9. The King and The Prince

This has taken so much longer than I expected and I'm sorry for that. I only hope there are some of you who will forgive me and keep reading. Sometimes I would like to be able to disappear for a few days so I could get some writing done without interruption.

Anyway…here it is. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

psyche b

Sara looked curiously around the book-lined study. Banks of candles glowed from inside the fireplace, adding to the warm atmosphere created by the recessed lighting. A table was set up between two comfortably worn leather armchairs. A matching sofa and coffee table were on the back wall. She heard Crowley speaking softly to the young woman who had led them down a long hall past large rooms filled with diners and a billiard room with a bar at one end. She was dressed as a Victorian maid, starched white apron, white cap and her blond hair pinned back in a severe but serviceable bun. Not entirely surprising considering that they had been admitted by a butler who had bowed courteously and greeted Crowley with deference and distant familiarity.

She walked away from the two of them and scanned the books on the shelves. A collection of the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was bound in worn green leather. Agatha Christie was in red. Dorothy L. Sayers in royal blue. She pulled out 'Clouds of Witness' from the Sayers books and thumbed through the pages, smiling when she saw they were as solid as they looked and not decorator's props. The door closed softly.

He put his hand on the small of Sara's back and looked over her shoulder. "Favorite of yours?"

Sara her best to ignore the warmth spreading from his hand on her lower back. She turned into him, a little smile on her lips. "I started this one during the second party Leah dragged me to."

"The second?" She heard the surprise in his voice, his thumb moving in wide arcs.

"Well, the first time I was only sixteen and silly enough to think that just sitting on the fringes of the crowd would be enough to keep people away. Not only was I bored, but I still had to…deflect interest." She held up the book. "A serious-looking book was always a good deterrent and it kept me occupied. What do you read?"

He chuckled and took the book from her, sliding it back into place on the shelf. "What makes you think I do?" He trailed the backs of his fingers over the back of her hand as he walked to the sofa. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine.

Sara watched him sit with one arm extended across the back of the cushions. She sat at the other end of the sofa. She could feel the warmth of his hand. A little smile on her lips, her eyes on his. "That's not an answer."

He thought for a long moment, one finger lightly tracing the top of her shoulder. "I don't have as much time as I would like, but the last thing I picked up out of interest was The Prince. Do you know it?"

Sara gave a small laugh. "'The vulgar crowd always is taken in by appearances, and the world consists chiefly of the vulgar.'" She gave a small shrug with one shoulder. "Or something like that."

His eyes sparkled. "You do know it."

She made a gracefully dismissive gesture with her hand. "I happened across a reference somewhere else and that made me curious. When I tried to get it from the school library I was told that it wasn't appropriate reading material for a St. Augustin's girl. Of course then I had to read it. I spent a couple of afternoons with it in the public library."

There was a predatory gleam in his eye. "Come now, pet. A single reading wouldn't have made such an impression. One might even call that statement a lie."

Sara didn't flinch. "I never claimed that was the only time I read it, and that wasn't what you asked."

The gleam lost some of its keenness and he laughed.

A soft chime sounded in the room and both of them looked toward the glass paned door. Crowley made a gesture and a waiter came in with small cart and on it was a silver bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne chilling in it. He silently filled two gracefully shaped flutes and set a plate of artfully arranged shrimp wrapped in prosciutto on the coffee table along with two small plates. He handed them each a menu.

He stood up, his white-gloved hands clasped in front of him. "Is there anything else either of you require?"

"Not at the moment." Crowley said.

Sara noticed the distance in his voice.

The waiter gestured to an embroidered bell pull in the corner. "Please ring when you're ready to order, or if you have any questions." He gave a small bow and closed the door silently behind himself.

Crowley handed one of the glasses to Sara.

Her fingers brushed his and lingered for just a moment as she took the glass. "What are we celebrating?"

He affected a look of shock. "Darling, one only needs an occasion to enjoy bad champagne."

Sara raised her glass. "To the decadence of nothing in particular."

His smile widened. "To decadence." There was a seductive growl in his voice. He touched her glass with his and the musical note of crystal on crystal filled the small space.

