Heart of the Night Part 7

Longing... intense, dark, burning him with its savagery. This was what Trowa felt as he stared into the fire in his study and waited for Quatre to appear.

These evenings they spent together were nothing short of torture for the brunette. He had made a promise to the young boy though and he was doing everything in his power to make sure he kept it. Despite the danger he presented to Quatre, he still met with him three evenings each week to check his studies and teach some himself.

They'd spend the evening, sometimes reading, or going over equations, discussing history and sciences. Trowa took it upon himself to teach Quatre French and Latin, finding the boy to be a quick study in languages. Upon discovering that the blonde had an ear and talent for music, Trowa had had a piano put in the study for him and started to teach him that also.

What he really wanted through all of this, though, was to carry the blonde off to his bed. Teach his some of the finer arts of pleasure. He yearned for another taste of the blonde, for a chance to explore the slender form hidden under all those clothes. A vision of Quatre, writhing beneath him, crying out in pleasure, popped into his mind and he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

He couldn't, he knew he couldn't. No matter how desperately he longed for it, such an act would be death for the blonde. Sexual contact was always accompanied by a hunger so fierce that it was uncontrollable. He knew because he'd been warned. He knew because he'd killed in such a manner. His hunger had become so overwhelming that he could only remember the bloody aftermath of the act.

Ones such as he were only able to love others like himself. Only another of his kind could withstand the savagery, and return it in kind. He had taught Trowa that. Revulsion rose in Trowa's throat as memories came back unbidden. Yes, he had taught him that well.

"Trowa?" Quatre's voice broke through his thoughts.

His head snapped up and he blinked at the blonde who was staring at him wide eyed.

"Are you alright?" Quatre asked. "I called you several times."

Shock crossed Trowa's features at the boy's words. Usually, with his hearing and senses, it was impossible to approach him without him knowing. Even if he didn't always let on that he knew. "Uh... yeah. I'm sorry, I was thinking."

"Must have been some thought." Quatre replied as he walked into the study and sat in the chair facing Trowa's.

"You could say that," Trowa said dryly, wondering just what Quatre would think if he knew.

Since that night in the gardens, neither of them had mentioned the incident. Trowa often wondered what the blonde must have thought at the time. He struggled to go on as if nothing had happened and Quatre never brought it up. The only change that Trowa had been able to detect in his ward was that he seemed to be less nervous around him. I guess that's something at least. He was concerned that the boy's uneasiness would become worse.

Pushing his thoughts he stood and walked over to the vast shelves, picking out a book at random and going back to hand it to Quatre. "We'll start with this," He said settling back in his chair.

Quatre opened the book and after looking at it for a few moments began to read. Trowa leaned his head against the back of his chair and let the boy's gentle voice wash over him. His light voice made even more melodic by the language he was currently using. French was always a favorite of Trowa's to begin with, but to hear it in Quatre's voice made it even more beautiful to him.

They spent the better part of three hours reading from different books and going over the studies that Quatre had been doing with Sebastian. Trowa finally nodded his head in satisfaction. Quatre had caught up to others his age and in some instances, surpassed them. Trowa knew how hard the boy had worked over the time since he'd come here and was more than pleased at how well he had done.

It was time to start thinking about what would lie ahead for the boy. He knew that he would not be in this area for much longer. It would be impossible. A few more years maybe, before people started to notice that he hadn't aged since the day he arrived in this place. He preferred to go long before that point was reached. That meant that Quatre had to be standing on his own two feet before then.

"Quatre," He finally spoke deciding that he could stay put for four or five more years.

"Hmm?" The blonde looked up from the book he was reading.

"I think it's about time for you to attend a university," Trowa watched the boy's blue eyes widen in shock.

Quatre set the book aside, fighting down the rising panic. He was going to send him away. He knew that someday, Trowa would send him from this place he'd just hoped that he'd have more time; time to somehow let the slender brunette know how he felt. He'd thought that he'd complete all of his education under the teaching of Trowa and his servant. "I beg your pardon?" Maybe he had heard it wrong. Maybe he had said it was time to start on university level studies. No, he knew he'd heard right. "But, I don't wish to."

"Don't be ridiculous," Trowa's eyes darkened. "You'll be twenty soon and it's time you were attending public school with others your age. You can start when the fall term starts."

Quatre paled and jumped to his feet, his book falling to the floor with a fluttering thud. "I know I'm supposed to be grateful for everything you have done for me," He said, his voice shaking. "But, I want to stay here! I don't want to go away to school!"

