A small grin formed on her lips at his confidence. She wondered what sort of physical capabilities he had after all. It’d been in the contract which she could read at leisure later, though the speculation was almost equally as satisfying. Speculation about the necklace, however, was no longer necessary, as Mohinder took his seat and provided her with the basic details. "Cursed…“ she mused, pulling out the necklace again to turn the stone over in her hands. It was pretty at the very least, and she’d already been cursed; what was the worst that could happen? The chain was long enough to fit over her head without having to open the clasp, and she slid it on, pulling her hair out from behind it so it laid against her skin. Fingers brushing against her neck, she was suddenly aware of the demon’s gaze. A brief internal debate ended in her doing nothing about it, steadily meeting his eyes, more of an acknowledgment than a challenge.
She knew that look, a predatory, hungry gaze. She’d given it so often that she hadn’t realized how unsettling it could be from the other end; a quick surge of adrenaline ran through her, though she didn’t act on it. Yet. Claire might have to select a few special outfits for Mohinder to try on, if this was to be par for the course. She pondered his next words, though before she could respond, he’d taken her hand again; her chest tightened at the proximity. Merde, she thought, it has been too long if a simple kiss on the hand can make your heart beat a little faster.
Claire let out a long, controlled breath. She was a Wandesford, she was herself, she was an expert seductress, and she quite literally owned this man. Feeling more herself as her pulse slowed back down, Claire grinned. "Don’t ever let someone know when they hold power over you,” she said, realizing the irony in telling this to him, her servant. “You could’ve snuck in all the little touches you wanted and I would’ve been none the wiser. Now that I know why you want them…” She took her turn to flash him a lusty glance, and very deliberately set her purse down on the seat beside her. Hands unoccupied, she leaned forward, pausing with her face inches from his; she lingered there for a moment before reaching her hands around to the back of his collar. Her long fingers brushed briefly up the nape of his neck in search of the clasp, eyes locked onto his all the while.
Finding the mechanism, Claire loosened the collar marginally, enough space to stick her finger in the gap between the metal and his skin, which she did on the pretense of testing it. Silence filled the scant space between them, and at length she finally said, “You’re welcome.” It was in response to his thanks, but she couldn’t pass up the double entendre. They pulled to a stop in front of Anthony’s Fine Attire; gilded letters on the facade could be seen through the window if Mohinder turned around.
“We’re here, miss,” the driver said, briefly rolling down the divide between the front and back seats. It broke the tension, and Claire smirked, grabbing her purse once more. It was only then that she noticed his horns were no longer visible. She would have to ask about that later.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, tearing her gaze from her new favorite toy. The driver opened both their doors again, and Claire stepped out into the shaded spot beneath the store’s awning.
“How do you feel about black?” she asked Mohinder, stepping toward the doors.