Chapter 39: The Champion Revealed
“Don’t come any closer,” Cordelia screeched as the vampire rose to his knees on the bed obviously planning to make some move toward her. The bedcovers fell away to reveal the same expanse of muscular torso, the same tempting package beneath the stretchy black boxers, the same hard thighs as her mate.
The body she recognized, but his eyes held the difference. From the first, she had been able to tell Angelus apart from Angel, but the vampire currently teasing her with those molten stares was neither one as far as Cordelia could tell. That thought alone was enough to cause her head to spin for it meant she would have to face the reality of why this…new guy was here in place of both of her vampires.
Cordelia darted to her feet edging around the corner of the bed. When he followed her movements with that glittering gaze, she held out a hand as if warding off the way he seemed to strip her with his eyes. “Eyes off. Answer my question. Who the hell are you?”
“You tell me,” he answered almost daring her to guess.
Hadn’t she prided herself in knowing which vampire was which? Cordelia knew that she could not identify him save that everything the Moirae suggested meant that he was their champion. His dark eyes shone with the inner light of someone she did not recognize.
Speaking with the determination to hold back the welling panic springing deep within her, Cordelia admitted, “I don’t know you.”
“Yes you do.”
“Huh.”
Cordelia reached the other side of the bed, conscious of his continued stare as she grabbed the cordless phone from its cradle. Despite his assurance that she knew him, there was a distinct feeling of confusion pounding at her chest. Besides, if this was truly Angelus or Angel neither one would have delayed revealing their identity.
Thank God for speed dial.
A groan sounded on the other end. “Mm-hngh? Yes. Hello?”
“Giles! I need you here now.” Cordelia didn’t pause for preliminaries barely giving the Watcher time to ask her what was wrong. “I-I can’t say. Just come. No! Don’t bring the others. Come alone. Now. I don’t care if the others are expecting you to call them. Just get your British butt over here.”
She pressed the off button. “Sheesh! If you were attacking me, I’d be dead by now.”
“Put the phone down, Cordelia,” he ordered while getting out of bed. “There is no need to be afraid of me.”
“Then tell me who you are.”
“…”
“Hah! Even you can’t tell me.” Pushing the power button on the phone again, a dial tone sounded as Cordelia moved her thumb to the speed dial for Buffy Summer’s house. “We’ll see how you respond to having the Slayer in your face for the rest of the day.”
With a speed that made her head swim, the vampire appeared directly in front of her and wrested the phone from her grasp before she could punch in the code. Tossing it over his shoulder, he sent the phone flying to the middle of the bed where it bounced once on the mattress before settling amidst the covers. His hands came down on her shoulders, not only holding her in place, but caressing them with his thumbs as he leaned in to scent the trace of dried blood along her throat.
Jerking back, Cordelia slapped at his chest. The panic was starting to win out rising in her throat as a high-pitched shriek, “Personal bubble!”
“I’d like to make it personal, sweetheart,” he returned smoothly causing a shudder to zip down her spine.
Cordelia stared at him as she backed into the bedside chair stopping her progress. It was that husky octave in his tone and the choice of his words that made her wonder. He’d called her sweetheart. “A-Angel?”
“Guess again, love.”
“I’m not your love,” Cordelia snapped at him. At least she didn’t think so. Angelus wouldn’t act this way. Not to her. So the guy admitted that he wasn’t Angel. The twinge of pain that thought brought was countered only by the hope that this was actually her mate playing some twisted vampire game. Doubting it, but having to ask just the same, “Angelus?”
“Want to try again?” He gave her a look that suggested he was expecting her to see the truth. “Just keep in mind…three strikes and you’re out.”
More games. Cordelia narrowed her eyes as she told him, “I’m giving Giles the third guess. After that you or the Moirae better have a damn good explanation.”
“Forget the Moirae.”
“Huh! That’s easy for you to say Mister Mystery Vamp. Tell me the truth,” Cordelia pleaded with him for any news that would explain what the Fates had done to her vampires.
Once again, he came to stand in front of her, invading her space like he belonged there. Touching her hair this time, his fingers weaved through the soft tresses as his eyes continued to travel the course of her luscious curves. Cordelia grabbed the navy robe piled up on the chair, shoving her arms into the sleeves and wrapping herself up in its thin protective covering. Crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes as he responded to her defensive move with soft throaty laughter.
