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In Margaret's opinion, she was simply making the most logical decision. The Council wouldn't support her endeavors so she had to seek allies among other groups. Besides, despite what McCoy thought of her, she wasn't rushing recklessly into things. She had chosen carefully, knowing she needed a powerful ally but also one that had enough self-control to not murder her at the first opportunity. That was how it started, with her demanding an audience with the White King. He had been intrigued by her passion and ambition; things had continued from there.
This isn't the first time that Margaret has been invited to Lord Raith's private estate, won't be the last time either. They were talking about something political during their walk through the garden but they have once again gotten sidetracked.
"Why the gloves?" she asks as they settle on a wooden bench. She pulls her legs up close to her, body turned towards him.
"Would you believe me if I said it was for your own well-being?" There is a spark of mischief in his eyes as he displays the white gloves covering his hands. Raith is stretched out cat-like, seeming more relaxed than how he would act in front of his Court.
"You're messing with me," she says flatly.
"I would never." He lowers his voice as he turns to her, as if sharing a secret (she tries not to think too much on the intimacy of it). "It's the Hunger, you see. Mine is stronger than most and can be harder to control. The gloves are just an added layer of protection."
"Really? I would have thought the White King would have better self-control." It's risky, teasing him like this. They get along well but that could change very quickly if she angers him.
"Self-control isn't the problem." He gives her a small smile, posture still at ease.
Margaret decides to push further. "Then what is?"
"It is best to think of it like a chemical reaction. Prey feels whichever emotion we feed on, the Hunger strengthens and enflames it, and we can feed on what is produced. The stronger the Hunger, the faster and greater the reaction."
"And the gloves?" she asks.
"A precaution. It is harder for the Hunger to feed without physical contact."
"After the reaction happens, you can stop yourself from feeding?"
"Of course."
"Then show me." Margaret holds out her hand.
It's the first time she's seen him caught off guard. He hadn't expected this turn; it's fun to be able to surprise him.
"You are certain?" He tilts his head a little as he looks at her, blue eyes piercing.
She doesn't meet his eyes (neither would enjoy an accidental soul gaze) but doesn't back down either.
"If your control is as good as you act, then there shouldn't be a problem."
Raith doesn't answer, not verbally at least. He slides his gloves off and offers her his hand.
(It's a very nice hand, in her opinion. Long, dexterous fingers. Firm and steady. It's easy to imagine what they're capable of.)
If Margaret backs down, she'll look like a coward and unnable to back up her words. She can't afford to look weak to a White Court vampire. He's been civil with her before this, but he's still a predator. But to let him touch her bare skin, to allow such an opening-
It's things like this that make the Wardens worried about her. There's a few things this could lead to, none that her fellow wizards would approve of.
She reaches out her hand, hesitates. She stands on the precipice. She doesn't back down.
She grips his cold hand, sees the flash of silver eyes, and-
Heat runs through her. Her back against a wall as he kisses her. Hands in her hair, holding her in place. Please, she begs. Please. Nails drag down his back, marking his skin. She throws her head back and moans, allowing him access to her throat. Long fingers stroke her side beofre sliding down past her waist. He-
Raith draws back, looking far too pleased with himself. After a moment, he slips the gloves back on.
"I did try to warn you." He makes the effort to sound apologetic.
Margaret doesn't reply at first, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. The manufactured pleasure takes longer to fade, like a fire was lit in her veins.
(She'll think back to this moment later, after everything that happens. The Hunger needs something to react to. This was the first moment when she knew a part of her wanted him and was open to that desire.)