Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this story; they all belong to Richelle Mead.
Entry 2: Dorian.
Impressions. Composed as glass on the outside, Dorian's smooth expression belied the inner turmoil that would have him lose his dignity whenever he looked at the woman who came to him. Not a subject, not a true enemy, and not a hopeful potential concubine. She saw herself as a rival, an equal, even through her prejudice and wrongly placed fear. He wasn't used to anything interesting coming out of the mouths of his too loyal subjects. He welcomed the challenge.
Tea Party. He'd seen wariness in her eyes when she'd accepted her place at his mad hatter's table of a dinner/feast. It was an emotion she wore well, and frequently, he guessed. When the blonde vision somewhere along his table had seen fit to fly to his side, share his couch size seat and begin to kiss his neck, her arms draping across him, he'd barely reacted. He thought he saw something akin to jealousy in the redheaded Shaman's eyes. Knowing she'd deny it, he had simply smirked, and chosen not to call her on it.
It would be juvenile and fruitless to bring it back up nowadays, and he wasn't in the mood to have her throw her own relationship back in his face just to spite him.
Suitors. A teacher, a confidante and someone to vent at, he wondered if she'd ever see him as a prospective future suitor. He had plenty to teach her, yet while he wasn't willing to turn that into an exchange, he wanted more from her. While he did not expect anything in return for his guidance, he wanted reciprocation from her. He did not think the Kitsune deserved someone of such incredible power and potential. He knew Eugenie had noticed his disapproval, and interpreted it as snobbery. The rebel inside her caught on. Perhaps that's why she continued to love Kiyo, though she did not yet know it herself. It taunted him.
Comparison. He wondered if he should have told her, as she lamented, tearfully in the corridor. So she finally knew about Kiyo's past relationship with Maiwenn. She was right to be angry, he supposed, though it was only really the child, that had made complications for Kiyo's rather dreadful plan of 'not telling her until she found out, or it was absolutely crucial.' A child would affect Eugenie's life too. Otherwise Kiyo might have gotten away with it. Still, as rare as conception was in the Otherworld, a pregnancy was not going to be sorrowed.
He looked on, knowing she envied the golden beauty of the Willow Queen, but he didn't deign to tell her that she needn't. His eyes passed over her pale skin, sleek dark red curls, violet eyes, and he knew she didn't need him to say it. She'd accuse him of going soft on her.
Revelations. The events after the ball caused Dorian to realise something about himself. Caused him to question his own agenda. Eugenie's acceptance to his only half serious proposition should have delighted him. Instead, he found himself half annoyed at her. His pride, more than his morals kept him from bedding any woman who did not want him. He did not care for their reasons, even if it should be emotional plight, or petty revenge. But this time, he was not about to sleep with Eugenie simply because she wanted to hurt Kiyo for hiding the truth from her about The Willow Queen's pregnancy. He would take her only when she desired him for the right reasons… to a degree.
He brought her the cake he had promised her. Seeing her sitting crumpled in the corridor she had fled to reinforced his decision. Instead, he would agree to take her on this mad hunt for the girl should her magical progress prove satisfactory. After making sure everybody saw their exit together, he took her to his bedroom, where he informed her that they'd be having another lesson, there and then. Aside from his morals, he confirmed that she simply wasn't ready to sleep with him.
She turned out to be able enough, in his eyes.
Her surprise that he agreed to help her find Jasmine, for perseverance with her magic lessons; instead of sex was understandable, in his opinion. He tried and failed to look offended.
Frustration. Stretched out on an uncomfortably small couch out in the hall, he tried not to feel bad for betraying his frustration to her. It was easy. She'd rejected him for a second time, after she'd initiated it herself. He wanted her so much it hurt, and she still couldn't get over this ridiculous prejudiced fear of him. Just as he was convincing himself that her frigid reaction towards him was for the best, and that he would no longer chase her, she appeared beside him.
"I want you to tie me up."
Who was he to refuse a lady's request?