work_inprogress | When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

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When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

New Orleans was vibrant and alive--admittedly with problematic elements, like all the dead things walking around undead. Peter had watched them for his first few nights in the Quarter and caught a few of them watching back. They hadn't made any moves toward him though, either considering him not a threat or not knowing what to make of him. If they weren't going to bother him, then he resolved to not bother them, either.

There weren't any other wolves, though, and he wasn't sure if that was good--no one to challenge or treat with over territory--or bad--where were they? Granted, it was a big city, and wolves traditionally liked to live closer to somewhere they could easily run, and for the moment he'd filed it away as that and been grateful. Since he intended to stay for a while, making nice in someone else's territory would have been awkward.

Better to just claim it as his own.

He bought a house in the Garden District, with enough trees around it for privacy, and a certain mysterious charm, wanting to be close to the Quarter, but not right in the midst of the noise. Besides--the Garden District was where Tulane was. And Tulane?

Well, that was where Lydia was.

By careful observation, he'd worked out most of her schedule, knew which dorm she was in, which room, which window. The campus was lovely with lots of shaded areas and overhanging trees and he'd managed to find a bench under one with a perfect view--if you had a wolf's vision. Jeans, a broken in blazer and a leather messenger bag and anyone catching him reading there figured he was a professor. At night, he found it easy to blend in to the shadows, watching until she closed her blinds.

He didn't spend every night there, of course. Really. Just enough to know she was all right, that no one was bothering her. Enough to snarl at every boy who walked her home or he suspected of doing more. Interestingly...a couple of them seemed to drop out of school, disappear, shortly after any such encounter. Not that he had anything to do with that. Really.

She was his. He'd marked her, chosen her, bonded with her. He'd only been waiting for her to grow up before coming to claim her.

Now she had; and here he was.

He hadn't approached her, yet. The perfect time hadn't come. But he'd been in her room, breathing in her scent, leaving his though only another wolf or one of the dead things would catch it, know she belonged to someone. He never took anything, but he left a long stem rose on her pillow each visit. Blood red, thorns still on. He came at different times, always careful to vary them, to stick to the shadows in case she'd left a camera running. Usually he did it when she was out, but once he'd slipped in, leaving it for her while she showered, and another morning she would have awakened to it next to her, like a token from a lover.

Which it was.

Tonight, she'd gone down to the Quarter with friends, and Peter followed. Watched the boys who bought her drinks, watched her dancing, laughing, followed her along crowded streets. Eventually she'd separate from the pack, and he'd follow, then, too.

He was tired of waiting.

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One of Peter's particular skills was in making logic work for him and refusing to acknowledge it when it didn't. It was how he'd justified avenging family by killing family, after all. Her comment had him moving again, though, hand firm around hers. "The car is just up here..."

They were back near people, though he stayed off Bourbon Street, moving toward a side street where he'd found a parking spot. After the car with the remote, he opened the door for her, hand shifting to usher her in, but not letting go.

Edited 2013-08-31 03:40 (UTC)

Lydia was fairly quiet as she walked with him to his car, musing silently as she worked through everything that had happened. Noticing his car then, she gave it an appreciative once over before letting him help her into his car.

Then she was sitting and he was still holding her hand which made her look upwards with a curious arch to her brow. "Are you going to stand there all night or drive me home?"

He arched an eyebrow, then looked amused as he let go and shut her door. It wasn't like she was going to jump out of the car and run. That wouldn't be dignified.

Moving around, he got in and settled then headed toward campus, though he took the streets that would take them by his house. It was on the way, so there was no real indication that he was doing anything other than driving a route to avoid the weekend night traffic.

He slowed when they got near it, though, leaning in a little to point out her window. "That's the house I bought..."

If Lydia didn't know better, she might have wondered if Peter was going to take her out somewhere to finally kill her but she knew his obsession wouldn't let him. That and the fact that he did seem to be heading back to the dorms.

Looking up when he started to slow, she turned to follow the point of his finger, looking to the house with a curious arch to her brow. "Wow, that's...actually very nice."

