The first thing she was aware of was that she was suddenly cold. She yawned, and pain shot through her jaw, causing her eyes to snap open. Raising a hand to press to the sore spot, a shock of pain jolted through her, and she cried out.

There was a flash of golden light, and Cassandra could just make out Graham's features in the shadow-ridden light. At the sight of him, the memories came crashing down on her, and she drew a sharp breath, wincing.

Graham set a lamp down near her and moved away, lighting a few candles. The flames illuminated the cavernous room they were in, revealing what the darkness had hidden. Besides the candlelight, they were in utter darkness. There was no hint of daylight anywhere, and Cassandra shivered.

She was lying on a ledge protruding from the side of the wall. Evidently, it was meant to be a bed, and she noticed immediately that it gave a clear view of the only entrance or exit in the cave. This place had been planned for a hideout of some kind.

"How long have we been here?" She said and discovered that her throat was dry and raspy.

"Too long." Graham moved around the cave quickly.

"What's going on?" Cassandra forced herself to sit up, gritting her teeth against the pain it caused her.

His back was to her, and he gave no indication that he'd heard her. Groaning against the movement, she moved closer to the edge of the ledge and swung her legs over. The spot next to wear she'd been lying was warm, and she realized, with a sudden blush, that Graham had been sleeping next to her.

"We can't go to a doctor." Graham turned around, arms full of an assortment of things, and his eyes found hers. "You need to be bandaged up. I can do it, if you'll allow me." He nodded toward the pile of what she realized were bandages and bottles he was balancing in his arms.

Cassandra brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. Biting her lip, she nodded slowly. He moved quickly, settling on the floor in front of the ledge and looking up at her with a soft sigh.

Trying to quiet the rapid beating of her heart for fear he would hear, she gripped the hem of her jumper. Wincing, she began to pull it over her head, attempting to hold in the cries of pain that rose in her throat. A grunt escaped her lips, and sweat began to bead on her upper lip and forehead because of the pain.

Fingers lightly brushed hers, and strong hands took hold of the jumper when she paused to ready herself for the final pulled. Graham easily pulled it over her head, his movements steady and gentle. When she could see again, she noticed immediately how close he was to her.

As he lowered his hands, his fingertips lightly grazed the flesh of her arms. She gritted her teeth against the shivers that flooded her being at his touch.

Cassandra swallowed heavily. "Thank you, Graham." Her voice was dry and foreign.

He looked away from her, lifting the material of her shirt to examine her injuries. There was no sign that he'd heard her. The man was infuriating, maddening. Unsure what else to do, she help the shirt up, so that he could see what he was doing.

"Nickolas." He said.

"What?" She frowned.

"My name is Nickolas. Nickolas Donahaven." His gaze flicked up to meet hers.

"Nickolas." She frowned, testing the sound of the name rolling off her tongue. "I don't understand."

He wouldn't look at her. "I put all of that behind me a long time ago." He opened a small clay pot, and a sweet aroma filled the air.

"All of what?" She prodded when she realized he had not intention of saying anything else.

He looked up at her, and there was something she couldn't read in his expression. It was half skeptical, half longing, but there was something else to it, too. It was like he desperately wanted to talk, but something was holding him back.

"You don't have to tell me." She whispered. "But I do want to know." She decided honesty would be best with him, because there was every chance he'd know what was going on inside her head even if she didn't tell him.

"Everything you know about me is a lie." He said, his voice low. He looked away from her. "If I tell you the truth, there will be no going back. You'll be involved so deep you won't be able dig your way out." His expression was so torn when he looked back up at her, and she had never seen someone look so raw and real.

"I know you, Nickolas." The name sounded so foreign in reference to him, but at the same time, it was somehow fitting and right. "You're intentionally annoying and infuriating. Maybe the life you were living was a lie, but you're still you, right?"

He grinned suddenly. "You just want me to tell you what's going on."

"Well—" she gasped in pain as something cold touched one of her cuts.

"I have to clean them first." Graham—no, Nickolas explained. "It's going to hurt."

Cassandra bit down on her lip and clenched her fists at her side. "Tell me something to take my mind off of it?"

Whatever he was applying to the open wounds began to sting. She sucked in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly to try to keep tears at bay.

"My mother was a dock girl. I never knew her. I never really knew what sort of work my father did, but there was always plenty of blood involved. He hit me once, and that was it. I left the next day and never looked back." Gr—Nickolas didn't look at her as he spoke, instead focusing all his attention on her injuries. "The streets are a rough place for a boy of eight, but I toughened quickly—it was either that or die a pitiful lump in a back alley.

