Shadows and Light Ch. 13

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your patience with me. I apologize for the long delay with this story. My laptop died. Of course I hadn't remembered to back anything up. Of course they sent the wrong part and I had to wait even longer for the correct one. Life is a pain in the ass and I am learning to back stuff up!! I can be taught!!! I hope you like the chapter. The next two should be following in a couple of days and the last one (or two) shortly after that.

Enjoy

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Chapter 13 A Falling out and trouble comes knocking

Simon woke long enough to down the migraine and pain meds that Finn handed him and then went back to sleep in the darkened bedroom. Finn kept a close eye on his lover. Usually Simon complained of various symptoms that pointed to a migraine starting. He could usually take his meds and head them off before they gained a foothold. This migraine had come out of nowhere and laid him out flat. Coming back from Cullen's office, Simon had downed his meds and gone straight to bed. That had been several days ago and Finn had anxiously watched over him waiting for signs of improvement. This morning it had come, Simon had asked for and eaten a light breakfast, and it had stayed down.

Reassured, Finn took the stairs two at a time. Looking for Ian, he instead found his father emerging from his office.

"Ah, Finn, I was going to go look for you. Can I have a word with you in my office?" He looked tired and his expensive suit was a bit rumpled.

"Sure dad," Finn preceded his father through the still open door, wondering at the odd tone in his father's voice. He knew him well enough to see through the façade of the formal gentleman that everyone else saw. Something was up.

John sat in the comfortable chair in front of the desk and motioned for Finn to take the other.

"Son," he started without preamble,"it has come to my attention that a very close friendship has formed between you and Mr. Drake."

Finn felt as if he had just been punched in the stomach.

"I am sure that you are well aware of my personal feelings for Mr. Drake. He is a great asset to the Council and is very valuable to us in that regard, but I can not stress enough that a closer relationship with him is not in your best interest."

Finns shock began to burn away into irritation at his father's denseness. "Ian and Simon have been friends for half of Simon's life. How on earth can you draw the conclusion that this is "not in my best interest" or in Ian's for that matter."

"Ian is perfectly aware of my feelings in this matter; we have discussed it several times. I am hoping that you will be a bit more amiable in this regard. Ian and Mr. Drake have shared college experiences to draw from as a basis for their friendship. You have no such reason to develop such a friendship with him."

Finn just stared at his father. He knew that his father did not approve of Simon but he had no idea that his fathers prejudice was deep enough that he would seek to warn people away from him. His heart sank; he had a feeling that what he was going to say would form a huge breach with his father; possibly a breach so deep that his ingrained prejudice would not budge, even for a favored son.

"Father, "he began slowly, "I am afraid that your prejudice is clouding your judgment in this issue. I think a change in your attitude is long overdue."

John raised his eyebrow at his youngest. "I hardly think that my private views impair my judgment. It was my idea that Mr. Drake be kept on retainer for the council in the first place. This was a career boost for him, as well as being a good move for the council."

Finn sighed. "I am talking about your personal judgments father, beginning with the fact that you brought me here to undermine my relationship with Simon."

"My personal views are just that, personal. And they have nothing to do with you or your brother."

"Well they are going to get a lot more personal I am afraid," replied Finn firmly.

"What are you talking about Finn?" John asked.

Finn took a deep breath. "Simon and I are involved in a relationship."

"We were just discussing how I thought that was a bad idea," snapped his father in reply.

"I don't think you understand father," replied Finn steadily, "we are involved in a relationship. We have been for some time. I love him, and I know for a fact that he loves me. I have decided I am moving in with him."

The look of shocked horror on his fathers face was almost comedic and Finn stifled a hysterical urge to giggle.

"You can not," John gasped.

"I am," Finn replied. "I have absolutely no intention of hiding my relationship with Simon like I am ashamed of him. I'm not."

"I won't have it," John roared, jumping to his feet. "I will not tolerate it!"

"I don't recall giving you a choice, father," replied Finn, more sharply than he meant to. He remained seated although he hated the feel of his angry father towering over him. "Feel free to shout and rant all you want. This is my life and my decision."

