Editing The Comfort of Thy Enemy

<span style="color:#8B0000">'''''And the battle is on. WARNING: Solid R rating--- Maer.'''''</span> <br> <br>

''Friday, February 14th 1868''<br>
Odyssey, ''Trieste Harbor''<br>
''Trieste, Austria-Hungary''<br>
''Evening''<br><br>

The sun was nothing but a memory on the horizon when Josephine reached the harbor. In the west, the sky glowed a stubborn cobalt to mark the day’s passing. Overhead the stars winked on one by one, and all around her were the sounds of the city coming to life with the night.  Trieste was blessed with mild winter weather—mild as measured by the harsher English climes, at any rate—but it was February and true spring was still more than a month away.  The breeze off the water was chill and Josephine was grateful for the thick sweater and leather greatcoat and hat she wore.  It would protect her from the cold.  For protection against criminal elements, she wore her knives and sword. Her jodhpurs and boots would lend her the freedom to run should her weapons prove insufficient to the task.  Her gun she gave to Evie in her hotel room. If Josephine blundered so badly as to need it against Kalashnikov, it would be bad enough to render her keeping it moot. <br><br>

To ensure that it didn’t happen, Josephine found a spot on the way to complete her mental exercises against Kalashnikov’s sensate ability. As she methodically went through them she put up her hair in the Dutch braid she preferred for battle, her fingers nimbly plaiting it without need for a mirror. When she reached the end of the braid and tied it off with a velvet ribbon from her pocket, her mental preparation was done.  She was Josephine, a retired circus performer and an outcast, a lost soul in need of solace. She’d put aside her duty to the Crown to grab a bit of peace for herself in Kalashnikov’s arms and devil take hindmost the rest. But it wouldn’t do to seem too eager or desperate. Kalashnikov was accustomed to her spit and vinegar and honey from her now would ruin the illusion. So there would be need, yes, but there would also be her native caution.  She indulged herself with the thought of Evie shadowing her somewhere in the dark and resolutely shut that thought away and buried it deep where Kalashnikov wouldn’t find it. <br><br>

''Enough, Jo. Places, everyone. Curtain in five''.<br><br>

Satisfied with her preparations, Josephine pushed off for the dock again. Minutes later, the boards of the pier rang under her heels and moored at the end sat the Russian Trireme.  Brass and polished wood and paint gleamed prettily in the torches and lamps Kalashnikov had set to light her way.  In an extravagant gesture she was coming to expect from him, he’d carpeted the gangplank with a figured Persian rug, strewn with rose petals pink and white.  The scent of something hot and savory wafted to her on the breeze and Josephine’s mouth watered even as the butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach.<br><br>

''Steady on, Jo. This is just a quiet dinner between friends and equals.  Just what Alexi wants.  And if he wants more than dinner and conversation … well, he shall have that, too''.<br><br> 

The timbre of her tread changed tune as she stepped upon the carpet and she walked the plank to whatever fate had in store for her.<br><br>

Alexi sat cross legged on the deck, tending the charcoal brazier with skewers of onions, garlic, and lamb.  On another brazier, a pot of lentils, potatoes, and leeks bubbled busily.  Aromatic smoke rose from the cook fires, battling the brine scent of the harbor.<br><br>

The Russian’s bright red hair hung limp and wet close to his head, freshly washed.  He wore an elaborately embroidered and gem encrusted full length dressing gown, emblazoned with the double headed eagle of the Romanov dynasty.  The long tables which had run the length of the deck earlier had been removed.   Only multi-colored Persian carpets and overstuffed eiderdown pillows remained between the levered slots which marked the deck.  Before him in a pile were the remaining rose petals he had scoured the city for, the white and pink a counterpoint to the dark blue and gold of his gown.<br><br>  

The sound of heels thudding on the dock caused him to turn his head to the noise, his sharp eyes trying to make out a shape in the darkness.  “Who lurks like a thief at my doorstep at this late hour?” he called loudly in English.<br><br>