"So I learned how to survive, how to fend for myself. I thought I was rough and tough—eight years on your own will do that to you. Then he showed up. I'd never met anyone like him. He was surrounded by men who were fully loyal to him. They would have walked through fire if he told them to, but that was just the way he worked. He could talk anybody into doing anything. When he wanted something, he didn't use his fists. He didn't have to. I knew the moment I laid eyes on him that I wanted to be just like that."

Nickolas's hands moved steadily while he spoke, and Cassandra found herself lost in the sound of his voice. Just listening to the words, she saw everything he was describing. The pain moved to the back of her mind, and she studied the man in front of her.

"Who was he?" She asked.

"He called himself 'Daniel Granger'." Nickolas paused as he spoke the name. "There was something so electric, so magnetic about him that I couldn't resist following him." A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "By the time I realized what signing that contract meant, it was too late. He owned me for twenty years—or until I died. There were no loopholes, and if I refused, he'd haul me off to the nearest police station and I'd hang or spend the rest of my days in a prison cell.

"I started training almost immediately. I spent two years being an understudy before they'd let me go out on my own." Nickolas went suddenly quiet, and his hands stilled.

"What is it?" Cassandra looked intently at him.

"You have no idea what I am, what I really am." He began to work again, and there was a ferocious edge to his touch now. "I walked willingly down a path that would save me and damn me at the same time." He paused. "I'm a killer." He looked her straight in the eye. "Oakland—the man who hurt you—he wasn't the first man I've killed. I've spent my life killing others." His jaw was set in a firm line. "Worst of all, I enjoyed the thrill of it every minute. I destroy and kill and hurt, and if you stay with me, you'll get caught in the crossfire."

Cassandra was taken aback by the ferocity in his silver-grey eyes. She flinched backwards, away from his touch. She had never seen such heated darkness in a human being before, and she was scared. She didn't want to be. She wanted to trust the man who had saved her life so many times, who had looked after her even when she was a burden, but his eyes bored into her very soul.

"We have to move." Nickolas stood up abruptly. He had finished bandaging her up.

Cassandra gasped, startled at his sudden movement. Nickolas moved away from her, the clouds of a thousands storms hanging about his shoulders. Swallowing, she rose slowly as he moved about the cave, collecting things and shoving them into a bag.

There was more to his story, she knew. He didn't want to tell it to her. Or was it fear that held his lips closed? She'd never seen him afraid. Not once. Could it be that whatever they were running from was bad enough to make him tremble.

She gulped, swallowing heavily. If it was that bad. . .she shuddered. She didn't even want to think about it. The stagnant air of the cave was suddenly suffocating, and she moved toward the exit. Fresh air, she needed fresh air.

"Hey, wait." Nickolas's hand snagged hers. She'd thought he wasn't paying attention. "We'll need to blend in when we go out there."

He motioned toward her clothes pointedly. Something in his demeanor had changed all of a sudden as if he'd shoved his emotions aside. It was like he'd shrugged it all away, the gravity of his story, and his voice was almost playful again.

Cassandra felt a blush color her cheeks and self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. There was nothing left of that fine London lady now. In fact, she doubted any of her old acquaintances would even recognize her now. She imagined the Morgans' looks of utter disgust, and a smile formed on her lips.

That girl wasn't what she wanted to be. Lifting her head, she tossed her tangled hair over her shoulder. She was an Antrucha, and nothing could change that. Her pride resurfaced, and she wished she could strut in front of all of those stuffy, no good lords and ladies.

"Here." Nickolas said, proffering a stack of clothes.

Cassandra accepted the pile without questioning why he had women's clothes in his hideout. There was a corset, she noticed, and she wondered who must have left it here. It was beyond her mental powers to imagine Nickolas out there purchasing ladies' underthings.

"I'll wait outside." He said, moving away.

"But the corset laces!" Cassandra could've smacked herself for letting him get so many steps away before she spoke. Her voice was desperate. "I need help." She said for emphasis and winced inwardly.

"Of course." Nickolas said, slinging the pack off his shoulders and closing the distance between them in a few, short strides. "Obviously, you'd want me to stay, anyway." She could almost hear him winking. Fine then, if he was going to move on and pretend he hadn't bared a piece of his soul to her just now, she would play along.

Raising a brow, she turned away from him, regarding him over her shoulder with a raised brow. "Slow down there, you. I still have to get into the thing, and you'll have your back turned for that. So turn your eager, little the other direction." She almost smiled at the imperial sound of her voice. Apparently, the combination of relief, a bit of sleep, and the thrill of almost dying had restored her to her normal self.

"Spoilsport." He grinned, and she noticed his eyes had darkened slightly as he looked at her, but he turned away before she could think any further about his gaze.