"Not my son," John roared. "I won't have one of THOSE people in my household. You will put a stop to this nonsense immediately!"

"I can hardly put my choice of a mate into the category of nonsense, father," Finn replied. "As for those people, there is nothing wrong with Simon or me for that matter."

John's face was a bright red and the irrepressible voice in the back of Finn's head idly wondered if it was possible for his father's head to actually explode with rage.

"You will put a stop to this immediately and that man will leave the house this instant," each word was deliberate and steady, as if his father had realized that reigning in his shouting was a necessary thing.

Finn stood and faced his father directly, nose to nose, as the silence was broken only by his fathers panting. They were almost of the same height, with Finn just a shade shorter.

"I love him," said Finn flatly. "If he goes I go, and I won't be coming back." Keeping his face and voice calm and collected, despite how he was trembling on the inside. "I will not give him up for any reason, not for you, not for anyone," Finn took a deep breath. "I love you both. Don't try and force a choice between the two of you, you really won't like the results," Finn continued, not breaking eye contact with his father. "If you decide that you can't live with my decision; that is your choice. Disown me if you want. I have already discussed this with Ian and I have his full support."

John flinched at those words and relentlessly Finn continued. "I don't want to lose you, I love you." John flinched again at the bald statement. "The only way that you will lose me is to push me away."

They stared at one another, matching brown eyes clashing in an unspoken battle of wills.

"Think about it," said Finn quietly as his father refused to drop his eyes. "What makes you angrier, the fact that I am bi-sexual and in love with a man, or what your cronies will think about YOU having a bi-sexual son in love with a man?"

His father's eyes narrowed as they met Finn's. Finn's heart sank as he saw the anger there.

"I love him," Finn said again, "and I am not giving him up because you are afraid of what people think. You would think that after six hundred years you would know better."

He turned on his heal and walked out of the room, leaving his father alone.

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Failing to find Ian or Isabelle, Finn returned to Simon's darkened bedroom. Crossing the room he sat on the edge of the bed. Simon's powerful frame was sprawled across the bed, his head buried in a pillow. From the waist up he was naked and Finn could see the definition in each muscle from his broad shoulders to narrow hips. Funny how someone that looked so strong was so fragile when it came to matters of the heart.

Drawing comfort from his lovers sleeping form, Finn calmed himself away from the edge of tears. He knew that he had made the right decision, there was none of the doubt that he had expected to feel after telling his father. A small part of him was grieved at his father's reaction but most of him was glowing with the thought that he and Simon could be together without having to hide anything. Even if his relationship with his father shattered, he would not lose Ian, and that meant almost as much. Finn smiled, unless he was very wrong, Ian had already found the woman of his dreams. His father was likely to have a litter of kittens about that, too. Isabelle had not only killed his son (albeit in self defense) but was the direct descendant of a family of Were's, and according to Cullen's journals, could not be turned. Several litters of kittens Finn decided.

He settled in on a pillow, his hands stacked behind his head. Simon murmured something in his sleep and rolled over, throwing his heavily muscled arm over Finn's waist. Finn smiled as his lover snuggled his head in closer to his ribcage. Going to sleep, Finn was generally the one draped over his larger lover, almost always though, come morning, it was Simon draped over and snuggling into Finn. Finn felt a surge of protectiveness sweep over him. He was angry at his father for his blind idiocy, at the lover that had wounded Simon so badly, and the family that had rejected him because he had been honest with them about his sexuality. Hopefully things would get better he told himself, for him and their relationship, but mostly for Simon. It was high time that someone treated him like the wonderful man that he was. He smiled a bit smugly: he was pretty sure that he was up for the job.

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Ian spent the better part of the day with Isabelle. Her short, initial meeting with Jack Halloway had gone well, or at least he thought so. They hadn't made love yet, restricting their activities to petting and kissing. He had thought he would be dying by now. Masturbating only took care of part of his needs. He found however, that he was much more emotionally content than he had ever been however and that helped.

