Entranced: Chapter 2

"Good evening, iníon rí," came Damon's low voice. "You're truly deserving of that title tonight." Clare blushed, lowering her eyelashes. It didn't quite hide the dark circles under her eyes he was sure no one else had noticed.

"I hope you rested some before coming," Damon added hopefully.

If pallor was any indication, he knew she hadn't because her skin appeared too pale and her eyes cloudy, as if fighting the urge to give in to tiredness.

Clare's long hair danced in the breeze as she offered him a wan smile. "I rested well enough." She patted the seat beside her. "Come sit."

Damon sat down in the spot indicated, stretching his long muscular legs out in front of him. Despite her pallor, Clare still looked beautiful. Her ebony-colored hair had been pulled back on the sides and the rest flowing freely behind her, framing a striking face with soft features. She wore a dark blue gown that hugged her body, emphasizing a femininity that made rare appearances, and matched the color of her eyes. Eyes that still held a look of confusion in them.

So, he thought to himself, I didn't imagine it, after all. He'd asked himself about it after he'd left, wondering if it had just been wishful thinking. After rethinking that she had almost drowned, however, Damon had just attributed her reaction to shock.

Damon had known she was coming to this party but she hadn't known he was going to be here. He felt glad that Clare had taken his presence here in stride, or at least seemed to be. He could have gone to any number of parties tonight but he wanted to check on her. At least that's what he'd told himself.

It was an awkward transition, Damon thought, looking at her. A little ball of nerves built up in his stomach. It wasn't altogether an unpleasant feeling, especially having grown accustomed to pushing it aside over the last couple of years. When they'd become friends as children, Damon had thought of her as another sister. Over the years, however, his feelings toward her had felt less and less like that of a brother. He knew she didn't know; her heart was like an open book and he could read her with ease. Despite his feelings over the last couple years, or perhaps because of them, he never felt quite comfortable in their 'best friend' intimacy, especially when it brought him into close proximity with her femininity.

Being Clare's best friend did have its benefits, though, as he'd always made sure she was safe from other lads awakening her awareness. Damon grinned wickedly at that thought. He wondered how much awareness she felt now.

Whatever she felt, Damon knew for certain she was distracted. Even someone who hadn't known her most of her life could see that. Her eyebrows furrowed together as if she were contemplating the creation of the heavens. And, whatever it was, it was probably good, too, Damon thought, seeing her blush yet again.

As if Clare had been reading Damon's thoughts, she shifted her attention to glance around at the garden full of party-goers. Damon followed her gaze, noticing that the garden had become surprisingly full of people. The party had gotten quite busy without either of them realizing it.

"This is some party," Damon commented. Clare seemed to marvel at the variety of clothes and people she saw. Some were dressed in casual wear while others adorned traditional costumes. It was an odd combination of normal and fantastical. It was truly spectacular. "Have you ever been to a party like this before?" he queried.

He couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her since he'd noticed a change in the way she looked at him and behaved around him. Clare shook her head.

"I've been to Midsummer's parties before, but I've never been to a celebration this large before. Have you?"

Damon thought of the party he'd managed to sneak out of at his own home and grimaced. His family had thrown their second Midsummer's fiasco this year. The last one they'd had five years ago had been a disaster.

"Yes, I have." Damon smiled at Clare. "But I like this one better." Especially with you here, looking at me like that, Damon added mentally, as Clare looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time.

"I think we should go for a walk, Damon," Clare said, a little too fast. Her face looked flushed. Damon didn't know why he felt so self-satisfied that she looked unsettled around him this evening, but he did. He relished it.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Damon answered. Only when Clare offered him her arm and Damon stood up to accept did she seem to realize how close they were to one another. Her eyes depicted a flurry of chaos going on inside. Damon's chest swelled, joy causing tingles along his ribcage. It was damn entertaining, a lot more than staying home would have been. In fact, it was starting to look like it'd be the best evening he'd had in a long time.

As Damon felt the warmth of her arm penetrating his, he felt her pulse speed up. Yes, she was definitely being affected. That knowledge made his own heart race faster. Damon knew Clare felt things she didn't understand. Knowing her the way he did, though, he knew she'd be determined to pretend nothing had changed.

Damon saw her inner battle. A small part of him cheered, while another told him that it didn't matter anyway.

