Chapter Eight

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Vincent sighed with contentment as they approached their threshold. They had been silent for most of their walk, but it hadn’t been an uncomfortable silence. He held her hand in his the whole way, not dropping it, as he had so often in the past, the few times they’d encountered others while still close to the main hub of the tunnels.

This new courage was in part due to his recent resolution to allow their relationship to move forward, even if only a little, to the successful conclusion of the discussion on the same topic with Peter, and to his relief at the results of Catherine’s final exam. He was so glad it was finally over. He’d had no reason to think the results would reveal anything else, but he felt greatly comforted nonetheless by Father’s and Peter’s official confirmation of Catherine’s good health.

The threshold appeared just up ahead and he stopped outside the bricked enclosure. They almost always said their goodbyes here, far from the tunnel area proper, but not so close to her sub-basement to be a breach of security. He wanted to be alone with her a while longer, but couldn’t think of a way to suggest it, as the hour was late and she had to work tomorrow. All he could do now was try to delay the inevitable for as long as he could. Looking down upon her face he had a sudden, almost irresistible urge to kiss her as he gazed upon the luscious fullness of her lips. Did he dare?

"Catherine..."

He couldn’t go on.

She seemed a little distracted for a moment, but her face cleared instantly at the sound of his voice, and she focused on him with a questioning look in her clear, gray eyes. Her face was so open, so trusting as she looked up at him. She was so beautiful. A tender yearning rose in him, fragile and poignant. No words would come as that delicate emotion filled him completely. Her eyes held his, and she finally urged him on with her words.

"What is it, Vincent? Tell me."

He caught his breath, stunned. How was it that anything as lovely as she could gaze at him as she did, her heart in her eyes? His hand rose without thought to stroke at the silky softness of her cheek, finally cupping and holding her gently for his deep perusal.

Catherine waited quietly, calmly watching him, but within her, and somehow without, she felt a swirling haze of emotions beginning to build, to encompass her, to encompass them both. Her eyes never left his face, so it came as a surprise when she felt his hand upon her waist. His touch was tentative as it slipped around her to rest at the small of her back, but it grew firmer as she felt him slowly, inexorably urging her closer to him. His hand on her face still held her but his eyes had dropped to her lips.

Suddenly it burst upon her with a stunning force. Vincent was going to kiss her! Vincent was going to kiss her now! Her breath began to come hard and fast and she tried desperately to still it, to not do anything that might distract him and bring him back to the reality that had always constrained him in the past. She wasn’t really successful, but it didn’t matter, because he didn’t stop. His lips came to rest softly upon hers and her eyes fluttered closed at the touch of them there.

He had kissed her once before, in the way-station far below, just before they’d made their trip back after the accident, but he had never mentioned it since then, and had not attempted a repeat of that tender caress. This kiss was different though. Then it had been one of support and comfort, assuring her of his love and his steady strength, always there for her when she needed it. There had been others in the chamber then, too, but far from disturbing her the knowledge that he kissed her despite their presence had only heightened her sense of wonder and excitement. He had pressed his lips to hers warmly, tenderly, holding the contact just long enough so that it couldn’t be described as a peck.

Had this kiss been the same it would have been over by now, but instead, much to her amazement it deepened. He pressed his lips more firmly to hers and then moved across them tentatively, with a soft nuzzling motion that left her dizzy. She tried to stay still, tried not to startle him with any movement of her own, but it was impossible. Her lips opened to nip at his, catching his full lower one tenderly. A gasp escaped him and suddenly he was absolutely still against her. He didn’t pull away from her, though, and she held him with a light pressure for just a moment before releasing him and pulling back a bit so that she could see his face.

He was the one panting now, his lips parted slightly with the barest hint of teeth showing, the tips of his incisors hidden beneath his lower lip. Just that small glimpse of their enticing length was almost enough to make her swoon, the muscled sheath deep inside her quivering in the ultimate feminine response to his virile masculinity. She wanted to taste their cool surface, to feel the sharpness of them teasing against her tender flesh. Oh god, how she wanted him! She was trembling in his arms, and he was too, though neither made a move to withdraw from the intensity surrounding them. Her gaze lowered to his lips once more and she saw that they, too, trembled with the strength of the emotions filling him.