“Get out!” Cordelia yelled at him. “This is my bedroom. Find one of your own.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Dropping the hand that pointed him toward the door back to her side, she attempted another technique. “Not leaving? Then I am. My parents will probably let me stay in my old room.”
The threat of her departure was no bluff, he realized. Holding onto her upper arms, he pulled her close to his body forcing Cordelia to crane her neck in order to meet his gaze. “I don’t think so, lover. The Fates didn’t put me in your bed intending to allow you to walk away.”
“You said to forget the Fates,” Cordelia struggled against his hold managing only to stomp on his bare foot with her own and dig her fingernails into his waist. “Besides, I won’t be walking away from you. I’m taking my Corvette.”
“And one more thing,” she added for good measure. “I’m not your lover.”
“You will be,” he seemed confident enough to phrase it as a promise.
Shaking her head, Cordelia denied it. As far as she was concerned, he was a stranger that looked like the men she loved. With his hands on her and his cheek now rubbing against hers, Cordelia felt the tears start to gather. As his mouth hovered over hers, she reminded him softly, “Giles is coming soon.”
“Let him come.” Instead of kissing her, he backed off contenting himself with holding her in his arms.
Staring at up him, Cordelia heard the quiver in her voice as she asked him, “They’re gone, aren’t they, both Angel and Angelus?”
“What happened was fated.”
That stirred her anger again warring with the agony now gripping her heart in a vice. “You think I give a rat’s ass about fate? I loved them! I loved them both. I thought…I thought the Moirae would leave me one of them.”
Her pain was unacceptable, but the vampire knew it to be part of the natural course of her grief. Naturally, Cordelia would see this as a conflict where none existed in his own mind. Trying to comfort her, he assured Cordelia, “The Moirae gave you both.”
“Both?” Cordelia caught onto the doubt in his voice immediately.
“I have their memories, Cordelia,” he revealed while realizing the fact for himself. “I have all of their memories. Liam, Angelus and Angel’s. Memories of everything they have done. Memories of you.”
Cordelia tried to reason out what he was saying, but came to the decision that based on everything else he told her that this situation had no similarity to the vampire she knew before Angel and Angelus were separated. “So it’s not like it was before? With Angelus being there?”
“No. There are no voices in my head, Cor. Their experiences are mine,” he admitted, “but I’m not them.”
“Hah!” Cordelia felt as if she had caught him with the truth. “Told you.”
Attempting to explain it, but coming off rather cryptically, he told her, “Individually, they were only a part of who I am.”
“Then who are you, dammit!”
Now giving her a simplistic answer, “I’m…just me.”
“Pfft!”
“Don’t pfft me.”
“Pfft! I can do anything I want. You have no claim over me,” Cordelia countered with a gleam of triumph.
Only the fact that the triumphal look was echoed in his eyes gave Cordelia pause to wonder if he knew something she didn’t. The chime of the doorbell interrupted them and Cordelia expectantly awaited her release from his arms. When it didn’t come as quickly as she figured, her attention turned back from the direction of the doorway to the vampire who seemed to be staring at the exposed turn of her throat with one purpose in mind.
“Giles is here,” she prompted hoping to distract him away from his obvious intention to claim her here and now.
“Mmm,” he murmured against her throat as his lips and teeth teased at the soft flesh of her neck. “Let him wait.”
Holding her in a way that prevented Cordelia from reaching up to pull his hair, he made no effort to stop tasting her skin. It was only when Cordelia stiffened in his arms and the scent of her escalating fear began to overshadow her usual intoxicating scent that he lifted his head from her throat. Claiming Cordelia was something the vampire had every intention of doing. She belonged to him. The Moirae said so, the sigil of the Order said so, and he wanted it that way.
“Go to the Watcher,” he released her with a soft kiss against her startled mouth. “I’ll put some clothes on.”
Like a deer caught in the headlights, Cordelia simply stared at him trying to figure out why he let her go. Then realizing that she was free, darted in the direction of the stairs exiting the bedroom as fast as she could go determined to have a minute or two alone with Giles before he showed up.
