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The Silken Cage: Journey	By : margotlefaye Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 21206 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel or any of the characters therefrom. No profit is being made from this work of fanfic, which is intended as commentary on the original, not as a derivative work. No infringement intended.

Chapter List
- 1-The Silken Cage: Journey
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15a
- 16-Part 15b
- 17-Part 16
- 18-Part 17
- 19-Part 18
- 20-Part 19
- 21-Part 20
- 22-Part 21
- 23-Part 22a
- 24-Part 22b
- 25-Part 23
- 17
- 18
- 19
"There’s a sunhat in that bag beside your feet, and a pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment," Mai said as they drove down the road that would take them to the highway. Mai had already donned a pair of wraparounds. "And a tube of sunblock, for your face," the demoness added. "SPF 30."
"You know, I was joking about that," Buffy said as she opened the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of sunglasses similar to Mai’s. "I’m a California girl. We’re kinda known for our sun."
"Not like tropical Hawaii, my dear," Mai warned. "Here, you ignore the sun at your own peril. Sun poisoning, I’m told, is a highly unpleasant experience, while heat stroke can be most debilitating. I doubt it would amuse my lord if you became afflicted with either. I offer a way to avoid the affliction and my lord’s resultant displeasure. The choice of what to do with my offering is yours."
"Why do you do that?" Buffy asked as she put aside the sunglasses, found the tube of sunblock and began to apply it liberally to her face, neck and shoulders. Fortunately, she hadn’t put on foundation or blush, just a bit of mascara and lip-gloss, so she didn’t have to worry about smearing her makeup. "Call Angelus ‘my lord,’ I mean? It makes you sound–subservient."
Mai surprised her by chuckling. The deep, throaty sound shivered pleasantly along Buffy’s nerves.
"He hasn’t told you what I am, has he?" Mai pulled onto the highway smoothly, with no appreciable traffic to hinder her. The ocean fell away to their left, while to their right was lush tropical jungle. Both views were breathtaking. The top was down on the Miata, and Buffy basked happily in the warm sun.
"I kinda got the non-human thing as soon as we met," Buffy assured Mai dryly as she finished with the sunblock and fished the hat out of its bag. It was a fairly charming straw affair, trimmed with a ribbon that nicely complemented what Buffy was wearing. She wondered how Mai had managed that. The demoness was ignoring her own rules about sunhats, though a white silk scarf was protecting her hair from the blowing wind. Buffy doubted Mai would do her the favor of succumbing to heat stroke, though.
"Of course you would sense I’m not human, Slayer, but do you know what kind of non-human I am?"
"It didn’t come up in the general conversation," Buffy admitted, annoyed that while Angelus had apparently seen fit to tell Mai about Buffy, he had avoided saying anything much about Mai to Buffy at all. If the demoness wanted to talk about herself, Buffy was happy to let her. Any information could prove useful.
"Lamia, my dear," Mai said as if that explained everything.
"Uh-huh," Buffy said encouragingly. Mai took her attention off the road long enough to regard Buffy in surprise.
"You don’t remember your lessons from the Slayer’s Handbook?"
"Never read it," Buffy said airily. "My Watcher realized right away that I wasn’t a Handbook kind of girl."
"Extraordinary," Mai said faintly, then lapsed into silence.
"So, um, ‘Lamia’?" Buffy prodded.
"What? Oh. Yes. We were the last demons to leave this dimension. It was one of our kind who made the first vampire. They share in much of our nature, though not all of it."
"So, your kind are big with the bloodsucking, too?" Buffy asked uneasily. "How come you don’t go up in flames in sunlight?"
"Bloodsucking has its charms," Mai returned with just a hint of a smile, as if she enjoyed the discomfiture such an idea caused Buffy, "but it isn’t necessary to our existence. Vampires require it because they are a hybrid of demon and human, and the Lamia blood that makes them what they are would, if left too long undiluted, burn up their human bodies. If a vampire is unable to drink for any appreciable time, he or she begins to look like a human famine victim, as the Lamia blood within begins to devour the vampire from the inside out. Feeding can quickly reverse any damage. Failure to feed. . ." Mai let the sentence trail off.
