The Dawn of Wynter Ch. 04

Finally, with too much satisfaction to endure, from the corner of his eye he saw Zara disentangle herself from the were who had been all over her as they both made their way back to their booth. It was Zara's reaction to seeing him sitting with Zarifa, Zuri and Raine recounting some tale in a hushed voice that had him really going. He had to really try not to laugh at the incredulous look she gave him, seeing him there charming the panties off all her friends.

"Philippe!" she practically barked, "I thought you couldn't make it tonight," she said a little too sweetly. The smile on her face was a little too forced, her eyes wide with surprise and of course the look of anger that eventually followed, which he knew to be characteristic of Zara, was what had him smiling back. He also saw -- was that jealousy that flared in her eyes for the briefest of moments?

"Oh you know how it is ma chérie," he began lazily, waving a hand in the air as if it was no big deal he was there, "people make plans, and just as easily break them. I found my evening freed up and decided to take up lovely Raine's earlier invitation," he finished his arm coming to rest lazily on Raine's shoulder.

"I see," she said in a clipped tone, her eyes zeroing in on his arm, aware everyone was staring at their exchange, "Well I see you're keeping yourself well entertained," staring pointedly at Zarifa and Zuri to his left and Raine to his right. Raine sat a little uncomfortably, the arm draped on her shoulder and the look Zara gave them both sending warning signals blaring. He was doing it on purpose, Raine realized slightly astounded, Oh he's good.

"Jax, how about another dance? Or two," Zara added seeing the dark look cross Philippe's eyes at the suggestion.

Before Jax could even respond, Phillippe stood up, "Actually, Jax is it? I believe it's time you gave someone else a chance to dance with our lovely guest of honour."

Jax looked at Zara, trying to read what she wanted, but before she could even hint to him not to let this happen, she saw Raine stand, her hand on Jax's shoulder, and a mischievous smile cross her face as she whispered something in Jax's ear. She pulled at Jax's arm as she danced her way backwards to the dance floor.

"C'mon Jax, dance with me!" she laughed throatily. Zara cursed at her in her head, knowing exactly what she was doing. She had seen Raine use that smile and laugh to get men to bed with her. Jax was a man with needs, and her friend was openly offering a place to drown those needs so that she could be alone with Philippe, she thought sourly.

He looked back at Zara, shrugging his shoulders in defeat and smiling at her, "Sorry kid, you're on your own."

So much for friends, she thought, turning back to face Philippe, a smug look on his face.

"What're you so damn happy about?" she snapped, feeling the irritation of having him near her again rise. Why couldn't he let her have just one damned night of peace? Was it too much to ask?

"Just dance with me once, and I will leave you and your girlfriends alone for the night to talk about my amazing ass."

Zara laughed at him despite herself, "You really need to work on the whole modesty thing."

"One dance and I'm gone. Orrrr, I could stay around here," he continued in his most innocent voice, his lips pushed together, his stance as if he was deep in thought, "I'm sure these lovely ladies wouldn't mind."

He gestured to Zarifa and Zuri. From the looks of the sisters, they definitely wouldn't mind. They were ready to strip him right then and there. She looked around wondering if perhaps Elias or Adriano were around to rescue you her from this torture, but they were nowhere to be found. It seemed the entire group who had come tonight was on the dance floor enjoying themselves.

Damn him, he knew exactly what to say to get his way. She fixed him with a stony glare and took his outstretched hand, much to the amusement of the women around her, who whistled and cat called. She figured if all it took was one dance to get Philippe to leave, she would suffer it.

"One damn dance, Philippe, that's all," she said holding up her index finger, her face serious.

"An excellent choice," he practically purred, grasping her hand and pulling her to the dance floor, crowded with other patrons.

"Hah! As if I had one," she growled her face in a slight frown that was just too damned cute. He thought he could kiss her right then and there, but if he started, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop, and something told him Zara was not into public displays of affection, especially the more explicit kind.