Sara suppressed the little tremor that chased down her spine and took a sip. It was easily the best champagne she'd ever tasted.

"So, you haven't told me how your meeting with the dreaded mother superior went."

Sara took another sip and set the glass aside. "No, I-"

He leaned forward. "Don't tell me you got six strokes of the cane."

She felt a blush heat her cheeks, as much from the rapacious look in his eyes as from the implication. "Of course not!"

An eyebrow rose. "Twelve?"

She laughed. "Would you like a few minutes alone with this little fantasy of yours?"

He thought about that for a moment, grabbed one of the shrimp and popped it in his mouth as he sat back. "Maybe later." He favored her with a lascivious grin.

Sara wished she had worn her hair down so that she'd have somewhere to hide the deepening blush. Instead she turned her head and took her time selecting one of the shrimp. "Then do you want to know what actually happened?" She took a delicate nibble and found it delicious.

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise." He finished the rest of the champagne in his glass and refilled it.

"Well, it didn't turn out quite how I would have expected." She finished the shrimp. "There was all the usual tension and free-flowing accusations. Sister Roberta made a veiled threat about how she might decide that I don't meet the graduation requirements. I suggested I might go to court to modify the trust so I can move to a larger school where I could get a degree that was actually useful, all the usual stuff. We both know that about the worst she can do to me now is confine me to campus so after the she put on her little show I figured that's what would happen. I think Father Gordon intervened and instead I have to interview nuns who are supposed to convince me to drop this foolish idea of actually getting an education and join the order. That's where things have gotten interesting." She took a sip of champagne.

His eyebrows twitched. "And you're being swayed?"

Sara laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, if anything it's pushing me in the other direction. I did find out some interesting information, though. You remember how I said all the girls come to St. Augustin's after some kind of shift in their families?"

"I do."

"Every one of the nuns I've talked so far had the same kind of family upheaval. They all attended a school run by the order."

Curiosity sparkled in his eyes. "A school? There's more than one?"

Sara nodded. "I didn't realize it either until I was reading the terms of my trust. Several were listed as alternatives if St. Augustin's didn't work out. None of the nuns ever talk about themselves and they usually won't answer direct questions. Of all the things I wondered about it didn't even occur to me that all of the nuns in the order were also educated by the order. From what I've heard so far they're the only ones who join."

"None from the outside at all?" Crowley leaned forward a bit.

"Not that I can tell so far."

"How many have you talked to?" He ate another shrimp, but she could see that his curiosity hadn't diminished.

"Eight of the fifteen I've been assigned to."

His eyebrows rose. "Fifteen?"

Sara laughed. "Well it is supposed to be a punishment." She picked up the menu and scanned it. "What would you recommend?"

The little smile that played around his lips turned downright suggestive. "As a punishment?"

She felt a blush heat her cheeks. "For dinner."

"Oh, dinner." He affected innocence. "Do you like seafood?"

"I love it."

He got up and tugged the bell pull. The waiter arrived quickly and Crowley ordered seafood arribbiata for them both as well as a bottle of wine. He sat down on the sofa, closer to her and he filled her glass again. He traced a light circle on her knee. Sara turned a little to look at him, a smile on her lips.

"Talk to anyone interesting at the gallery?"

Sara looked into his eyes until she was sure that she was going to get lost in them. She looked down and traced a light circle on the back of his hand. "How would you define interesting?"

"Young, well-dressed, successful." He caught her fingers. "Male."

The minimal contact making her heart beat faster. "Don't tell me you're jealous, your Majesty."

Fire sparked in his eyes. "Say that again."

Sara's breath caught in her throat for what seemed like ages. "Don't tell me you're jealous." She managed to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"The last bit." There was a rough edge to his voice that sent heat pooling in her lower tummy.

Sara leaned close enough so that her cheek was against the stubble on his cheek. "Your Majesty." The words were soft and unhurried.

He grasped her face with a light touch and put his lips close enough to her ear to brush her skin as he spoke. "Now you're just teasing me."

