IN THE DARKNESS

By Karen Mason-Richardson

Hot eyes glittered in the darkness.

From beneath a black, leather-trimmed hood those eyes focused onthe interior of the brightly lit apartment. The artificial light wasnot kind to the unique face, casting angular shadows on the gauntcheeks and muzzle-like mouth. An occasional hard glint of exposedfang pierced through gusts of steam created when hot breath met coldnight air. A chill breeze shifted the dark folds of cloak against hisleg, a rough wool caress.

Why was he here? He should never have come here, not now, not sosoon. Why did he torture himself this way?

Because part of him was incapable of resisting the soundless,sirens' call of her: because she was there, inside. Needing him.Needing...

No!

With a muffled growl, Vincent tore his gaze from beyond the gauzycurtains to focus on the concrete balcony floor.

They were so sure. All so sure that he was better now. That he wascured. They did not understand, could never know. There was no curefor this, no cure for him. How could you cure yourself of your ownnature? No, there was no cure... for that.

How could he forget how close he had come? He had stopped theBeast in the only way he could. How he had managed he didn't reallyknow. All he knew was that she must never be harmed.

The inevitable loss of grip on that dark side of his nature hadbeen in process for some time. Her very presence tore at that gripwithout mercy. The scent of her, the touch of her hand, tugged at hiscontrol and beckoned the Beast to wake. And from within the bond, theconnection he could never escape; would never want to escape. Thatavenue, too, fed him her desires, at times in torrents he couldbarely control. Fed the beast.

Oh, yes, he knew her desire. Both sides of him knew...

She had kissed him once. He had felt the sweet weight of her bodypress lightly against his as she rose on tiptoe to reach him. Frozenby that simple touch, his only movement had been the rise of hischest in a silent gasp of shock that she would dare do such a thing:one that had drawn in the sweetness of her. Then, she had kissed him.For the first time he had felt the softness of her lips against hisown.

He had not moved, not responded in any way. Did she have any ideawhat that had cost him? She had smiled, thanked him, and walked away.Always, he let her walk away. He must! Oh, but the drive to followhad been so strong, the howling urge to rush forward, pull heragainst him once again, and take more. Always, more! To finally letgo and embrace what they both so longed for. But it would not be justthe two of them at that moment, for to loose passion was to loose theother side of his nature. The Beast. Passion, anger, rage, all theprimal emotions belonged to that side.

No one knew. No one understood the inescapable battles he wagedevery day. Usually he won. Usually. There were days when, controlfraying, he would retreat to the underground river to rest for a fewhours. Rest and loose the reins. Relax his vigilance. Free the Beastto prowl and rage where none could see and there was no one tohurt.

Father knew some of it and had once tried explaining to Catherinethe delicate balance that was Vincent's struggle. He knew the face ofthe Beast. He had, with tears in his eyes, pulled taut the leatherstraps to hold him down during that period in adolescence when theBeast had won free. He had seen...

Catherine had seen as well. That knowledge burned inside, shaminghim. He had often said how he marveled at her courage. The depth ofthat courage also shamed him, for in that black cavern she had stoodand faced the Beast, while he...

Movement! Reflexively Vincent shrank further back into theshadows. She couldn't see him! Not now! He was too raw, too close tothe edge.

 Catherine smoothed the last of the lotion onto her freshlyshaven legs. It had been wonderful to relax in a long, hot bath. Shehad needed it. The last few weeks had been rough: the Spirko crisis,Paracelsus... Thanks to the stalker she still couldn't totally relaxin the bathtub or shower unless the door was propped open a fewinches.

Yes, the last month or so had been more than difficult, eachincident leaving its own scars and repercussions.

Vincent's collapse had been the worst. She had screamed forFather, desperately searching for a heartbeat, for any sign of life.There had been nothing. Father had finally given up his frantic CPRefforts on Vincent's supine body. Hands shaking, mind frozen indisbelief, she had reached out to touch, to stroke the tangled mane,screaming for him not to leave her, pouring heart and soul into thatplea.

And... a heartbeat. Slow, sluggish, but undeniably present.Followed by another, and another. A shallow breath. Father'stear-muffled 'thank God.'

They had carefully taken him home and she had not left his sidefor days. He had been so weak, driven past exhaustion by his illness.Roles had been reversed as this time it was she who had read to him,cared for him. Yesterday, finally, he had been strong enough to getup and, albeit shakily, walk a few steps. By this afternoon he hadbeen well on his way to full recovery.

He would be all right.

With a dismissive shake of her head Catherine replaced the cap onthe lotion bottle and wrapped a towel around her wet hair. It wasover. And it wouldn't happen again. Not if she could help it. She'dhad a lot of time to think in those long hours sitting at hisbedside. Time to think about changes.