They walked along in silence at first, admiring the beauty of the night. The stars shined brightly in the sky and the air hummed with the lively strains of the violin. Everything about her seemed magnified. He could smell a faint flowered scent radiating from her hair, could hear the soft rustling of her dress as they walked, could feel the gentle warmth of her arm seeping into his. He glanced at her through lowered lashes. He didn't think she realized she was being abnormally quiet but she appeared to be deep in thought with a small frown appearing in the middle of her forehead. He wanted to run his hands over her forehead and smooth away her frown, or to brush his lips against her hair and feel its silky softness, but outside of feeling foolish, he really had no idea how she would react.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

What is wrong with me, Clare thought to herself. I'm not like Lissy so why can't I stop thinking about Damon as if he were some special entree to be savored? She had never been so intensely aware of him. She felt surrounded by him, his body radiating warmth that started where his arm was touching hers and seemed to permeate inside her whole body, warding off the chill of the night air. While this newfound warmth felt delicious, some part of her longed for him to wrap his arms around her and make all these strange new sensations go away. Clare knew deep down inside her that even though her best friend had been protecting her from her misadventures since early childhood, this time he couldn't save her. She felt his leisurely pace by her side and wondered if he'd noticed something different as well.

Clare felt more than saw Damon pausing to look at her as they meandered to the edge of the crowd. "Are you okay, Clare? Really okay?" he asked her.

Having known Damon most of her life, she knew by the tone of his voice that he really was concerned about her. She tried to look down to keep him from seeing the whirl of confusion going on inside her mind, but he released her arm to put his hand on her chin, pulling it up delicately, as if she were something fragile. She knew it was a mistake as soon as his hand touched her. Her heart started pounding furiously and a liquid warmth settled in her stomach.

"I-- I don't know..." she stammered. She could barely hear herself through the drumming of her heart. She thought Damon must surely hear it too. She turned her head away and started walking again, slow and measured steps, trying to collect her thoughts. "I don't know what's wrong with me," she admitted in a strained voice. "I haven't been myself since this afternoon."

Clare heard Damon call her name but she kept walking. She had to get herself under control, she thought, as she willed herself to regain her calm. Behind her, Damon's footsteps crunched rhythmically, his careful strides matching her pace with ease. They walked side by side for a while with Clare looking around at the large garden. The landscaped area was huge, even for such a lavish estate, and the gardens were tended with care, with nary a leaf or flower out of place.

After only a few moments of continued silence, they stopped at what appeared to be shrubs grown into a fence. Clare paused, feeling Damon's nearness as a warm presence against the chilled air. It was a sudden awareness that made Clare realize they were far from the crowd where no one could see them and the music had changed from a lively beat to something soft and slow.

A part of Clare started to panic as she heard him walking toward her. "Iníon rí," he called in a soft, soothing voice. "Come dance with me." It almost sounded like a question as he held out his hands. "Everything will be alright."

If only I could believe that, Clare thought to herself.

Clare felt her pulse pick up as she looked up at Damon once again. Her heart hammered louder in her chest. When he looked at her the way he was looking at her now, calling to her with such gentleness, she realized all her attempts at trying to behave as if nothing had happened were failing miserably. All she wanted to do at this moment was to accept the reassurance he was offering. Even though a dance to this kind of music required close contact, she hoped she would be able to think with enough clarity to question him as she'd been wanting to since late afternoon at the riverbank.

Walking toward Damon's outstretched arms, Clare felt a flame of desire ignite within her. For what, she didn't know.

"Will everything really be okay?" Clare wasn't sure if she had said it aloud or if it had been a passing thought.

He nodded slowly, looking a little doubtful. It was a little reassurance to Clare that his normal self-composure was shaken up when she felt as if her world had turned upside down. She placed her small hand in his larger one and saw the tiniest glimmer of hope in his smokey green eyes. It was unusual to see Damon's confidence shaken. Her heart skipped a beat as if anticipating what Clare could not know.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Damon's invitation to dance had been a simple matter of trying to ferret out the depth of Clare's newly acquired awareness, his attempt at alleviating the awkwardness that might develop. Having her here, like this, his heart thumped in rapid succession, and he forgot everything but his desire to give her whatever she needed, even if it meant pretending nothing had changed between them.