"And, that’s why they burn up in sunlight," Buffy said slowly, as she began to make the connections. "The Lamia blood in their bodies isn’t designed to be held in human skin. Somehow, the sun ignites it . . ."
"And it burns its way through their originally human bodies," Mai agreed.
"But, since your body was created to contain your blood, you can walk in sunlight with no problem."
"Precisely."
Buffy’s Slayer instincts were on overdrive, now. "What about Holy Water, and crucifixes?" she questioned. "And stakes?"
"We are neither unnaturally reanimated dead, nor hybrids of human and demon. Why should such things inconvenience us?"
"No reason I can think of," Buffy said easily. She had noted, however, that Mai had not specifically denied that those things could harm her. And, you didn’t have to be a vampire to take damage from a nicely sharpened stake. Buffy threw a few more questions at Mai, listening with half her attention as the other half considered what she might come across while on her innocent shopping excursion that she might be able to turn into a weapon. Perhaps a hair ornament? The elaborately lacquered and painted chopsticks designed to be worn in an upsweep? One of the larger hair barrettes through which a wooden pin was thrust, to hold it in place? Or something more prosaic, like swiping a knife from the table, wherever they went for lunch?
Meanwhile, Mai imparted the information that Lamia’s were very long lived, and that while they had their representatives on earth, they rarely came to this dimension themselves.
"And you are an exception because . . .?" Buffy prompted.
"My House–my family, I imagine you would call them, although the emotional relationships you associate with that word aren’t the same for us–at all odds, my House is an ambitious one," Mai said as the drove down the highway beneath the warm sun "You think vampires are hierarchical? Masters controlling minions, stronger vampires tearing apart weaker ones? Part of their Lamia heritage. We admire strength and power. Our civilization is based upon it. The Imperial family has absolute authority over every aspect of Lamia society, and they wield unbelievable power over every one of us. And that power, my dear, is not limited to our own dimension: it is felt throughout nearly all of them. For the noble Houses at court, life is one long game of seeing that Imperial power is wielded in our favor."
"Sounds perfectly feudal to me," Buffy said. She’d been right when she’d accused Mai of being medieval, the day before. Mai nodded in agreement.
"So it is," she said with another of those disturbingly pleasant chuckles. "At all odds, the head of my House has been manipulating alliances for centuries, with a view to positioning us more advantageously at court. I think he dreams of a more direct connection with the imperial family than we have enjoyed for millennia. Unlikely, considering their penchant for inbreeding, but . . . ." Mai lifted her shoulders in a shrug that managed to be elegant and graceful. Buffy envied her the trick. "I won’t bore you with the details," Mai continued. "Suffice it to say that I choose not to be manipulated or allied with any clan I have not selected myself. At the same time, I am required to be of service to the greater advantage of our House. We have interests in this world. I attend to them. As long as those interests prosper, I am of service. And, far enough out of Grandfather’s way that he won’t call me to mind when he hatches one of his plots to gain the favor of the empress."
"Wow," Buffy said, impressed despite herself. She felt an odd empathy with the demoness, who, like Buffy herself, didn’t seem to want to just accept whatever fate handed her. Mai refused to be a tool in someone else’s plans, and was finding a way to assert her independence while not being openly defiant. But, for a woman–well, a demon that looked like a woman, and who was certainly female–who didn’t want to be a tool of someone else’s, she was awfully subservient to Angelus. "So, where does Angelus fit into your plans for independence?" she asked.
"Angelus has a central role," Mai surprised her by saying. "His reputation as Scourge of Europe was not unknown to us. Given that humans usurped our home, we could only view his predations amongst them favorably.
"I’ll bet," Buffy muttered. Mai had heard her, and flashed her a small, perfectly wicked, smile.