Hot eyes glittered in the darkness.

Scent curled its way from the open bathroom to vent out thebalcony door, left open a crack for fresh air. Peach lotion. Herbalshampoo. Flesh, heated by the bath. Nostrils flared to drink them in.A shivering rumble vibrated through Vincent's chest as the beguilingscents of Catherine wrapped around his senses.

He watched her leave the bathroom and turn to the dressing table.A softly rounded breast, pinkly flushed beneath blue lace, drew hiseyes like a magnet before she tightened the belt of her robe. Breathcatching, he lowered his head, mane swinging forward to block out thesight as he focused once more on the bare concrete. Unconsciously heclenched the back of a wrought iron chair, desperately grasping atanything to hold, anything to keep his hands still. To keep them fromwhat they really wanted. To keep them from reaching forward, pushingopen the door, and...

The world narrowed as, panting, he strove for control.

A cup of tea would hit the spot. Catherine unwrapped the towel andgave one last rub to her still damp hair. After running a combquickly through, she made her way to her tiny excuse for a kitchen.As she passed the dining table she noted with regret the envelopeatop her briefcase. That was tomorrow's first order of business:handing in her resignation. It wasn't going to be easy but she woulddrop it off, say goodbye to everyone, and leave. She wasn't goingback to work there. At all.

Joe was going to be livid.

When she had joined the DA's office it had been as a pamperedcorporate lawyer looking for a new start. It had been an unfortunatefact that, during her few years at her father's firm, she reallyhadn't done much of anything. While writing up her resume she hadbeen shocked to realize she couldn't list even one substantialprofessional accomplishment. For good or ill, however, the DA'soffice was always short of people. She had gone into that positionwith a lot to prove, both personally and professionally.

Well, she had proven herself on both counts. Now it was time toget out. The danger. The long hours. She didn't need it any more, oneither level. Yes, she still wanted a job where she could helppeople, that hadn't and wouldn't change. But there were a lot of waysto help others that didn't require putting your neck on the line. Shehad considered asking to be reassigned within the office, but she wasa top investigator in her perennially understaffed division. It wasinevitable she would be dragged into things, willing or not. No, thiswould require a clean break. Fortunately, between her mother's trustfund and her inheritance from her father, she had enough money so shecould take her time to find just the right position. That wastomorrow's second order of business: researching non-profitorganizations. A lawyer with her background, especially one who wouldwork three or four days a week for a low salary, would be invaluableto them.

Filling the kettle with water, Catherine glanced around thekitchen. It held space for an oven, a small refrigerator, amicrowave, and not much else. The one-bedroom apartments in thisbuilding catered to the high-end single professional, the kind ofpeople whose idea of a home cooked meal was reheated takeout. It hadsuited the old Cathy just fine. Lately, however, her thoughts hadbeen going in a different direction in this as well. Why had it takenher so long?

Vincent had called her "a woman of both worlds." And he was right.Tossing everything to go live in the tunnels was a lovely fantasy,but in reality it just wouldn't work. Not for her. She was too much apart of life above. To Vincent, Above was an important part of whoshe was and he didn't want her to leave that part behind.

Somehow both of them had fallen into the trap of all-or-nothing.What had happened to her lawyer's mind? What had happened tocompromise? He risked so much to come to her balcony, the journey,the exposure...

Several helpers had tunnel access in their homes or, as in Mr.Long's shop, their workplaces. It certainly wasn't unheard of.Tomorrow's third order of business: beginning the hunt for a newhome. Real estate was ridiculously expensive in Manhattan; it wouldtake a serious chunk out of her inheritance to get somethingappropriate, but for Vincent to be able to safely come and go to herhome was worth it. The job change and workload reduction would alsomean having time to share it with him. Maybe even during thedaylight!

So many plans to make. So many changes. A speculative smile warmedher features as she contemplated other changes she was determinedwould come to pass. Soon! It was well past time to stop dreaming andstart doing. Wondrous possibilities swirled through her mind as sheheaded back to the bedroom, teacup in hand.

Another scent, warm, familiar. Tea. The herb tea she liked, theone he had given her when she was healing in his chamber. Through thebond, another warmth. She was thinking of him...

He should not be here. He must go. Go now! Sense screamed at himto follow these commands but his body refused to obey. A shaft ofpanic was barely suppressed in time. She must not feel his presencehere! He could not be touched, not by her, not now. It would bedisastrous. Minutes passed as he fought the primal demands wrackinghis body. Dimly he heard her moving about the bedroom. All that hewas cried out to enter that forbidden expanse, go in and...

He must leave! He should never have come.

