CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NOTES: The lyrics below are from "Through The Eyes Of Love" (theme from the motion picture Ice Castles), lyrics by Marvin Hamlisch, music by Carole Bayer Sager, from the album Melissa Manchester/Greatest Hits, 1983, Arista Records.

Now I can take the time
I can see my life as it comes up shining now
Reaching out to touch you
I can feel so much
Since I found you
Looking through the eyes of love.

Catherine moved around the room, lighting candles and reflecting on the whirlwind events of the past month. The days had been filled to the brim with hours of physical therapy and endless talks with Joe and Diana Bennett, who questioned her in minute detail about Gabriel.

Not that I was able to help them much, she thought ruefully.

Of much greater assistance had been Patrick Hanlon's code book, once she'd given them the name of the professor that Elliot had sent it to. He'd been able to break the code and the book had provided a wealth of information, and more importantly, names, some of them quite surprising. Doctors, politicians, leading businessmen - and police, though not many of those, they'd been relieved to find. The entire nation was still shaking from the revelations.

Thank you, Elliot - for everything, thought Catherine with the sorrow she now felt when thinking of that mercurial, often ruthless, always brilliant man, who at the end had redeemed himself so thoroughly, sacrificing his own life to warn Vincent of the trap set by Gabriel for him. It seemed incredible that he could be dead, that all his vigor and life and vitality were gone forever. In some strange, inexplicable fashion their lives had been joined, their destinies intertwined. She would miss him.

Catherine's gaze lit upon a snapshot standing on the mantel, framed in antique silver. Her eyes brightened. The picture was of little Jacob, held in her arms as she sat in her hospital bed. She smiled tenderly, remembering how Vincent had brought him to her on the evening following her recovery. She had sensed Vincent's approach and was waiting impatiently for him, but when he entered her room and she saw their child her happiness knew no bounds.

Vincent had placed Jacob in her outstretched arms and she had held him close, gazing at his beautiful face through a veil of tears. The baby had looked back at her with his unfathomable blue eyes - Vincent's eyes, she'd realized mistily - then broken into a toothless baby grin, kicking happily and grabbing at her long hair as it fell over him. Father had chosen that moment to take his photograph, startling everyone with the flash.

After that Vincent brought Jacob every night to see her; sometimes, as her strength gradually returned, to spend the next day in a portable crib by her bedside. Catherine was now proficient at changing diapers and giving her son his bottles, though the latter activity often caused a pang of sadness: she'd planned on nursing him.

Next time, she promised herself, thinking of that, then smiled at her thought. She had not yet discussed this with Vincent - perhaps it didn't really need discussing - but her plans for the future most definitely included a life Below, with Vincent and their son.

She wanted to keep her apartment, for it too was a part of her life, if only for the precious memories it held. But she had no intention of spending much time there. Tonight, however, was different -special - for that day she'd been released from the nursing home and from protective custody. And Vincent would be arriving any minute now.

At that thought the glow that had warmed her stomach all day sent out rippling flares of excitement. A flush of anticipation flooded her cheeks.

Extinguishing the lighter, Catherine gazed around the room. Everything was as perfect as she could make it. The apartment had been thoroughly cleaned two days ago by a professional crew. Champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice. The fire she had started earlier in the fireplace had died down to low flames in a bed of richly glowing embers. Dozens of candles inside and out added to the effect, joining the flickering firelight to fill the room with dancing lights and shadows. A magnificent flower arrangement was displayed prominently on the table.

Catherine smiled as her eyes rested on its loveliness. The flowers had been sent by Joe. Her smile became a chuckle as she recalled his accompanying note:

"Finished your vacation yet, Radcliffe? Seriously, take all the time you want - we'll expect you at the office on Monday."

Then her smile faded. Something strange was going on with Joe. He had seemed . . . uneasy . . . the few times his visits had coincided with Vincent's, and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes away from Vincent's gloved hands.

And then there was Diana Bennett. Catherine had tried to get to know the enigmatic young woman during their bedside question and answer sessions, but Diana remained a polite mystery. Catherine had a pretty shrewd idea, however, that part of that mystery had to do with Vincent. Over the weeks Vincent had related to her most of the events of the missing months, and Diane had featured prominently in the happenings.

She sighed. Well, there's nothing I can do about either Joe or Diana tonight - not that I want to, tonight. Her happy glow returned full force.

Catherine went over to the CD player and turned it on. Rachmaninoff's "Rhapsody On a Theme of Paganini" filled the room with its soft, haunting strains. Then she knelt down to put another log on the fire; she didn't want it to die out, after all. As she rose to her feet, dusting her hands together, she felt his presence. Turning, she saw Vincent standing at the open terrace door. Her heart skipped a beat.