Isabelle's second visit to Dr. Halloway, the day after the first, had left her quiet and withdrawn. There had been resurgence in her nightmares and they had spent the evening together watching movies. Today they had done some shopping and afterward stopped at his warehouse to check on the arrival of some of his latest acquisitions. Isabelle had perked up quite a bit with the visit to his gallery. He had found himself glowing with pleasure when she exclaimed how much she liked the new pieces he had found. For a third year art student she really did have a great eye for detail and he was amazed at how her taste was so similar to his in some ways and so complimentary in others.

All too soon they found themselves heading back to the house in the growing darkness. Conversation had lapsed and his hand had found hers. Their fingers intertwined and Isabelle rested her head against his upper arm, glad that the car was small enough to do so.

Entering the house then met Finn coming down the main staircase raking his hand though his short blonde hair.

"Hi Finn, what's up?" she asked cheerfully, setting her heavy bag gratefully on the tiled floor.

"Oh, hi Isabelle, Ian," he said.

"You look worried," said Isabelle.

"I need to talk with Ian if you don't mind," he said.

Isabelle was a little taken aback. There was a grim finality in Finn's voice and no trace of the usual smiling face.

"Sure," she said. "I'll take my stuff to my room." She retrieved her bags from a startled Ian, giving him a reassuring smile, and started down the hall.

She had left the door to her room open, anticipating that Ian would return shortly. She was not ready for the shouts that rang down the hallway, angry shouts. She hesitated for a moment and then headed out to find the source of the ruckus.

"You stupid, selfish, idiot," Ian shouted. "He is your son!" Ian was standing nose to nose with his father in the main hall, since he was slightly taller than his father he had the advantage of looking down on him.

"This is none of your business, Ian. So shut up and stay out of it," replied John angrily.

"None," stuttered Ian, "none of my business?"

Isabelle noticed than Finn was sitting on the last few steps on the main staircase, his head in his hands. She crossed behind the verbal combatants and crossed over to him. The look on his face was a combination of grief and anger, completely out of character for his normally cheerful expression. Unthinking she sat down on the step above him and wrapped an arm around him. He leaned into her and she could feel the underlying tension in his body.

"He is my brother, since when did he become none of my business?" Shouted Ian at full volume again.

"Since you introduced him to that man, "replied his father icily. "You have already contributed to this fiasco quite enough."

Ian's jaw dropped, "You fuck."

"Ian!" shouted Isabelle, as Ian's arm raised to punch his father.

Ian stood panting, livid with rage, the desire to punch his fathers face so strong he could almost taste it. The shock on his father's face was almost worth the effort of not hitting him, almost.

"Ian, why don't you take Finn upstairs and help him get packed, I don't think he or Simon will probably want to stay here tonight," said Isabelle in a tightly controlled voice. She had instantly guessed what the problem was; Finn did have a relationship with Simon, and either he had told his father or his father had found out somehow, either way the results had obviously not gone well.

"Beating the shit out of him won't change his thinking. You would probably just kill a few more brain cells and make him more of an idiot than he already is," she finished. She gave Finn a squeeze and he marched up the stairs without a backward look.

Glaring at his father, Ian stalked up the stairs after him.

Isabelle stood, three steps up the staircase, her arms crossed and looked daggers at John with blue eyes that looked like they were carved from glacial ice. "Don't even say it," Isabelle ground out as she saw his mouth open to speak. "I think you have said quite enough for today. And don't even think about telling me that it is none of my business. Finn is my friend, and that is reason enough."

She stood there, her stomach dancing with butterflies, daring him to cross swords with her. She watched the range of emotions cross his face. The impassive mask dropped into place and he turned on his heal and vanished into his office. The door clicked closed and Isabelle let out her breath. She was almost surprised he hadn't slammed it closed.

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Finn and Simon left the house an hour later, Finn pale and composed and Simon still slightly out of it from his medication. Isabelle kissed Finn lightly on the cheek.

"Don't worry," she whispered, "somehow everything will work out. Just take care of Simon."

"Thanks Isabelle," he smiled. It was a strained smile, but a smile none the less. "I appreciate it, more than you know."

"They're going to my apartment for a day or so," Ian told her as they watched the car drive off. It's another hour past that to Simon's house and they are going to be going the opposite direction to head back up to the cabin tomorrow or the day after."