He twirled her so quickly she barely had a chance to keep her balance, before he pulled her suddenly, so that her body was pressed against the length of his. She lost her breath in a large huff at the force of impact, his hands caught her at the hips, and he didn't miss a beat as he swayed their bodies with the music. Her palms rested against his broad chest, which was where she was staring. She did not want to look into his eyes, fearing what she would find there. This dance could cost her so much if she allowed herself to see past his flaws.

There were times during their training when their eyes would lock and the electricity she had felt the first night she met him would return. It threw her off every time. In those moments, she saw a glimpse of Philippe she had never seen, a different Philippe. However, as quickly as that magic engulfed her, it disappeared and they went back to their usual tug of war. Here it was yet again, that unyielding magnetism, pulling her to him. She was looking everywhere but at him, wondering where the woman next her had bought her heels when she felt his hand under her chin.

"Why will you not look at me?" he asked so quietly, even she could hardly hear him.

He turned her face towards him, but her eyes landed on his lips. She supposed if she had to face him, that wasn't such a bad view. It was better than those eyes that could see through her soul. No, his lips were a much safer bet. They were full and looked oh so perfect for kissing. She found herself thinking about the last time he kissed her. It had been the most intense and sensual kiss she had ever experienced. Just the thought set the fire burning in her. They definitely had chemistry, that was undeniable, but whether they could survive each other was the question.

She wanted him so badly; her body was thrumming just from the simple stroke of his hands at her back. Leave it to Philippe to turn a harmless touch into something so much more. She feared giving into his pursuit would affect their training somehow. At this moment, she needed the training more than the sex, as she was determined to find out why she was the way she was and Philippe was a straight ticket to that answer. Sleeping with him could complicate that more than she cared to think about. Instinctively she knew it would not be as simple as it had been with Jax. If she could just find a way to get him to talk and spill everything he knew. Perhaps sleeping with him just once would loosen his tongue she rationalized, but even to her ears that was the most pathetic excuse to justify it...No! It would screw everything up. Get your shit together Zara! Perhaps his lips weren't as safe to look at as she initially thought.

She was brought back to the moment, as she watched his lips move. He was speaking, and she hadn't heard a word of what he said, so focused was she on the memory of his lips on hers. Stop it! No kissing is happening here, she scolded herself, shaking her head slightly, as if that would clear the memories from her mind. She heard him chuckle, and could feel the weight of his gaze on her. Oh god, please he didn't hear all that...Did you?

"I wish I could say I didn't, but you practically yelled it at me, chérie," he whispered in her ear, amusement coating his voice, "I must say that is an intriguing offer, you in exchange for answers."

She glared at him, her response evident in her expression. "I did not mean it to be an exchange, I'm not some tart whoring herself out for information Philippe. It was an errant thought that perhaps giving you what you've been after may inspire you to stop being so uptight about letting me in, and start giving me answers. A silly thought and one you should not have heard."

"And what of my lips? Are they off the table for discussion?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said feigning ignorance, the corners of her mouth twitching. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her and keep her there for eternity. Why did he have to hear her?

"I do enjoy kissing you too, perhaps more than I should," he whispered as he looked down at her, his eyes smouldering, the desire was etched plainly on his face. She look away again, having to remind herself to keep breathing.

"This was a bad idea Philippe," she blurted out, and began to turn around to leave wanting to escape his gaze and touch. His strong hand clasped around her wrist before she could take one step and pulled her back into their dance.

"I said one dance, not half, we are not finished yet."

She sighed and let the dance continue, she knew with him the harder she protested, the more he would insist. Her only comfort was knowing that when it was over he would be gone and she could continue to have a good time.

"Now, you still have not answered my question."

"What question might that be Philippe?" she asked exasperated. She was growing tired of their tug of war. She wished they could find some balance; she had hoped since he had opened up to her that day in the clearing that he would continue to show more of his true self. It seemed that the more they worked together, the further away he pulled from any serious connection or he would say something that brought up painful memories like he had earlier today. But then he would turn all of that upside down and do something like tonight, such as asking her to dance and looking at her as he was now.