Cordelia pulled open the door to find Giles standing outside wearing a tweed jacket over his burgundy pajamas. No wonder he had gotten there so quickly. The man had literally jumped out of bed, thrown his jacket and slippers on and gotten into his car.
“What’s with the stake?” She asked him curiously noting he carried one at the ready.
Glancing down at it, Giles commented, “You sounded scared over the telephone. This was just in case.”
“In case the vampire decided to politely come to the door to let you in?” Cordelia let out a snort and waved him inside.
Lowering the weapon, Giles tucked it into his jacket pocket. As Cordelia closed the door behind him, he stepped further into the foyer which looked to be in the same state of disarray as they had left it last night. No sign of the Moirae’s champion in sight, he realized just as it occurred to him that Cordelia hadn’t used a name when suggesting it might have been the vampire at the door.
“What is it you couldn’t tell me over the phone?” He saw her calm mask slip and fall away replaced by glittering tears that fell in fat dollops down both cheeks. Combined with her silence, Rupert Giles knew that his worst suspicions had come to pass. Neither personality had survived the night.
Doing the only thing he could, Giles opened his arms and let the weeping teenager rush into them. Trying to comfort the girl was the least he could do in return for her support after Jenny’s untimely death at Angelus’ hands. The uncharacteristic crying was certain understandable if his suspicions were true, but he had to confirm them.
“The Moirae’s champion is here in the mansion?” Giles received a confirmatory grunt and the nod of her dark head against his chest.
Progress. Now for a more difficult question. “The champion is a vampire.”
Another nod.
“But not Angelus,” Giles assumed that to be true from the number of tears gathering on his pajama top.
More silence followed. Not even a grunt or a wail to indicate that Angelus was not the vampire chosen by the Moirae as their champion. Only the stiffening of Cordelia’s clinging frame suggested an answer.
“Angel?” He asked with equal hesitancy in his voice because he had a feeling that were either one of the vampires present Cordelia would not have required him to rush over to the mansion.
Cordelia swallowed thickly and let out a shaky sigh before managing to speak the one word Giles was waiting for. Delivering it with only a whisper of sound, it was accompanied by all the pain welling in her heart. “No.”
“So who is it?” Giles voiced curiously eliciting a sound from the brunette suggesting he had asked something wrong.
“Turn around, Watcher, and find out,” the voice sent a cold shiver down his spine as Giles reacted with recognition and surprise. With a stealthy approach, the vampire had made no sound coming down the stairs and crossing the foyer floor to stand at his back.
Giles wasn’t certain why he reacted that way to the simple comment other than it meant he was about to face the unknown in the form of the familiar. He waited to turn as Cordelia was busily wiping her eyes with the front of his pajama top leaving dark mascara streaks behind. Keeping a supportive arm around her, Giles whirled them around.
“I’m feeling a little overdressed,” the vampire commented drolly glancing at the pair in front of him.
Sputtering a bit, Giles realized that both he and Cordelia were in an untidy state of undress. Compared to the vampire’s immaculate appearance in a royal blue shirt and black pants, it certainly seemed that one of them was dressed inappropriately for the occasion. Tweed and striped cotton were not exactly what he would have selected to meet the Moirae’s champion for the first time under normal circumstances.
“I-I was concerned for Cordelia. The phone call she made suggested that she needed my help,” Giles defended his state of dress as emergency response. “So I came over immediately.”
“Very touching, Rupert,” the vampire responded smoothly meeting the Watcher eye to eye as he strolled closer. “Giving Cordelia a shoulder to cry on this way is so kind and fatherly of you.”
It was not the tone of his voice, but the pointed stare that suggested the vampire hinted his concern might be based on something less parental by nature. Evidenced by the fact that his arm was around Cordelia’s shoulder and her arms remained around his waist. Finally, it dawned on him that no matter who this vampire was, he remained completely territorial when it came to Cordelia Chase.
Fascinating, Giles thought even as he extracted himself out of Cordelia’s arms to put some distance between them.
Cordelia gave the Watcher a confused look as if he was taking away a blanket of protection without explanation. She eyed the vampire suspiciously. “Did you threaten Giles?”