"Impossible!" Trowa snapped. "You are my ward not my son! You will have to be able to stand on your own eventually, I will not provide for you forever!"

"That's not what I mean! I want to learn here! I know I have to be on my own sometime... but for as long as I can I want to stay..." He stopped and stared at Trowa, his eyes filling with anguish. "I-I want..." To be loved by you.

He stopped in mid-sentence and fled for the door, pausing only a moment before disappearing out it and down the hallway. Listening to the sound of his feet as he ran up the stairs, Trowa sat motionlessly in his chair, the look on his face one of utter shock. I want to be near you as long as I can, Quatre had whispered as he stopped in the doorway.

Words spoken so softly that only one of Trowa's level of hearing could have actually heard them. For an instant the brunette entertained the idea of following him, but quickly set it aside. Emotions were running high enough that it would not be safe.

Instead he decided to hunt.


For almost a week the pair kept a stiff demeanor with each other during Quatre's studies, neither one mentioning the scene from that night. Quatre assumed that Trowa would just tell him where he was to go and when he was leaving and that there was nothing he could do about it. Trowa also assuming that the blonde had accepted his decision and would not argue further about it.

After all it was what was best for him.

Despite the fact that the decision was tearing them both apart inside.

Trowa figured that the words spoken by Quatre were in the heat of his anger. Maybe even a ploy to try and get his own way, but just in case they weren't they strengthened his resolve to see the boy as far away from him as possible. Once out and away from this place, he was sure that Quatre would meet someone and after his studies were done would settle and marry. That had been the plan from the time he had picked the boy up almost two and a half years ago. This was never supposed to be permanent.

As evening set fully in, he left his chambers and started down the winding staircase to the main part of the house, pausing to gaze out a window at the top of the stairs. Outside it was starting to snow, fat lazy flakes of white were drifting out of the sky and settling on the frozen ground. It looked like the beginnings of a mild enough storm, but Trowa already sensed that by midnight they'd be in the grips of a powerful blizzard. Better to go into town now than have to deal with the storm later.

Quatre's studies would have to wait this evening, he thought to himself as he slipped from one of the many entrances to and from the house.

When he returned later it was with the full force of the storm right on his heels. He'd used the preternatural speed that was available to him to arrive back before it hit completely. Even now, as he hung his coat in the wardrobe in the foyer, he could see the snow driving down like a solid wall of white outside. He knew full well that he could go several days without hunting and this looked to be one of those times when he would. His hunger never got truly desperate until nine or ten had passed, one of the advantages of the length of time he'd existed.

As he turned towards the hallway, Sebastian stuck his head out of the door leading to the kitchen, his room being on the other side. "I see ye made it home without freezing ta death," The old man grumbled.

"Funny," Trowa raised an eyebrow at the old man.

"Humor never was one of my strong points," Sebastian replied stepping out into the hallway.

"I'll agree with that," The brunette quipped. "You don't need to be up, 'Bastian. There's nothing that I would need this late."

"I'm not up because of you," He nodded down the hallway. "It's him. Been waiting for you in there all evening, despite my telling him that he had the evening off from working with you. You're breaking the boy's heart, do you know that?"

Trowa sighed wearily. "It's not like I have a choice,"

"Like hell! You can tell him that's what you can do! Let him decide for himself." Sebastian snapped. "I think he suspects something anyway; can't have lived here this long not to. She figured it out in just a few months."

"No." Trowa said coldly. "Go back to bed, 'Bastian. I'll go send him off to his."

"You'll regret sending him away without telling him." The old man tossed over his shoulder as he walked back into the kitchen. "His isn't the only heart involved here!"

"I don't have a heart," Trowa mumbled flatly in reply. "Not any more."

He walked stiffly down the hallway to his study, fully intent on berating the boy for waiting up for him. For going against his orders, but as he opened the door he stopped, his intent forgotten.

In the last few months, Quatre had taken to writing music on the piano. Now, late at night with the storm starting to scream outside, the boy was bent over the keyboard, his brow drawn together in concentration as he scribbled furiously on a piece of blank sheet music paper. Trowa had honestly expected to come in and find Quatre brooding, but instead from the looks of the study, he'd say the boy had spent the evening studying.

As the blonde straightened up and set the paper on the stand before him, Trowa chose to use his unique abilities to blend with the shadows and observe him. Watching, at least he could allow himself this much. Quatre studied the papers for a moment and then placed his fingers on the keyboard. The heart that Trowa thought non-existent lodged in his throat as he listened to him start playing a simple, but haunting, song.