He felt her place her other hand on his shoulder, then took in his surroundings all at the same time. The sweet slow sound of the violin drifting over the night air, the bright twinkling of the stars above, Clare's soft warm body ensconced in his arms with her long black hair swaying with the movement of their bodies, and the light breeze that seemed to breathe over their skin. All these small things combined to make the moment feel magical, like he was a pirate dancing with his willingly stolen princess. He enjoyed the moment as if there wouldn't be moments like this in the future. He leaned his head closer to hers, breathing in her soft flowery scent.

The stars seemed to dance in circles above them as they turned left and right, following the music. Despite the magic of it all, Damon wondered if it wasn't a mistake. Trying to maintain a brotherly distance was playing havoc with his desire for her to be aware of him the way he felt aware of her. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare Clare away from him by allowing her to see more than he wanted her to see. He didn't wait all this time for the right moment, just to screw it up by being too hasty. He sighed, sending a silent prayer that he could control himself.

Damon felt Clare close her eyes as her head rested against his chest. Then, as if she were restless, he felt her wiggle her dainty fingers against his forearms before she took a deep breath. Questions were coming, Damon sensed, smiling. Then she lifted her head, looking up into Damon's eyes.


"Damon?" she started cautiously.

"Hmmm?" Damon's chest rumbled against her as he brought his gaze to hers.

Clare's eyelashes fluttered in her shyness and a faint blush stained her cheeks.

Clare's demonstration of sincere innocence was a difficult temptation. A fierce tug of longing swept through Damon as he admired this new blushing Clare. It was amazing how blushing could add new dimensions to beauty. The thing that got him was that she didn't seem to know it.

As Clare ran her tongue across her lips to moisten them, Damon itched to run his fingers across them, or better yet, to brush his lips across hers and moisten them for her.

Damon wasn't sure he was happy or not that Clare seemed clueless about his lascivious thoughts. And clueless she was as she asked him her next question.

"I'm not imagining things have changed, am I?" Clare continued, looking down and measuring each word out slowly. She raised her eyes to his once more.

Damon could feel his thin veil of control slipping away from him but Clare's question, asked in innocence, made him lose all pretense of control. When her earnest eyes looked into his, he could see his desire mirrored there. As if some invisible force pulled him against his will, he felt his head lower, his mouth seeking out hers. His hands slid around her back to cradle her and bring her closer. Awareness of anything but her left him.

Damon felt Clare's body stiffen slightly as his lips brushed against hers, gentle pressure urging her to return the favor. At first her response was slow and timid, but when he moistened her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, he felt her lean into him as her muscles relaxed against his body.

He kept the kiss soft and brief, fearing he would have an overwhelming response to it. As it stood, he would be lucky if she didn't find out the extent of his appreciation of their shared kiss. Clare had reacted in a way that he'd never anticipated. His response had been simple and instantaneous, hot blood rushing to all the wrong places, at least wrong if you had good intentions. He pulled his mouth from hers and had to wrap his arms around her tighter to make sure she didn't fall, or maybe so he would just have a reason to continue holding her.

An awkward silence filled the air as the music had ended and the kiss was over. To overcome his discomfort, Damon resorted to teasing Clare. Over the years, it had become as natural to him as breathing, even if it didn't match the way he felt.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

"You should probably breathe now," Damon advised. He couldn't quite keep the humor out of his voice. As if sharing the same desire to end the moment of awkwardness, Clare pushed at Damon's chest in mock exasperation, sparks of her old self coming back to her now.

"Thank you for that incredible scientific observation," she retorted, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Her characteristic sarcasm was part of her charm, at least in her opinion. She released Damon in jerky movements, testing her weight on both feet before letting go of his arms.

That astonishing kiss had happened at such an unexpected moment, seeming to take them both by surprise. She was glad he'd been able to pull away at the last moment, although not soon enough to prevent the kiss. She couldn't muster up enough conscience to feel guilty over that though, especially when it had been so nice. She had a feeling the heat of it would resonate through her for a while to come.

Clare looked at Damon as he seemed to be surveying the area. It was the perfect time and place to get answers, Clare thought, with Damon cornered and alone in the garden.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to this party when I mentioned it to you earlier this afternoon?" Clare interrupted Damon's contemplation.

Damon looked thoughtful a moment before answering. "I honestly didn't think about it. Saving one's best friend from drowning seems to take up a lot of brain cells."

It seemed an acceptable answer, Clare thought, though not what she'd wanted to hear. Damon paused before going on.

"I still can't believe you came to the celebration after what nearly happened to you." He sounded chastising now.