Isabelle could feel eyes on her as she and Ian walked hand in hand back to the house, Isabelle shivering a bit despite the warm coat she wore. She resisted the urge to find Johns face in one of the windows facing the front of the house. She and Ian continued down the hall to her room where she stripped off coat, shoes, sweater and socks and crawled on top of the bed. Ian joined her, snuggling close and pulling the soft chenille blanket over her. She smiled, he already knew her so well. With the emotional turmoil of the earlier part of the day, the tension of her meetings with Dr. Halloway and the family shit hitting the fan she didn't so much relax as crash.

Ian woke several hours later; Isabelle curled up in his arms. Smiling he began to stroke her soft black hair, grateful that he no longer had to worry about 'getting caught'. He loved the feel of her silky hair against his hands. Her skin was warm and soft as he feathered his fingers over her face. He snuggled a bit closer and breathed in her scent. Shampoo and the underlying smell that was all warm skin and soft breath. He kissed her forehead gently, luxuriating in the feel of her skin against his lips. Isabelle sighed in her sleep as his warm lips brushed hers, and he continued to stroke and kiss her, taking in every bit of her. Any feeling of frantic need had shifted to a deep contentment as he kissed and stroked the young woman in his arms. His hand slid down her back and he cupped her ass, pulling her towards him until their bodies touched closer still. She moaned low in her throat and his tongue dipped past her lips, stroking and tasting. Now half awake, Isabelle ran her fingers though his thick hair, her entire body responding to his touch. She was reduced to want and need and heat as Ian kissed her and began nibbling on her neck.

Ian hadn't intended to start anything, he had wanted to take things slow, and to let Isabelle set the pace for their physical relationship. The minute he touched her, his need to feel connected to her had begun to chip away at the edges of his resolve. He needed her. A long emptiness was filled, an emptiness that had been with him so long he had forgotten its presence. The urge to claim her was overwhelming. She was his, only his and he could taste her want and need in the air she breathed. He exulted in every sigh; every moan and gasp as he slowly undressed her and kissed, stroked and tasted every inch of her skin that was revealed.

Her legs parted at a slight touch from him and he tasted her, salt and musk. His lust surged with her every moan and cry. And finally she shrieked in completion as her body writhed under his in climax. Exercising iron control he scratched the inside of her thigh with a sharp tooth and tasted the minute amount of blood released. Salt and sweet, and an underlying taste of Isabelle assaulted him, teased him. The remains of his mental shielding shattered and his mind was filled with her pleasure and need for him. His heavy body rose over hers and with a harsh cry, his length was buried inside her softness at last. Her hips rose and her legs hooked over his thighs and he could feel her lust, need and pleasure as he moved within her.

His mind was filled with her pleasure even as his own threatened to overwhelm the shreds of control that he had left. He could feel his bloodlust rising, one taste hadn't been enough. He nuzzled the junction of neck and shoulder and sucked gently, feeling his teeth extending. He was immersed in her scent; blood, heat and sex. His fangs sank into her neck and pleasure stronger than any climax shook him to the core.

The pleasure/pain of Ian biting her neck forced Isabelle into a savage climax, every muscle tense, she shattered under him over and over again, bucking and clawing with breathless cries. Mindless to anything but her own pleasure she licked the salt-sweat skin above her and driven further into her climax by Ian's heavy body thrusting into hers, she bit the heavy muscle of Ian's shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Ian disengaged from her neck at the pain and cried out; so far gone that he didn't register the ramifications of her actions.

The smell and taste of Ian's blood filled her senses and Isabelle felt an abrupt shift deep inside of her: body, mind and soul. A trickle and then a torrent of sensations not her own swept over her: soul deep pleasure of tasting her blood at last, physical agony as the pleasure of being buried in her body began to overwhelm the senses, primal pleasure of having his mate screaming in climax under him. Every flex of the heavy body above her was felt inside and outside her body and mind. Somewhere, deep inside of her, Isabelle realized that it was Ian she was feeling. Rational thought was then swept away as another wave of her climax hit her and then Ian's, slamming though her and rebounding. She could not feel where she ended and Ian began: and she was lost in the maelstrom.