So soft, so silky. She had never felt anything that compared to the sensation of his lips. She traced their unique curves greedily with her eyes, finally coming to rest at the cleft in the center of his upper lip.

So intriguing, that hidden spot. What was the flesh there like? Tender, no doubt, and sensitive, hidden and closed off as it was. A sudden, urgent desire swept through her to taste that secret flesh and with barely a moment’s hesitation she moved in toward him slowly, almost hypnotically. When she touched her mouth to his this time, it was to enclose his upper lip between her own, as she had his lower lip a few minutes before. She held him gently, not moving, not at first, waiting to see if he would let her move them forward, just a bit.

His breathing was even more labored now than before, gusts of air pulsing against her mouth, but he stayed still. She slid her mouth down to one edge, until she rested at the corner where his top and bottom lips met. Gently, lightly, she licked against that sensitive spot, tasting the gathered moistness there. A groan escaped him and a violent shudder vibrated down his body, that motion easily translated to her own as she leaned against him. Still he didn’t pull away. She moved again, tracing his upper lip until she reached the other corner, then repeated that sensuous caress on that side too. His body was shivering continuously now, and she circled his torso with her arms to hold him close, to reassure him with the safe haven of her own body. Finally she couldn’t contain her own needs a moment longer and slid her lips upward until they rested again at the center, covering him warmly. When her tongue peeked out to caress him, it touched the folds of that secret cleft and licked against it softly.

The shivering vibration she had felt in him a minute before was suddenly gone, replaced with a steely tension in his muscles that she felt everywhere along her length. She paused for a moment, then slipped her tongue into that hidden spot, eagerly tasting the slick, tender flesh there. The low groans he’d made a moment before were replaced with a sound that couldn’t be described as anything but a growl. It rumbled through his chest and filled his throat. His mouth dropped open even further, until she felt his lower lip trembling just beneath her own and the sharp tips of his incisors pressed firmly against the skin at the side of her mouth.

Catherine moaned at the erotic sensation that touch inspired and pushed deeper into the secret folds, spreading them apart and pressing the wet silkiness of her tongue against him in an intimate caress that was almost past bearing in its erotic stimulation. His growl deepened and his hand left her cheek to slip around her waist, joining the other at her back. With a fevered abandon that astonished her he pulled her in close and hard to his waiting strength. She clearly felt his growing arousal through their clothing and rather than release her at that sensation he tightened his hold upon her, pressing her more firmly against his swelling length.

"Oh, please, please!"

The words whispered out between them, the urgency of her desires transmitted instantly across their bond. He gasped, stunned by the strength of her desire, and stepped back abruptly.

Catherine swayed on her feet, bereft of the strong support of his arms. She had to reach out a hand to the tunnel wall beside her before she felt steady again. All the while their eyes were locked together, the expression in his one of anxiety, while in hers a resigned disappointment showed for a moment, before fading.

"Catherine…"

"It’s all right, Vincent, really," she interrupted quickly. "I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me to do that."

She stopped talking abruptly, and even in the darkness of the tunnels, she knew he could see the flare of scarlet that was even now heating her cheeks. He was watching her closely, an unreadable expression on his face, and suddenly she was afraid of what he might say next.

"It’s all right," she repeated firmly.

She closed the distance between them and pressed a light kiss to his lips, stepping back again quickly, before he could respond.

"Goodnight."

She turned abruptly, stepped over the threshold between their worlds and disappeared into the light from the sub-basement area above.

Vincent stood silent and still. He watched her go, and felt her ascent to her apartment above. Only when he felt her safely within, did he whisper out his own goodnight to her shadowy presence in their bond.

* * *

Catherine moaned with rapture, but never stopped the fervent attention of her tongue upon the sweet, slick flesh hidden inside Vincent’s clefted upper lip. The sound reverberated from her lips to his, and he groaned, the swelling of his erection a testament to his growing arousal.