She moved slowly, trying to cause herself the least about of pain possible. Nickolas had done his job well. Whatever salve he'd put on her cuts did take away some of the pain she felt, and she was able to move a little more freely. She took it slow, however, because she didn't want him to have to redo any of his work. Although, the thought of his rough, calloused hands on her was not altogether unpleasant—

What was she thinking? She felt the blush crawl up her cheeks, and a flash of heat coursed through her. It must have been brought on by her exhaustion—she didn't let herself argue that she'd just woken up.

With great effort, she shoved the thoughts out of her mind and focused all her attention solely on getting out of her dirty clothes and into her new underthings. She slipped on her petticoat and wrapped the corset around her.

"Ok." She murmured, a blush crawling up her cheeks as she situated the corset more firmly around her.

Cassandra pulled her hair over her shoulder, wetting her lips. The touch of Nickolas's hand on her bare back sent goose flesh crawling over her skin, and she swallowed around the lump in her throat with great difficulty.

She drew a shuddering breath as he began to do the laces. His touch was so soft, so gentle, and she focused on a single point in the cave wall. No one's touch had ever had such an effect on her. She could feel it even through the bandages, and then his fingers were moving up her back, working the laces. He didn't pull them tight enough to hurt her cuts.

The feeling of his fingers on her upper back sent shivers down her spine. She tried to reason with herself, tried to pull herself back to reality, but all that her brain could focus on was his touch. Even telling herself she was a grown woman and not some country schoolgirl had no effect.

Cassandra felt the gentle tug as Nickolas tied laces. His fingers lingered on her skin for a brief moment. He began to pull away, and she found herself craving his touch, almost desperate for it. Subconsciously, she leaned into him.

A soft grunt of surprise escaped Nickolas's mouth at the sudden increase of her weight. His warm breath hit her skin, and she realized suddenly how close they actually were. Her brain told her to move, to pull away from him. And then his lips brushed the skin of her shoulder. An involuntary gasp escaped her, and her eyes fluttered shut.

His hands brushed down her bare arms, feather light. Her breath caught, and a noise came from the back of her throat. A flush of embarrassment heated her cheeks, but his arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer to him. Drawing a shuddering breath, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, and her gaze locked with his.

The memory of the kiss they'd shared so many days before flashed into her brain. She wet her lips, wondering if Nickolas was thinking of the same thing. His gaze went to her mouth, and there was a question in his eyes when he looked back up. Was he—could he be. . .asking if he could. . .kiss her again.

Her heart pounded out a thundering rhythm in her chest as if it were trying to break free. Her eyes darted to his lips of their own accord, and she leaned almost imperceptibly closer to him.

His lips brushed hers, and nothing else mattered. He pulled back slightly, and she moved to close the distance. He grinned devilishly, and then his lips captured hers.

She felt as if she could fly. There was nothing and no one but this moment and the two of them, here, now. She reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers playing in the hair at his temples. She wanted—wanted—

He jerked back. She almost toppled without him supporting her. Steadying herself, she looked up at him, confused.

Nickolas ran a hand through his hair and cursed. He avoided looking at her for a moment and closed his eyes tightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but he straightened, and she watched a mask slide into place over the plains of his face.

"Hurry and finish dressing. We need to get out of here." His voice was disembodied and cold. His gaze was flat, expressionless, and he looked at her with something akin to disgust.

Without another word, or even a backwards glance, he spun on his heal and left. Cassandra gasped in shock, leaning against the cave wall for support. Rubbing a hand on her forehead, she tried to figure out what had just happened.

Tears rose unbidden in her eyes. Was she so undesirable? She had never wanted someone—

She wanted Nickolas. The realized crashed against her so suddenly it caught her off guard. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything, and she didn't care about the world he lived in or what he'd come from. It didn't matter. He drove her insane, he infuriated her and challenged her in a way no one had ever done before. She loved the way—

She—she loved him. She choked in surprise, a hand covering her mouth. She was—in love with him. Gasping for breath, she looked in the direction he'd just gone. That was her problem. He wanted nothing to do with her in that way.

—————

It's been almost a month since I last updated! That's frankly scandalous!! I'm so sorry to have left you all hanging there! I won't promise that it won't happen again, but I will say that I'm going to try to get into a regular posting schedule again. I will say, it was definitely Graham/Nickolas's fault that I was so behind in updating. I had to figure out his name. There are a lot of guy names that I really, really like, but none of them fit. It was the worst. I would try writing with one and then read a little bit with that name, and it just. . .gah. It was terrible. I had most of this chapter written for the longest time, but he kept giving me troubles!

So, I guess my first question is: does the name 'Nickolas' seem to work for him? Do you have any other name suggestions? Then. . .

Woah. That was some chapter. What do you think of it? I will say: I am pretty excited for the next chapter, but you'll have to wait until I get that up to see why ;).