“Me? Threaten the Watcher?” He gave her a look of pure innocence complete with a pair of puppy dog eyes. “All I did was thank him for responding so quickly to your call. After all, he did promise Angelus he would look after you.”
Finding nothing to prove it, Cordelia glanced over at Giles whose face remained calm and without a hint of anything to suggest he was feeling threatened. Except that his hand had wandered into the pocket of his jacket where he’d put the wooden stake.
“I knew it!” Cordelia whirled around so that the oversized navy robe slid right off her shoulder revealing the golden skin beneath. Stalking up to the vampire, she poked him in the chest. “Don’t think you can get away with that crap. I know possessive vampire behavior when I see it and you have no right to play that card with me.”
He found her fury enchanting. Reaching in, the vampire curled one hand around the nape of her neck and brought his mouth down on hers in a heated kiss that left her gasping for breath. Looking even more beautiful with her kiss-swollen lips, Cordelia attempted to smack his face only to have her hand caught and returned to her side.
“I have every right.” A growl of discontent sounded, but it came from the depths of Cordelia’s throat causing the vampire to smirk in response. To her further irritation, he straightened her robe before tucking her into his side and suggesting to Giles that they continue the discussion in the kitchen.
The Watcher had observed the entire exchange with a combination of fascination and concern. At the vampire’s mention of the kitchen, he commented, “I could do with a cup of tea.”
“Is that all he has to say?” Cordelia muttered under her breath. “Tea: the solution to everything.”
Leaning toward her ear as they walked, the vampire whispered conspiratorially, “Just between you and me, babe. I heard that.”
“Let. Go. Of. Me.” Cordelia enunciated the words through clenched teeth. Whispering furiously with another reminder about her personal bubble which went ignored until they reached the kitchen. Springing away from him at the first opportunity, Cordelia scampered to the other side of the island where she busied herself with making Giles his tea.
The Watcher and the vampire sat down across the table from one another with the latter appearing completely comfortable with his surroundings while the former did not. Giles fidgeted in his chair while gathering his thoughts for the slew of questions in his head.
“So Cordelia tells me that you are neither Angelus nor Angel,” Giles started off with the basics. On the other side of the kitchen, Cordelia slammed the metal tea kettle down on the stove causing him to jump in response to the sudden noise.
“I am both, but neither,” the vampire responded after a pause.
Cordelia let out a loud, “Pfft! Cryptic much?”
On the contrary, Giles found the logic quite simple. “You are a unique entity with the essence and memory of those who came before you.”
“I think so.”
“Fascinating,” Giles murmured. Then turning to share his enthusiasm with Cordelia, he remembered the teenager had another opinion altogether. She sent him a harsh glare cutting him off mid-sentence as he was adding, “I find this all quite—”
Turning on her heel, Cordelia opened up the refrigerator taking out the remaining orange juice and the container of pig blood. Setting them on the counter, she went to pull down a mug to heat up the blood, but found only two choices in the cabinet. One belonged to Angelus and the other to Angel. Like she would give one of their mugs to him. Pfft! Not likely.
She returned the blood to the refrigerator, stubbornly refusing to consider any other methods of warming it for the vampire.
Fixing her own orange juice, Cordelia saw there was only a small amount remaining. Apparently Willow used most of it for her pink concoction. Finishing off the quarter of a glass of juice, Cordelia suddenly realized she couldn’t remember what happened after Angelus carried her upstairs last night.
Those missing hours kept her mind occupied until the whistling of the tea kettle snapped her out of her thoughts. Then overhearing Giles’ next question, she nearly dropped the kettle onto the floor.
“Do you plan to call yourself Angelus or Angel?”
The vampire started to respond, “I hadn’t—,” when Cordelia let out a yelp of pain in response to touching the hot kettle with her bare hand. No sooner had she screamed than he was at her side lifting the kettle to the stove and examining her hands for any sign of injury.
Giles hopped out of his chair, stepping over to the island. “Oh, dear. Run your hands under the cold water. Perhaps they won’t blister.”
Pure discontent sounded in the form of a low rumble from the vampire’s chest at the thought that Cordelia might be burned. “Do as he says.”
He turned on the water for her and waited by her side until he was satisfied that she left them under long enough.