Catherine sipped her tea as she finished the last of the laundry.Over a week away had resulted in a quite a pile. Absently, handssmoothed and folded until an unfamiliar texture caught her attentionand she gently shook out the garment. Warm beige fabric, looselygathered at the neckline, worn from many washings. One of Vincent'snightshirts. It must have gotten mixed up with her things when shehad packed this morning. She hadn't paid much attention to what shewas doing, her mind whirling with ideas and mental to-do lists.

He had been unconscious for the first few days. Throughout, overFather's objections, she insisted on being the one to care for him.She had attended to his needs herself: all of his needs. However,Father had taken over certain physical aspects once Vincent regainedconsciousness. Her quick offer of help had been met with the deepestblush she had ever seen on Vincent, his golden cheeks flushed darkcopper as he dropped his eyes to the blankets. He had been mortifiedat the thought. But, while unconscious, he had been hers.

She had removed this shirt...

An unexpected surge of surprise caught him off guard and,helpless, Vincent looked once more into the warmly lit bedroom.Catherine stood beside the bed, his nightshirt in her hands. His! Asoft smile graced her features as she lifted the garment and caressedher face with it. Warm tendrils of pleasure threaded through thebond. Vincent's hands clenched even more tightly on the abused chairas a wonderful, hazy memory surfaced, eclipsing everything.

He was in his chamber. She was close, her warm personal scentcurling into his consciousness. He could feel the dip in the mattressas she knelt on the bed beside him. Chill air replaced the warmth ofquilts as the covers were pulled away. Soft hands worked the tie atthe neck of his nightshirt, loosening the garment

"Catherine, No!" She must not do this, mustn't see... Eyesflying open in shock, he swiftly brought his hands up to catch hers,to halt their mission...

Nothing! Speech was denied. Eyelids refused to lift. He layimmobile, his body deaf to the desperate command to roll away, to dosomething to stop this, stop her, before she saw too much. Before herinevitable revulsion became a knife lacerating his everydream.

Her weight settled lightly across his chest. Anguished moans ofdenial echoed soundlessly through his mind as burrowing hands rootedbeneath him to grasp the hem of his shirt. With difficulty she workedthe cloth from underneath his body, finally stripping the garmentover his head.

It would all end here. He knew what he was and what he was not.Frantically he slammed shut the bond. At least a few minutes more,couldn't he just pretend? Pretend that all was well, that she was notdisgusted at the inhuman differences he could no longer hide? Just afew minutes more!

"Oh, Vincent." Her soft breath carried his name in a warm gustabove his heart only moments before her lips pressed against thecenter of his chest.

Touching him. She was touching him! From that touch, awellspring of reluctant hope began to trickle. Her small hands slidthrough the fur on his chest, wrapping into the long curls, softlytugging. The short hair coat on his shoulders was pushed against itslie, the resistance tingling deliciously. Could it be?

"Mmmmmm." Her quiet murmur sounded approval, rife with sensualenjoyment.

Daring to hope, he reopened the bond a crack. Instantly it wasblown open by the rushing gale of her emotions. Love. Joy. Surprisedapproval. Appreciation. She liked - no loved - what she saw.Fingernails trailed through the short coat on his thighs withdelicious abandon, leaving rough furrows. Lines lovingly eradicatedas her warm hands smoothed the fur back into place. Sensuous delightflowed through the bond in a steady stream. Gently, those wonderfulhands stroked over every inch of him, warm lips softly followingtheir path.

Breathing faltered at the brush of her cheek against his thigh,against his...

"Catherine?" Mary's voice. From the chamber entrance.

A spike of embarrassment cut through the bond, swiftly replacedby resolution, a reaffirmation of her right to be here, with him,like this.

"Oh, yes. Could you set it on the table, please?" Footsteps onrock, then carpet. The solid sound of something heavy set onto hisbedside table.

"The water should be still warm. I've brought some extra towelstoo, just in case. Oh, and Kipper will be by later with some supperfor you."

"Thank you, Mary, for everything,"

Footsteps leaving the chamber. Once again the bed shifted asCatherine leaned away. The sound of dripping water. A shock of warmthas a cloth was run over his face and neck, leaving cooling wetness inits place. A welcome soothing sensation fading intograyness...

Vincent forced himself back to reality with a truncated growl. Itmust have been a dream, a figment of his fevered recovery. She couldnot have reacted that way to his body. He was dreaming again,constructing fantasies so strong they felt as if they could be realif only he would just reach out.

If only it were truth...

She had removed this shirt. She had bathed him. She had run herhands over every inch of him. Of his physical differences, none werea mystery now. And there were differences. She had always hadsuspicions about his shyness in exposing any part of his body otherthan hands and face. Speculation had been confirmed. He was furred.Pretty much all over. In a moment of weakness she had been unable toresist exploring the textures of him. Soft, downy fur on his face,coarser and longer on his chest and down his spinal column, peachfuzz on his backside, and a silky short pelt on arms and legs. Theonly bare spots were where rubbing occurred, under his arms...between his thighs...