They stood still for a moment, simply gazing at each other. Then Catherine walked slowly toward Vincent. She was wearing a new dress, bought only that afternoon especially for this occasion. Heavy silk swirled just above her knees, caressing her legs softly as she moved. The draped neckline was cut daringly low, revealing the beginning swell of her breasts. The deep forest green of the silk was muted by the frosted finish, which added lustrous highlights to the fabric. It matched her eyes exactly.

She stopped a few feet away, looked deep into his eyes. "Three years ago, tonight, you found me in the Park and brought me Below . . . and changed my life forever. And one month ago today you brought me back from death itself."

Vincent shook his head, mesmerized by Catherine's radiant beauty and the absolute love shining in her eyes. "It was I who was brought back from death, Catherine - a living death. When I found you that night in the Park, you opened my heart to a life I had never dreamed possible, for me . . . a life I thought had ended forever with your death. On the day I knew you were still alive, the world opened for me once more, with all its endless possibilities. And I knew again what a gift life is, when you are a part of it. For without you, Catherine, I have no life."

Vincent took one deliberate step forward, entering the room. He shut the door behind him to keep out the chilly April night. Standing in front of Catherine he reached up and unfastened his cloak, sweeping it off his shoulders and letting it drop onto the nearby couch.

He was wearing a new shirt, one she had never seen before, a softly woven, wool-blend of creamy gray-green. The sleeves were long and full, and widely open at the wrists, revealing tantalizing glimpses of tawny-furred arms whenever he lifted his hands. The crossover front of the shirt also displayed a golden expanse of softly furred chest to Catherine's admiring gaze. His tawny mane was freshly washed, tumbling soft and luxuriant and incredibly erotic over his broad shoulders. His blue eyes were crystal clear, and met hers with such palpable love that it took her breath away.

"Would you like some champagne?" she managed to whisper over the pounding of her heart.

Vincent's head moved slightly in negation. He took hold of Catherine's waist and drew her close. "Later," he breathed. Lightly he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, continuing the caress by sliding his fingers into her hair. His eyes held hers with unwavering intent.

Leaning forward, Vincent nuzzled the soft, creamy skin of one shoulder. Catherine closed her eyes and tilted her head back, lost in the shivery sensation of his warm mouth leisurely moving up her neck. Without conscious volition her hands slid up his vest, stroking lightly, delicately over his neck as they worked their way under the thick mass of his mane. When Vincent's mouth left her throat she sighed deeply and opened her eyes.

Vincent lowered his head until his mouth brushed against hers. "First there is the matter of a promise to be kept," he murmured. His breath was warm, sweet titillation against her sensitive lips.

Catherine's breathless "Yes" was captured and lost as Vincent took her mouth softly, deeply, with a tenderness so intense she felt the ache of it down to her toes. Tears formed behind her closed lids.

Vincent, I love you so much! Catherine was shaking. Unable to contain the seething torrent of emotion inside her, she sent it pouring through their bond, and felt Vincent's silent gasp as he was almost overpowered by the tremendous wave of love and tenderness. His hands untangled from her hair, moving swiftly down her back, and Vincent gathered her tightly against him, seeking her mouth even more deeply. With crystal clarity Catherine heard his unspoken reply.

And I love you, my Catherine, with all my soul, with every atom of my being!

Slowly he raised his head. His breathing was erratic, and Catherine saw the frantic pulse beating in the silken hollow of his throat. "I will love you, Catherine, until my last breath and beyond. Nothing can destroy our love. Nothing."

"Forever, Vincent, until the end of time." Catherine's gaze never left Vincent's as she spoke her vow. She wondered if her eyes were as darkly intense as his. For an endless, shimmering moment out of time they were caught in each other's eyes; then, slowly and with complete accord, they moved apart. This night was special, and each and every part of it was to be savored fully, without haste, to be held forever in their hearts.

Catherine gave a tiny shiver as she left the warmth of Vincent's embrace. Without a word she walked over to the ice bucket and began opening the champagne. The wax seal and foil wrapping gave her no difficulty, nor was the wire fastening a problem, but the cork proved stubborn. Vincent watched her struggle with it for a moment, then with a glance at her for permission, took the bottle from her hands.

Flushed from her efforts, and much chagrined by her failure, Catherine looked at him with some doubt. "Have you ever opened a champagne bottle before?"

"Don't worry, Catherine," Vincent replied. "Peter sends Father a magnum of champagne every year for his birthday."