“It is I, Alexi Georgievich,” Josephine said, low and serious. She paused at the top of the plank and then put one deliberate foot on the deck, as if testing her welcome. Her dark eyes glittered in the lamplight as she took in the scene in one intense sweep before adding, “Surely you must recognize me.”<br><br>

Alexi stood, the top of his gown pulling apart as he rose.  “Your timing is perfect, sparrow.  Any sooner, and we’d have had to have conversation while the food cooked, any later and we’d have had to eat cold meat.”  He waited, his nervousness obvious as he shifted foot to foot.<br><br>

“I will wait here, then?” he asked, very aware of how clear a view of him she had, and how indistinct she was to him back lit by the lamps and torches on the dock.<br><br>

''Must everything be a metaphor with this woman?''<br><br>
 
The golden glow of the fire in the braziers highlighted the freckles on his pale skin much more then the forgiving light of day, the cold silver of moonlight and star shine accentuated the pallor of his white skin.  Despite its dampness, Alexi felt the hair on his neck and arms stand on end in the thickening tension. <br><br> 

Josephine took in his stance, his shifting feet, uncertainty in every line of him. ''He’s vulnerable, so very vulnerable right now ….''  She put her other foot on the deck and moved forward, one slow deliberate step at a time. She kept her head up and her eyes on her target, every inch a hunter, senses alert, ready to block or capture should he bolt. Josephine closed in and ran her fingers through Kalashnikov’s hair and drew him down to whisper in his ear. “Hello, Alexi.  I hope you’re hungry.”<br><br>

Alexi reached up and took her hands in his, pulling them to the gap in his robe to press her cold fingers to the warmth of his bared skin.  “If not for the desire to be polite, I would desire to skip dinner.  I fear I am under dressed, or you might be over dressed,” he joked.  “Perhaps it is just the difference in our tolerance for cold.”<br><br>

The Russian released her hands and ran a finger along her jaw, loosening the lanyard holding her hat in place.  “No worry about the sun tanning your face.  We can dispense with this, can we not?”   He carefully set her hat aside, and stood stiffly, like a butler.  “Might I take your coat, Madame?”<br><br>

Josephine sucked in a breath as his finger painted a trail along her skin, spawning little frissons in its wake, making her shiver. His skin was warm and smooth under her hands, his muscles bunching as he slid her coat from her shoulders, turning it into a caress of her arms. She held her hands to the side. Her coat fell away. She stepped back, fighting the pull he already had on her senses. ''Too soon. Too fast. Take control, Jo''.  The distance helped and she could breathe again.  The chill from her lack of coat helped as well and pulling her shoulders back, she let the firelight fall on her harness with her knives and sword. She met his eye and put a silent challenge in them.<br><br>

“Shall we feast, Alexi?”<br><br>

Taken aback by the display of weaponry, Alexi narrowed his eyes, and looked searchingly into the unreadable darkness of her pupils. “This afternoon, you insisted that I read you? Shall we, sparrow? Shall we read each other now, before it becomes too dangerous?” He reached down and toyed with the hilt of her sword. “If you are here to assassinate me, I’d rather you use poison salve on your lips. Give me some pleasure before you take all else, little amazon.”<br><br>

“If I were here to assassinate you, Alexi Georgievich, you would not still be breathing.  But,” she said, holding up a finger to forestall him and spreading her arms wide. “I mean you no harm. The weapons were for my protection while I walked the streets alone.  If they distress you, by all means Your Highness, you may remove them as you wish. Come and take them,” she added, softening her voice to a purr.<br><br>