Clare looked down at the ground, her cheeks turning a soft pink color. She knew what Damon said had merit but she was not the kind of girl to let a small thing like water keep her from celebrating one of the greatest holidays ever. Besides, her friends expected her to be here.

"I know if you'd told your dad about what happened, he would have made no objections to your staying at home," he continued. He seemed to be testing the water on that subject and didn't sound very pleased that she had come.

A sudden and inexplicable anger gripped Clare. She tossed her hair back behind her and gave Damon the worst glare she could come up with. How dare he presume to tell her what was best for her. A kiss didn't give him the right to tell her what to do. Aside from her own expectations of tonight, she had her father to consider as well.

"I know he wouldn't have made me come, but did it ever occur to you that I might not want to worry him by telling him what happened today? As it is, I am JUST fine!" She punctuated this statement by walking up to him and jabbing her finger into his chest.

Clare knew Damon had seen her angry before but it had been rare for her to direct it at him, and he'd usually either apologized or let her cool off before trying to talk to her again. This time, however, Damon reacted in an unexpected way, not giving Clare time to realize what he was doing before he did it. Clare felt him grab her arm and pull her into his arms once again.

Damon's lips pressed against hers as searing electricity coursed between them, melting her to his body once again. In a matter of seconds, she went from a spark of anger to an explosion of heat, her heart stirring into a succession of wild drumbeats.

A sudden rustling sound behind the shrubbery cut their heated embrace short. Clare pulled herself back, pushing at Damon's hard chest with delicate hands. She turned her head toward the shrubs to cast a suspicious glance toward the unexpected sound. Who could have sneaked past her and Damon, she asked herself, then realized that busy as they were, a marching band could have passed through. Damon was also looking.

"What was that?" Clare asked, a bit winded.

Damon looked startled more than anything. "I don't know, but I think it came from over here," he stated, his voice sounding a bit rough. He seemed to be reluctant as he released Clare from his arms with an unnecessary slow pace before stepping toward the fence. Clare followed close behind him, ever the curious one.

"As a child, my grandparents used to tell me stories about the magic that happened on Midsummer's Night," Damon told her, seeming to peer through the leaves on the bushes. "We celebrate on this night, but the 'wee people' and the fairy kingdoms celebrate too. You have to be careful though because some of them like to play tricks on people."

Damon looked into Clare's eyes, reflecting a seriousness that was at odds with Damon's usually jovial personality.

"My grandmother told me a story once about a distant cousin who, after a Midsummer's Night celebration filled with lots of whiskey, woke up the next morning in the middle of the forest without a stitch of clothing on. He claimed he kept hearing a woman's voice calling for help."

Clare shivered at that revelation. She wasn't one to believe in the supernatural but Damon's serious voice in the darkness of Midsummer's Night in an isolated part of the garden was enough to give her the creeps. Determined to confront her fears, she stepped closer to the shrub fence.

However, as she reached the edge of the fence of shrubs, she discovered that the bit of shrubbery that made a fence was not actually a fence; in fact, it appeared to be a maze. An apparently vacant maze, to be precise.

Clare rushed to the opening in the shrubs, her fear disappearing in the excitement of discovery. "This is amazing!" she exclaimed, peeking into the entrance. She glanced back at Damon to measure his reaction. He gave her a dazzling smile, but she wasn't so sure he was really smiling at the extraordinary garden.

"It is indeed," Damon responded easily. He peered around the perimeter of the maze entrance. Clare knew enough about Damon to know that was no indication that he didn't still feel uneasy being isolated at the maze entrance close to the place where whatever-that-noise-had-been had originated.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Clare felt excited about the idea of a maze, but far less than she would have been had she not had other things on her mind. Like Damon's kisses. She made a great pretense of investigating the first passage of the maze while she contemplated her evening with Damon.

She had started out with the intentions of ignoring this newfound awareness, then when she realized she couldn't, she had decided to confront him with her questions. Although, she had seen where that obviously took her. Clare smiled in remembrance. She couldn't have been mistaken about the change in their relationship, if Damon had kissed her like that.

She cast a surreptitious glance toward Damon beneath lowered lashes. In all the years of their friendship, she had never seen him behave the way he had today. It was odd how he could just turn it on and off at will, or so it seemed to her. One moment, he was kissing her like mad, the next he was treating her like his kid sister. It was a bit unnerving, mostly because she couldn't figure out what that meant.

