When Vesper was seventeen years old, her mother was working in a hospital in London, patching up and caring for the wounds of the men who were coming back from the continent after fighting for the Allied forces in World War II. She had been very young and sheltered, and had spoken to almost no one besides her mother and the few patients that she was allowed to meet. Few of whom was she ever allowed to touch. It was difficult, the wounded men always wanted comfort, and being allowed to hold the hand of an abnormally beautiful young woman had made more than one reach for her only to have Vesper swiftly move out of the path of their hand. She would always stand and make an excuse as to why she had to leave for a moment. It had been difficult, but necessary to keep her secret.
That year, the last year of the war, there had been somewhat of a change in the mood on the ward she was on with her mother. A feeling that things were coming to an end, that all of the men and women who were away from home fighting the war would be returning soon, that life would begin again for everyone. Vesper had quietly moved among them, warmed by the way they spoke, the plans they made, and wondered if one day soon, she, too, would be able to start a life of her own, without her mother, away from all of the death and pain in the hospital. But how could she when she couldn't touch anyone, when she couldn't let anyone know that she had wings? It had felt very bittersweet. And then she had met Arthur.
Arthur had been a tank gunner on an A34 Comet in Europe. He had black hair and blue eyes and an easy smile. His company had been bombed a few months before, and he'd come to the hospital with shrapnel wounds to his torso and legs. By the time he'd reached London, he was healing well overall but had only been admitted due to an infection of a wound on his thigh. Her mother had been the one to treat him initially, and she'd had Vesper touch his hand one night because the infection wasn't responding to antibiotics. They had spoken for several hours. He had told her about his family in Bristol, he had two sisters and a father who owned a butcher's shop. He was hoping to get his old job back working at a university in the maintenance department. Arthur was young and handsome and Vesper had felt very close to him.
When he'd pulled her aside one night and asked her to marry him, she had been taken aback, had she given the impression that she was interested in such a liaison? They had only ever spoken to each other about inconsequential things, how had he gotten the idea that she might hold a tender place for him? He had asked, and she had said that she wasn't sure, that they didn't know each other, that he didn't know her well enough to ask such a question. He had been frustrated, but he had said that he would give her two days to think about it. He was heading home the next morning, but would be back to get her answer.
She had not slept a wink in those two days, she'd barely been able to breathe, or eat, or do any of the many chores her mother had her do around their apartment. What should she tell him? What would he say if he knew about her deformities? How could they have a life together? Could they have children? Would they look like her? She could never come up with a clear answer, and on the day that he was to return, in sort of a foggy stupor of exhaustion and confusion, Vesper had gone to the hospital with her mother and waiting in the shadows to see if the soldier would show up again.
He never did.
She had gone home that night and spent several days feeling sorry for herself, barely sleeping, her gut torn open at the thought that he hadn't really meant it, that it had been nothing more than a happy soldier's blurting at a time when so many were starting to rejoice at the nearing of the end of a horrific war. It had wreaked havoc on her body, she wasn't able to focus, she felt so tired that she couldn't sleep when she tried, and it took weeks for Vesper to finally come out of it, to get past what might have been, and try to refocus on what she had. It wasn't much, but it was her life, and she would continue to live it alongside her mother as she had for the previous 17 years.
That tiredness, that strange sleepless feeling crept over Vesper again, seventy years later as she stretched out on the bed that she'd been moved to sleep on in Mr. Hughes' bedroom a few weeks ago. Ever since the day that she had tried to run from him, when she had released all of his sex partners, he had forced her to sleep in his room, on this bed. He would make sure that she was connected to it in some way before going to the room attached, but after that first night, he had never tied her up or forced an orgasm from her. She had been simply told to sleep. It had been difficult for her. Here was a man that she knew her heart was wrapped very tightly around, and he would leave her here, in her bed, while he went off to sate needs that he was being forced to sate with other people, because he couldn't touch her.
Vesper looked to where her left hand had been bound and found that the rope had been untied. That usually happened sometime in the early morning hours when one of the servants came inside to handle the needs of the man and woman that Mr. Hughes had taken to his sex room. Getting up, she let her wings stretch out behind her for a moment before rising and walking into the bathroom. The front of her chest burned slightly and she looked up to see that Mr. Hughes was standing near the tub, naked save the blanket wrapped around his narrow waist. His gray eyes fell to her and darkened a little before he furrowed his brow ever so slightly and took a step away from her.
"Sorry, I'll wait for you to finish." She muttered and stepped back out of the bathroom.
When he came out, she was standing near the window in the alcove, and she watched him quietly as he pulled a suit out of his closet, another Henry Poole. As he pulled on the slacks, she couldn't help but watch the way his muscles bunched and stretched. He really was handsomely built. Once the jacket was on and he was tying his tie, she moved slowly to the doorway of the bathroom.
"Will you talk to me today?" Her voice was whisper soft, but she knew he heard her, despite the fact that he gave her no physical response that he'd done so.
Mr. Hughes bent to tie his shoes and she sighed.
"If you won't talk to me, why do you keep me here, in this room? Haven't you punished me enough?"
No response.
"None of this would have happened if you had been honest with me in the first place, Mr. Hughes. You can't continue being upset with me when you kept things from me, very important things." Vesper bit her lip, he was walking to the door as he had every morning since that morning.
"You're behaving like a child, Mr. Hughes." She goaded him a little, wishing for a reaction of some sort from the angel, but receiving none as he walked out of the room and disappeared into the hallway beyond.