"As I said, our House is ambitious. There are other Houses, with their own ambitions. A century or so back, when I was first deemed old enough to make unsupervised visits to the other dimensions, a leader of another House thought it would be a salient lesson to Grandfather if one of the minor daughters of our House was–placed in delicate circumstances."
"Delicate circumstances?" Buffy repeated.
"I was drugged, and put up for auction in a brothel in San Francisco," Mai said bluntly. "I would ultimately have killed any human foolish enough to buy me, of course, but the embarrassment of the situation–helpless before a human, my proper prey–would have resulted in my disgrace, and the lowering of Grandfather’s status."
"Wouldn’t the guys who drugged you have lost status, if what they did became known?" Buffy asked, ignoring her discomfort with Mai’s bland statement about humans–like Buffy–being her "proper prey."
"On the contrary: if they had been successful, their own status would have risen considerably. It would have been considered a coup on their part to have discomfited a rival House. Fortunately, for me, Angelus was in San Francisco at the time. Instead of being at the mercy of a human, I was placed under obligation to a vampire of fearsome reputation. Angelus became my lord, in the most literal sense. I owe him fealty and service, even before the fealty and service owed to my House. Still, I owe both, and this created an alliance between him and my House; an alliance which reflects credit upon us. Grandfather was pleased. My own status, within the House, rose perceptibly. And, I was given an excuse to remain in this dimension, indefinitely, to oversee the interests of Angelus in this part of his world."
"So, if being under obligation to Angelus is a good thing," Buffy mused, "then, his telling you that your debt was about to be paid off as he did when we arrived . . .that isn’t such a good thing?"
"It can be very good. It doesn’t end the alliance, it concludes the obligation. To my credit: I have discharged my obligations in a way pleasing to my lord, who shows me his favor by releasing me from further obligation."
Buffy shook her head. And only last night, she had been marveling at the intricacies of vampire relationships. Perhaps this love of intrigue had been passed on in the blood? "This is way too Byzantine for me," she admitted. "Being under an obligation is good, not being under an obligation is good . . .not really seeing the difference, here."
"Lamia kin relationships and court intrigues are . . .complex," Mai allowed. "Perhaps we should talk about shopping? Other than a bathing suit, what did you have in mind?"
The remainder of the drive was spent discussing what Buffy thought she needed in the way of wardrobe and personal items, with Mai offering suggestions as to what she might require on the remainder of her sea trip, and upon her arrival in Japan."
"Of course, once you land, there will be servitors associated with my house to attend to you. You’ll want to examine the silks available there, as well. They’re expensive, but the quality is superior."
"Oh, good," Buffy murmured. Angelus did seem fond of dressing her in silk. Not that he’d have an opportunity to indulge that taste again, if she had anything to say about it.
Not long afterward, Mai turned off the highway. Within a few minutes, they were parking the Miata in the shaded area of what looked to be a quaint shopping village. Buffy’s initial disappointment at the small number of shops–this wasn’t the kind of large crowd she could easily lose herself in–was assuaged by Mai’s casual remark that their next stop, the Princeville Shopping Center, had considerably more variety, with over forty shops to choose from. At the Hanelei center, Buffy found a two piece bathing suit she adored, and some lovely Ni’ihau shell jewelry, along with various toiletries. One of the shops offered the kind of casual clothing Buffy was comfortable with, but Mai discouraged her from buying too much there. Still, Buffy managed to pick up a simple denim skirt and white cotton baby-T that were sufficiently nondescript to allow her to blend in with a larger crowd. Step one of the Great Escape Plan was complete.
Walking around had made her slightly more conscious of her intimate discomfort. The soothing bath herbs that morning had helped, but she was still healing, rather than completely healed. She was glad to get back in the car and sit, even for the short drive to Princeville. At the larger shopping area there, Buffy found much more sophisticated–and expensive–clothing. There were some stunning items she really did wish she could add to her wardrobe. Still playing her part, she asked Mai to purchase them for her, and was surprised when Mai declined.