Then, on a whim, she looked over at him. "Show me?"

Peter looked at her slightly surprised. "...Okay..."

He made a turn at the stop sign and circled around to an alley behind the houses, driving back to his and the garage back there. Turning the car off, he got out and moved around to get her door.

She saw the surprised look and arched a brow at him again. "If you expect me to spend any amount of time there, I should see if I like the place first." She replied somewhat haughtily as it was a good bluff. Not that she wasn't actually curious because she was.

Waiting till he parked and then moved around to her door, she slid out of her seat without help this time, studying the back of the house and the yard.

"Valid point," he murmured.

The house had an iron gate around it with a garden in the back. A fountain burbled in the center and a hammock was strung between two trees. The porch wrapped around from the front and he'd put some comfortable chairs on it. Large trees ranged around the house, providing some additional privacy.

Opening the gate, Peter led her along the path to the back door. He flipped on the light as he let them in to the kitchen, giving her a half smile. "I'm still getting furniture and decorating. I wanted pieces I really loved, so I got the necessities for in here, and finished the Master bedroom and the living room. The rest is coming slowly..."

When he paused to look at her, Lydia was clearly side eyeing him with the surprise evident on her features. It was the discussion of furniture and decorating that did it, honestly, because she hadn't imagined he would be the type of man to concern himself with that sort of thing. It was...interesting.

"What colors are you going with for the living room?" She asked as she walked into the kitchen, looking around.

Peter arched an eyebrow at her surprise. He liked nice things, liked beautiful things, and if he also liked them minimal and uncluttered, that didn't mean there was a lack of an aesthetic.

"It's mostly black stained wood for the tables, shelves and cabinets," he said, leading the way toward the front of the house, and the room in question. "Light gray for the couch and love seat, then splashes of jewel tones for color. I'm thinking about a sapphire blue for the walls, but haven't gotten around to painting, yet."

The floors were hardwood throughout, and there was a rug under the coffee table that held that sapphire blue, along with burgundy and amethyst. Likewise, burgundy and amethyst throw pillows adorned the gray couch, and the same colors highlighted the Tiffany glass lamps scattered around the room.

Lydia was quiet as she continued to look around, studying the kitchen first before they moved into the living room in question. Pausing just inside the doorway, she took in the colors, a look of almost awe and appreciation softening her features.

Then she walked in further, skirting around a table where she admired one of the lamps but then she was turning, holding up a finger, as she eyed the room suspiciously. "And you swear that you didn't get anyone else to do this for you?"

Peter watched her face carefully, smiling a little when she seemed to like the room. It was certainly more masculine than feminine with lots of clean lines, but not at all a typical bachelor pad. Elegance and flair had always been things he'd striven for.

"I swear. Unless you count having the store clerk custom order the sofa, though I picked out the fabric, so."

"Huh."

The good taste, the elegance of it, was pleasing and it was something that was definitely missing from dating guys her own age. Nodding as she glanced at the couch, she ran her fingers lightly over the wood edge of another table, studying the walls for a moment. "The color you picked would be nice."

"How many bedrooms?" She asked casually as she started towards the stairs.

He followed her as she moved, glancing upward. "Four. The Master suite's in the turret part, then they work back, each with their own balconies. Three in each section of the house facing the street, then one in the back overlooking the garden."

He looked over at the sunroom, off of the other side, barely visible back down from the stairs. It needed more work, but it had the breakfast table in it, at least.

"Four bedrooms?" She arched a brow at him over her shoulder as she started to climb the stairs. "What do you need four bedrooms for?"

"I don't," he admitted. "But I liked the porch, bay windows and sun room. And maybe Derek and Cora will come visit."

Some time.

At least he didn't say it was for the kids he expected to have some day. With her.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she lingered in consideration before heading for the room that looked over the garden.

He wasn't quite that stupid--it was far too soon to talk about kids, even if he'd been talking about them belonging together.

The floors were hardwood up here, too, and the back bedroom was the smallest, but it had a bay window. He'd meant it when he said he hadn't gotten around to decorating much beyond the three rooms he used most. He had, however, at least put a desk in this room, a few bookshelves filled with his books. It had seemed like a good office space.

