she is mine – and I claim her tonight-'

'We

had

to Lara,' Amelia sobbed, cracking under the strain, under the thick tension in the room. 'If he is the – the

noble

creature you say he is, he will agree! He will leave you be!'

'And if he is not, you have signed my death warrant,' Lara uttered monotonously, a feeling of unreality settling over her at this double betrayal. 'And if he is, I prove everything I said about him – that he is honest and true - so what do you get out of this, I wonder? My...happiness?'

Nicholas left her then, walking slowly until he stopped just before Mica, and in musing tones he said, 'The acquisition of mortal souls is despairingly easy. Somehow, I do not think your intent was to add another to your collection - and then there is the fact that you risked my wrath in-'

'Money,' Mica bit out cold explanation. 'A king's ransom,' he added, his eyes gleaming as he glanced appreciatively at the cowering baron.

'I see. What if neither happens? What do you get

then

, friend?'

Mica frowned.

'If neither term of the bargain is fulfilled, what then?' Nicholas queried in a tone so casual it was almost comical. 'What if you made a, shall we say, bad bargain?'

'As you did, you mean?' Mica sneered, nodding towards Lara in derision. 'After the torture you were forced to endure, you were banished, destined to live your days in this realm – you can never go back, Nicholas, never mind your connections nor how many times you try to appeal the decision,' he sneered, 'You can

never

return, and you hate that - I, however, would love nothing

but

that. I shall survive the slap on the wrists, but then I am not a gallant bastard like you, am I? Your punishment was self-inflicted, you fool, and all for what? Your so-called mate.'

'You do not believe that she is my mate?' Nicholas murmured conversationally, holding out an arm and gesturing for the vacant woman who slowly came to him. He pressed a lingering kiss to the soft curls atop her head.

'She is a mortal,' Mica dismissed in disgust. 'Do not seek to delay this - nor to sway me! It is

done

! Do you not understand?'

'Perfectly – but you see, she is not mortal.'

Mika blinked, Amelia's tears stilled, and Lara stiffened in his arms. From across the room, a low moan came from the baron.

'It took me some time to discover all,' Nicholas continued easily. 'As it happens, I've known for a while now. You never did tell her about her mother, did you?' Nicholas mused then, throwing the baron an inquiring look. 'In his heyday, your father apparently attracted women like flies,' Nicholas shot Lara a sardonic look. 'And not just mortal women, it would seem. Tell me, have you heard from the fair Leila recently?' he looked back towards the baron.

Lara watched as her father staggered, as if Nicholas' words had held weight and poison.

'Of course, you wouldn't have,' Nicholas shrugged. 'Do not fear; she will never darken your doorstep again. But she bore you a child and you tossed her aside...bad form, man. Very bad form.'

'That – that has no bearing on this,' Mica's voice rang out, the former bewilderment on his perfect features melting to triumph. 'A child born of mortal and demon mating still possesses a soul – possesses the chance to repent on death and decide upon which path He or She shall take at judgement day, therefore-'

'Wonderfully recited,' Nicholas quipped sardonically.

'And perfectly

correct

,' Mica nodded with an arrogant toss of his head. 'The bargain stands - make your choice, Nicholas – I shall not wait. Make it now!'

'Well, I...' Nicholas lifted his shoulders in leisurely consideration. 'No,' he said then, giving a little shake of the head for good measure. 'You know, I do not think I shall.'

'Then it is done!' Mica cried, his dark eyes blackening. 'You refusal to speak on the matter signifies your refusal to yield her! She is mine! And I think I shall seek the satisfaction of taking her right now, letting you watch as she takes her last breath-'

'No!' Amelia cried in horror, barrelling over to him, 'You promised, you-'

Mica shoved her aside roughly, and Amelia landed on a heap on the carpeted floor, looking stunned at the blow.

Looking down at her with contempt, he spat, 'I promised nothing, stupid bitch-'

'She is not yours.'

Nicholas' quietly word statement hung in the air for a moment and Mica laughed harshly, approaching Lara like a hunter cornering its prey.

'Well, let's test that, shall we?'

'She is not yours, because her soul is already

mine

,' Nicholas stated fiercely.

Mica stilled. 'Nay,' he dismissed, at the end of his tether. 'You gave her up when you allowed the baron to renegade-'

Nicholas nodded, stroking a thumb over the small hand clasped within his before lifting it to his lips. 'Aye, I did. Her soul was free - and then I made the blood vow with her.'

'What?'

'I do not have a pre-disposition to mumble – shall I make it a little clearer for you?'

'No,' Mica shook his head, backing away, looking about the sparely furnished room as if it were suddenly filled with a crowd of spectators closing in on him. 'You would never – you

couldn't

possibly have-'

'But I did,' Nicholas returned smoothly, wrapping his arm around his mate's waist until her back rested against his chest, holding her before him as if declaring his possession – presenting her – for all the world to see, invisible spectators included. 'I almost feel sorry that you did not know the truth of it– you would not then have agreed to the bargain, certainly,' Nicholas shrugged. 'Almost but not quite sorry,' he finished on a chuckle.

'Even still,' Mica cried in denial, 'even – even still, the blood vow! You would be a

fool

to do such, a fool!'

'Apparently so.'

Mica continued to walk backwards, his eyes wildly scanning the room, his utterings growing more and more incoherent until he stumbled over a footstool, falling to the ground on a shout which swiftly lengthened into a scream of such agonising pain that all in the room, save for Nicholas, covered their ears in intolerance to it – but just as suddenly, all was quiet.

They were greeted by the sight of Mica's unmoving body, his black eyes glassy as they stared at the corniced ceiling, his cheeks smeared with tears of such thick, bright blood that it almost hurt to look directly at him.