"My main purpose in bringing you here was to see the kinds of things you’d like, and what flattered you," Mai told her. "We’ll have lunch, and then visit the modiste. I’m sure you’ll be even more taken with what she has to offer."
"Lunch is good," Buffy said brightly, visions of sharp silverware dancing in her head. More: at a restaurant, she shouldn’t have any trouble making an excuse to use the women’s room. And public phones were often so conveniently located near-by. Phones from which she could easily place a collect call to Giles.
They ended up in the very hotel at which Buffy had dined the night before. This time, their shopping bags safely in the custody of the hotel staff, Mai engaged a table on the terrace, with a magnificent view of the bay. Buffy was glad to be sitting down again, too. Over luscious salads of local fruit, they talked shopping and fabrics. Mai seemed not to notice when Buffy was clumsy enough to drop her knife and had to ask the waiter for a replacement. And, she seemed equally disinterested when Buffy asked if she knew where the rest room was. Mai gave her the directions, and, as she did so, brushed her hand, seemingly by accident, along the back of Buffy’s own hand. There was nothing unduly intimate about the touch, and yet it tingled along the nerves of Buffy’s skin as she stood up, tossed off a light "Be right back," and made her way with admirable decorum, given the adrenaline rushing through her veins, to the exit Mai had indicated. As soon as she was safely out of sight of the terrace, Buffy made a bee line for the maitre d’ who had taken charge of their shopping bags, and retrieved the one that held her escape outfit. He directed her to a bank of phones, where one or two people were already having discreet conversations. Buffy walked to the far end of the bank, where she was less likely to be overheard, and picked up the phone.
She had imagined that a public phone in an expensive hotel would be less likely to be out of service than a public phone at a train station, but the line was dead in her hand. Annoying, but not a big deal: there were about thirty phones to choose from, including the ones she had just seen in use. Those were now available, as the other callers had ended their conversations.
All thirty phones were dead.
Except, Buffy thought bitterly, as she hung up the last one, they probably weren’t. Likely the phones were just fine: it was Buffy herself, and whatever Mai had done to her with that tingling brush of her hand, that was responsible for her problem. Of course Mai hadn’t been concerned that Buffy might call for help. She’d performed some kind of minor magic that ensured Buffy couldn’t. Step two in the Great Escape Plan had gone bust.
But, step three was a go.
Buffy changed her outfit in the restroom, placing the dress she had been wearing into the bag, and tying the scarf over her hair. The glasses further obscured her identity. She hurriedly made her way to the front door of the hotel.
She couldn’t walk through it.
Her shaking legs bore her quite nicely to the doorway, itself. They just refused to take her any further. Buffy took several deep breaths, and tried once more, before she was forced to admit that whatever magic Mai had used hadn’t been so minor after all. Swearing softly under her breath, Buffy went back to the women’s lounge and changed clothing once more.
What kind of magic had Mai used? Buffy considered the matter while she dressed. She had been around magic and magic users long enough to have picked up one or two things about spells. Some could be cast from a distance, such as the one the gypsies, and later Willow, had used to restore Angel’s soul. Some had a broad range, affecting a lot of people, such as Amy’s love spell on Xander, or Willow’s botched attempt to have her will done. There were spells that targeted specific individuals, spells that could affect entire communities, spells that required mystic objects, spells that required only a spoken rhyme. And, there were spells that required physical contact to be activated. The caster recited the incantation, and burned the appropriate herbs, and when the time was right, touched the person or object they wanted to enchant, and said a final, binding word. That seemed to have been what Mai had used. The binding word was probably part of her directions to the rest room. And now, Buffy was incapable of hearing through a phone line–how could she call Giles if she couldn’t even communicate with the operator?–or of leaving any building in which Mai still remained. Maybe the spell was something general, intended to thwart anything Buffy did to try to escape. Buffy wondered if she’d have been able to swipe the knife that was in her purse if Mai had done her little trick earlier. Well, whatever she’d done, it was temporary. Spells for permanently subverting another’s will took a lot more effort to cast than Mai had used, even when demons were doing the casting. Buffy just hoped the effects would wear off by tomorrow, when she’d have to make her escape attempt again.