Clare couldn't help but replay his kisses in her mind, even though on some level, she worried that she was behaving like Lissy. It made her shudder to think of it. She had liked the way he'd made her feel warm and tingly all over.

His looks had never been something she noticed before, other than as a means of recognition. She realized for the first time in her life that she could fully appreciate the differences between Damon and other lads she knew. She blushed as she dropped her gaze to his wide lips, the very same ones that had been touching hers just a few moments ago.

Clare made one final attempt to get Damon to admit to... what? Well, something, anyway. She wasn't sure what she wanted to hear, but he could tell her something, couldn't he?

"You know, you never answered my question," she said, looking him straight in his mischievous green eyes.

"I'm sure there are a lot of your questions I haven't answered over the years," Damon replied to her. She was quite certain he was avoiding her question, though she couldn't imagine why. His expression showed nothing, however, except a visible alertness that she, again, didn't quite understand. Clare was nothing if not determined, though, and she stubbornly clarified herself.

"You know exactly what question I am referring to," she said, no longer casually interested. "There's no reason to avoid answering, really. It's a simple question." Then she saw the look in Damon's eyes. He seemed to be about to say something, but changed his mind.

"Let me ask you the same question then." Damon stared at her intently. "Has something changed?" His voice seemed to emphasize the first word. Clare looked down, uncomfortable at this question. She felt in the spotlight, which should have been normal considering her knack for sticking out like a sore thumb, but it felt different coming from Damon. He seemed more interested in her answer. Turnabout was definitely not fair, she thought.

That was when Clare did something she had never before done in her life. She gave up. At least for now, anyway. Clare cleared her throat and decided to change the subject. There was always tomorrow after all.

"So, what did your family say about the ring we found today?" she asked, looking up at Damon again, a mild curiosity lighting up her eyes.

"Oh," Damon exclaimed, as if in surprise. "I almost forgot. I actually didn't ask them about it." He stood up and stretched against the darkness in the maze's passage, the cool night air tousling the tips of his hair.

"Well, what are you going to do with it?" she turned her head to the side, as if to reiterate the question.

Damon just looked at her again and smiled one of those brilliant Damon smiles he had that said the world was a beautiful place, then , with cool efficiency reached into his pocket to retrieve something.

Curiosity for Clare was almost a bane. At least this time, she knew he intended to share the knowledge. She smiled in return, then went to his side to get a look at whatever it was he had. She was dying to know but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of actually asking him what it was.

"Give me your hand," he told her, holding out his left hand. Clare gave his hand a skeptical look. Even though she'd gained control of her heretofore confused and straying thoughts, Clare felt pretty certain that touching Damon was a bad idea. One touch of his hand could send the heat reeling through her body and scatter all normal thoughts to the four winds. She'd prefer to at least appear sane-looking, thank you very much.

"I won't bite you." Damon sounded exasperated. Once again, Clare found herself looking into his dark green eyes, and, once again, they were unreadable. It was as if a mask had been moved into place, making it impossible to figure him out. Was he deliberately trying to be mysterious?

Clare pushed aside her reluctance and placed her right hand in his left, her curiosity uniting with her desire to please Damon for reasons she decided not to examine. As she felt the now-familiar warmth seeping into her fingers from his hands, she willed her heart to calm its quickening pace. With no small amount of effort, Clare was finally able to restrain her thoughts from dispersing into tiny shattering fragments.

Damon clasped Clare's fingers with a swiftness she didn't expect, then moved his fingers over hers in reverence before sliding a ring onto the third finger of her right hand. As she felt a different kind of warmth infuse her hand, Clare knew before she even looked that this was the very same ring she and Damon had discovered that very afternoon. As soon as the ring was settled on her finger, Clare felt the coolness of the night air rush over her hand at the sudden absence of Damon's warm grip.

Clare looked up at Damon again, in question. Why was he giving her a ring that he thought belonged to his family? He just smiled that familiar Damon smile of his again and shrugged his shoulders.

"I wanted to give this to you to keep. You can go with me to question my family about it later. Either way, we'll discover its origins together." Damon's eyes twinkled a look of mischief.

"Now," he continued, "it is time to return to the crowd and see if they've lit the bonfire yet." Damon's smile never faltered.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

"What if I don't want to go yet?" Clare queried. Damon saw her look with longing down a passage ending in shadow and sighed.

"You can camp out here if you want to, but I'm not missing the bonfire." Damon gave her a quizzical look, he could feel his irritation with her building. What was wrong with her? Normal girls would be at home in bed after the day Clare had gone through.

