Kat's fingers paused on the key to Daniel's room. She still called it a room although cell was a more appropriate word. She felt him on the other side of the door.
She felt fear. Incredibly, he didn't fear for the fact that he was being kept prisoner and might come to a bad end. He didn't fear so much for the succubus who held the key to his room and for whom he felt an unreasoning attraction. He feared for his soul. Of all of the fears that Kat had tasted, this one was the most rare, sublime, and pure. Most feared physical death and pain. Others feared the evil that lurked beneath the surface of things. Few now feared for their immortal souls. The taste hearkened back to distant times when people lived such miserable lives that the promise of a better afterlife was all they could hope for.
Yet despite his fear, his soul had called to her during the first night of his captivity. She hadn't projected her will into his room, but he had sent her such a response of yearning that it took her breath away. Somehow, he'd managed to lock onto her, though she doubted that he consciously knew he'd done so. She used that connection to calm him even as her own agitation grew.
How was it that he could so easily find her? Ordinarily, mortals responded to the projections of demons in the same way that a moth might respond to a flame. It was a deadly instinct, but one they ordinarily didn't initiate themselves. Yet here was Daniel, searching her out and homing in on her.
She turned the key.
***
Kat entered the room bearing a covered tray. "Breakfast," she said.
Daniel sat on the edge of the bed and realized that he was hungry. He'd been tormented by none of the dreams that had afflicted him of late. To his surprise and despite satisfaction of having enjoyed an unusually deep sleep despite his current predicament, he found that he almost missed those nocturnal visitations.
Kat approached and placed the tray on the bedside table. She was simply dressed in a light sweater and black skirt that fell to just above the knee. The simplicity of her clothing served only to accentuate her extraordinary beauty. He wished that she'd worn a burlap sack, something that didn't quite hug her curves so much. Daniel's heart gave a lurch and he longed to touch her.
"I didn't know what you wanted," said Kat, "so I gave you a little bit of everything."
"I'm sure it's fine."
Kat turned to leave. He didn't want her to.
"What are you going to do with me?" he asked.
She turned to him again, her arms crossed, framing those breasts he'd dreamed about in such detail.
"We're still deciding. There are options."
"But letting me go is not one of them."
Kat shook her head.
"I wish I could free myself of you on my own, but I can't," said Daniel. "I know that. I need help, and there's no help for me outside of the church. Do you understand?"
Strange how he thought that freedom from being attracted to her was more pressing issue than his imprisonment.
She approached and sat next to him on the bed. He could feel her warmth and smell her delicate aroma. It was probably no more than soap and shampoo, but to him it was the headiest scent that had ever reached his nose. She placed a hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze. It was meant to be reassuring but to Daniel, it was something else entirely.
"There are always alternatives," she said.
She didn't remove her hand. He closed his eyes and focused on those few square inches of contact they shared. Even through the fabric, he could feel the slenderness of each finger, the warmth of her palm, and the unique whorls on each fingertip. He could feel her strength and something beyond it that he wanted.
The contact broke and she was on her feet before he could open his eyes.
She smiled weakly. "Enjoy your breakfast," she said.
Then she was gone, before she could explain the alternatives to him.
***
What was that? wondered Kat as she returned to the kitchen. It was almost as though he'd been feeding off her through that smallest of contact, rather than the other way around. Her hand still tingled.
She found Isabel at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. "No news about our guest," she said. "Yet."
"It's too soon," said Kat.
"It won't take long for them to start looking for him."
"I know."
"You have turn him. It's either that or..."
"I know."
"It'll be a victory for you if you do manage to turn him. No one wants the alternative. Besides, I can sense something between the two of you."
The thought of turning him roiled in her gut. To twist something so innocent and true -- she didn't know whether she could to it. "He is unusual," she said.
"That he is," said Isabel as she returned her attention to the newspaper.
***
Kat returned shortly after breakfast. In her arms she carried a pile of clothes and placed them on the bed.
"These are Jean-Paul's," she said. "They may be a little big but they will do until I've had a chance to wash yours. But first, you need to shower."
At first Daniel thought of resisting as all good prisoners should, but then realized that he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the stink of fear that clung to him since his arrival.
He followed Kat to a large washroom, complete with a massive old clawfoot tub large enough for two and a more modern shower stall on the opposite wall.
"Your choice," said Kat.
He indicated the shower and waited for Kat to leave. She didn't.
"I can't leave you alone in this room. The window overlooks the neighboring property. You might signal them."
"And I'm a prisoner."
"I didn't ask you to come here."
"I won't signal anyone. I promise." The thought of undressing in front of Kat made him cringe.
"I'm sorry. I'll close my eyes if you want."
"Okay." Daniel undressed hurriedly, casting nervous glances to Kat. Stupid, he told himself, this modesty after all he'd evidently done with her -- or had done to him by her -- in his dreams.
He quickly hid himself behind the frosted glass of the shower stall. Soon steam swirled around him. We washed, keenly aware of her presence. He could see her distorted outline through the glass. So close, he thought. No doubt she could see him as well. Perhaps because of the distortion, he found that being seen like this didn't worry him, though it was arousing. He was keenly aware that the fulfillment of his every carnal dream stood no more than a few feet away.
He finished and opened the door a crack. "Pass me a towel, would you?"
"Come and get it," she replied. She stood across the room, towel spread in her hands and a smile on her lips. "I promise to keep my eyes closed, if that helps," she said.
He approached her and he made to reach for the towel.
"Allow me," she said, moving the towel out of reach.
She must have been peeking, thought Daniel. "I can do it," he said.
"Please," she said and draped the towel over his head. Before he could protest, she`d started drying his hair and face and then moved to his shoulders. She dried him unhurriedly, running the towel inch by inch over his arms, back, chest and abdomen. It was an intimate exploration, but the towel that separated their skin robbed it of its immediate sexual undertone. If anything, he felt like a child.
He squirmed as she dried his legs the insides of his thighs, ending her journey at his groin. It was only then that he realized that he was fully erect, his attention having been concentrated on her soft touch.
"Oh no," he muttered.
"It's fine," she said lightly. "I'd be insulted otherwise. And you would have cause for worry."