Catherine shook herself from the sensuous memory with a catch oflaughter. "Enough of that, Chandler! Save it for when it counts."

And it would count. She would make sure. Vincent thought that thetwo of them being 'truly together' was unthinkable. Well, he'd betterjust get used to the idea because one of the changes she wasdetermined to implement was to stop not thinking about it. She knewthat feeling those emotions from her made him uncomfortable,especially if he wasn't alone. For over two years now she hadsuppressed any thought in a sexual vein, for his sake. Lately she hadwondered if perhaps, in the long run, this had done more harm thangood.

They didn't talk, at least not as much as they should andcertainly not about specific subjects. Discussion of a physicalrelationship was the number one taboo. Lacking Vincent's acute senseof the bond, admittedly she was running on guesswork, but two yearsin the DA's office had resulted in some unexpected benefits. One ofthem was learning to read people, learning to 'hear between thelines' so to speak. That intuitive skill told her Vincent didn't shyaway from discussion of a physical relationship because he didn'twant it, but because he wanted it too much.

Vincent had not been himself in that dark cavern. There theotherness, the side of his nature that killed to protect, the one setfree by Paracelsus' drug, had been in control. Raging through thedark, it had screamed its loneliness and pain to the uncaring rock.But she had no fear of this particular Beast. What she had seen onhis face as he stumbled and fell in that lonely place had beendespair. Longing. Wanting. Other than the obvious violence, she knewnow the other reason Vincent feared his so-called dark side so much.It was the same reason he feared discussing a physical relationship.Because it, too, wanted...

The glowing numbers on the bedside clock read eleven thirty. Belowall would be settled into their chambers for the night, asleep. Allexcept for Vincent. This morning, after examination, Father hadinsisted he remain resting in his chamber for at least another coupleof days. However, with his nocturnal nature, Vincent would not besleeping. He would be; reading, or perhaps writing in his journal,readying lesson plans, or reviewing the endless project proposalsnecessary to keep the tunnels safe and in good repair. Regardless, hewould be awake and, more importantly, alone.

Giving herself a shake, Catherine set Vincent's shirt aside anddeterminedly finished folding the laundry. After returning her teacupto the kitchen, she glanced towards the apartment door to ensure thelocks were engaged and turned out the lights. With a quiet yawn sheentered the bedroom, dark except for the bedside lamp. Removing herwrap, she draped it over the chair. Vincent's nightshirt lay crumpledon the bed and she picked it up to fold. Soft cotton caressed herpalms, comforting and enticing...

She was going to bed now. She was removing her wrap to slip intothat silken bed, the one he had so recently shared with her, albeitinnocently. Was it really only a week ago? Regardless, she wouldsleep now and he would watch over her as he always had. Temptationwould fade to bearable as he guarded her slumber. He could almosthear the resigned grumble as his nemesis calmed. With an inaudiblesigh of relief, Vincent relaxed his iron vigilance. Today he had won.The Beast had remained caged.

The relieved sigh was choked off, mid-breath. Metal creakedaudibly as claws tightened in a death grip on the iron chair. Shockedto the core, he desperately strove to avert his eyes.

The sight of her! Blue silk cascaded in an audible rush to pool onthe carpet, revealing ivory flesh warmed by gentle lamplight. Thegleaming curve of shoulder, rose tipped sway of breasts, tapered dropto narrow waist, rounded swell of hip, luscious curve of backside,graceful legs...

Burning desire coursed through him, intense, undeniable. Thecoiled tightness of the Beast burst loose, hot whips of awarenessinexorably stealing control. With supreme effort Vincent wrenched hiseyes closed, striving desperately to rob the Beast of the sight ofhis prey.

No. He wanted to see. The Other could notdeny him that. Immobile, clenched in struggle, only eyelids moved,slowly opening, to see.

A red mist tinted his vision; that crimson fog that heralded thepresence of the Beast, the color that revealed its increasingdominance. Inside, Catherine pulled his cotton nightshirt over herhead and bent to turn down the covers of the bed. The deep, unlacedneckline draped alarmingly over her shoulder, revealing the gentleswell of her breasts, shadowed, full of mystery. Hands twitched withthe desire to unveil that mystery, to feel the softness of her fleshunder his claws as he stroked...

Greedily, he watched as she lay on the bed and stretchedluxuriously, arching her back towards the ceiling, breasts thrustagainst the thin cotton. Gusting pants answered her movements as shesinuously reversed to lift her hips. Hips lifted just right so thathe could-

No!

Please, Catherine! Please, sleep now...