"Why will you not look at me? I find myself jealous of a pair of shoes; they seem to have your utmost attention."

"There," she said, fixing him with a defiant stare, "better?"

"Come now, this is not so horrible, is it?" he asked leading them into a twist, twirling her outwards before bringing her back into hold.

"Depends on what your definition of horrible is," she bit out through clenched teeth.

"It would be horrible to waste your time being angry at me for simply wanting to dance with the most captivating beauty in this room."

Damn, he was good. "Smooth, Monsieur Desmarais, very smooth," she said, allowing herself to smile at his compliment.

"Is that a smile I see?" he asked incredulously, as he stepped back animatedly pretending to scrutinize her from every angle, "Mon dieu, she does smile!"

She laughed lightly, and felt herself relaxing a bit at his dig, "Shut up, and dance."

They twirled and twisted and swayed in silence for a while. The only sound was the music and their breathing. Finally he broke the silence.

"You should smile more, Zara. It's a beautiful sight," he whispered in her ear once again, the heat of his breath tickling her slightly.

"Yes, well, there has been little to smile about of late," she laughed, trying to ignore the warm feeling flooding through her body at his admiration.

"That laugh is music to my ears. I wish...it could always be like this," he sighed. That you could remain wrapped in my arms, laughing and free of burden, he thought.

She pulled back slightly and looked up at him. She found once she really looked into his cerulean eyes, she couldn't look away. She knew those eyes, they knew her too. They knew the very depths of her soul. His usually arrogant demeanor was gone, there was softness to his gaze, as if he wished to say something but hesitated. In that moment, she sensed something greater surrounding them. Her heart began pounding in her ears as their eyes met, their bodies thrummed with energy older than anyone could have known, once again pushing them to each other, forcing them to accept what they both were trying to deny. It was a second that felt like an eternity.

Just as quickly as it came, it went and she found it so overwhelming that she broke their hold, her breathing coming out a little laboured. This was precisely why she didn't want to dance with him. It threw her emotions into hyper drive, confusing the hell out of her. Did she hate him or like him? Was he the womanizer he seemed to be or was he more than that? At times she felt it was an act he put on, but he played it too well. And what the hell was that pulse of energy she kept feeling around him?

"Philippe, what is this? What is it that we are doing?"

"We're dancing," he smiled, avoiding her question, maddeningly.

"Philippe," she groaned in frustration, pushing her palms against his chest, "I can't do this anymore!" her voice pained as she began to walk away again, before he caught her once more.

"We're not done here, chérie," he said fixing her with a serious stare.

"I think we are, Philippe. It always so hot and cold with you, one minute you do something that makes me despise you, and the next you say something that completely throws me off. And I know you feel that unexplainable pull, I know its supernatural but you seem to ignore it! It's enough I have to deal with my own rollercoaster of emotions day in and day out, without adding in your multiple personalities and some weird magnetism that bursts out like a cloud every time we're remotely close to each other. Will you just be you, for once, the real man behind this arrogant façade you put up? Someone who can explain everything. What is it you really want from me?"

"I am precisely who I appear to be, Zara," he said, smiling, but it didn't quite touch his eyes.

"Bullshit, Philippe. I've seen glimpses of different versions of you. I want to believe you're a good man, someone I can trust, but you do and say things sometimes...It makes it so damn difficult," she said in one breath.

He sighed, "Can we not just enjoy the dance, all this talk is...mundane."

"If it's so mundane why don't you find yourself another 'captivating beauty' to dance with?" she said in an icy tone. If this was mundane to him then fuck it, she was done. Why should she remain in the company of someone who thought her to be boring? She made sure he heard exactly what she was thinking.