God, he felt so good, tasted so good…

The hazy mists surrounding them evaporated and she found herself below, in his chamber, in his bed. He lay beneath her, naked to the waist, and she let her hands roam that broad expanse with a joyful abandon. She let her weight, such as it was, rest heavily upon him, rubbing her loins to his. Even through his trousers, she could feel every inch of his tumescent flesh. Her nipples tingled painfully. There was an element of frustration in her moaning sighs now – she needed to be closer. Reaching down, but never releasing his mouth from her own, she tugged the straps of her silken gown down, baring her breasts so that she could rub them against the silky fur and hard muscles of his chest.

Ah, better…

Vincent growled loudly in response to that tantalizing sensation, and suddenly the world spun dizzily about. In an instant Catherine found herself beneath his heavier weight, their positions reversed. She groaned with pleasure at the hot, hard strength of him upon her and arched her back, wanting every inch of her body pressed to his. He growled again and caught her up so that her head fell back, eyes closed with languorous passion. Her nipples were taut and tight and straining upwards, soft pink shells that cried out for his touch. He fell upon them hungrily, nipping, licking and suckling the tender flesh until she thought she would explode. She writhed beneath him in ecstasy, but a few minutes later a mewling cry of protest was drawn forth when he left there to nibble the underside of her right breast. His fingers stroked and caressed both soft flesh and taut peaks, though, periodically dragging trails of fire across her heated flesh with his sharp-tipped nails, and she cried out again, engulfed in pleasure.

As suddenly as it had appeared, his weight was gone. She looked up, startled and dismayed, and found him kneeling between her thighs, staring down at her in horror. She looked down and found her torso covered with blood, the healed incision now a gaping wound, exactly as it had been right after the fall.

"No… NO!!!"

Vincent howled in anguish, hands held up and back, the tips of his nails covered with blood. The swirling mists appeared once more and engulfed him, until he was gone entirely. Only the haunting echo of his cry remained.

* * *

A cold and heavy mist permeated the air, just on the edge of rain, but still Vincent stood silent for some minutes outside Catherine’s balcony door, wrestling with his decision to come to her this night, to broach the topic that was daily on his mind now. It was dim inside, only one soft light lit in her kitchen. He hadn’t seen her at all yet, but knew she was within and suspected she was bathing. He had almost made up his mind to go when suddenly he saw a flare of illumination from the other door. He moved toward it hesitantly and glanced within.

Catherine stood near her bed, her back to him, the open bathroom door behind her spilling light into the room to encompass her completely. She pulled a floral print robe over one of her thin, silky nightgowns and he drew in a harsh breath at the sight of her, then quickly stepped back to lean against the brick wall between the two doors of her balcony. He closed his eyes and put forth a massive effort to slow the rapid beating of his heart and the rasping pant that was beginning to build within him. Winding tendrils of Catherine in the bond teased at the edges of his mind and he grasped at them desperately, needing her calming presence. Amazingly, though it was she that inspired those chaotic emotions within him, she also soothed them as well.

He felt his control once more regained and breathed a sigh of relief. It was best he didn’t visit her, not tonight. The talk he had planned required more control than he felt within him now. He had barely made the decision when suddenly the door to his left opened and Catherine stepped out. She walked directly forward to the balcony wall, never suspecting he stood behind her and gazed out over the city. He couldn’t help himself, easing into the stream of their bond to feel what she felt now. Her emotions were calm and peaceful on the surface, but there was something there, very slight, just beneath, which disturbed or distracted her, too slight for him to read further than that. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it would wear a pensive expression, the bond reflecting that easily. Though moments ago he had decided he mustn’t stay, he knew now that he would.

"Catherine?"

He spoke softly, not wanting to startle her with his unexpected presence. She didn’t turn right away. He felt the pause within her and correctly read its meaning; she was savoring the sound of his voice and preparing herself for her first view of him. He knew this was true, yet it never ceased to amaze him that it should be so. She turned slowly, and his heart fluttered in his chest as her luminous eyes found him, the love there so clear to him it was almost painful in its intensity.