Damon could see the battle waging in Clare's eyes. Missing the bonfire was out of the question, though. If she wasn't ready to go in a few minutes, she'd be finding her way out alone.

Guessing at Clare's thoughts, Damon logicized with her. "Look, why don't we come back and visit the maze again another time?" Clare appeared to think about this for a few moments.

"I suppose so, but you'd better come with me," she replied, resuming her teasing. Then she offered him her left arm.

"I thought you'd come around," Damon said, grinning again.

Their pace was steady and unhurried. The closer they drew to the activities, the louder the cacaphony of voices became. It almost drowned out the sound of music, which could still be heard dancing merrily through the air. The bonfire must already be started, Damon thought, smelling the scent of roasting meat wafting in the breeze.

Damon gave Clare a covert look while she admired the new addition to her small jewelry collection. The tiny emerald in the center of the ring sparkled under the artificial lights set up in the garden in a way that they hadn't under the sun. Damon had polished it after returning home. He had thought about giving it to her after she'd left and wanted to make sure it looked nice for her. He was sincere about finding its origins with Clare, but he had no intention of taking it back. Realization of that had slapped him hard in the face as soon as he'd given it to her, but the reason why was a puzzle he wouldn't investigate right now. Damon felt a sense of satisfaction that she'd gotten so much pleasure from the gift, even though she was the one who found it.

As they reached the edge of the party once again, Damon noticed Clare's friends crowding around her. Clare looked a little overwhelmed at first, then gracefully seemed to give in to her friends whisking her off to somewhere else. Damon was grateful he didn't have to say anything. He let go of her arm, gave a little bow, which Clare didn't seem to notice, then turned himself in the direction of the food table. He had a clear intention of eating and going directly home to give some serious thought to the nature of their relationship.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Clare was met with a flourish of giggles as Damon dropped her off with her friends and disappeared into the crowd. Lissy and Jane were practically glowing, though whether from mischief or spiked punch was debatable.

"I see you didn't waste any time worrying over me," Clare directed toward the pair. Laughing eyes met her gaze as Lissy pointed her forefinger at Jane.

"Don't ever let her get away with pretending she's not a flirt," Lissy professed. "She was the first person in line to meet with the band during their break. And she got a free invite to their next event!"

Clare glanced at Jane and gave her a covert thumbs-up. Jane gave her a small dimpled smile and looked down at the ground as if embarrassed.

"It sounds like you're jealous to me, Lissy," Clare commented. "I didn't know you had it in you." She smiled now.

"Jealous...! Outrageous!"

Jane and Clare looked at each other with that statement, and when Lissy had her head turned, Jane made a face at her as if her head were exploding. Clare snorted at that, an attempt at holding in her laughter at an inappropriate time.

"Cheer up, Lissy," Jane said, her voice one of consolation, though a bit too solemn to be taken serious. "I can't help it if they like blondes better." Then she let out a light tinkling laugh as she covered her mouth with her hand.

Lissy sniffled, an obvious and exaggerated sniffle. "They aren't that cute anyway," she stated in a feeble attempt at regaining her dignity. It seemed to cheer her up though since she turned her attention to Clare's evening.

"You don't seem to have missed our company much yourself either," Lissy said, her eyes closing to slits and settling on her ring.

Seeing where Lissy's and Jane's eyes were heading, Clare covered her hands self consciously, crossing her arms with the hope they hadn't seen the ring. Although part of her wanted to exult in her newfound feelings, another part of her wanted to hide them and savor them in private.

"What is that on your finger?" Jane exclaimed.

"It's a ring!" Lissy cried. "What else would she have on her finger, silly?" Lissy added, rolling her eyes as if she were talking to a child.

"Whoa, a ring. Score one for Clare. Can we see?" Jane's eyes looked up into Clare's, holding a genuine curiosity.

Two pairs of eyes watched Clare's response. It was a bit unnerving to be honest. Under the intensity of her two good friends, the crowd around them seemed to disappear. Clare suspected the only thing that would peel their eyes off her at that moment, other than her response, would be a very attractive band member. As she looked at them again, she mentally changed her mind. Make that a very, VERY attractive band member.

As the seconds ticked by, Clare debated holding out on them, as she clenched her hands closer to her sides. In the end, though, she decided showing them her ring wasn't really that big of a deal. They'd see it eventually anyway if she was going to be wearing it on a regular basis. And she intended to be.