Philippe stood there, unable to respond. It had been going so well, he'd even made her laugh, something that caused his heart feel lighter than it had in years. Having her there, dancing in his arms, it felt right. She had been pulling against him at first, holding back, but there was a moment when she finally let go, only to return to her stubborn self again. It was infuriating. He wanted to see her as she had been with her friends, only he wanted to be the cause of her laughter and her smiles. She wouldn't permit him, not with her constant questions. He couldn't answer any of them without giving away Xander, but how could he make her understand?

They always seemed to make some progress before returning to square one, and he found his patience was wearing thin. He was angry at her now, for ruining a moment with her endless questions. What did it matter why they felt that unusual pull? Or why they were both such strange creatures? Why couldn't she just simply accept that's how things were? Why did there always have to be an explanation? Their eyes never left each other in that whole time, and in an instant she saw something change in him. The softness was gone, and in its place was hardness, cold and detached.

"All I want are answers Philippe, ones I know you have, but for some mad and downright infuriating reason you're keeping them from me. Instead you choose to toy with me, I won't put up with it anymore."

"Can't handle the heat, ma petite?" he asked teasingly, pulling her unnecessarily close. He was back to his usual demeanor, and the moment between them lost.

"We had a deal; one dance and you would leave. I believe we're done here," she said, unwrapping her arms from him, she turned to leave. She paused however and glanced over her shoulder.

"I think we should stop our training all together Philippe. Thank you for helping me, truly, I have learned so much. I just can't do this anymore," she gestured between them, "it's too exhausting. It's obvious we can't reach some common ground, you won't let me. And I can't, until you show me you're somewhat serious."

"Very well, if that is what you wish," his voice held no emotion, and his expression was distant.

"It isn't, but you leave me no choice. I grow tired of these games. If you want me, then make sure the real Philippe Desmarais is the one who comes to me. And with answers."

Once again, Philippe was left with the vision of Zara's back, walking away from him. He growled. One of these days, she would be running to him, he promised.

--

Philippe sat in the study nursing a glass of whiskey, his fifth so far. He had been replaying the conversation he had with Zara all night. He was furious. How could she call off their training altogether, after all he had done for her, all he had showed her?! She wanted answers, but they weren't his to give. How could he explain that without hinting at the bigger picture -- without implicating Xander? He let out a puff of air, shaking his head. She had said some things tonight that hit very close to home. He wanted to be himself, to show her he cared, that he could be the man she wanted but something kept holding him back.

He was scared to let go, fearing the strength of his feelings buckling down on him. It was as if he had just been sired again, a youngling unable to harness his powers and emotions. This woman was his undoing. She had affected him in a way he thought impossible. She was right, he had been putting up a façade for almost his entire existence, and it wasn't until the day he set foot in this house and rested his eyes on Zara that the façade had begun to crumble, piece by piece.

He had thought at first he would just fuck her and be done with it, but the more he got to know about Zara, the harder it became to see her as just another conquest. There was also that strange energy in the air every time they were together. He'd have to speak to Antoinette about that, it irked him to not have all the answers. Even more so when Zara assumed he had all of them. The truth was he had no idea why they were so pulled so strongly towards each other. The night he had first met her, the pulse he felt scared him to death. It was something he had never experienced, and the force it had hit him with left him questioning everything. He felt defenseless at not knowing the answer to what he suspected was the most important question he had faced yet.

He yearned for her, for the smell and feel of her. What was it she had said? She would not continue with him until the real Philippe Desmarais came to her. Was that so difficult, he asked himself. He downed the rest of his drink and stood up determinedly, making up his mind. He would show her exactly who he was, try and give her answers without revealing too much, and then she would not be able to escape him, ever. She would be tied to him from this night on. He strode out of his room with only one thing on his mind, and he would not return until his task was done. Zara was about to get exactly what she asked for.

--

Zara was exhausted. The endless training combined with the night of dancing and the rollercoaster of emotions had her drained. Raine had just left, and she was getting herself ready to curl up in bed and sleep for about a month. Unfortunately for her, Philippe had other plans, because just as she was unzipping her dress, he barged into the room with a look of steely determination.