Deftly he worked at the recalcitrant cork with both thumbs, carefully pointing the bottle away from anything breakable. Suddenly, with a loud and satisfying Pop! the cork flew out. A froth of champagne followed but Catherine was there with a cloth to catch the overflow, and Vincent quickly diverted the stream into the waiting flutes. Earlier Catherine had drawn one couch up closer to the fireplace. Now she sank down onto it, holding one hand up to Vincent to draw him down beside her.

Vincent eyed the couch askance. It looked disturbingly flimsy to eyes accustomed to the solidly-built, massive furniture of the Tunnels. Gingerly he settled himself on the soft cushions, breathing a sigh of relief as the sofa easily held his weight. He looked at Catherine, and seeing amusement twitching at the corners of her mouth, smiled back wryly. Then even that gentle mirth fled as she raised her glass and Vincent met her eyes, darkly green and mysterious in the soft candlelight.

Gently they touched the fragile, crystal rims together, then sipped at the pale gold liquid. Vincent savored the taste; years of sharing whatever various wines the Helpers could donate for the Tunnel world festivities had not prepared him for the delicate flavor of this sparkling beverage. Not even Peter's donations had matched it. "Catherine, what is this?"

"Dom Perignon." Catherine sipped again, delicately. "It's my favorite, do you like it?"

Vincent raised one brow. "I never thought I would have the opportunity to taste Dom Perignon." He drained his glass with three slow, appreciative swallows. "It's wonderful."

Catherine retrieved the bottle from the ice bucket and refilled his glass, topping off her own at the same time. As she replaced the bottle in the crushed ice she glanced up at Vincent with a demure look.

"I bought it especially for you, Vincent - just in case you got cold feet tonight. I figured that after a few glasses of this you'd be in no shape to run away, and I could have my wicked way with you without any problem."

Vincent's hand stopped in midair, with the champagne flute halfway to his mouth, his eyes regarding Catherine. He saw the sly twinkle in her eyes, but also sensed that though her words were teasing the intent behind them was no more than the absolute truth. A slow smile crossed his face and he took a sip of the champagne before setting the glass down on the table. He waited until Catherine had done the same, then drew her to him, enfolding her slender body in his arms and leaning back slightly. A fragrant scent rose from her hair, familiar and poignant. How many times had he inhaled that fragrance while they embraced, either on her terrace or somewhere Below? Tonight was the first time he'd held her inside her apartment, if he didn't count the horror of bringing her "dead" body home - and he didn't.

"That will not be necessary," he murmured now.

"No," she breathed, nestling closer. Surrounded by his solid warmth she lay motionless against his chest, savoring the strength and gentleness of his arms, the strong beat of his heart under her cheek. The only sounds to be heard were the crackle and hiss of the dancing flames in the fireplace mingling with soft music from the stereo behind them . . . and the slow, rhythmic whisper of their breathing.

Slowly Catherine raised her hand to trace along the open neck of Vincent's shirt, brushing lightly against the tawny hair it revealed. She slipped her hand inside, stroking delicately, until her palm rested over his breast. Vincent's heart beat an increasingly forceful rhythm in her ear, and she felt his chest expand with a deep sigh. Raising her head she breathed out his name: "Vincent...."
Their lips met in a long kiss. Catherine pulled Vincent's shirt out from his trousers, baring his entire chest. Her hands and then her mouth moved over his torso, greedy to feel the strong muscles and warm skin, the exquisite tickling of velvety fur on her cheeks and palms. She focused on one soft, flat nipple, caressing with her tongue until it drew tight in her mouth.

Vincent moaned, shivering, and then his hands moved upward and, with one delicate motion, brushed along her shoulders and down her arms. Catherine's dress slid softly to her waist; beneath it her body was bare, waiting for him. She pulled free of the long sleeves and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him, nuzzling the warm skin of his throat.

Vincent stroked her back; her skin was so soft, the feel of it beneath his fingertips so invitingly sensual his hands ached with wanting to touch more of her. He felt a gentle push against his chest and yielded to it, slowly reclining back against the pillows massed high at that end of the couch.

He closed his eyes involuntarily as Catherine slid gently upward along the length of his body, stopping only when her face was level with his and they could exchange another long, slow kiss. She melted against him and he pulled her close, sinking into moment. Then Vincent felt her pull away, and opened his eyes to see her standing beside him.

Behind her the fire danced, outlining her body with a soft, ruddy glow. The candles' flames cast strange, flickering shadows across her creamy skin. Sensing her unspoken wish, Vincent sat up and moved to the edge of the couch, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the gentle curves of her breasts. Another fragrance met his nostrils, that of the light floral perfume she used, and beneath it the barely noticeable scent of her rising desire. The combination was intoxicating, and Vincent tightened his arms as he fought a sudden, violent impulse to take her, then and there.