"Vincent."

His name upon her lips seemed to break her stillness, and she moved slowly toward him, stopping when only a few inches separated them. Her hands rose to rest against his chest lightly and he knew she could feel the beat of his heart beneath her palms. She stayed there for a minute, then let them slide them down his torso a ways and from there moved to circle him, drawing close until her body was pressed tight to his.

She felt so good against him...so good.

He hesitated for only a moment, then his arms rose to enclose her, returning her embrace. The dreams of the last week, along with that most devastating kiss just last two nights since, had planted an insidious seed in him, and he craved the touch of her now, even more strongly than he had before. He had to be near her, to feel her touch, to smell the seductive scent that belonged to her alone, wafting through his senses, heady and enticing. He was beginning to lose himself in those sensations when a sudden gust of cold wind brought him back to his surroundings. Catherine, too, had felt it, despite the warmth of his protective embrace. She leaned back in his arms and her eyes met his.

"It’s cold tonight. Why don’t I make us some hot chocolate and change into something warmer. It will only take a minute."

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. It was difficult to loosen his hold upon her, though. When she turned for the door, and he watched her go, a niggling sense of dissatisfaction wavered on the edge of his mind. She would change into a warm robe and slippers, no doubt, perhaps even into jeans or a sweat suit. It didn’t matter what it was, the effect would be the same; he would lose the sensation of cool silk, and beneath that, the feel of warm, satiny flesh. As that realization sunk in his hesitation ended. He stepped through the balcony door and moved soundlessly into the dimly lit kitchen area where Catherine now stood. He stopped just behind her and as she turned to reach up towards the cupboard she bumped into him, unaware of his presence there.

"Vincent! I... Your startled me. Is anything wrong?"

He shook his head in response.

"No. I just thought we might have our chocolate inside. It’s too cold for you to stay out tonight."

He almost smiled at the surprised look on her face, and the rapid change from that to happy acceptance.

"That would be wonderful. Why don’t you build a fire while I finish here?"

He nodded silently and turned towards the living room. Wood and kindling were already laid in the grate, and he only needed to add a few pieces of the bunched up newspapers he found in a container off to the side and light them with one of the long matches kept beside them. The fire sprang into life instantly, and a cozy warmth lit the room. He stood up and drew off his cloak, laying it over one of her small couches, then, after a momentary hesitation, toed off his boots, setting them beside the balcony door. He eyed the two couches and the coffee table between them speculatively, and finally pushed the table over a little toward the couch where his cloak resided then slipped to the floor to sit against the upholstered edge of the other one. He leaned against the side of the couch, one knee raised, with his arm resting comfortably upon it, as he stared into the flickering flames.

He was lost in thought and taken by surprise a few minutes later by Catherine’s sudden presence beside him. She set two mugs down upon the glass-topped coffee table at his side then looked about for a place to sit. He reached for her hand and drew her down, and she followed without question, though that surprised look was back on her face as she found herself seated between his thighs, against his upraised knee. She didn’t know quite what to do for a moment, so unexpected was his behavior, but her hesitation lasted for only a second, then she relaxed against him, her arm slipping behind his back so that she could nestle as close as possible.

Both stared into the flickering flames silently for a few moments, then Vincent’s arm came around her and she held her breath with anticipation. She sighed with regret when his hand reappeared holding one of the cocoa filled mugs. He handed it to her, then reached for the other, sipping tentatively at the hot sweetness. An almost inaudible rumbling sound reverberated somewhere beneath her and her eyes opened wide with surprise. She reached behind her blindly and set the mug back down on the table, then leaned in more closely to lay her head against his chest.

Yes, there it was, that soft sound which could almost but not quite be interpreted as a purr. She held her breath, trying hard not to let her emotions swing out of control. She had never heard this particular sound from him, and she suspected he might not want her to know of it, considering his uneasiness over his more obvious differences. It was difficult to hide her enchantment with that sound, though. It was obviously one of supreme contentment, the expression on his face confirming that clearly. She couldn’t help herself, her hand rising to rest against his chest, next to her cheek. She stroked him with a barely noticeable movement of her fingers and beneath her ear the sound grew a little louder, a whirring, rumbling tone that seemed to have a life of its own.