The feeling of his breath against her ear sent heat spreading across her skin. She closed her eyes and gripped his hand a little tighter, getting lost in the sensation for a delicious moment. When she opened them again she focused on the empty hallway and tried to get ahold of herself. As she watched, a man in a too-shiny shirt printed with mod orange and black rectangles and a pair of white bell bottoms appeared before her eyes. A fresh wound stood out the side of his face. He began to pace, staring into the room as he passed. Sara sat up a little straighter.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

"I think there's someone here to see you." She kept her eyes on the man in the hall. He seemed to be deciding whether or not to knock.

Crowley glanced toward the hall and tension gathered in his shoulders. "Bollocks." The word came out in a frustrated exhalation.

Sara smiled and a little and picked up her handbag. He tightened his grip on her hand and so did the muscle in the side of his jaw. Sara stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "I'm just going to powder my nose. Back in a few minutes." He let her go and Sara crossed the room, the feeling of his eyes on her made the walk seem more like a few miles than a few steps. She kept her head up and her stride even by sheer force of will.

In the hall the tang of sulfur was in the air, as was the heavy smell of nervous sweat. The new arrival watched her, a flicker of obsidian filling his eyes for a moment. Sara's steady gaze didn't waver. As she passed the disco-loving demon, she was sure that he flinched.

x

Crowley drained his glass and watched Sara's back as she glided gracefully out of the room and with her went the beginnings of the erection her voice had caused. She met Barton's eyes as she passed and the demon flinched. He smirked. Ordinary human girl? Not bloody likely.

Barton looked uneasily into the room and then up and down the hallway. Crowley poured the last of the champagne into his own glass. He crossed his legs, straightened the crease in his trousers and gestured for Barton to come in.

The demon fumbled with the knob and finally entered the room. He shut the door behind himself.

"Majesty I-"

The king held up one hand. "Don't tell me, the Winchesters are in trying to get past Jeffries as we speak." Crowley took a sip of the champagne.

Confusion wrinkled Barton's pockmarked forehead. "No."

"Oh, well they must be in the city then." Crowley studied he demon and took another sip.

"Well, no."

"In the bloody state?" The king growled.

Barton looked away, one arm shielding his already-injured midsection. He shook his head.

Crowley got up and walked around the retro demon. "So let me get this straight, they're not on the doorstep, they're not in the city, they're not even in the state. You just popped in to say hello?"

Barton was trying not to turn and watch as the king circled. "You said you wanted to know where they were and what they were up to by ten."

"And you've never heard of a text message?"

"I just thought-"

"And what was so important that you thought you should interrupt my evening?" Crowley moved in front of Barton again.

Barton licked his lips. "They're in North Dakota."

Crowley narrowed his eyes. "Go on."

"They're trying to get rid of a woman in white but that was just a job they picked up along the way. They're really after a bit of prophecy."

"How do you know that?" Crowley sat down again and crossed his legs.

"They were arguing about it. They're looking for some convent library and having no luck. Sam's searched every way he could think of and can't find anything so he wants to give up. Dean is sure that there's something in whatever tip they got and he wants to keep searching." The words came out in a tumble.

They would argue for awhile, but if Squirrel wanted to chase something Moose would grumble but he'd go along. Course the only thing that would inspire that kind of tenacity in the boys was a way to close the gates of Hell. "The angel?" Crowley asked.

"Not with them. They've been calling and he's not responding."

Crowley thought for a long moment. "I want another report tomorrow. Get out."

Barton looked relieved as he disappeared. Crowley took a sip of the champagne and savored it. Ridiculous as he was, the demon had given him some very interesting information, not that he would ever tell him that. He pulled out his phone, found Barton in his contact list and quickly typed a message. 'I saw you flinch.' He hit send and slipped his phone back in his pocket. Fear might be greater than love, but complacency would dull its edge.

x

Sara sat on a comfortably padded rose colored stool in front a brightly lit mirror in a small anteroom of the ladies room. There were three other benches and mirrors, but none were occupied at the moment. There was no one in the other part of the restroom either. The space was larger than her entire suite and far more luxurious. Mahler's first symphony danced among the fronds of potted ferns and languished against the comfortable chairs, making the space seem far less empty.

That didn't mean that she knew what she was going to do now. How long did a meeting between a demon and the King of Hell take? Should she wait until he called her? Sara rejected that. She wasn't one of his subjects. She liked to think she had halfway decent manners though.