She was settling, turning off the lamp, lifting the covers to herchin and closing her eyes. Yes, she would soon be asleep. Then thedrive would diminish. Temptation removed, the Beast could be forcedback to its cage. He only had to hold it here until she slept. Keepit from gaining complete control. If only she would sleep!

The pillows still smelled of him. She hadn't had the opportunityto change the bed since his illness began. With a sigh, Catherinesnuggled her face into the cool silk. He had been here, near enoughto touch, to hold. She had woken up beside him. She knew now what itfelt like to have his large frame in her bed curled next to her, hiswarmth augmenting her own. Not in quite the way she wanted but it wasa start. Closing her eyes, she settled the comforter around hershoulders.

She knew what he felt like, the glide of fur and skin beneath herhands as she learned of him. What he so ashamedly hid from other'seyes she found beautiful. The sculpted strength of him, muscular andsolid under a layer of soft fur, was wonderfully sensual to thefingertips.

Yes, to have him here in her bed. To touch, to slide her bodyagainst all of him...

He would arrive on her balcony. She knew he often did so withoutrevealing his presence. She knew a lot more than he thought she did.How he would come just to sit and look out over the lights of thecity. How it gave him comfort to guard her sleep, to feel that hecould at least do that one thing in her world to keep her safe.Tonight, though, would be different. He would not sit on the wroughtiron chair staring over the forbidden lights, but stand at her door.Watching her. Wanting her.

Unless temperatures were well below freezing she had a habit ofleaving the French doors to her bedroom open just a crack, justenough to let in some fresh air. At least, that was part of it. Theother part, the poorly disguised invitation, was tactfully leftunacknowledged by them both. Tonight, however, he would be standingat that threshold, contemplating that open door, knowing itsymbolized everything. And that all he needed to do was reach out andstep inside.

He could be there now, a shadow imperceptible against thedarkness. Watching her. Wanting her. Catherine moved restlessly,feeling a subtle ache stirring in her most female place. That achewhich she had not allowed to surface for so long, not even to beassuaged by her own hand in case he would feel it too.

It was so clear in her mind. The well-maintained door would swingopen slowly, with only the barest creak. He would be standing there,his cloaked form blotting out the city light. His desire would berevealed in the tenseness of his frame. Revealed by his breath, hotsteam against the chill night air. Revealed by his eyes.

Hot eyes glittered in the darkness.

He must not panic. Panic eroded control. Fear, though. Fear gavestrength to the struggle. Fear for Catherine, for what the Beastwould do to her. To them. To everything they dreamed of being,together.

No. She... She was thinking of him! Unbidden, a muffled, harshrumble shivered through his chest. He could feel her reaching for hispresence. Her body shifted beneath the blankets. Shifted restlesslyin her thoughts of him. She wanted him so! She called to that part ofhim he now fought. Giving it strength...

Within, he could feel the Beast gaining ground. Responding to hercall. She could not understand the risk of this. She must stop, stopnow! A muffled whimper escaped his lips, the last remnant of ananguished scream of warning, choked off by the Beast's increasingcontrol. Eyes widened in terror as his arm raised, fingers extendedto touch the open door. Desperately he strove to halt that forwardreach, to no avail. Clawed, inhuman hands made contact, the lightpush sufficient to swing the door open slowly, with only the barestcreak.

Scent wove its way through that open door, the rich scent of hernow complemented by an enticing, unfamiliar note. Feminine.Mysterious. Musky and sweet. Nostrils flared tensely as he drew thatnew facet of her scent into his being. Silkily it beckoned, cryingsoftly for what it needed. The Beast knew that new scentinstinctively. Knew, and echoed that need. Another shuddering rumbleshook him, a soundless answer.

So strong! Never had it been so strong, not even in that darkcavern before Catherine came. Even then he had had enough control toprevent the Beast from returning to the home tunnels, from going toher! But then he had never felt this need from her, never felt thefull rush of her longing and desire. There had been hints of it,beginnings firmly suppressed almost before he sensed them at all.Never had he imagined this!

Despair swamped through Vincent as the Beast raised its head,reveling in the drenching desire coursing through the bond. His bodyresponded to the feminine plea, a swift hardening almost painful inintensity. A last supreme effort proved useless as with an innerdespairing wail Vincent felt the last of his control shuntedaside.

Breath gusting hotly, the Beast gazed with triumph into thedarkened apartment.

He would be standing there, staring at her with an expression shehad only glimpsed in the past. Standing proudly, eyes bold, lungsheaving. How she wanted that for him! To replace that habitualreticence, that deeply ingrained humility, with pride andconfidence.

Confidence. He would stride into the apartment as if it were hisright, which it was. Long, graceful strides would be soundless on thecarpet. Reaching the side of her bed, he would drop to one knee andreach for her. The softly furred back of his hand would glide downher cheek to gently cup and lift her face. She would open her eyesand see...