He was in heaven. There was no other word for the blissful contentment he felt now, in her arms. There was no one here to interrupt, no one to demand his attention elsewhere. She was silky and soft against him, and her scent, oh god! her scent invaded his mind. He breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring, drawing it in deeper still, until he could swear the taste was there, on his tongue. It was dizzyingly sweet, both satisfying and frustrating in a way he found impossible to resolve with reason. Nonetheless he knew that scent at the very core of his being. The tendrils of it wove about him, and without thought his arms rose to enclose her, holding her tightly to him.

She was pressed so tight to his torso, there along one side, but the other side was free, and he ran his hand along the sinuous curve of her body, tracing from hip to waist to ribs and beyond. He couldn’t stop, and as his hand slid down again, reversing its fluid motion, it traversed inward a bit, nails trailing lightly over the outer curve of her breast and down the tautly trembling muscles of her abdomen. Beneath the sensitive pads of his fingers he felt the raised ridge of her scar, and he stroked it soothingly, lovingly, tracing it upward to brush tenderly against the underside of her breast before following it below, where the womanly roundness of her belly held him captive. He let his fingers trail just beyond, along her upper thigh, while his thumb swept hypnotically at the tail end of the scar, stroking the springy softness below. An image of dusky curls flashed before him, and her delicate scent grew stronger and richer, drawing him further into the spell of her welcoming body. His own body tensed and his purr deepened to a staccato rumble of intense pleasure as anticipation sharpened within him.

Catherine sank into the deepening haze surrounding her, all her senses focused on the sound rumbling beneath her cheek. It was hypnotic, an almost silent vibration that slithered through her, and came to rest deep in her belly. The feminine muscles beneath his hand clenched tightly, and she shuddered. What was he doing to her? He was touching her where he never had before, but this was not the solicitous stroke of a care-giver, was not the dispassionate touch of a healer. It was the seductive caress of a lover, and she shivered beneath it, her fists tightening in the weave of his sweater. God, he was touching her there, just below her belly, moving now beyond the confines of the scar itself…

Catherine’s eyes flew open abruptly and she bolted up, away from the welcoming nest between his thighs. Her eyes were wide with shocked dismay, and she pulled away and rose to her feet so quickly she never saw the hazy expression of growing desire reflected in his own eyes and in every line of his face. She grabbed the mugs from the table and moved rapidly for the kitchen, her heart thudding with a desperate rhythm.

"This is cold. I’ll make us some more," she said, throwing the words over her shoulder as she left the living room.

She never saw the passion dissipate and by the time she returned, the shocked look of confused distress on his face had been replaced by a neutral expression that hid his every thought. Had she been more attuned to the bond, she would have felt its abrupt closure as he clamped down on the burgeoning emotions threatening to spill out.

"I’m heating it up again – it should be ready in a minute," she said, smiling brightly at him from behind the sofa opposite him. He stood up and shook his head, reaching for his cloak.

"It’s late, Catherine, and you need to be at work early. I should go."

He moved towards the balcony door and she followed behind, but made no attempt to persuade him to stay. He pulled on his boots, stepped over the threshold, then turned back to her. She remained inside, however, just out of reach, her arms crossed over her chest as through to ward off a chill.

"You haven’t forgotten the children’s concert this Saturday, have you? Will you be able to make it?"

He spoke the last question hesitantly, as through unsure of her answer. There was an almost imperceptible pause, and his heart caught for a fleeting second before she smiled again.

"Of course, I wouldn’t miss it. There’s a lot to do this week at the office, so I may not see you much between now and then, but I promise to be there."

He nodded slowly, and pulled his hood up until the burnished copper was covered and his eyes were nothing more than dark shadows within.

"I’ll meet you below at seven on Saturday," he said quietly.