Lydia didn't want to admit that she was strangely pleased to see a desk and some bookshelves in the room nor did it matter that she would have made the room into an office as well. Not at all.

Brushing past him again, Lydia made her way in to the other rooms, just peeking in to check the size and the view before coming out to look at him expectantly. "Bathroom?"

"The guest bath is there between the two guest rooms. Mine is off my bedroom." He tilted his head toward the room that was obviously lived in.

He was watching her go through the rooms, intent and strangely hopeful, waiting on her judgment.

Lydia hesitated as she pressed her lips together, looking towards the room that was obviously his. It seemed kind of inevitable to go in there now even as she questioned herself once more what she was doing there in his house obviously checking everything out.

Knowing his eyes were still on her, she refused to appear weak or nervous though as she headed into the master suite.

Peter gave her space, but followed her in, leaning in the doorway to watch her check it out. The bay window took up almost all of the front part of the room, curving out with a balcony on it and French doors leading out to it. From there, you cold see the street and front garden.

All of the hardwood in the house was darker, and here was no exception. The bedroom set was polished cherry wood with a faint red sheen. The bed was set on the adjoining wall, a king sized cherry four poster bed with an iron canopy the same finish as the floors, with dark brown leather insets in the headboard. The other furniture--two nightstands, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a bench at the foot--complimented it.

He had painted in here, a soft cream that lightened the dark wood, and his bedding was likewise softer colors--cream, gold and forest green stripes for the duvet with accent pillows in the solid colors and the same fabric covering the bench, rather than leather.

There was a walk in closet off of the other wall and the bathroom was off of the main door, heading back into the house. He had spent a lot of money in there to remodel--granite countertops, dark wood cabinets, a separate shower and bath, two sinks. The towels and shower curtain picked up the same colors from the bedroom.

Through the room were touches of him. Pictures of Derek and Cora, the book he was reading currently on the nightstand, his razor and toiletries out along the counters. Neat, but obviously lived in, though the closet was only about half full.

Lydia was aware of his eyes on her as she brushed her fingers over one of the posts on the bed, studying the iron canopy overhead before turning away to the large bay window. She stood there for a moment, looking out the window into the garden, and then she was back to wandering around. Noting the book, studying the colors and then moving to peek into his bathroom.

It was beautifully elegant, masculine and definitely ten times better than her dorm room.

"It's a bit dark." She couldn't completely praise him now could she? "But it's a nice house, Peter." It was one of the rare times when she actually used his name.

He'd expected something far more dismissive than that, so not getting it, plus her saying his name, made him smile at least a little.

"The sun hits this room pretty hard during the day, even through the trees. But thank you."

He stayed where he was, leaning in the doorway, gaze not flickering to the bed, though that predatory light was back in his eyes as he watched her.

"You should get some kind of suncatcher." She informed him then when he told her about the sunlight that came in. It had nothing to do with her love of them though, not at all. Really.

Pressing her lips together and wetting them, she seemed to be considering something even as she felt the heat of his gaze and the way it changed. It caused her stomach to clench in response and her heart to race. It annoyed her a bit just how quickly her body was ready to betray her but the memories of him touching her, using his mouth on her, and the feel of him...

Her breasts were rising and falling a bit faster now as she turned away from him again, turning back into his bathroom as she moved to inspect the shower and then the bath. She just needed a bit of space between them.

"Maybe you can help me find one." Just a quiet suggestion, even as he watched her, saw the change in her body, the way her breathing and heart rate changed and knew it was in response to him...and not fear.

His own body heated in response, even though he didn't move to follow her...well, not for a moment or two. She moved to the bathroom and he moved from the hall door, tracing her path through his room, pausing to look out the balcony doors, then opening one of them to let the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle into the room. The evening had cooled enough that the breeze was pleasant--not so much the heat was needed, but cool enough not to make the air conditioning kick on in response. Perfect, really.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching her through the door. "I had to have that redone. The plumbing was atrocious and the fixtures antique and not in a charming way."

When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

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