Sara sighed and stared at one of the small landscapes that hung next to her mirror. The artist had rendered the distant cottage in the glowing morning. It was sweet and fairly skilled and far better than anything she'd seen at the gallery. For a moment she let herself be drawn into the moment filled with golden greens and the illusion of space.

The music fell away and the soft whispers rose again. Today there was a secrecy in the sound and Sara was almost convinced that if she listened closely enough she would be able to make out the words. She focused on the sounds, unpicking the combinations as she would untangle a knot in thread, certain that any moment an end would come free and she would be able to follow the rest of it. Her vibrating phone made a soft sound against the countertop, but it was enough to shatter the moment. Sara sighed and pulled out her phone. There were a series of overexcited texts from Leah demanding to know more about her evening with Crowley.

Sara typed out a message. 'How did you even find out I was seeing him tonight?'

'You have GOT 2B kidding! Celeste told Kellen. Kellen told Benton. Benton told Jubal and Jubal told me.' There was a string of emoticons following the text, most of which Sara was certain were randomly selected.

Before Sara could think of how to respond another text came in.

'Are you going to sleep with him?'

Sara rolled her eyes. 'Not tonight.' She sent an innocent little smile along with the message and selected her e-mail. There was a message from Mallory Bond, the fashion blogger she'd met earlier.

'Terrific to meet you tonight! Check out the blog.'

Sara tapped the link enclosed and was taken to Mallory's blog entry about the gallery opening. Leah's messages were piling up, but Sara ignored them. The post raved about the artwork and the clothes, then Sara scrolled down a little further to find a photo of herself from the shoulders down under the Best Dressed of the Day. Sara suppressed an excited squeal. The fact that the paintings got rave reviews too made her wonder, but that was a question for Crowley.

She sent the link and explanation to Leah.

'You can't just say no to him! He's the king!' Leah answered. Several shocked-looking emoticons followed.

She shook her head. 'I know who he is and he doesn't have any claim on my soul or any other part of me.' She paused. 'Besides, not tonight doesn't mean not ever.'

Sara put her phone away and started back to see if Crowley was finished. In the lobby she paused to look at a painting of two elderly women in frilly white blouses. A look of determination on both of their faces. The butler who let them in walked over to her.

"They are the two Misses Mayfield, Miss Eugenia is seated and Miss Priscilla is standing. This was their family home." He stood with his hands in the small of his back, looking at the painting.

Sara couldn't quite place his accent, but it wasn't strictly New York City. "How did it become a restaurant?"

"Miss Eugenia and Miss Priscilla were very proper ladies but they loved to entertain. They were known throughout the best circles for their wonderful dinner parties. They never married and thus never had any children. When Miss Eugenia passed, the house went to another, less auspicious branch of the family. I'm sure they had good intentions, but they had no sense of how to manage an estate. The assets were soon gone and this house allowed to fall into disrepair until it was sold. Fortunately, the buyer wanted to maintain the integrity and history of the house and the Mayfield House Inn was born."

"It's a beautiful setting." Sara said. She looked down the hallways that split off from the entryway.

"Thank you for saying so. May I direct you to the study?" Jeffries asked.

"Please."

He gestured with one arm. "It's the third door on the left. I can escort you if you wish."

"No thank you."

He gave a short bow. "Enjoy your evening."

Sara walked back down the hall and glanced into the room. Crowley stood at the bookcase leafing through a book. He was alone and looked like something was on his mind. She tapped on the door and then walked in.

x

It was after one in the morning when Crowley and Sara finished dinner. Through the meal Sara was sure that Crowley was trying to lead the conversation back to the other schools. Since he didn't come out and ask, she was purposely blind to his tactics. If he was frustrated he didn't let it show.

They started down walking down the sidewalk. He picked up her hand and wrapped it around the crook of his arm. "Well, shall we go on to a club?"

Sara laughed. "Isn't it a bit late for that?"

"Not for the club I'm thinking of."

She shook her head. "Maybe another time." She put on a serious face. "I'm expected at confession at eight in the morning."

Crowley looked at the sky. "Bless me Father for I have spent days indulging in the most deliciously impure thoughts about the King of Hell."

