Down by the Nameless River

Lea

 Chapter One

"Hey, look what we got here!"

Catherine froze as the menacing silhouettes suddenly surrounded her, cursing herself for not having listened to Joe's warning about the increasing number of attacks in the park in the last weeks.

Immediately her now solidly ingrained self-defense reflexes kicked in and she looked around, assessing the threat. Six, maybe eight of them, more than she could handle, even if they seemed quite drunk.

"You alone, sweetie? Looking for company, I bet!"

The one who'd spoken stepped forward with a nasty smile. Catherine's foot got him right at the crotch, making him double over in pain. Immediately the others closed in. She barely managed to hurt one or two of them before being seized from behind and immobilized.

Dark, sneering faces surrounded her. Nausea assailed her as the one she'd kicked shoved his face into hers, his breath foul and alcohol-laden. "Like to fight, don't ya, sweetie? Well, we'll see if you still do once we're done with you. My friend Shorty here just loves it when girls kick and scream!"

The one who was holding her let out a demented laugh and a knife suddenly appeared in front of her face to caress her cheek lightly. Catherine fought against an overwhelming wave of terror as the memories of her first assault rushed back.

"Don't cut her yet, Shorty!" the one who seemed to be the leader ordered. "You can have your fun after, but I want to see her eyes when I teach her who's the boss, here!"

A dirty hand reached to her neck and pulled at her blouse, tearing it down to her waist, then came back to rip off her bra.

"She ain't got much!" one of the men said. "I like 'em with bigger tits"

"Can't be picky, man!" another one answered. "She'll have to do!"

"She sure will!" a third one sneered.

In hopeless rage, Catherine tried once more to free herself, kicking with all her might. She had to stop when Shorty's knife pressed her throat with insistence "Don't move, sweetie, or there might be an accident!" the leader warned.

Shorty pushed Catherine to the ground and two men grabbed her ankles, pulling her legs apart. As she lay there, powerless, her rage only grew, overwhelming her, invading all her being…a rage so dark, so strong, that she suddenly understood it wasn't hers alone.

Vincent! Vincent was close, and she’d never felt him so strongly! She hardly felt a hand reach under her skirt, hardly heard the man's dirty comment as he lowered himself on her. Suddenly all was lost in a red and black roaring maelstrom, the man's weight was no more on her, and she heard his last, desperate scream. The knife left her neck as Shorty stood to face the threat, only to fall back a second later, his own throat slit open.

Catherine caught fleeting glimpses of flying blond hair and glistening fangs, Vincent's tall shadow moving so fast her eyes could hardly follow him. His roaring snarls filled the air, mingling with the men's screams as his mighty blows sent them to the ground before they even had time to realize what was happening. She watched them fall with a dark, savage jubilation, her rage at them still overwhelming any other feeling, and when it was over, and Vincent threw his head back and roared, she felt and shared his wild, victorious exultation.

Then all was silent, the moonlit park quiet as if nothing had happened, but it was the silence of death, Catherine finally realized with stunned horror. All around them torn bodies lay, staring at the sky with unseeing eyes. We must not stay here!

As if in answer Vincent picked her up in his arms to take her away from the carnage, running toward the tunnel entrance. He only stopped for a second to close the sliding door behind them, and went on at a fast pace for a while, until they were far from the entrance, in a tunnel she was not familiar with. There he slowed down and stopped, breathing heavily. His suddenly shaking arms released her as he fell to his knees on the concrete floor and Catherine sat down near him, anxiously watching his face, waiting. She knew what was coming now. The awareness creeping back as the rage bled away. The shame in his eyes as he held his face down, unable to stand her gaze. She'd seen it happen many times… far too many times! Bitter tears filled her eyes at the thought that once more, because of her, Vincent had been forced to release that dark violence he loathed. This could not go on! She must…

Abruptly, she became aware that something was different. The overwhelming, dark current she had felt during his murderous rage hadn't lost it's strength. Rather, it seemed to have… changed! Still powerful, but no longer threatening, it filled her with a sudden warmth. She searched Vincent's still darkened eyes, and realized with a shocked gasp that he was looking, staring, at her naked breasts.

Her first, instinctive reaction, the brutal assault still vivid in her memory, was to try and gather the shreds of her blouse to cover herself, but her hands were stopped by a strong, compelling surge in the bond, and a faint hint of a snarl. At a loss, she complied with Vincent's clearly expressed desire, and let her arms fall back to her sides, offering herself to his intent, intimate regard. She found it strangely healing. His gaze on her bare flesh felt like a warm loving hand, cleansing what other rapacious, filthy eyes had soiled.