Unclenching her fingers, Clare let go of her sides and extended her right hand out for the perusal of her dear friends. Their reaction was immediate and surprised.

"Ohmigod!!" Lissy exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the gold-and-emerald ring. "Is that real gold?!"

"Forget the gold," Jane stated, a note of shock creeping into her voice. "Is that a real emerald?"

Lissy glanced up at Clare with a jubilant grin on her face. "I think there's more to your friendship with Damon than you let on. I'd like to know what you did to get a ring like that." She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Apparently I have a few things to learn." Then she had the audacity to wink.

Jane turned to glare at Lissy. "Just because you perform tricks for baubles doesn't mean everybody else does."

In almost the same instant, Jane turned toward Clare. "Right, Clare?"

Clare's face turned beet red as she remembered what she had done that evening. Perhaps she didn't perform tricks, but Lissy wasn't exactly far off the mark. She could feel heat touching her lips at the memory of Damon's kiss before she pushed the memory away with determination.

Jane just gave a blank stare. This was not very encouraging.

"Please tell me that you, of all people, didn't do anything, did you, Clare?" Jane was such a mother hen sometimes.

"No." Clare replied, feeling defensive. She felt as if she were trying to explain herself to a jury. "I didn't do anything," she added. It was a little uncomfortable to tell a white lie but Clare knew she would feel less comfortable sharing everything. After all, she wasn't one to kiss and tell. Clare smiled a secret smile. Of course, there were two sets of eyes watching the play of emotions across Clare's face.

There was a hushed silence from both Lissy and Jane as both their mouths formed into perfect "O"s.

Jane hesitated. "Are you sure there isn't more to your friendship than you told us?" Disbelief laced her words.

Clare just smiled, looking up at them again.

"Tell us everything!" Lissy begged, but after five minutes of prodding, everybody knew that Clare would reveal nothing more until she was ready. Clare sighed in relief. Now she could enjoy the remainder of the party.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
The party had still not ended when Clare left, but she was tired enough to accept defeat and left the party early with her father. He, too, had seemed rather exhausted, but looked as if he had enjoyed himself immensely. His eyes had been twinkling and his cheeks rosy when they came home.

It came to Clare more often these days, as she had watched her father throughout the years since her mother's death, that it was the small things in life that really mattered. Even with the bad things, Clare didn't share them with her father unless it was necessary. She had taken it upon herself to take care of him with the things that she could.

Outside her window, stars still danced in shining brilliance as Clare lay back in her bed in drowsy remembrance of the night's events. The moonlight cast a silvery beam to the foot of her bed, giving soft illumination to the room around her. Clare's room was simple with walls that would have been bare but for the poster Clare had made of her dancing group and a photo of her mother and father on their wedding day in a plain white frame. The room contained a cherrywood wardrobe, her full-size bed covered in a white blanket with ruffles around the edges, a pine-colored night stand, and a cherrywood dresser that matched the wardrobe. It was lovely, yet not too elaborate. The only way anyone would have known it was a girl's room was the little white ruffles on the bedcovers.

Clare couldn't help but replay Damon's kisses in her mind. She knew now something had changed and could hardly wait to get Damon to admit it. She fell asleep to a mental image of Damon telling her between kisses that she was right all along.

As Clare enjoyed the featherlight touches to her lips and down her neck, she heard voices interrupt her pleasure. One sounded light and feminine with a thick Irish lilt and underscored by a gentle sternness. It soft huskiness reminded her a bit of the stories in Greek mythology about sirens luring men to their deaths with their sweet songs.

"Wha' did ye think ye were doin', ye li'l man? Ye can' be jes' runnin' off when ye've responsibilities to tend to."

The Irish siren's voice sounded angry as she spoke to someone Clare couldn't see. Clare couldn't see her either for that matter, despite looking into the shadows of wherever she was. And Damon had somehow disappeared as well.

"Ach, don' get yer panties in a wad." This voice was deep and a little harsh, with the same heavy accent. Definitely male, but laced with a mischievous thread that made you think the owner was smiling.

"That's easy fer ye to say when ye jus' don' know if the balance of the fates might ha' been thrown off kilter while ye were off playin' games. Then ye leave it to me to fix all yer mistakes."

A snort greeted the siren's pronouncement.