His treatment of her these past few weeks with silence was beginning to wear thin on her mood and Vesper wasn't sure how much longer she could handle the fallen angel treating her like she'd done something horrific. She'd gotten angry that he'd been having sex, in a sex room full of people he dominated. She had every right to be upset, and him refusing to speak with her was childish and stupid. Frowning, she moved over to the dresser where her clothes had been moved, and she got dressed quickly, not taking more than a passing glance at the mint colored tunic and long white skirt that she threw on hastily, and only haphazardly running a brush through her hair before going in the bathroom and taking care of her other needs just as absently.
Downstairs, she ate quietly in the kitchen, along the side where there was a bar that the supper cooks used to prep vegetables. She'd gotten into the habit of eating in the room when Mr. Hughes had stopped taking breakfast with her in the morning. Vesper often ate there for lunch now, as well, since their picnics had also stopped happening. It was just another way that he was punishing her. The only time he was near her these days, it seemed, was at night when she was sleeping. He had refused to let her return to her original rooms, and had even changed the locks on the door to keep her from going inside. Even Barnum and Bailey had moved into his room with them.
Thinking about the two kittens made Vesper tense a moment, she'd forgotten to grab the two who had been sleeping at the foot of the bed when she'd gotten up. Before she left the kitchen, Vesper spoke with one of the servants about taking the kittens up some food and water. They, as always, gratefully accepted the assignment. She usually never had to worry about someone keeping her kittens company, they were well loved by the staff. Most, but not all, Vesper bit her lip to hide the smile that lit her face momentarily, the werewolves in residence were not overly fond of the gray and orange creatures.
When she was done eating, Vesper wandered into the conservatory, a place that she had been finding refuge in a lot lately. She had always liked tending to plants and had wished for most of her life for a home that would allow her to garden. Her mother had always stuck to bigger cities, which meant they lived in apartments almost everywhere that they had ever moved. Besides a few stray house plants here and there, Vesper had never really gotten the chance to test out her green thumb. Piltrum, the gigantic statuesque nonhuman, usually took care of all of the plants in the conservatory, he had told her once, and over the months that she'd been here, he had taken time here and there to introduce her to the various flora in the large conservatory.
He wasn't in the room this morning when she walked in, which didn't surprise Vesper. She knew he also worked at the spa in other ways, she had first seen him in the foyer with a naked woman in his arms, she recalled, as she carefully touched the petals of an African violet that was in a special, humidified area of the room. All of the nonhumans that she had met since coming to the spa were sex partners with the clients that came here. Well, except Faeron, who was imprinted tightly to his human wife. She knew he had been having sex with clients when he first came here, but that had changed with their marriage, and Faeron was slowly taking over some of the business side of Vorhees as he learned how it was run by Mr. Hughes. According to Shi, Faeron was only supposed to be at the spa for a year, but that changed when he married Shi. The black haired woman did not want to leave the area, she had family in New England and other parts of Canada, and she didn't want to lose them.
Deandra had finally moved away with one of those family members. The French Canadian was now settled in to a brownstone in Boston with Shi's cousin, Marc, who Vesper had found that she liked quite a bit. The two cared about each other very much and were making a real go of it. Vesper had been shocked that they were moving in together before getting married, but she knew that just showed her age. It was a very modern thing to live with one's boyfriend without the benefit of a ring. She couldn't judge them, wasn't she in fact having sex of sorts without a husband? Wasn't that, too, seen as a sin? Did it count if the man she committed that sin with was an angel?
Vesper was about to refill the watering can that she'd been carrying around the room with her when she heard a bit of a commotion near the back lawn. Going over to the window, she looked outside to see two of the werewolf pack members, both strong, attractive men, and Samir and one of the human employees of Vorhees all surrounding a nonhuman that she had never seen before, yet Mr. Hughes had told her about his kind. The men looked nervous, their arms up and their bodies adjusting as the four legged beast whinnied and stomped, standing his ground as they sought to calm him down.
She wasn't sure if she could ever explain just how majestic and beautiful the creature was. He, the sheathed cock located on the barrel of his large body definitely marked him male, had the torso, head, and arms of a man, with long brown hair that had several tawny colored streaks in it, and the body of a massive brown horse. His abdomen ended just at the groin area, and every muscle on every part of him was well defined, and currently taut from the stress of whatever situation he had found himself in. He looked to be talking to the men, and they were responding to him, but she couldn't hear what it was that they were saying from her spot inside the conservatory.
Vesper frowned, he looked almost frantic as he looked towards the windows of the spa, and then he saw her and his body stilled and he became more focused. He must have said something, because Samir turned in her direction and stared at her for a moment. After what seemed like a really long internal struggle for the giant, he breathed deeply and nodded, waving a hand, telling her that they wanted her to join them out of doors. She shivered a little, not sure if she wanted to get that close to the large centaur. Mr. Hughes had said that Bellator was a bit stubborn, but knowing that the men were all looking at her impatiently at this point, she finally nodded in reply and walked quickly to the door that led outside from the room she was in.
Once she was on the lawn, she went to stand beside Samir, and looked up at the handsome creature.
"Bellator?" She asked, trying to hide her fear under a welcoming smile.
"No, Vesper. This is Corvus, his eldest son. Corvus, this is Vesper, she's the woman your father spoke to you about." Samir sounded annoyed, but calm, and Vesper breathed a little easier.