As if aware of her thoughts Vincent turned his head toward the entrance and roared. Catherine was afraid for a second that they might have been followed, but when he turned back to her, a possessive wave through the bond made her recognize his action for what it was. A defiance, and a claim. The instinctive challenge of a male guarding his mate. Under his shameless yet surprisingly innocent gaze, Catherine suddenly felt very female, her hormones responding to Vincent's primal claim on her. Her body that had cringed in disgust and refusal only minutes before began to mellow and soften, suffused by a sudden wave of heat.

Vincent must have felt it, too, for his eyes came to hers, dark and intense, and, with a hint of a nod, he softly growled his approval, before lowering his gaze back to her breasts. He looked for a long time, fascinated, while Catherine felt herself blushing helplessly, yet warmed and thrilled. Silly as it might seem under those circumstances, the men’s disparaging comments about the size of her breasts had even added to her rage by hitting a sore spot, one dating back to her comparatively flat-chested teenage years. Now the bond left no doubt that, to Vincent, her breasts were just perfect, and she shamelessly reveled in his undisguized appreciation.

Somewhere in her mind, a worried voice tried to argue that Vincent wasn't himself, that she should stop him, but the protest was too weak to fight the deep certainty rising from her most primal self. That instinctive part of her that was surfacing in answer to Vincent's behavior would not let her deny her bonded mate the right to what he'd fought and killed for, and even her other, more reasonable side had wanted this for too long. Yours, Vincent. Only yours.

As if in reaction to her unspoken words, his hand rose in a slow but determined motion, until the pointed tip of a claw reached her nipple, making her gasp. His first touch was so feathery soft she could hardly feel it, but her flesh instantly responded, hardening under his unique caress as he lightly teased the puckered areola and taut tip. A soft, warm sound, between a growl and a purr came from his throat as he increased the pressure, now using the back of his finger, so as not to risk breaking the skin.

Some distant place in Catherine's mind noticed that Vincent's hand still bore the bloody traces of its recent actions, but in her present state, it couldn't have mattered less. She was not in the least repulsed, or concerned to see that lethal weapon in contact with one of her most intimate, sensitive places. Whatever those hands were capable of, she knew that to her they would give only love, and pleasure.

With a moan, she leaned into his touch, asking for more. A powerful surge through the bond answered her and he cupped her flesh fully, his free hand joining in to take care of her other breast. She looked up at his face and saw that his darkened eyes were darting from one breast to the other, from one hand to the other, as if fascinated by the sight of his hands touching her, by the reaction of her nipples as he teased them with his thumbs. Suddenly, with no other warning than a dark wave of raw hunger, he buried his face between her breasts.

Catherine could feel the urgent huff of Vincent's breath, and the silky-rough touch of his facial hair as it trailed on her heated flesh in a possessive caress, eliciting delicious shivers throughout her whole body. She felt the cool contact of his teeth, soon followed by the warm rasp of his tongue. She moaned, clinging to his hair as he wandered from the hollow of her throat to the underside of her breasts, exploring her with all his senses, his hands holding her still. He finally centered his attentions on her left nipple, first licking it tenderly, then taking it into his mouth to suckle greedily. Catherine arched against him with a small cry as a sharp jolt of pleasure went through her, helpless to restrain the answering surge of wetness between her legs.

Vincent's nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal assailed them. Finally, as if irresistibly drawn to its source, he left her breast, lowering his head to bury his face in the folds of her skirt. He nuzzled there with insistence, breathing deeply. Catherine, helplessly aroused by his action, clung to his hair, trying to pull his head closer, needing the pressure on her aching core.

She gasped in dismay when he suddenly lifted his head, but a powerful surge through the bond quieted her protest. She found herself facing intent eyes, searching their darkened depths, that strangely enough had never looked so open to her, so easy to read, as his emotions flew freely through the bond. She felt and shared Vincent's demanding need, his primal certainty, his fierce possessiveness. Underlying them, she also felt his love, total and unrestricted. She felt his trust. Then, rising from deep underneath, the pulsing of a silent request.

Catherine was too far gone to even consider that Vincent might be offering her a choice. The small, reasonable voice had long been silenced, smothered by the wild pounding of blood in her ears, the humming of their shared desire in the bond. There could only be one answer to Vincent's unspoken demand. Yes! Yes, my love! Now, oh, please, now! A few more seconds and she would beg. She wanted him so much!

A hot, hungry wave inundated their bond, and Vincent's eyes glistened with a wild fire. With a soft growl, he gently lowered her to lie on her back on the concrete floor. Catherine tried to lift her head, but the firm pressure of his hands on her shoulders told her that he wanted her to lie still. She complied with total trust and abandon, knowing she wouldn't have long to wait, as the bond thrummed with their shared impatience.