"Seven," she agreed.

He paused, but her arms remained closed, and she didn’t move, the same smile on her face that had been there since she’d abruptly left him. Finally he nodded and turned to leave. He moved slowly, hoping she would call him back, but she was as silent as their bond.

As he caught the lip just above her balcony roof and swung himself upward, the smile on her face vanished completely. Her eyes were darker than the night, and completely unreadable.

* * *

Swirling mists surrounded around her, and when they finally cleared she found herself in her own bedroom, the only light there reflected from the pale moon shining through the sheers of her balcony. That was odd. The curtains hanging there were the old ones, not the new linen sheers she’d hung so recently. A sound distracted her, not from the balcony itself, as was her continual expectation now, but instead from within, from behind her. She turned and stared in shock at the sight clear before her, despite the dimness of the room.

Two figures lay entwined on the bed, kissing. The man had his back to her, but she recognized him instantly despite that - it was Tom Gunther. The woman was hidden completely, lying partially beneath him, but in that very instant, before she could do any more than stare in open-mouthed astonishment, the couple rolled over and she found herself staring into her own face.

In that instant a dual sensation was triggered within. The two were oblivious to her, but Catherine could feel her own emotions as she watched the scene unfold, and she could also feel the stream of sensations from that other, younger Cathy, the one on the bed. One moment she stood alone watching, the next she lay upon the bed, with Tom. Her perspective changed almost randomly, and the emotions of both her past and present self merged and mixed, becoming one.

Though no overt clues were given, somehow she knew this night, had lived it before, of that she was certain. Over three years ago she and Tom had gone to a ball given by the Mayor’s office. One of many public functions they so often attended, the objective of that night had been the procurement of a zoning permit for Tom’s firm. The event itself was, well, uneventful, as was the night spent together afterwards.

Sex between them was nothing if not routine, but she had seldom expected different, and had never thought to question the lack of passion between them. It seemed normal. Still, things had begun to change lately. She was no longer quite so complacent about the time they spent together. More and more she asked herself if that was all there was for her.

As Catherine stood watching the familiar tableau unfold, disgust built within her. She didn’t want him touching her, not even this dream image of her from the past. There was no pleasure there, no joy, only a sense of tediousness tinged with resignation. She felt his kisses, and they repulsed her. She wanted to turn away, but her desire to do so now did not impact the figures on the bed, and they continued on. He was touching her, and though it was a lifeless sensation her dismay grew. No, no...

She tried to call out, to stop him, but nothing happened. His touches were mercifully brief, and she sighed with relief, until his body shifted over hers once more, his intention clear by that motion, even had she not remembered the culmination of that long ago evening. Catherine turned away abruptly, desperate not to see the movements of the next few minutes, trying to block the memory of them from her mind, but it was pointless. She both stood beside the bed and lay upon it, and there was no way to escape the events that unfolded there.

Through that other stream she felt his weight upon her, and with no further notice his body joined with hers. She wasn’t really ready, she rarely was with him, her body simply unresponsive to him in this way, but that was something else she’d grown accustomed to in their time together. She gritted her teeth and endured the pain stoically, but not so the other one, the watching Catherine. Images of Vincent filled her tortured thoughts. No... No! He can’t touch me like this, he can’t! She wasn’t for him, she was only for Vincent!

It changed nothing. She felt the motion of his body on and within hers and could do nothing but wait for it to end, misery filling her with an all-encompassing pervasiveness. It felt like an eternity, though in reality it lasted only minutes. His body convulsed upon hers and she shuddered with revulsion. He rolled off her immediately, already falling asleep and she lay stiffly beside him, counting the minutes.

When she was certain that he would not wake, she left the bed and slipped into the darkened bathroom. She turned the light on and stared at her reflection in the mirror, sorrow and disgust churning through her. Why, oh why was she with him? Did she deserve no better than this? Only a dark emptiness answered. She stepped into the shower and turned on the water until it was as hot as she could stand it. She stood beneath the scalding spray, wishing it could erase the memory of his touch from her.