With a vulpine grin, he spoke slowly and deliberately. “So let it be.” His eyes clenched tightly shut, and a cold blue fire erupted from the palms of his hands. He opened his eyes, his stare vacant and distant as he grasped her sword. “In the near future, this sword will save the life of a friend. I am not clear as to which.” He nonchalantly detached the sword and threw it aside as he pulled each blade from the harness flanking her chest. “You are no stranger to attacking nobility. The blood of a Peer clings to your weapons.” Almost roughly he pulled her to him, unfastened the harness and threw it to the deck. His hands moved along her body, less than half an inch from her clothes, and sensed the metal in her pocket. Reaching in, he pulled out the silver watch. “This is heavy with fate. You must tell me you wish to hear it before I will tell you the memory that clings to these works.” Alexi dropped to his knees and with a trance-like intensity he groped down her leg to the sheathed blade hidden in her boot.  The other one was found an instant later. “These blades will harm a friend.” He lifted her foot and slid off the boot. The Russian turned his hand, and pressed the cool flame of his palm against her bare sole. “Now I shall read you, the most dangerous weapon of all.”<br><br>

She watched, curious, as he closed his eyes and subtly withdrew into himself and in a blink, impossible fire flared from his hands, burning an impossible blue. His eyes reflected the light back, his gaze blank as he looked inward, Seeing with his gift.  She suppressed a flinch when his hand darted to grip her sword and she felt an electric tingle through the jodhpurs at her hip. ''‘In the near future, this sword will save the life of a friend. I am not clear as to which.’'' he intoned.  ''Highly likely'', she thought, knowing he could Hear. ''It’s not as if we’re a church sewing circle. We’re up to our necks in the rough and tumble''. There was a jerk and her sword hit the deck, scabbard and all, and his hands were roaming again. <br><br>

She could feel the crackle of the blue fire like static shock from silk or wool, and it prickled on her skin beneath her clothes. It was compellingly erotic and she leaned subtly toward him despite herself, instinctively seeking contact. Her breasts ached as he pulled her knives from her harness, the heat of his hands tantalizing through her sweater. ‘''You are no stranger to attacking nobility. The blood of a Peer clings to your weapons.’'' The memory of Clairemont on the roof of his tower, eldritch energy swirling around him for his final strike, her knives flying sweet and true to sink into his head and his heart ... oh, yes, she remembered. Anger, bloodlust, the rage for justice and retribution, they followed fast behind that image and Josephine did not suppress them.  This was a Reading and her emotions were who and what she was, part and parcel of what he sought.  ''Remember this and know, Alexi'', she thought at him, closing her eyes and tipping her head to the sky.  ''I’ve sought vengeance and it was mine.''<br><br> 

The thought was still singing through her veins when Kalashnikov slipped his fingers into her pocket and slowly withdrew her father’s watch. Her hip felt cold in its absence, already missing the comfort of its weight against her body. Fear slammed through her then, wild and white hot—it was the only thing left of her father, the last remaining touchstone she possessed of the man she loved more than life itself. It was her talisman, her good luck charm, it went with her everywhere. Just as it had accompanied him. ''What would it say if it could talk? What would Alexi say if he could Hear it?'' Shock ripped through her fear as she heard her thoughts echoed by the Russian before her: ''This is heavy with fate. You must tell me you wish to hear it before I will tell you the memory that clings to these works''.<br><br> 

She moved to reply but something her father once said held her tongue: ''No. Some knowledge comes at too heavy a price and I’ve already paid dearly for mine … Let it lie, Jo''. So she swallowed hard and remained silent and let Alexi continue unchallenged.<br><br>

The blue flame was a dulled flicker past her eyelids as he shifted, his silk robe rustling, and she felt his fingers travel down her thighs. His nails dragged across the weave of the cloth, sending delicious vibrations all the way to her secret places.  They swelled and throbbed and she shifted to give his hands more room, twitching to remain still. The static prickle left her thighs and slipped past her knees and lust burned her from the waist down.  Memory stirred again. ''David'', she thought then. He loved her skin, running his lips and fingertips over her, teasing and tortuous, until she sobbed and begged him to stop … ''Dear God I hope he finds my boot knives soon. I can’t take much more of this''.<br><br> 