Catherine felt Vincent's abrupt passion like a shock wave throughout her body. Moaning, she clenched great handfuls of his hair, pulling his head closer, feeling his body tense with the effort at restraint. Then as the wave slowly retreated and Vincent began to relax, she ran her hands through the soft tumble of his hair and rained light kisses on his head. Vincent raised his face and she bent to kiss him, running her tongue delicately along the sleek cleft in his upper lip. One push from her hands sent the shirt sliding from his shoulders.

Vincent groaned and stood up, holding her closely. Her naked breasts against his bare chest brought him again to the edge of his control. His hands shaking, he fumbled for the zipper of her dress and pulled it down. With a soft rustle the silk slithered down Catherine's naked hips and down her legs, landing in a shimmering green pool at her feet. She stepped free, pushing the dress aside with her foot. Vincent ran his hands down Catherine's back and over her hips, then cupped his palms over her buttocks and pressed her firmly against him.

Catherine moved sensuously across his fast-growing hardness, moaning a little at the powerful throb of his response. Moving slightly away, she slid one hand between their bodies, desperate to touch him. She stroked gently, once, twice, over the straining mound of his erection, then found the buckle of his side belt and deftly opened it.

Vincent's hands tightened on her hips as he inhaled with a sharp hiss. With gentle hands Catherine unzipped his fly and brushed against the golden hair now exposed, running her fingers along the warm, vibrant skin of his abdomen.

"Your boots," she murmured. Vincent sat down on the couch, carefully, and reached down. Swiftly Catherine knelt and stopped his hands.

"No," was all she said.

Vincent hesitated, then took her hands in his own and kissed them. The sight of her, kneeling naked between his knees, brought his heart into his throat. His breath came faster.

Catherine pulled slowly at Vincent's short, supple boots, then removed his thick socks. She ran her fingers over the sparse fur that covered the top of his feet, gently touched the blunt claws that were his toenails. Stroking lightly, she slid her hand up under his pants leg, caressing, kneading the firm calf muscles. Unable to reach beyond the bend of his knee, she pulled her hand out and placed it on Vincent's thigh, over his trousers, repeating the gesture with her other hand. With light touches she ran both hands slowly up his thighs, feeling the firm muscles quiver under her fingers.

When she reached the tops of his legs Catherine stopped her caresses and looked at Vincent. He caught his breath. Her eyes were half-closed, sultry with desire. Suddenly they flared open as she dug her fingernails into his pants and slowly, firmly raked them toward her.

It was as though he had been touched with a live wire. Every hair on his body sprang erect as a sensation like icy fingers of flame swept over him. A growl spontaneously came to his lips and he caught Catherine's face in his hands, kissing her fiercely. They rose together, clinging, exchanging wild, breathless kisses.

Catherine slipped her hands beneath the loose waistband and splayed her fingers over the firm muscles of his buttocks, pulling him close even as she strained toward him. A strangled moan came from his lips. Unable to restrain her impatience any longer, she pushed at his trousers, wild to remove the last barrier to their union. As the pants fell to the ground Vincent stepped out of them and kicked them to one side. Catherine stood stock-still, feasting her eyes on the sight she'd so often dreamed of, and so often despaired of ever seeing again - Vincent, naked to her gaze.

Her memory of his masculine beauty, hazy though it was, had been neither false nor exaggerated. There were those broad shoulders, those muscular arms and legs. His powerful chest tapered to a flat, hard-muscled waist and abdomen, just as she'd remembered, and everywhere was the glorious amber, velvety fur, short in most areas, long and wavy in others.

Her eyes traveled downward to his full erection, and the soft, heavy mass of his testicles. She caressed him with slow, delicate fingers, stroking along his turgid length to the long, exquisitely tapered head, so sensitive to her slightest touch. Vincent throbbed helplessly in response, moving into her caress with a guttural moan, and Catherine gasped with the corresponding flash of heat that suffused her body and took her breath. Suddenly Vincent caught her up in his arms and lowered her gently to the floor. They sank down onto the thick sheepskin in front of the hearth, their mouths joined passionately.

Catherine silently moaned Vincent's name, her need so great she couldn't find voice to express it. Vincent's warm, callused hands were exploring her body from neck to knees, brushing across her small, tight nipples, caressing the quivering skin of her abdomen. She trembled with every touch. His fingers touched the darker hair between her legs, then paused, as if uncertain.

"Don't stop!" she breathed against his mouth, and moved her legs a little farther apart, to encourage him.

Vincent hesitated a moment longer, rising up a bit to look into her face. Catherine smiled and ran a fingertip over his lips. "I love you, Vincent." Putting her hand over his, she tugged it gently downward, letting him know beyond doubt that she wanted him to continue.