Sara laughed. "Oh you're coming too, are you? Mind you I don't think I've ever heard of anyone confessing to having impure thoughts about themselves, but there's a first time for everything."

"Smartass." He chuckled and started walking again. "So, what does your morning sacrament have to do with tonight's fun?"

"I need to be awake enough to sound sincere so that Father Gordon doesn't question any of my half-truths."

He stopped and looked at her, surprise and amusement sparkling in his eyes. "You go to confession and lie?"

"It's not my choice to go, it's a requirement. Besides, if God is omniscient, then He already knows what I did and if I'm sorry and He'll forgive me or not. Telling someone else is just a means of social control." She looked up at him. The way the streetlights glanced off his eyes brought out the sparks of fire in their depths and for a moment Sara's breath caught. Words failed for a moment.

"And everyone sees who you appear to be." He supplied.

Sara smiled. "Rule number one of surviving Catholic school, information is ammunition. Make sure you have more than they do."

He held out his hand. "Shall we go?"

Sara took it, her eyes on his. "Yes."

He pulled her closer and put his hand on her waist before the world fell away. She gripped his hand a little tighter and leaned into him.

When the world came back Sara was expecting to be on the roof, but instead they were in her darkened room. She was trapped between his body and the wall. Her eyes widened. Crowley opened his mouth to speak but Sara shook her head frantically, silencing him.

"You can't be here." She whispered.

He caught her face and leaned close to her ear. "Evidence would suggest otherwise, pet." His voice was barely audible, but his breath caressed her skin with heat. For a moment the sensation had her full attention.

She fought the urge to lean into him. "This is a school for girls in the middle of a convent. Anything that sounds even remotely like a man-"

"Is that all you're worried about?" His lips brushed against her ear.

Sara bit her lip to silence the little moan. "You won't be the one in trouble."

He stood up and whispered something she couldn't quite hear. "There. All fixed." His voice was still soft, but he wasn't whispering anymore. The sound was different, flattened.

"What did you do?" Sara asked.

"Bit of magic." He pulled her close again. This time his mouth found hers with teasing touches. "Anyone can do it."

Sara might have taken the initiative on the roof, but Crowley was completely in charge now. She didn't even question it. "Anyone?" Her lips searched for more contact. His tongue fluttered over her lips and the tip of her tongue sought it out.

His fingers circled in the small of her back. "Well, anyone who reads the right books." His teeth caught her lower lip and Sara moaned. "Or anyone who had a very," Another light nip. "Very good teacher." His mouth finally closed over hers.

Sara's head was spinning. She stroked his tongue with hers, her hands stroking up over his back. His mouth was becoming more demanding and she met his hunger with her own. His fingers moved up over her back, tracing elaborate designs on either side of her spine and up to her bare shoulders. Her knees weakened and she held him tighter. For what seemed like hours she stayed lost in those myriad sensations, happy to let passion carry her. When his fingers found the top of the zipper on her dress she came back to herself and she put her hands flat on his chest, reluctantly breaking the kiss.

"I said that wasn't going to happen tonight." She tried to hide the little tremors that went through her, but was wholly unsuccessful.

He tilted her head and he trailed light kisses down the side of her neck. "Are you certain of that, pet?"

She took a deep breath and tried to forget about what he was doing, and what it was doing to her. "I'm certain." The tremor in her voice made her sound considerably less certain.

"And if I don't accept that?" His voice was a gravelly whisper next to her ear. The implication was enough to focus Sara's mind.

She fixed her eyes on his, studying them for a moment. "I think you'll accept it because you'd find the alternative uninteresting."

He chuckled and kissed her lightly. "Next time?"

She deepened the kiss again then smiled up at him. "No promises."

"I'll have to try to be more convincing then." He stepped back, his hands still resting on her waist. "Sleep well, Pet." He took his hands off of her waist, but Sara caught one.

"Crowley?"

His eyebrows rose slightly and Sara smiled. "Thank you for tonight."

He kissed the inside of her wrist and vanished. Sara stood with her back against the wall and tried to catch her breath as the emptiness of the room closed in around her. A moment later the ambient sounds of the resting building filtered in again. The spell had departed as well.