Within a few minutes, Buffy returned her bag to the agreeable maitre d', and rejoined Mai on the terrace. She had managed to calm herself by the time she got to the table. Angelus, through the ever-accommodating Mai, had forestalled her initial plan to escape. There was nothing she could do about it. Yet. But, the knife was still tucked into her purse, and she would be damned if she gave up just because one or two obstacles had been thrown in her way. Buffy smiled brightly, refusing to give the demoness the pleasure of realizing that Buffy was even aware of those obstacles.
"Did you want dessert?" Mai asked, not making any comment on the length of time Buffy had spent supposedly in the women’s room.
"Weren’t we going to the beach if we got our shopping done early enough?" Buffy said, pleased her voice wasn’t shaking.
"Certainly," Mai said, signaling to their server.
As they walked through the hotel lobby, she got another unpleasant surprise.
"Buffy, my dear, surely Angelus hasn’t left you alone on your . . .honeymoon?"
"Wulf," she murmured. The vampire was dressed casually in a pair of linen slacks with a shirt of Sea Island cotton open at his neck, looking every inch the wealthy entrepreneur relaxing during a business trip. He had materialized from the elevator banks, and Buffy wondered what would bring a vampire from the security of his room into a sunny hotel lobby in the middle of the day. She also wondered what it was about Wulf that had caused the seemingly unflappable Mai to stiffen ever so slightly at Buffy’s side. Buffy smiled sweetly at Wulf. "Surely you don’t think Angelus has left me without . . .suitable companionship?" she said lightly. The vampire chuckled.
"Not if he were wise. And, he seems to have left you in the best possible hands. Miss Mai," Wulf said fulsomely, his cold blue eyes greedy as he took in the Lamia. "Angelus promised that you would be in touch with me, today. Dare I hope your presence in the hotel is on my behalf?"
"Sadly, no," Mai said coolly. "I am executing other commissions for him, at the moment, which must, of course, take precedence. I expected to call you this evening, after supper. Would ten o’clock suit?"
"Admirably," Wulf turned his regard toward Buffy, and said a few words of polite farewell. He was careful to keep any hint of lust or impropriety out of his gaze as he looked at her, but Buffy wasn’t fooled, and she doubted Mai, was, either. Wulf wanted her. He was deferring to Angelus’ claim for the moment, because it suited him to do so. However, should their recently concluded alliance ever break, Buffy would be at the top of Wulf’s acquisition list.
And, in some way Buffy couldn’t guess, it seemed that Mai was on that list right along with her.
She couldn’t put her finger on why she knew that Wulf’s interest in Mai wasn’t a sexual one; it was just something she felt in her bones. But whatever Wulf wanted, it didn’t sit well with Mai. With polite farewells of their own, they left Wulf smirking after them as they exited the lobby of the hotel.
"Creep," Buffy said as they made good their escape.
"Completely," Mai surprised her by agreeing. "His successes have more to do with overwhelming forces and brute strength than with clever planning. Still, he has his uses, and my lord’s decision to ally himself with Wulf is understandable."
"Understandable, but, you don’t like it," Buffy said.
Mai looked at her squarely, the polite mask off for once. Buffy raised her brows at the thinly veiled rage on Mai’s features.
"No," Mai said bluntly, "I don’t."
Nodding, Buffy slid into her seat in the Miata, filing away the information as one more potentially useful fact.
The modiste Mai employed had a very discreet, very elegant shop in Princeville. Mai and Buffy were ushered into a private salon, seated on a comfortable divan with a large coffee table in front of it, and offered refreshments. Both women accepted cooling beverages but declined anything else. A woman of mixed Polynesian and European blood who looked to be about the same age as Buffy’s mother bustled into the room. Mai introduced her as Lily, the owner of the establishment. Seemingly Lily would attend them herself. Mai told her what Buffy was looking for–or, rather, what Angelus wanted Buffy to look for–and added a few observations of her own, from their earlier forays into Princeville. Apparently, Buffy’s input was not required. Pouting, Buffy took a sip of her iced passion fruit juice.