Lara grabbed Nicholas by his jacket, repulsed, her stomach protesting, and he murmured soothing words into her ear.

'Is he...dead?'

'Not in the way you know,' Nicholas said expressionlessly. 'The fool thought he'd be banished to your world if the bargain turned sour – as my own did. But he was not as learned about the tenants governing our world as he assumed. His punishment was tailor made, shall we say?' he gave her a tight smile. 'He betrayed a brother – me. The ultimate betrayal. He will burn until the end of days.'

He steered her out of the room, but Lara pulled away on a shake of the head as he looked at her askance. She walked over to Amelia's still sprawled side and helped her up with a bracing arm about her shoulder.

'We must help him, too,' Amelia beseeched, pale skinned, wide-eyed, in a state of shock. She looked towards their father who sat curled by the window, his hands over his eyes, his body trembling.

'You help him,' Lara said quietly.

Amelia grabbed her hand as she made to leave. 'We were so scared, Lara – and desperate. When father suggested the plan after reading of your wedding in the newspaper, I was adamant that we could never place such bold faith in either of them,' she glanced quickly to Nicholas standing impatiently by the door, his expression stony, then towards the spot where Mica lay. 'But I...well the way he looks at you- I knew he cared for you, that he would agree to leave you be-'

'Then why can't

you

let us be?' Lara implored before shaking her head wearily. 'No, do not answer. I thought, at first, that this was what I wanted – for everything to remain as normal, but it can never be. He is not normal. He is far from ordinary,' she glanced at Nicholas' beloved face. 'And I choose him. I have never felt more loved, or as safe, than when I am with him.'

'He is impatient for you,' Amelia said quietly then, looking past her. 'Go – go to him. It would seem I am not as open-minded as you after all,' she finished, wiping an unsteady hand over her face, managing a tremulous smile and she hesitated before grabbing Lara's hand. 'I won't see you again, will I? I would not blame if you if you never wanted to see me, certainly.'

Lara pulled her into a tight hug. 'From the very beginning, you were a sister to me – and you shall always remain such. We shall meet again – that is a promise. But he has never been a father to me,' Lara bit her lip, nodding towards the baron. 'Amusing and indulgent, certainly – but never a father.'

'No. Never that,' Amelia agreed quietly, and the two of them left the room together, their hands still entwined.

***

'Wake up, sweeting.'

Lara grumbled at the soft command, burrowing further beneath the thick blankets wrapped around her.

'You know, an unpunctual bride will earn the mockery of the ton,' an amused voice murmured near her ear, and Lara finally sat up.

'Your townhouse,' she murmured, rubbing at her head as her sleep fogged mind cleared.

She blinked at Nicholas perched on the edge of his bed, dressed in an expensive looking morning suit, his hair immaculately brushed and gleaming blue-back under the sunlight flooding the room.

She groaned, sinking to the pillows once more, dismissing his words. 'No, Nicholas. I do not wish to marry; I should never have expressed the desire for it, let us leave. Leave London – England, today,' she declared. 'Why, we could journey to France or Italy...after all, this is your home now,' she said tentatively, speaking aloud the thoughts that had been troubling her all night.

'Destined to walk the earth until the end of days,' he concurred softly before pulling her shivering, chemise covered body to him.

'And all because of me...I am sorry, I-'

'Somehow, I shall bear it,' Nicholas interrupted softly, but the tenderness left his eyes as he said briskly, pulling her to her feet, 'Now, wench – are you aware just how much this damned circus has dented my coffers?' he chided, pulling the sheets away from her stubborn fingers before bellowing over his shoulder. 'Agnes!'

Soon enough, the maid who had once served in Amelia's London house knocked meekly before entering.

'Yes, milord?' she bowed deferentially.

Nicholas stood, his amused eyes falling on the stubborn woman sprawled across the bed.

'Assist my lady – we've a wedding to attend.'

***

'May I-'

'No! Not yet – Nicholas, please. You said you'd allow me time to complete my toilette,' came the muffled rebuke from inside the bedroom.

Nicholas scowled at the door. 'But I've been patient-' he argued, only to be cut off again.

'Just a little longer, Nicholas.'

He sighed, leaning against the wall, tugging at his breeches in irritation to ease the discomfort of his throbbing hardness.

'Ok – you can come in now.'

Shaking his head in exasperation, wondering how those brief seconds could have made a difference, he entered the room, his eyes falling automatically to the dark haired beauty seated at the centre of the bed, her body covered in an ankle-length wrapper.

'Take that off,' he ordered in distaste, striding to her, shrugging impatiently out of his own clothes.

'Not yet,' she shook her head, before shoving her hand under a pillow. 'Here,' she said then, pressing a slim paper-wrapped parcel into his hands.

'What is it?' he said dumbly, holding it away from his warily.

A tinkling laugh met him. 'It won't poison you, Nicholas! It's a gift. A wedding gift, if you will. Open it.'

'But why?' he frowned, turning it over in his hands suspiciously before something occurred to him. 'Is it...traditional? I did not know...' he shook his head in annoyance at the emerald set he'd had designed for her, the stones exactly the colour of her eyes, if he'd have known of this custom he would have ordered a faster turnaround.

'I have nothing for you,' he said in irritated dismay.

'You have given me enough, my lord,' his mate laughed patting fondly at his hand. 'I want nothing in return. Well – aren't you going to open it?'

He arched a brow, falling onto his side beside her, resting his head in her lap, breathing in her delicious scent.

She squirmed beneath him and urged him on, and he tugged the paper off, frowning at the object within.

'It's a first edition from 1478,' he heard. 'Truth be told, I struggled somewhat to think of a something for you. What does one get a Demon who has everything?'