Chiana kicked open the door to her new room, hands full of bags and a precious package: a brand new Ibanez AEL20E AEL Cutaway Acoustic-Electric Guitar, complete with coffin shaped case. Dumping the rest just inside the door, she grinned like a child on Christmas morning.

Collapsing into a lounge chair, coughing at the puff of dust that arose from it, she waved it away and unpacked her new baby. She had already dubbed the guitar "Valentine". Lord knows why, but the feel of it in her hands, the sounds she had stroked and coaxed from it in the store just made that crazy chick come to mind. She didn't believe a word Dalia had told her, not the part about Val killing her. It had been an accident, she knew it had.

Chiana wondered absently who the dudes in the hallway were, but didn't really care. She drew a pick from her case and set to playing. The guitar was both acoustic and electric, but the amp would be delivered later today. No matter, she'd missed the feel and tone more that she had ever thought possible.

Strumming a few chords, she closed her eyes and began to play one of her own songs. Chiana, at last, was in the closest thing to heavan as she thought possible.

Fingers strummed the final chord, and she sighed, having been at peace, until Dalia came into the room. Something about that woman, no matter how kind she acted, she seemed, well, evil. The hairs on the back of Chiana's neck stood up as soon as the woman knocked at the door.

A gnawing hunger was beginning, and she shifted uneasily. It was painful, unlike anything she'd felt before. She had been expecting it, however, and had chatted with a few vampires in the MarketPlace about this very thing. Lyric had hung around, looking a bit green at the whole prospect, but being to stubborn to not listen. Chiana smiled at the memory, the girl was growing on her.

"Yeah, well, we had fun. Thanks for everything, but I don't know how I am supposed to pay you back. Lyric said something about me working for you, but, I don't know. I think I should find out about my store, what happened to it." Laying aside her baby, the Ibanez, and tucking those long legs beneath her. She laid her hands loosely in her lap and watched the woman, wondering what she wanted, what she expected.

"Lyric tells me this was Zillah's workroom. I packed up everything and lugged it downstairs. It's all stacked at the back of the storeroom. What did he do? The equipment was really cool, and there were some gemstones laying about. I had Lyric pack them and place them...wherever you stash stuff. I don't know what she did with them." She shrugged, not about to let slip that Lyric showed her AND Koya where the money was kept in this house.

She plucked a non-existant piece of fuzz from her fashionably faded denim, all the while watching Dalia. She looked down briefly at the hand that still rested on her knee, then back to those shadowed teal eyes. "Lyric said she was your lover, Dalia. Are you here under friendly circumstances, or are you expecting something else from me? 'Cause I have to tell ya, Lyric may be fine with the whole "kept woman" bullsh!t, but I don't play that game. You can take all this sh!t back to the store, and I'll be outta here before you can say "put out or get out." All this said with a faint, wicked smile. Chiana was street wise and savvy, she could fight. She knew this Dalia probably could to, but she was relying on the fact that her already fast reflexes were inhanced by her vampirism.

She took a breath, muscles tensing ever so slowly, all but for the ones directly under Dalia's hand. Her body was ready, the ball was in this chick's court, now.

Stiffening, that damned woman was faster than she had expected. Wow, first rule, never underestimate your enemy. Second rule, never get too cocky; she'd just broken both.

Forcing herself to resist the wince at the dagger nails in her shoulders, Chiana nodded ascent, and remained quiet. She'd have to handle this differently. She'd never been very good at thinking before she spoke, looks like she's going to need to learn how, and quick.

A knock at her door, the sweet cherry scent of his cigarillo creeping through the vent above the door. He stood there, shirtless, towel draped over one shoulder and smoke in hand, barefoot. His leather pants unlaced at the waist, riding low on his hips.

He spoke through the door, his deep voice lowered for only her ears.

"Chiana? I must confess I have no idea which bathroom I have been assigned. Could you open the door, please?"

Ash allowed a hint of a smile to settle on his lips as he entered her room. She spoke in a honey-whiskey voice, and he liked it. He walked to stand before her, towel dumped haphazardly onto a chair.

"Who's to say I didn't come here to corrupt her household of beauties?" His own, deep voice was low, his eyes watching her fingers as the coaxed and stroked the chord from what was obviously a beloved instrument. The calluses on her fingers sent a tingle through him, he could just close his eyes and feel them stroking his sensitive skin.

Watching her face as she tipped it up to devour him with her eyes, he saw the life in them. That spark, that flash; proof she would be insaitable.

Licking his lips, his hand reached to take the guitar from her lap. He hefted it carefully, carrying it like a child, to lay it in it's case at her feet. He slid it away, then with one hand cupping the back of her head, tipped it further back. He leaned over her, his nearness and the slight pressure on her neck urging her to lay back.

Ash's body slid along hers, fitting so neatly along her length. One hand wound in her hair, the other brushing light fingertips over her lips, her cheek. He pulled in close to her, whispering, "It doesn't matter why I came, Chiana. All that matters is what I do, now that I am here."

Ash was not surprised by the fervor in her kisses, nor the passion and intensity in her desire; but, in fact, had counted on it. Chiana was taken, toyed with, and sated over the next few hours.

Once she dozed peacefully, Ash stole from her room, naked but for his leather pants, and headed back to the bathroom to bathe.

Once his beauty regiment had been seen to, he lit a cigarette and headed for the stairs, intending on a quiet glass of whiskey in the dark of the store. It would give him time to mull over the events of the day, to re-live the taste and feel of Chiana, and to decided what next to do with the woman. She was his for the taking now, if he wanted her. Useful, to be sure, but to what ends?

Bare feet padding down the worn stairs, he was pleased with himself. Dalia would be pleased, as well. Chiana had been a tough nut to crack, she had confided, but he found her most pliant and eager. Chuckling to himself, he mused on her flexibility, as well.

He would wait, keep this little tryst to himself until he could discern more about why Dalia wanted Chiana compliant and entwined.