Her fit of pique evaporated when the first model came out of the changing rooms in an evening dress Buffy would have killed for. She had seen something similar during their earlier shopping excursion, but the detail on this dress, with its simple but elegant lines accented by a touch of delicate hand beading at the neckline and down the left side seam, was even more sumptuous.
"The shade of yellow is wrong, of course," Lily said. "I suggest a robin’s egg blue." She called over an assistant, who presented swaths of the fabrics Lily thought would best suit the style of the dress, and most flatter Buffy’s petite frame, in the shades she thought would complement Buffy’s coloring. Mai, Buffy, and Lily pored over them, conferring. Rather, Mai and Lily conferred, only asking Buffy’s opinion on their final selections. Since they seemed to know what they were doing, and their final selections tended to be gorgeous, Buffy was happy to let them work out the details. They usually presented her with two or three tempting options, leaving the ultimate decision to her. On the rare occasions when Mai and Lily felt there was only one option, Buffy found that she was in complete agreement with them.
Buffy spent an enjoyable two hours selecting styles, fabrics, and colors, and then a less enjoyable quarter hour being measured, pinned and prodded. She couldn’t imagine how all of her choices were going to be ready by the day after tomorrow, when they were due to resume their voyage to Japan. Then again, it didn’t really matter. Her new wardrobe, as exciting as it was–and there was a black velvet evening ensemble consisting of a seed-pearl encrusted corset and long, back-slit skirt that she was passionately in love with–hardly reconciled her to being Angelus’ toy. She was still planning to get away from him the first chance she got.
As they left Lily’s, the long shadows of late afternoon were creeping across the sidewalk.
"We have just enough time left to go back to our apartments, change, and get perhaps an hour of time on the beach," Mai said as the settled into the Miata. "The sunset view from there can be breathtaking. Unless you’d like to wait until tomorrow? That way, you can take your time preparing for tonight’s luau."
"There’s a luau?" Buffy said interestedly.
"My lord thought you’d like the opportunity."
"He would, wouldn’t he?" Buffy drawled.
"Pardon?"
"Nothing," Buffy said. "I don’t need all that much time to get ready. And, I really do want to see that beach."
"As you wish," Mai said agreeably, pulling the car out of its parking space and taking off. She turned the conversation to neutral topics, principally about shopping, and what Buffy might feel comfortable wearing to the luau. The trip back seemed to go more quickly than the drive out. Buffy was soon at the cottage, climbing the stairs to the suite she shared with Angelus.
She could feel his presence above her as she climbed: a pull in her blood that had always let her know when Angel was near. This was the first time since he had captured her that Buffy had been separated from Angelus for any appreciable distance, or length of time. She had grown used to the constant pull, so that she was largely unaware of it. Now, returning to him, she felt it again. She wondered if it were the same for him. If so, it would make her attempted escape that much harder. Not that she would let the hardship prevent her from making another attempt.
She opened the door to find Angelus seated on one of the large chairs in the living room, reading a book, while the muted strains of some opera she thought she recognized came from the CD player. Lakme. That was it. Giles had been rather fond of this particular selection, and had played it often, she remembered. Dôme épais les jasmin. Odd to think that her watcher and her demon lover had the same taste.
"Hi, honey, I’m home," she said wryly, tossing her bags on the couch. He looked up at her, his smile the dazzling one that had taken her breath away earlier, instead of his usual smirk.
"So you are," he said, pleased. Buffy had not escaped–or, Mai hadn’t let her–and she seemed happy to have returned to him, rather than sulky, as she would be if she had tried get away and been thwarted. Or, he amended, his smile broadening, if she had really wanted to get away when she had made the obligatory escape attempt. "I gather you enjoyed yourself?" he said, putting the book down and extending his hand.