He knew, without a doubt, he knew that what he was listening to right now, was the turmoil of feelings that Quatre kept to himself. Emotions that the boy kept locked inside, afraid to let out, floated through the air and twined themselves around him. It was plain to hear in the notes that Quatre was suffering.

His heart was breaking, just as his servant had pointed out just a few moments ago.

Without realizing what he was doing, Trowa stepped from the shadows and slipped noiselessly across the room to stand behind Quatre. Reaching down, he lightly touched the boy's shoulder, causing him to jump in a scattering of notes. Quatre spun around on the bench and stared up at the man, his eyes wide.

"I have to," Trowa said haltingly.

"What?" Quatre gasped as the man leaned forward and he could see the raw agony in his green eyes.

"I have to send you away," Trowa brushed the backs of his fingers across the blonde's cheek. He drew Quatre to his feet, carefully cupping his face in his hands and staring into the startled blue pools of his eyes. "Quatre... I..." Love you. Just one kiss, he told himself that he could at least have that as he pulled the blonde to him and lowered his head.

Quatre gasped and his hands came up to clutch Trowa's vest as he felt the feather light touch of his lips brush across his. Then another, tentative, light, questioning and then another as light as a butterfly's wing. "Trowa," He breathed as the man slanted his head and claimed his lips full, one hand sliding around his waist and the other twining with his golden hair to hold his head.

Trowa's senses reeled as he felt Quatre lean against him, his tongue coming out tentatively to fence with his. He felt the blonde's body awakening as he explored the warmth of his mouth, pausing to nip gently on his lip. Oh... gods... he wanted him. Breaking free from Quatre's mouth, he pulled the boy's head back and slid his mouth along the slender column of his throat at the same time pressing him back against the piano, letting the blonde feel the full weight of his body against his, and the full length of his own desire for him.

Somewhere in the back of the brunette's mind was the nagging thought that Quatre should be afraid and disgusted at his guardian's actions. At the actions of his male guardian, but instead he could feel that the blonde was as affected by his explorations of his body as he was. When did I stop actually thinking of him as my ward, he wondered as his hands slid down Quatre's sides and then around to his front to grasp one of the buttons of his shirt.

Quatre was dazed. Never in his young life did he ever imagine that there could be such an assault on one's senses; that a person could feel so much at once. He felt like his entire body was on fire; that he might burst into flames in any moment if Trowa didn't do something to stop it. He just didn't know what he wanted him to do. As his body had grown older and changed, he of course had experienced certain reactions, but never did he even imagine that anything could feel like this. It was like he was going to explode if the brunette kept touching him, kissing him, in this way.

Slipping the first couple buttons from their bonds, Trowa exposed the rest of Quatre's neck and pressed his lips against the pale skin, his body becoming harder at the sound of the blonde's moan and the feel of his hands rhythmically clutching and releasing the fabric of his own shirt.

Then he felt it... the thready pulse under his mouth. His could feel the warmth pulsating from the artery just under his skin, he could smell his blood, and his hunger rose full force within him, taking his breath away. He felt the sharp prick of his teeth as his body prepared itself to feed. NO! He pushed himself violently away from the boy, his breath harsh.

The loss of the warmth from Trowa's body against his own brought a shiver to Quatre's form and his eyes flew open, the question evident on his face. What did I do wrong? "Trowa," He said hoarsely, reaching for the man.

The brunette flung himself from Quatre's reach, fighting desperately to bring his body and his hunger under control. "I can't do this!" He ground out. "I'll hurt you! You don't understand what this means!"

Tears forming in his eyes, Quatre stepped forward. "I understand that I love you," He whispered reaching for the man.

"Don't touch me!!!" Trowa almost screamed at him. "Get away from me!!!" He raised his eyes to the blonde.

And Quatre saw the disgust in those green depths. He let out a choked sob, thinking that look to be directed at him, and took another step forward. "Please! Trowa... tell me what I feel isn't wrong! I couldn't bear to know that it's wrong to care about you!" He pleaded.

"You don't understand," The brunette repeated, backing further away. "You don't know what I am!!" He spat out harshly before turning and fleeing for the door.

"Trowa!" Quatre cried and followed him. He needed answers... he needed to know what it was the drove the man to reject him. Why did he do those things to him and then react as if it were such an unspeakable thing?

He entered the hallway and looked desperately around him before a blast of cold air told him that the brunette had entered the gardens. Without thinking he ran down the hallway and plunged into the driving storm outside.


*author packs up her muses and runs away to hide*


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