His love for this beautiful woman swelled within him until all doubt fled. "And I you, Catherine," he breathed, taking her mouth once again.

Catherine shivered as his hand moved lower, stroking softly over plump, velvety skin but not venturing into the secrets below. His mouth devoured hers in a deep kiss, their tongues meeting and exploring, but Catherine wanted more . . . needed more.

Raising one knee she opened herself even more. Vincent moved his hand down until it it dipped into the seeping evidence of her desire, then carefully slid one slick finger upward between the folds of soft flesh until he felt the tiny swelling he was searching for. Gently, slowly, his hand worked her, back and forth, up and down, with devastating effect. Catherine's back arched as tingling sparks swarmed through her. Her body convulsed and her cry pierced the silence as wave after wave of searing pleasured poured through her.

To his astonishment Vincent was also consumed with feelings the like of which he had never experienced before. Reflexively he growled as the liquid fire of Catherine's orgasm suffused his loins. His body tensed, then spasmed. Jets of milky fluid fell in a thick arcs upon Catherine's flushed skin.

Their cries rang as one, both verbally and through their bond. Afterward they lay together, flushed and panting, heedless of anything save the pulsating warmth that was slowly receding, leaving in its wake a spreading languor. At length Catherine stirred and pressed a kiss on Vincent's shoulder. He rolled onto his back and she snuggled close against his warmth, sighing as his arm tightened around her.

"Catherine, I never dreamed such joy could exist." Vincent was almost in a daze from the intensity of the emotions they'd shared.

Catherine smiled sleepily. "Neither did I," she murmured, running her fingers idly through the wavy hair on his chest. Feeling movement, she looked up and saw Vincent gazing down at her, his head cocked inquisitively to one side.

"But - " He paused, not sure how to proceed. "You . . . I know that you have . . . that you and Stephen Bass -" His voice trailed uncertainly away.

Catherine felt a twinge of worry. She rose up on one elbow and met his eyes. "Vincent? You didn't think that I was - I mean, you knew that Stephen and I lived together - "

Vincent put his finger against her lips, cutting her off. "Catherine, this is not necessary. You misunderstood me. I am aware that you have known physical love before. That is why I was puzzled when you said that the . . . pleasure . . . you . . . we experienced was new to you. Surely you have felt this before?"

His innocent question made her heart turn over. She kissed the finger on her lips. Even now, after all we've shared, he doesn't understand the uniqueness of what we have, what we are, together.

"Oh, Vincent," she breathed, and kissed him tenderly. "Don't you know yet how much I love you? What we share is deeper than I ever believed could be possible - for anyone. Your simplest touch brings me a joy greater than I ever felt with any other man because my love is so much greater - and because it is you doing the touching.

She continued, "Yes, I have felt this pleasure before - one other time, in the dark cavern where I found you last year." Vincent's eyes grew bright and Catherine felt the prickle of tears behind her own eyes. Neither could speak, only smiled at each other shakily.

In an attempt to lighten their mood before one or both of them started crying, Catherine put on a mock-stern face. "And speaking of touching," she demanded, "just where did you learn to how to touch a woman like that? I can't imagine Father allowing sex manuals in his library, much less holding such discussions with you!"

Vincent chuckled softly. "No. But having Devin for a brother proved a broadening experience for more than one aspect of my education."

Catherine snorted. "I can imagine! Let me guess - Playboy magazine?" At Vincent's nod she laughed quietly.

"Also The Sensuous Woman and The Sensuous Man, as well as others which were less . . . innocent," contributed Vincent. "All of which were smuggled in by Devin, or Mitch. I found their hiding place by accident one day and kept an eye on it for new additions." He looked slightly embarrassed by this admission.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "The Sensuous Man?" It had been years since she'd giggled over that book with her college roommate, but she recalled the gist of it. Her eyes grew vague as she indulged in dreamy speculation. Then, with a start, Catherine realized Vincent was looking at her with startled speculation in his own eyes, and warmth flooded her cheeks. She knew that he was sensing the erotic - and very specific - images passing through her mind, and her heart began to pound.

A part of her wanted to speak or move or do something, anything, to dispel the tension rising thick between them . . . but another part of her was lost in his bright blue gaze as Vincent rose to his feet, pulling her up with him, then picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

Gently he laid her on the bed, then slid down beside her. He bent down and his long hair brushed her skin as he claimed her mouth. Catherine moaned silently when she felt his warmth cover her as Vincent positioned himself above her, supporting himself on his forearms. He waited until she opened for him, then eased his powerful hips between her thighs, catching his breath at the touch of her moistness against his rapidly hardening flesh.