“Enough with the attention already,” Cordelia complained. “I’m fine. I barely touched the thing.”
“Let me see.”
Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she held her hands out for inspection. “See? All better now.”
“This happened because of Rupert’s question,” he presumed correctly. “You don’t think I should call myself Angelus.”
“Obvious much?”
While drying her hands with a kitchen towel, he explained why she would have to get used to hearing it. “The name is a part of my heritage as a vampire. Angelus and the shorter version Angel will remain with me as a reminder of my origins.”
Snatching her hands away from him, Cordelia demanded, “Pick another name. Hmm. A name for a champion. How about Lancelot? No? Seymour?”
“Seymour?”
“No. Not vampy enough. Vladamir? I suppose that’s been used.”
Giles cleared his throat in hopes of gaining Cordelia’s attention. Any moment now he expected the vampire was going to explode with rage. Considering that was what the previous two versions of this vampire would have done being suddenly faced with a suggestion that they willingly go by the monikers of Elmo, Barney, Clarence. Being a Rupert by birth rather than choice, Giles figured the vampire would not take kindly to the suggestions.
Instead, he patiently waited for Cordelia to run out of names and air before boxing her in against the kitchen counter. Without looking away from the bright hazel orbs that had his attention, he commanded Giles, “Tell her who I am, Watcher.”
All evidence thus far pointed to the fact that all of Giles’ theories on the subject were correct. “Lakhesis told us of the Moirae’s plans, Cordelia. They planned to fashion a champion from the existence and experience of the human Liam, the demon Angelus and the souled Angel. Through the many trials of life and death, suffering, inflicting pain and experiencing love, they created situations to produce desired outcomes, but only if their future champion followed the path they set before him.”
Giles really needed that tea right now, but forced himself to continue despite his frazzled nerves. “One of those situations resulted in the gypsy curse that not only gave Angelus a soul, but fragmented his psyche. Again, this was a tool used to shape the champion through his experiences. Only recently the separation of those two distinct personalities allowed Angelus and Angel to exist in physical form at the same time.”
“They fought the Good Fight,” Cordelia cut into Giles’ oratory still seeking answers. Fighting back a sob as she stared up at the vampire’s handsome face, “They didn’t deserve to die.”
The Watcher corrected, “They did not die. Angelus and Angel have simply been cured as only the Moirae could accomplish.”
Now glancing over her shoulder, she repeated the word as a question, “Cured?”
“The Moirae merged them back together, but fixed the split personality problem,” he told her. “The vampire here today is actually a hybrid of Angelus and Angel. With a certain amount of Liam added to the mix. He is the vampire he should have been if the curse hadn’t had that unexpected side effect.”
“Both, but neither,” Cordelia found the words sinking in. “What about his soul?”
Giles was a bit stumped on that one. “I presume he has one.”
“Can’t you tell?”
“Sorry,” he answered dryly. “I left my soul detector in my other jacket.”
“I was talking to him,” she nodded toward the vampire who continued to keep her within the enclosed frame of his arms and the cabinet.
The Watcher felt heat sweep up to his ears. “Oh. Right, then.”
“Yes, I have a soul.”
“Any other side effects for your soul left over from that gypsy curse? Say, you losing it?”
Giles cut in again, almost excitedly as he realized, “The soul is permanent. Not only would the Moirae ensure it, but there is no separate Angelus to emerge.”
“Were you planning to make me happy just so you could have your mate back?”
With a shocked look, Cordelia denied it vehemently. “Make you happy? I won’t even make you breakfast.”
“We’ll see about that Cordelia Chase.”
Asking warily, she questioned him, “Which part?”
“Take a guess, sweetheart,” the vampire smirked. “We can discuss it after Rupert leaves.”
“Giles isn’t leaving.”
“Well, actually,” the Watcher began when he caught the vampire’s gaze, “perhaps I should head back home.”
“No!” Cordelia turned around so that she faced Giles from across the island only to feel the vampire shift closer so that his hips pressed into her curved bottom. “Before you came, Elmo here tried to bite me.”
“El—,” Giles released a long sigh. Then with more concern, “He tried to bite you?”
“Hello! Vampire.” Cordelia reminded him. “He thinks he has some claim on me. Just because Angelus is part of who he is— kinda. Tell him, Giles.”