He loomed over her for a few long seconds, his darkened gaze piercing her very soul, his fangs fully showing as he took short, rasping breaths.. Finally his hands left her shoulders to slowly trail down her sides, taking possession of her every curve in a caress that made her melt, until they reached the hem of her skirt. Then she felt his warm palms on her legs as they journeyed back up, pulling the material with them all the way to her waist. She gasped when Vincent's hand cupped her mound through her remaining clothing, and lifted her hips to lean into his caress, craving more.

In answer, one of his fingers traveled up to the top of her pantyhose. Catherine felt the feather-light contact of a claw on her skin, followed by the whisper of tearing material, and, suddenly, the merciful coolness of the tunnel air on her heated flesh as he pulled the cut garments apart. She could only see the top of Vincent's bent head, but she knew he was looking, she could feel his gaze like a touch on her exposed nudity, eliciting a new surge of wetness from her aching core. Oh, Vincent, please!

His reaction was immediate. A blazing heat through the bond, a huff of warm breath, and his mouth was on her, his hands on her thighs opening her wide to him as he tasted the flowing proof of her arousal.

Catherine moaned in rapture under the rasping strokes of Vincent's tongue. A small part of her couldn’t believe what was happening to them, marveled that Vincent’s hands, Vincent’s mouth could touch her so intimately, with even more mastery and assurance than she’d ever dared dream. The rest of her just didn’t care, focused on the incredible sensations that were radiating from her burning core to her whole body, progressively numbing all conscious thought.

She felt and shared Vincent’s own pleasure as he lapped at her swollen, sensitized folds, his hands pulling her tight to his wide open mouth, his teeth gently holding her still. Soft, gratified growls vibrated erotically through her flesh, adding to her quickly rising excitement. Vincent’s long, slightly raspy tongue delved repeatedly into her to seek more of her essence, and Catherine writhed and moaned, her hips lifting to meet his strokes. When he moved to find and tease her most sensitive place, she arched against him, ready to soar.

She almost cried with frustration when he left her abruptly. She opened her eyes to find Vincent's tense face close to hers, while a powerful, overwhelming, yet strangely soothing current reached her through the bond. In his dark, intent eyes, she clearly read the silent message, and answered in kind. Yes, it was time.

She heard the distinctive clink of a belt buckle and felt him fumble with his clothes. Soon Vincent's right arm slipped under her shoulders to cup the back of her head, cushioning her from the hard ground and holding his weight as he lowered himself over her. His other hand pushed her thighs apart, and she felt the first contact of his hard, hot flesh. Catherine braced herself, holding her breath.

Vincent entered her in one sure, mighty thrust, holding nothing back, as there was no reason to, and they both knew it. They had been made to fit each other, made to love each other, that shining certainty filled their connection as they gazed intently into each other's eyes. It was as if a mistake that had created two separate bodies for a single soul was now corrected and Catherine lost herself blissfully in their instant, miraculous oneness, unable to tell Vincent's feelings from her own as they merged in a single, powerful wave of rapture.

They remained still for a few seconds, savoring the shared sensations of her tight flesh stretching to welcome him, of the thick hardness filling her utterly. A low growl rose from Vincent's throat as he withdrew slightly then flexed his hips again, penetrating her even more completely. With a whimper, Catherine locked her thighs around his waist and threw her hips against his, wanting him close, wanting him deep. His free hand cupping her buttocks to pull her tight, Vincent complied with a powerful stroke, and another. Never leaving each other's eyes, they quickened the pace, surrendering to the overwhelming need that held them together in its grip. Growls and moans filled the silence of the tunnels, as sheer instinct drove the lovers at a frenzied rhythm toward an inevitable, fast approaching goal. Their bond was a living, pulsing entity, an irresistible tide carrying them higher and higher. One body, one soul, they rode the crest of their shared pleasure up to undreamed heights.

Vincent's mighty roar covered Catherine's scream and he raised himself on his elbows to arch against her while his essence pulsed out of him in hot, rapturous jets, eagerly welcomed by the matching contractions of her waiting core.

After a seemingly endless time the dizzying waves subsided, the tension that had driven them was released, and Vincent fell heavily on Catherine's shoulder. She cradled him tenderly, caressing his hair as their labored breathing slowly came back to normal. Never in her life had she felt so happy and replete, and the deep current of contentment filling their connection told her Vincent felt the same, but as she became able to think coherently again, she was filled with awe by the enormity of what had happened. She tightened her hold on Vincent in a protective way, fervently wishing everything would be all right now.