Closing his eyes, Vincent breathed in deeply until he regained a measure of control. He looked at Catherine, seeing the flush on her cheeks - of excitement now, not embarrassment. The high color intensified the green of her eyes, turning them almost emerald. Her full lips were soft and red, glowing from his kisses. She was beautiful beyond words, and she was his, as he was hers, body and heart and soul.

"I love you." Vincent's voice was a husky whisper and all his heart shone in his eyes. His arms cradled her upper body while he hungrily sought her mouth. Never could he have enough of kissing Catherine. Slowly, he released her and slid down her body, planting soft, nuzzling kisses on her throat . . . her shoulders . . . pausing to taste the soft tips of her breasts. The downy hairs on her skin tickled against his lips when his caresses moved over her flat belly, past the drying evidence of his earlier passion. Lightly, carefully, he trailed his claws down her sides, raising a shiver of delight from her.

Reaching her triangle of silky hair, he nuzzled the long curls. Her scent filled his nostrils, softly musky and exciting, drawing him to her damp heat. In the very act of lowering his head to her enticing flesh, Vincent sensed something through their bond: unease. He stopped and raised his head.

"Catherine?" He searched her face, hoping for a clearer indication of her feelings. "What is it? What's wrong?" Doubt filled him; perhaps he had misinterpreted her wishes.

Catherine sat up and smiled uncertainly. "I - nothing is wrong, Vincent, it's just that . . ." She took a deep breath, bitter thoughts of Tom Gunther flitting briefly through her mind. "Some men don't enjoy doing this. I don't want you to do it unless it's something you want to do." Her anxious eyes met his.

Vincent relaxed with a sigh of relief. He slid back up and drew Catherine close. "Do you enjoy it?" he asked, nuzzling her neck.

"I - well, yes, I do," Catherine admitted, "but - "

Vincent kissed her deeply. "I touch your softness, Catherine, and feel your response. Your scent makes me tremble. I want to love you with my mouth . . . taste that most secret part of you."

His words, unexpectedly frank, sent a shock of pure desire throughout Catherine. Her eyes flared darkly and she felt her body moisten even more. They kissed again, with eagerness, then once more Catherine lay down and Vincent kissed his way down her body.

She closed her eyes, quivering, as Vincent's warm mouth and tongue roamed across her inner thighs. He nipped, very gently, with sharp fangs, then caressed each love bite with his tongue, working toward the center of her body.

He nuzzled her silky nest, and his hot breath inflamed her further. The touch of his soft-textured tongue on her throbbing flesh sent a burst of excitement through her veins. She breathed in raggedly, moaning, as Vincent explored her softness with an exquisite thoroughness she had never before experienced. His slow, hot tongue was everywhere, darting, pressing, teasing, lifting Catherine to undreamed-of levels of frenzy. A spasm shook her from head to toe, and the room darkened around her.

The soft tang of her passion was on his lips, and Vincent was intoxicated, drunk with the taste of her. Long and deep he delved into her innermost depths, then moved upward, feeling her small nub grow hard beneath his tongue. The sweet, hot pressure began to build in his loins as he felt the first tentative swells of her orgasm begin . . . rising . . . falling . . . swirling . . . peaking higher and higher, until finally she toppled into an explosion of liquid light, shaking with her release.

Vincent bit back a strangled moan and fought with all his strength not to follow Catherine into the vortex of her climax. His body shook with the effort it took to distance himself from that consuming tide. When he was finally able to relax, he enfolded Catherine in arms almost too weak to hold her. He was breathing in deep gasps, savoring the enervating lassitude spreading from Catherine to him - and trying to ignore the discomfort of his own aching flesh, denied its release.

Catherine sighed deeply. "Ahh . . . Vincent." Her voice was husky, thick with pleasure, and resonated through their bond with the deep, mellow tone of a cello. She turned over, stretching languorously as she moved, until she faced Vincent. Resting her head on his shoulder, Catherine lazily trailed one hand over his broad chest, down his flat stomach, resting for a moment on his abdomen before continuing on to lightly brush his straining erection. She turned her head and flicked her tongue over one taut nipple.

Vincent shuddered as Catherine's soft fingers delicately explored his aroused length. Helplessly he moved with her knowing touch. He clenched his hands against his rising need to possess her body, fighting it back as her soft lips rained kisses down the length of his body and her long, glossy hair trailed a silken caress over his skin. Vincent felt the brush of her velvety cheek against his hardness; then her hand caressed the downy sacs below. A moment later his mind reeled at the heat of her mouth closing over him.