“Tell him what?”
For someone who was so smart, Rupert Giles could be so damn dense at times. “It’s simple. Just tell him that he has no claim on me.”
Giles removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as if a sudden headache hit him. Why were there no simple questions? In fact, Giles preferred complicated ones, but not when issuing information out to people who might not like what they were going to hear.
“First off, let’s clear up the issue about the name,” Giles pleaded. “I’m not going to keep calling him ‘The Vampire’ all day.”
“Just call him Clarence,” Cordelia suggested with a straight face while simultaneously elbowing the vampire in the stomach as he trailed the back of his fingers down the curve of her spine.
She sensed he was laughing at her, but refused to turn around to call him on it. Even Giles appeared to be fighting off something, but Cordelia doubted it was laughter. He had Frustration Face on, quickly replacing his glasses as a shield to cover it up as if that did any good.
“Angelo? Jello for short?” Cordelia almost couldn’t stop herself. The thought of calling someone who seemed like a stranger to her by the name of her mate or his brother was not pleasant. It would be a constant reminder of what she had lost.
“Somehow, I don’t think he wants to be known as Jello,” Giles drolled realizing just how indulgent the vampire was being with the girl. Although the Watcher noted that he seemed to be unable to keep his hands off of her. No wonder Cordelia found this unsettling.
Cordelia sensed she was fighting a losing battle with the names, but wasn’t about to give up. “Just trying to be helpful.”
“I see that,” Giles sent the vampire a sympathetic look before he realized what he was doing. “So what’s it to be? Angelus or Angel?”
“Angelus D’Aurelius is the formal version and Angel the shorter variation. To me, they have equal meaning,” the vampire declared. “I have no preference for one versus the other. Call me whichever you are comfortable with.”
Giles nodded in agreement. Despite his recent peaceable dealings with the soulless version of the vampire, the name of Angelus himself would always bring back painful memories. Given a choice, he made it quickly, “Angel it is.”
A distinct grumbling sounded from Cordelia who attempted to move away from her trapped position only to find that she couldn’t budge. Practically draped across her back, her captor rested his cheek on her hair to tell her softly, “I suggest that you don’t squirm so much.”
There was no need to ask the reason. Cordelia could feel it pressing into her behind. She watched a red flush creep onto Giles’ face. Obviously, he’d overheard. The man was only two feet away for cripes sake. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. With a gasp, Cordelia held herself completely still trying to ignore the lengthening hardness actively announcing its presence.
“This is the problem, Giles. Gropey Vamp thinks he has a claim of some kind. That he can touch me. That he can bite me,” she added with emphasis. “Tell him he can’t. Go ahead! Tell him.”
While Giles figured the job of telling the vampire that touching and biting were off limits was actually Cordelia’s, he realized there was more to it than her discomfort with Angel’s closeness.
Resuming Watcher’s mode, Giles figured that this combined version of Angelus and Angel retained feelings and memories that gave him certain preexisting ties to the brunette.
Perhaps it was better to start with what Angel believed his claim to be. Asking gave Giles more information than he realized was coming. Since the ritual of claiming was entirely tied up with vampire sexuality, he also found himself stuttering through his questions while Cordelia impatiently rolled her eyes at him.
“So Angelus couldn’t—,” Giles faltered a bit before starting to rephrase the question. “He wasn’t able to—.”
“Bite me,” Cordelia filled in with a huff. “Virtual handcuffs courtesy of the Fates. No biting humans, remember?”
Giles gave her a look realizing that she was actually angry about the fact rather than relieved. Glancing back to Angel, he queried, “So you have no doubts about your own ability to—”
“Perform?” Angel smirked at the human’s inability to complete a sentence.
“Function. No doubt the Moirae took care of that little issue since they created it in the first place as a deterrent while Angelus was supposed to be focusing on all things non-demonic in his vampiric nature,” Giles covered his discomfort over the topic with a long explanation.
Angel told him, “I’m certain Cordelia knows I function quite well. My ability is not in question, Rupert. She doubts my rights and wants you to convince me that they don’t exist.”