Transported by the tactile memory of David’s touch, she nearly moaned when she felt the tug of her knives sliding free of her boots and they rang on the deck as Alexi tossed them aside.  Aroused and frustrated, her pulse pounding in her neck, she heard him say ''‘These blades will harm a friend.’'' Before she could draw another breath, he had her boot off and was caressing the bare sole of her foot. The snap of that blue fire licking her skin was galvanizing and she arched and clenched her fists, her arms cast wide from the shock of pleasure that speared through her at his touch. As she fought to breathe she heard past the roaring in her ears, ''‘Now I shall read you, the most dangerous weapon of all.’''<br><br> 

Somehow, Josephine held it together.  She still had her wits.  She let the memories she’d chosen tumble through her, let them sear through the darkness behind her eyes.<br><br> 

''… The scent of gunpowder and male on Alexi that afternoon when she kissed him … David beside her in the night, his breath warm and heavy as he stroked her to ecstasy … the deep satisfaction of training to a wringing sweat with her sword and knives … the shock she felt upon shooting her first gun … the frustration of learning the art of falling, so vital to the circus trade … of days of grueling travel, of nights without fire, of meals so meager she left them aching with hunger … of clinging to her dignity as the crowds jeered in her passage, ignoring the epithets and the filth flung her way … the kiss of fog on her cheek one October morning as the echoes of hoof beats died … the crushing realization that she was alone, her family gone beyond her reach, cast rudderless among people not her own …''<br><br> 

Tears bathed her cheeks as she gave her memories up, laid them on the altar of her resolve, and fired the wood beneath.  Her fingers burned as they remembered the flames of the morning and Colonel’s reply rang in her mind like a bell: ''Yes''.<br><br>

The scent of Evie’s fur came back to her, a benediction, and Josephine sent a prayer to God for her welfare. She stood crucified, trembling with her eyes shut tight and her hands fisted, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she waited for Alexi to decide.<br><br>  

Alexi stared unseeing, caught up in the sweep of memories and emotions pouring from Josephine.  Each blade removed revealed itself as more a piece of armor then a weapon.  He shied away from memories of David the man, and concentrated on her memories of his actions.<br><br> 

''A virgin.  Not untouched, but unfinished''.<br><br>

The Russian carefully set her bare foot back on the deck, still entranced, and rose silently to his full height.  With his hands still imbued with the sparkling turquoise nimbus, he took one step back and reached for the belt of his robe, pulling it from each loop until the folds parted and shifted, until the only garment he wore slipped to the deck in a pool around his feet.  Aroused but not rampant, he stood naked before her, resolved to do his best to share his gift with her.<br><br>
     
“Read me,” he said, his voice even and emotionless.  He reached for her hands, grasping her wrists tightly and pulling her forward.  He brought her right hand to his chest, just above the dueling scar he had received as a teen near his left clavicle.<br><br> 
      
Alexi knew that she would never truly see him, couldn’t share memories like a spy through time, but focused all his will on the art, the blue aurora spreading up his arms, his chest, neck, face and down his torso until his body glowed blue as a gas flame in the darkness of the night.<br><br>
      
''You think of Evie'', he thought.  ''My thoughts of you are not different.  What I wish to DO differs greatly, but as you wish to create possibilities for Evie equal to her suffering, so I wish to give to you''.<br><br>
      
''You have been hurt, and lack trust'', he thought, willing his imaginings into her head. ''I would protect you if only you would let me''.<br><br>
     
As the eldritch light faded he swept her up in his arms, cradling her as he carried her to the stairs leading to the ostentatious rooms below.  The chill of the night air turned his skin to gooseflesh, but the touch of her hands around his neck and her cheek on his shoulder flushed with heat. <br><br>
     