Catherine savored the feel of him, his strength and power such an exciting contrast to the satin skin beneath her tongue. His taste, his textures, were uniquely Vincent and filled her with joy.

"Catherine!" Vincent groaned with the indescribable sensation of her lips and tongue on the most intimate part of his body. Her mouth was warm and gentle and wet, and he was already so close . . . The raging fire in his blood suddenly erupted, and Vincent roared the power of his release as his body convulsed, again and again, until he lay spent and gasping.

Catherine cried out at the same moment in delicious torment as her body too spasmed in time with Vincent's. The heat of his climax flooded her loins even as his hot essence filled her mouth. Several moments passed before, reluctantly, she released him, pressing one more kiss on his now flaccid manhood. Resting her head on his abdomen she closed her eyes, shivering a little from the pleasure-flashes continuing to flicker through her until gradually they ceased.

She felt Vincent's hand on her shoulder, drawing her up to his arms. As she pressed against him their mouths met in a long, tender kiss. They lay quietly together, entwined in a tender embrace, sharing the lingering warmth and pleasure of their love. Slowly, sleep claimed them both.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last til the end of time, my love

Vincent woke first, instantly aware of Catherine's warm body in his arms. Eyes closed, he took in a deep breath. His nose and mouth were buried in Catherine's hair, and its fragrance filled his nostrils even as his lips savored its silkiness. He allowed his hand to stroke down her side, caressing the satin fullness of breast and hip. Catherine stirred but didn't waken.

Vincent paused, unsure whether it was proper to proceed, even though his instincts were telling him to. He opened himself to their bond, searching deeply to find Catherine's sleeping senses, and touched a gentle stream of emotions and brief, abstract images. He continued his caresses and the images grew stronger and more distinct, as did the accompanying emotions.

Vague warmth swirled, intensified, transforming into shivering flashes of pleasure, while flickering visions of their naked bodies, entwined and writhing, in various postures, flowed from her sleeping mind into his. Reassured, Vincent allowed his excitement to rise and gently extricated himself from their close embrace. He bent his head for his mouth to follow after his hands.

Still asleep, Catherine moaned, gradually becoming aware of a slow heat building inside her. Her eyes fluttered open. Through a haze she saw Vincent's hair spread in a glorious cascade over her chest. His warm tongue was moving gently over her breasts, wetly caressing the hardened tips.

She whispered his name, her voice husky with longing, and Vincent raised his head. He moved upward and wrapped her in his arms while his mouth found hers, passionately. His hands slid down her body and gently parted her legs. Scorching pleasure shivered through Catherine at the touch of his gentle yet demanding fingers, and a soft, anguished breath escaped her lips. She pressed insistently against his hard, muscular body, his soft fur teasing her sensitized skin relentlessly. A hot flush of desire infused her, and she moaned again. "Vincent."

"Yes, love?" His eyes caught hers and held them. Vincent continued his slow, deliberate strokes, pleased to see the shivers claim her, loving the sound of her soft, ragged breaths. His own arousal increased until he was sure he would explode. A fiery tremor rippled through him, and he closed his eyes, groaning.

Catherine gasped through the thundering heartbeat in her ears. "Vincent . . . I want you . . . I need you inside me!"

Vincent opened his eyes; they were almost black with passion. He kissed her, then raised himself over her body. Catherine opened her legs, and with an eager caress of his swollen length, reached down her hand to guide him. Slowly he began his entry, but the first sense of her moist, hot flesh drove him beyond the limits of his control.

It was more than he could endure - yet he couldn't get enough. Passion hit him with the force of a tidal wave, and with a savage groan he buried himself in Catherine as far as he could reach, somehow managing to keep the action gentle in spite of its power. The roar of his blood almost drowned out Catherine's simultaneous cry, but nothing could mask the force of her emotions surging through their bond.

After all their intimacies that evening, Catherine was still unprepared for the overpowering emotions as Vincent joined his flesh with hers. An intensely sexual rapture held her breathless even before their bodies began the rhythmic motions of lovemaking. She wrapped her legs around Vincent's thighs and frantically sought his mouth, kissing him deeply. She arched upward, tightening her arms around his neck so that her back actually left the bed. She wanted to feel him on every inch of her body, melt into his warmth and power, become a part of him.

Vincent felt her exhilaration, her desperation. He slid an arm beneath her hips and lifted her toward him, pressing himself farther into her until he could feel the touch of her womb. He groaned, trembling, aroused beyond measure by the sensation of her moist, sleek depths caressing his every inch. Her name passed his lips in a shaking, breathless whisper.