Hot eyes glittered in the darkness.

She was there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

With determination the Beast stepped into the apartment; over thatthreshold that for too long had represented everything forbidden tohis other side. That gentle, patient, human side. Too patient! To theOther, this represented a crossing of boundaries, a tearing down ofbarriers, a loss of control. His upper lip curled in contempt. Howfoolish! It was just a door, albeit a special one. A door to betterthings, wonderful things. The door to her.

Soundless steps led him to her bedside. He remembered this place.He had almost won free here several times. Ironic how, for all theworry about his harming people, it had been the Other who had smashedthings, who had destroyed the bedroom door. He had done nothing,nothing except... want.

As did she, he could feel it, so strongly! Her thoughts of him, inthis very spot, drew him forward. Smoothly he dropped to one kneebeside the bed and raised his hand to touch her. His hand, furred andclawed, vicious in defense, quick in reprisal. For a moment he feltan unaccustomed touch of apprehension. That hand had never touched inlove. Could the Other be right? Would he hurt her? She looked sosmall, so fragile. Hesitating, he turned his hand; claws now curvedinward so as not risk an inadvertent scratch, and stroked down hercheek.

With a gusty smile Catherine leaned into his touch and opened hereyes.

"Vincent?" She spoke his name questioningly. Slowly she cameupright, adjusting the neckline of his shirt that had slipped down tobare her left shoulder.

He wanted to lick the moonlight off her skin.

A chill breeze blew in from the open door and she shivered."What's going on? You shouldn't be here, Father told you to rest. Hassomething happened Below? Are you all right?"

He could feel the concern. Concern, rapidly escalating into alarm.The Beast blinked in consternation. Speech. Emotions were hisprovince. Speech belonged to the Other.

"What's wrong? Vincent, talk to me."

Alarm and confusion, rapidly descending into fear. His lack ofresponse frightened her. He was frightening her! No! The Othercouldn't be right! If he was right about this then he could be rightabout other things, about his being evil, mad, a monster. He was notthese things! It wasn't true!

Surely she would understand? She must! Eyes pleading, handsbeginning to tremble, he reached for her.

He looked frightened. His eyes held that hazy confusion she hadseen that night on her balcony when he had licked the drop of bloodfrom her finger. When she had first felt the soft rasp of his tongue.Her gaze flicked to the open door. The door he had refused to passuntil that other side of his nature drove him through. The side thatwas brave in defense, heartless in battle, yet also frightened andalone.

Yes, that side. Wearing the hauntingly familiar expression lastseen when he collapsed at her feet in the catacombs. Mane brushed herface as he shook his head heavily, a short growl escaping him. Eyesrose to meet hers, a desperate unspoken question. Slowly he reachedhis hands for her and she grasped them quickly, tightly.

Too tightly. She hadn't paid attention, drawn in by the naked fearin his eyes. A sharp prick at her wrist.

"Ouch!"

The Beast drew in a sharp breath. It couldn't be, it hadn't...

He looked down at their clasped hands. At a claw, tipped in wetcrimson. At the small bead of shiny red that swelled from her wrist.The smell of her blood, iron and copper, assaulted him.

He had barely touched her! Only that one little thing, a clasp ofhands, and he had harmed her! With a piercing half-roar of anguish hesplayed his hands open, desperate to remove his claws from anywherenear her flesh. The Other was right, these hands were not made togive love! What more proof was needed? He could never know thiswoman's love, just the sucking wet tear of flesh shredding beneathhis claws. All he would ever know, all he deserved to know, wasanger, blood and death...

He had to escape! Escape the thin red line of proof that trickleddown her left arm, a line that separated him forever from any hope oftenderness. Condemned him to a life alone, a life without her.

It must end. He must go from her, never harm her again...

"No. That's my fault! It was an accident!" Alarm. Fear.

She was gripping his hands. He couldn't pull free. He would cuther again! He had to make her understand! He had to tell her... Heneeded to...

He needed Speech.

Vincent shook off a wave of dizziness as he was abruptly plummetedback into control. Inside he could hear the Beast's howl of anguishas it retreated in shame, curling in on itself like a beaten dog.Strong blood scent drifted upwards, heavy and sweet.

"I'm sorry."

Gently Catherine disengaged her right hand and reached forward totouch his face, cradling his chin, lifting his eyes to hers. "Don'tbe. I know what you're doing. You're building this up in your head tobe something it's not. Vincent, this was an accident. It wasn't yourfault."

Her soft green eyes drew him so, their warmth as palpable as hertouch. "Yes, it was! You see, now. How easy it is to hurt you, when Ilose myself! Even without trying, even being careful- "

"What about envelopes?"