"The ring has been discovered. I saw it meself," the siren's voice continued. "The inheritor wasn't to be receivin' it until his destiny was upon him. But I see ye've fouled that up as well." Ring? What ring was she talking about? Did it have anything to do with the ring Damon gave her at the party?

"Will ye stop yer yappin', ye harpy?" A light shuffling sound echoed around Clare, who was still unable to pinpoint where it was coming from in the shadowy, undefinable mist. "So, his destiny met him a bit early? Is there any harm in that?"

Another sharp clattering cut through the air. This time it sounded like something had been thrown in the floor, if you could really imagine this place had one of those.

"Are ye daft, man?" The siren's voice didn't sound so dreamy when it was screeching the way it was now. "We've been watching the family fer generations, waiting fer the moment HIS destiny was to come upon him. A decade of yer lazy loungin' could undo everythin' we've worked so hard fer."

A long sigh followed.

"I could have yer powers stripped fer this, ye know." The siren sounded much calmer at this pronunciation.

"Ye wouldn't!" That seemed to take the smile out of his voice. It must be a horrible punishment, thought Clare, to warrant such outrage. And what powers was the siren talking about? This sounded like something straight out of a fairy tale book.

"Don' ye think fer a second I wouldn't. Ye've no idea how much work ye've put on me."

"What do ye want me to do?" The harsh voice questioned.

"Well, this mess has to be cleaned up. The problem lies in the fact that the ring already has a new owner. Ye canna' be takin' it now. Which means that the boy must go, of course." A long pause followed the siren's statement.

"I believe it's about time fer him to be lernin' 'bout his heritage." The masculine voice offered in assistance.

"'Tis true," the siren agreed.

"Consider it done then."

"Wait a minute. Don' think yer gettin' off that easy. I'm keepin' my eyes on ye and don' ye forget it."

A wicked laugh resounded through the air, fading almost as soon as it started, followed by a loud popping sound.

Clare could only guess this meant the man had disappeared because the only voice that could be heard after that was that of the siren complaining that he was going to be the death of her and she seemed to be talking to herself. There was one more popping sound before the air was greeted with silence.

The last thought that passed through Clare's mind before she fell into a long peaceful sleep was that she was having the strangest dreams tonight.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Damon sneaked through the cast iron gate at the side of his parents' house. The night had been a tremendous success, even if it hadn't quite worked out the way he'd intended. It had worked out better. Damon smiled to himself.

The booming music coming from inside the house signalled that the party was still in full swing. A brief rush of relief coursed over him, knowing that his family would be too busy with the guests to notice his arrival back home. That meant he could sneak off to his room and replay the night in his mind in solitude.

The cool air brushed over his face as he rounded the corner of the rock house that would be better described as a small mansion. The back yard wasn't as empty as he'd have preferred but no one there stuck out as familiar and the people lingering in the shadows didn't want to be bothered either. Damon admired the clean-cut grass as he trudged on silent feet to the sliding glass door in the back.

The way Damon figured, if he could make it to the spiral staircase, which was a mere five steps away from the back door, he was home free. The party was on the other side of the house. Echoes of a fiddle and other instruments all playing in harmony drifted through the air. Even if he slammed the door, Damon knew, no one would be able to hear it, but he used caution anyway. After all, it never hurt to be careful. As the latch clicked into place, Damon saw a shadow staring at him from the sliding glass door.

Damon's heart raced. He knew he was in trouble now but as he turned his head over his shoulder to figure out who was going to hand out the death decree, he found the room behind him empty. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It brought to mind the rustling he'd heard in the shrubs earlier when he'd been with Clare. He'd nearly forgotten about it but his senses heightened as he turned his head almost in slow motion to look back into the mirrored surface of the glass door. There was nothing there.

Damon took a shaky breath and told himself it was just his mind responding to being over-tired from a too exciting day. He ran his hand through his hair, counting the seconds until he could fall over face first into bed and replay that dreamy look on Clare's face when he'd kissed her. There wasn't much he wouldn't do to be able to make her look like that all over again.

A light click touched the first stair on the staircase, Damon's goal of reaching the staircase seeming to have been met. At least until another faster clickety-clack on the hardwood floors proclaimed another presence in the room. Damn, Damon thought to himself, so close. Only his mom would be walking that fast-paced on the highly polished floors in high heels at a party in the middle of the night.

"Jeez, Mum. You must have surveillance all over the house," Damon remarked in a casual tone.