The doors below remained propped open, as he’d left them, making entry into the stateroom effortless.  The air was heavy with the smell of incense; myrrh and sandalwood smoke wafted to the ceiling.  The ceiling was covered by a tapestry secured at the four corners, which depicted Psyche and Eros joined in the act of love, too explicit to be tasteful, but a fine example of the weaver’s art.  On either side of the door stood large armoires filled with clothes and finery.  Along the left was a simple wooden chest containing Alexi’s work clothes, and a small writing desk.  Along the right wall was a small bookshelf decorated with what he had been informed were the essential classics of British literature for his study, and a sword stand with an elaborate court epee and a much more workman like cavalry sabre.   From the ceiling depended four oil lamps, ruby red glass panels coloring the light a sanguine tone he hoped showed off his hair appealingly when he first had them installed.  The center and far wall of the room were dominated by the large bed of bundled wool covered by a mattress of eiderdown, draped in satin sheets in dark blue covered with the white silk comforter decorated with his family crest.  The crest was a shield, bordered in sky blue, a white field, a fox head sinister.   Embroidered in Cyrillic was his family motto:  ''The clever may catch the earliest bird''.   Умное может поймать самую раннюю птицу<br><br>
      
“I see now how wrong and stupid all of this decoration has been to set a trap for you, sparrow,” he said, as he set her gently on the edge of the mattress.  “Still, pretty things are lovely, are they not?”<br><br>  

When he released her foot and Josephine stood on her own again, she found she could breathe. She staggered upright, battered from the emotional ordeal, and she was only dimly aware that Kalashnikov had withdrawn.  Deep inside where she’d locked up the rest of her, an alarm started ringing. Blinking her eyes clear, she had just enough time to see the blue fire still flickered from his fingers before he grabbed her wrists and drew her forward.  She was too dazzled to notice his nudity, too exhausted to resist his pull. Her hands went where he bade them and she heard him say: ''Read me''.<br><br> 

How?<br><br>

As she tried to gather her wits, the blue fire engulfed him, coruscating and hypnotic.  She could only stare at it as the air grew heavy, charged with magic, and again she was hammered by emotions—only this time they were not her own. ''Solicitude. Protection. Understanding. Care''.  And beneath it all was the steady burn of desire, of need.  Already raw from his Reading of her, she felt herself going under, sinking … drowning.<br><br>

''Fight it, Jo … '''Swim''' …''<br><br> 

God help her, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t think.  A thin mew of protest trickled past her throat as she felt her feet leave the deck. The world spun and Josephine was literally carried away.  The sky overhead was replaced by wood and the walls closed in. Kalashnikov’s arms held her tight. There was no escape.  She could only ride it out and hope to rally before …<br><br> 

''Before what? Why is it so hard to think?''<br><br> 

Her ears caught the note of stairs ringing underfoot, the world spun again, and she had the fleeting impression of a door before she came to rest on something silky and smooth.  Everything went sideways as she crumpled and measured her length on what she realized was Kalashnikov’s bed.  She heard him speak and missed his words.  Dragging her head off the comforter she managed a reply.<br><br>

“What?”<br><br>

“Too many words, sparrow. Now is the time for feelings,” he said, his voice husky and uncharacteristically deep.<br><br>  

Josephine levered herself up on her elbows only to find Alexi inches from her face. Instinct kicked in, breaking through her befuddlement, and she found herself blocked by his forearms as he moved over her. Josephine dug her heels into the comforter and fetched up against the headboard, only to find Alexi grinning like a fox as he followed her.<br><br> 

''Here we go. Steady on, Jo''.<br><br>

He claimed her mouth with his before she could move, opening her up, his tongue seeking hers.  His hands sank into her hair, holding her still as he plundered her with his kiss. His lips roamed with his hands and in a trice he’d pushed her sweater up to her chin, his fingers busy with the laces of her camisole beneath.  He tongued and sucked her breasts through her clothes and despite her resolve to remain coherent, the moist heat sent Josephine right out of her head. <br><br>