Vincent blinked in confusion. Envelopes? What?

"Yes, envelopes. Should I never touch one again?" Catherine smiledat his confusion. "Look."

In his hands, her wrist turned. His gaze caught and followed themovement, noting the wound he had inflicted was already beginning toclot. Slipping from his grip, she closed her hand to present herindex finger, revealing a shallow cut across the tip.

"This afternoon I opened some mail and cut myself on an envelopeflap. It's just a little thing really, isn't it? And it was my fault,I wasn't being careful. It hurt and bled more than this little cut Ijust gave myself. So am I never to open an envelope again? What aboutuse a kitchen knife? I've nicked myself with one before, so I guess Ican never use one of those again either?"

Gentle amusement rippled through the bond. Its soothing coolnesswashed through him like a balm, calming. Reaching through to thatother presence...

"Vincent, not everything is your fault. I can be a klutz at times,and this was one of those times. It probably won't be the last timesomething like this happens, so you can't go into a frenzy ofself-blame every time. It was just a little accident. Please, let itgo."

Hot emotion swelled as the Beast within uncoiled. Relief.Understanding. An accident. Everything was all right. It was just theOther, poisoning him, eroding his confidence.

Her hair cascaded across her left shoulder, bared by the deepneckline of his shirt. The moonlight painted soft shadows under herdelicate collarbones and hinted at rounded femininity beneath thesoft cotton. Cotton that would be dislodged with one small catch of aclaw...

With a gasp, Vincent tore his eyes away to focus on the floor. Itwas happening again. The beast was resurging. Did it never losestrength? He was exhausted from the constant struggle, escalated overthe past few weeks to beyond bearing. He had to leave while he stillhad some control.

"I'm sorry, Catherine. I have to go." Lurching to his feet, healmost stumbled as he turned and took several steps toward the door.Wrenching at his control, the Beast fought. It wanted to stay. Itwanted her.

So tired. Strength, which had seemed adequate an hour ago, hadbeen all but exhausted by the trip to her balcony and the struggle tocontain the Beast.

She was in front of him, barring his path to the open balconydoor. How had she moved so quickly?

"Why is it so important to leave? It's because you're losingcontrol again, isn't it? It was that other part of you that woke me,that touched my face."

Vincent swallowed a moan. She knew!

From deep within, a jagged smile. She knew.

A rough swing of mane, burnished silver in the moonlight,concealed his features as he turned his head away. "It's so strong.Catherine, it wants... so much."

"What does it want?" she asked softly.

Vincent slowly shook his head in negation, trembling with effortto contain the rough desires of the Beast. She couldn'tunderstand...

It was like watching a battle. And it was always like this. Hewould stand there, shaking with iron control, until he could forcehimself to leave. Then she wouldn't hear from him for weeks, while heretreated to some dark cavern to work out his frustrations. Once hehad reinforced that incredible self-control, he would be back.Eventually. Hopefully.

Well, she had two choices here, both of which had drawbacks. Shecould let him go but as usual their relationship, any progress theyhad even come close to making, would be swept away and in its placewould be more unwritten rules, more barriers. Or she could force theissue and either everything would work out or...

It was a risk. But they couldn't keep shunting everything asidelike this, pretending those forces and desires didn't exist. It washurting them both.

Perhaps the time had come to take that risk.

With an enigmatic smile, Catherine walked to the French doors anddeterminedly swung them closed. A sharp click announced the turningof the lock. If he wanted to leave, he was going to have to gothrough her.

Turning, she twisted her shoulder. The loose neck of thenightshirt slid off and drooped down her left arm, almost exposingher breast. "You know, it strikes me that perhaps we've been goingabout this all wrong." A tight inner leash was undone as she allowedher stemmed desire to resurface. Her voice softened, a sultrywhisper. "We dance around each other, hiding our feelings, alwaysstaying in control. I think maybe we need to... loosen up alittle."

Through the curtain of mane she caught a glimpse of fang as hisbreath left him in an audible rush. 'That got his attention,' shethought with thrill of smug delight as she walked slowly toward him.He looked as if he would press himself through the bedroom wall if itwere possible.

"He won't hurt me, Vincent," she continued softly. "He's as afraidof that as you. Look at what happened just minutes ago." She leanedagainst him, feeling as well as hearing the ragged pants as he foughtto remain still. One small hand lifted to smooth the tousled maneaway from anguished eyes. Gently she stroked her thumb across thetense line bisecting his forehead as she slid her other arm aroundhis neck.

"Let go. Just let him go."

Did she truly understand what she asked? What she invited?

She pressed her soft body against him. He could barely breathebeneath it, the slight weight out of proportion to what it signified.A burrowing hand slipped beneath his mane and kneaded the back of hishead lightly. The soft friction of nails against his scalp carvedfurrows through his resolve. Within, the Beast writhed in darksensual joy.