"Totally," Buffy said, dutifully walking toward him and taking the proffered hand. She was quickly pulled onto his lap and kissed soundly. She wondered if she was going to make it back to he beach, after all. If she weren’t still sore, she realized, as the kiss seemed to deepen, seemingly of its own accord, there wouldn’t be a question. Buffy wound her arms around Angelus’ neck, and sank into the ever-deepening kiss. God, she loved the feel of this demon’s mouth on hers, the cool, seductive taste of him, the power of his embrace. She wanted to escape from him, because she had a duty to herself, and to the world that precluded languishing in the arms of an unrepentant killer. She was going to do everything in her power to get away from him. But, as long as that was not in her power, she was going to enjoy the pleasure he brought her. Buffy knew without a doubt, that if she did succeed–whether she simply eluded him or eventually forced herself to kill him–that she would never, ever desire to share those pleasures with anyone else.
Demon and soul, Angelus and Angel, she was marked by the lover in whose arms she was abandoning herself. She was utterly, completely his, and she would never, ever give herself to anyone else, again.
Just as Buffy was beginning to wonder if a little pain was really all that important, Angelus broke the kiss, lifted her off his lap, and setting her on her feet with a chuckle.
"You’ll want to change for dinner," he said easily.
"Actually, I’m going to change for the beach. Mai said we had an hour before sunset."
Angel nodded. "Yes, you do," he said pleasantly, retrieving his book. "If you hurry."
Buffy smiled at him, grabbing her bags from the couch and heading off to the bedroom. She was ready in less than five minutes. She’d realized, as she changed, that she had forgotten to get herself something to wear over her swimsuit. She raided Angelus’ side of the closet for a shirt. Black. Blood red. White. More black. Blue. She decided the blue was a nice complement to her suit, and grabbed it.
Angelus raised his brow when he saw Buffy come out of the bedroom in her sunhat, a pair of flat sandals, and a tiny two piece bathing suit, covered by one of his expensive–and fragile–hand embroidered Italian shirts.
"You’re going to wear that to the beach?" he asked mildly. The suit was a combination of blues and greens that brought out the lovely jade tint in her eyes, and his shirt was the exact shade of blue as her bathing costume.
"I think it matches pretty well," she said, spinning around so that he could get the full effect of her ensemble. His shirt belled out with her movement, treating Angelus to the sight of Buffy’s miniscule excuse for a bathing costume barely covering the lush curves of her backside and breasts. Good thing for her the beach was private: he would never permit her to wear that someplace where another man could see her in it. On the other hand, it had been a few decades since he’d gone for a moonlight swim. . . . The hem of the shirt was long enough to come midway down her thighs, and she’d had to roll the sleeves up to almost half their length. His shirt was practically swallowing her whole. It occurred to him that he’d like to do that himself. There was something primitively appealing about seeing her wearing his things. He might have to extend his own wardrobe, just so that she could wear more of it.
"Yes," he agreed, "it matches perfectly." It would also, in all likelihood, end up permanently stained by suntan lotion, and irreparably damaged by seawater. But Buffy looked glorious, and she was smiling at him. That was worth any number of ruined shirts. "Enjoy yourself with Mai," he told her.
"Will do," she promised, giving him a quick kiss, before heading off to join the Lamia.
Watching the smooth muscles of her supple legs, and her charming derrière move beneath the silk of his shirt as she walked to the door, Angelus found himself hoping that her Slayer’s healing abilities were strong enough to repair the damage their too-vigorous love-making had caused quickly. Because, he couldn’t wait to make vigorous love to her again.
Angelus narrowed his eyes. Tonight was not going to be easy. She’d be naked in his arms, pressed up against him in sleep, and it was going to take every bit of willpower he possessed not to take her again. But, that would hurt her, and while that shouldn’t matter to him at all–while he should, in fact, consider that part of the pleasure of taking her–he simply didn’t want to hurt her right now. She was so infinitely entertaining when she was willing.
Smiling at the thought of the things he could do with a willing, fully recovered Buffy, Angelus returned to his book.
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The Silken Cage: Journey