“You must consider that you are technically a stranger to her,” Giles pointed out. “While you may possess the appearance and full memories of Angelus and the original Angel, in Cordelia’s mind you are not them no matter that you are a combination of both.”
The Watcher’s response was not what Angel wanted to hear. So he informed Giles, “Makes no difference. Cordelia bears my mark.”
“I do not!”
“Yes, you do, Cor. Your skin bears a sigil of the Order of Aurelius,” reminded Angel. “That gives me the right to claim you.”
Cordelia hurriedly stated, “No it doesn’t.”
Still thinking about Angel’s reasoning, Giles skipped over the automatic rejection of the vampire’s theory. Confirming with Cordelia, “You have a tattoo?”
She nodded. “I’m surprised Xander didn’t say something. He was drooling to see it.”
In fact, Giles was quite interested himself…from a historian’s perspective of course. “I wouldn’t mind—”
“No,” Angel denied him the opportunity to finish his sentence much less take a look at Cordelia’s tattoo. Describing the sigil, he told the Watcher, “You’ll have to take my word for it that it exists and that it is a true mark of the Order.”
Disappointed, Giles accepted the vampire’s decision, but realized that Angelus had been unable to claim his mate through the usual vampiric ritual of bloodplay. He chose to make his mark another way. Now noticing Angel was wearing the Ring of the Master, his sleep deprived brain slowly came to a realization that Cordelia was not going to like his answer. Nor would the vampire considering his clear intentions toward making a claim on the brunette.
Why am I always the bearer of bad tidings? Giles complained silently. Best get on with it then.
“Cordelia, when you became Angelus’ mate and accepted the mark of the tattoo, it was technically no different in your eyes or his that it was a symbol of your bond.” Giles cleared his throat before continuing and watched as her hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion at the direction he was going with this. “You became an official member of the Order of Aurelius.”
“With him so far, babe?”
Detecting the confidence in the question, she reluctantly let out an affirmatory, “Mm-hmm.”
“As Angel is in possession of the Master’s ring,” Giles pointed out, “that makes him the head of the order. By mere association, vampiric laws and tradition make you… uh, technically his.”
“Mine.” The husky sound of his voice rumbled in her ear.
Turning around to face him, Cordelia shoved at his chest until Angel gave her some room. “First off, you can just forget about that. Angelus was my mate. You’re not. Try anything that involves your fangs and my neck if I don’t want it and I’ll make sure the Moirae’s champion fits in a dustpan. Got it?”
“Got it, sweetheart.” Angel only threw her own words back at her, “If you don’t want it.”
Was he actually suggesting that she did? That he could make her want it? Pfft! “Get a life. Stop trying to steal Angelus’ by being all grabby, gropey and possessive about me.”
“His life is already mine. We are meant to be together, Cordelia,” he answered with a dangerous gleam in his dark brown eyes. “Get used to it.”
Cordelia huffed and told Giles of her plans to go to her parents’ house to escape the unwanted attention of this New Guy. “Don Juan can’t keep his paws to himself, so I’m leaving as soon as I can get dressed.”
“Not likely,” warned Angel almost too calmly. His expressive eyes told quite another story suggesting he would physically restrain Cordelia before he let her walk away from him, especially considering the memories of her doing that once before. “You’ll be tied to my bed before I let that happen.”
“Giles won’t let you do that,” Cordelia returned never doubting the fact that the vampire would do it if he could get away with such a thing. “Would you Giles?”
There was an uncomfortable pause as the Watcher kept receiving silent signals from Angel suggesting that he should stay out of this business. Giles would have loved to keep out of it. Now that he was here, he felt obligated to speak his mind. “There is no need to tie you up, Cordelia. However, I do think you should reconsider leaving the mansion. The Moirae did tell us that you were intended to remain at the side of their champion.”
Grmph! That wasn’t what Giles was supposed to say. Complaining, Cordelia stated, “They also said that we all have free will to make our own decisions. Just because they created their Champ Vamp doesn’t mean I want him around.”
Giles recalled Lakhesis’ words. “Cordelia, I must caution you. Lakhesis suggested that your decisions and actions would have significant affect upon Angel’s destiny as a champion for the Powers that Be. That they will set him upon a path for Good or Evil, Order or Chaos.”