Even more compelling was the sensation of utter rightness that filled him. How could he ever have thought that this was wrong for them? She completed him in a way nothing else - no one else - could. They were two halves of a whole. Almost they had been separated in this life before achieving that oneness, but even the boundaries of death had not sufficed to keep them apart. Now they were together once more, and nothing would ever separate them again, regardless of how far apart their physical selves.

Vincent felt Catherine surround him, flow into him, merging with him until they were one. One heart. One body. One soul. He pulled back and then arched his hips forward, and shuddered at the exquisite sensation of re-entering her body. He moved again, and again, with purposeful deliberation, each slow thrust causing the world around him to narrow until nothing existed but Catherine . . . Catherine, soft and quivering in his arms, her mouth waiting and hungry for his, her inner depths open to him, her soul blended with his into one seamless whole.

This is the way it felt in my dream, only more. Another tremor shook Vincent from head to toe, piercing in its sweetness. So much more! He felt Catherine move and without thought moved with her to meet her need, angling himself slightly upward. He pressed himself harder within her, encountered a difference in her texture, a more satiny smoothness touching him. A powerful throb answered his touch, and at the same time Catherine shuddered.

Catherine sought Vincent's eyes, seeing with difficulty through the pulsing haze that filled her vision. She called his name silently in her mind, not having the strength to vocalize it, and saw his eyes open in response. Their gazes locked. Together they climbed the rising swell of passion, higher and higher. There was nothing in the world but each other; their bodies rocking in the erotic dance of love; the blaze of their passion. A low groan started in Vincent's throat, almost a growl; was met by its counterpart from Catherine. Faster, faster they moved now. Sweat sprang up, coating their bodies in a fine, glistening sheen.

The tremors started deep in the center of her being . . . churning, rippling outward in relentless, expanding waves. Catherine's back arched and her mouth opened in a silent cry as she was consumed in heat. A flush swept over her damp skin in a rich, luminous tide. Soul-deep shudders claimed her, and Vincent's face was lost as her eyes glazed over. An overwhelming ecstasy she had experienced only once before held her immobile in its grip.

Vaguely she heard Vincent's deep growl/moan, felt his muscles tighten beneath her palms, and then . . . his growl became a voracious, demanding roar. He pushed himself harder, deeper into her body. She felt his powerful spasms and the hot spurt of his semen against her womb as he climaxed, again and again. Their bond relayed his sensations back to her, where they met with her own, catching her up in Vincent's emotions until she climbed once more into a shuddering fulfillment. Catherine bit at Vincent's chest with savage joy and raked her nails down his back, uncaring of any possible injury to him.

Vincent shivered wildly at the fiery trail down his back . . . along his buttocks . . . Impossibly he felt the beginnings of another orgasm and cried out as his body tensed and the sweet, liquid convulsions began again. He hunched his back and surged deeply into Catherine, felt the pressure of her legs around him as together they reached the completion only they could give to one another.

Spent, Vincent sagged across Catherine, barely managing to keep his full weight off her. He held her close, shutting his eyes, thrilling at the sense of still being inside her, of feeling her softness throb around him in tiny quivers of lingering pleasure. Finally his trembling arms would support him no longer, and he rolled onto his side, bringing Catherine with him. A sob shook her, and Vincent pulled back to look at her, brushing the sweat-damp hair from her face. Tenderly he kissed her eyes, drinking her tears with a delicate touch.

Catherine stroked Vincent's cheek. Her eyes met his, luminous; her lashes were dark and wet. "I love you," she whispered.

"As I love you," he replied softly. Their lips met in a lingering kiss, then they settled down in each other's arms again. Suddenly Catherine gave a sleepy chuckle. Vincent looked his inquiry.

"I hope we didn't disturb the neighbors." She chuckled again. Vincent felt an embarrassed warmth flood his cheeks. Catherine nuzzled into the furry softness of his chest. "I don't feel like getting up to explain to Security that I had the volume on too loud." Her glance at Vincent was sly. "You know, that wildlife program we were watching on TV."

At the flustered look on his face, she stopped her gentle teasing. Scooting up a little, she kissed him. "Better here than in your chamber Below, love. Can you imagine if Father came to investigate?"

That possibility hadn't occurred to Vincent before, but he considered it now. His lips twitched, imagining the appalled looks, the hasty apologies . . . the even hastier retreat. Laughter rumbled softly in his chest. "Perhaps," he murmured," I should see about having a door fitted for my chamber."

Catherine smiled drowsy agreement. Together they lay watching the red glow from the fireplace die down. Bathed in warm fulfillment, they drifted off to sleep.

THE END

(Watch for the beginning next week of the sequel to "Though They Sink Through the Sea:". It's called, "All That Heaven Will Allow".)