Wool tugged at her neck and arms. Her sweater was no match for Alexi’s ardor and it sailed over the side of the massive bed.  Josephine put her hands on him, hoping to pull him into another kiss, hoping to slow him down, but the Russian laced his fingers with hers and pinned them above her head.<br><br>

“Now, sparrow, we feast,” he said hoarsely and pulled off the ribbon tying her camisole with his teeth, his nostrils flaring as he exposed the creamy skin underneath. <br><br> 

Josephine squirmed and bucked, thoroughly pinned, trying to win free as he parted her garment with his tongue, pulled it aside with his teeth. He lapped her nipples until they were rock hard, sending hard jolts of fire through her chest and deep into her belly. Her camisole followed her sweater and her jodhpurs went quickly after.  Alexi growled as he nipped and grazed his teeth over her breasts and down her ribs.  He lingered over her navel and then set his teeth to her knickers. Her mission-mind faltering, Josephine knew she’d have less than a minute before it would be impossible to stave off the inevitable.  With the last bit of reason she could muster, she managed to say, “Spare nothing.”<br><br>

''If it’s done, best done quickly …''<br><br> 

Swamped in waves of lust, her senses afire, Josephine gave herself up to the heat between them.<br><br>
 
As the last of her clothes slid past her feet, he rubbed the light auburn stubble of his cheek against her smooth skin, his wet tongue extended to flick and dart up Josephine’s alabaster leg stretched across the silken coverlet.  He nuzzled the back of her knee and nipped the skin between his sharp teeth teasingly. <br><br> 

Then Alexi grabbed Josephine’s knees and forced them apart as his tongue found the delta of her sex.  His nostrils flared, captivated by the mixture of the heady perfumed incense and her natural scent.  The salty tang of her sweat, and his, made an olfactory cocktail with her feminine bouquet.  His lips pursed as his tongue curled to part the folds of her sex.  As she struggled against his tongue, he spread her wide, his mouth warm on her secret lips as he suckled the hooded nubbin of her ecstasy.<br><br>

''Oh God—!''<br><br>

The air left Josephine’s lungs in a sharp moan as his tongue circled and probed, slipping inside to torture her further.  All hope of control ruined, her body a prisoner of Alexi’s mouth, lips, and tongue, Josephine sobbed for air, sobbed for mercy, sobbed for him not to stop.<br><br>

Alexi stroked her as she gave herself to him, his hand sliding along her flank, slipping from the swell of her breast to the delectable curve of her bottom. He teased her nipple, pinching, tugging, pulling with his fingers, adding a note of pain to counter the pleasure of his mouth below.<br><br>

When the time was right and she was at her highest pitch, he rose on his forearms and slid along the length of her, pressing his muscular belly against the silky wetness between her thighs, covering her mouth with his, sharing the taste of her with force and ardor. His rigid shaft nestled against her swollen sex, throbbing with the rapid pace of his racing heartbeat. “I will hurt you, sparrow,” he breathed between kisses. “At first, it will hurt. Don’t fight, and the pain will pass.”<br><br>

Then grabbing her firmly by her shoulders, he thrust inside.<br><br>




The gulls were keening when Josephine woke, though it was not yet light, and she turned carefully in the sheets to watch Alexi sleep.  He slept as he lived his waking hours, exuberantly, sprawling with childlike trust and abandon.  The memory of him moving over her, of moving inside her, of coaxing her past her pain, came vividly back and her body throbbed in time with it. Josephine closed her eyes and breathed deep, letting everything inside grow still and fall away.  When she was calm, she slid from the bed and dressed.  Looking back, she saw he’d flipped over onto his stomach, trailing a hand over the side. His fingers twitched and he sighed.  She drew the covers around him with tender regret and leaned over his ear.<br><br>

“Spasiba, Alexi.”<br><br>

Ten minutes later, she was on the road overlooking the harbor, the sky brightening to the east with the dawn.  With luck she would be back at the hotel before Katherine and Ezekiel found her missing and she and Evie could compare notes as to what they’d seen and done.<br><br> 



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