Could she be right?

A moment's hesitation, the tiniest waver in control and with aninner snarl of triumph the Beast twisted free.

Beneath her stroking fingers trembling abruptly ceased, replacedby a different sort of tension. One which, rather than denying hertouch, welcomed it. A soft vibration against her breasts resolveditself into an audible thrumming.

Catherine lowered her hand from his forehead to press against hischest, to feel the low, shivering rumble. "You're purring!" sheexclaimed softly. "I didn't know you could do that." Surprised anddelighted, she tossed her hair out of her face to look upwards.

It was not the Vincent she knew who gazed back. Once again, hiseyes bore that hazy, unfocused quality. Slowly she reached up tofirmly cradle his face as she looked deeply into those eyes. Eyesthat glowed with desire for her. An expression she had waited far toolong to see.

"Hello." All her love, her admiration, and her acceptance werewrapped into her warm greeting. "I've been waiting to meet you for along time."

Languidly he turned his face to nuzzle her cupped hand, rubbingthe fur of his cheek and nose into it. A gust of warm breath precededthe silky rasp of his tongue as he licked the small mark where hisclaw had cut her wrist, guilt and apology plain in hisexpression.

"Shhhh. It's all right. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. It wasan accident." Her voice was warm and he closed his eyes with a gruntof pleasure. Through the bond, he knew of her forgiveness, of herlove. She knew that it was he and not the Other. Knew and accepted.Everything was all right. Soft hands stroked over his face and hedropped his head to press more firmly into that wonderful touch. Hishands grasped her waist as he pulled her to him and burrowed his faceinto her hair, breathing deeply. Beneath him the pulse of her lifethrummed hotly through the delicate column of her neck. She was sowarm.

A tiny wedge of sadness shifted the shape of emotions through thebond. Why sadness, now? It was wonderful, she was wonderful. Touchinghim with soft hands. No screaming, no explosions of pain, no ragingfear of being too late, of not being able to stop those who wouldharm her, of losing her.

Sadness, in her voice. Pain.

"You've never been touched like this, have you? With love? Notsince you were a child, maybe not even then. Oh, Vincent, what haveyou done? What have we all done?" She lifted her head and leaned backin his grip, trying to move.

She was pulling away! An agonized growl welled up as, reflexively,his hands tightened on her waist. She would pull away like the otherone did! She mustn't! She couldn't, not now. He wasn't ready for itto end yet. He needed her too much. It was too soon!

Soft hands, gentle on his, taking them into hers, pulling againsthis grip.

Never enough! There would never be enough! With a growling sob heslackened and dropped his hands, defeated. He could not hurt her, notlike he had the girl who danced. If she wanted to go, it was herchoice. Hot tears welled as he surrendered himself to go back toAloneness.

Never would she come to harm. He would shred to ribbons every lastone who raised hand to her. But the Other he would fight no more.There was no reason.

Releasing control, he began his retreat to darkness. The Otherwould take them home now.

She had retaken his hands and was tugging him forward.

"Come! I just want us to go and sit down on the bed. I'm not goinganywhere. It's OK!"

Dazed, Vincent docilely followed her lead and sat on the edge ofthe bed. Easing beside him, Catherine scooted up to lean against theheadboard and pulled him back until he lay supine, his shaggy headcradled in her lap. Deft fingers burrowed through his mane to smoothacross his temples in a repetitive, hypnotic caress.

He... was not in control. At least, not fully. The Beast was here,too. Unresisting. Allowing him control, cringing in defeat. He couldsense small, automatic lunges for dominance defuse as they arose,like wavelets rippling against a shore, suppressed and removed.

Catherine had bent forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead.Gentle hands stroked his hair and through the bond he felt a swell oflove, rising like a tide.

"It's OK. Everything is all right now. You're safe here with meand I'm not going to leave you. I'll always be here for you. I'm notgoing anywhere."

"Catherine? The Beast- "

"Shhhh. Just relax now."

Those wonderful hands continued to stroke his mane and runsoothingly over his face. A familiar melody wove its way into hisheart. She was humming, that tune that was her mother's lullaby.

He was so tired of resisting her, of resisting what he, what bothsides of him, needed so badly. With a trembling moan he shifted onhis side and tugged helplessly, bringing her to lie beside him. Heburrowed his head into her midriff, a living shelter from a lifetimeof aloneness. His throat tightened as he felt her arms encircle him,clasping him strongly. How had she known how much he needed this?

It was like a dam, finally giving way. The months of turmoil andstruggle had eroded his defenses to the point of practicalnonexistence. Silent sobs wracked him as he drank in the acceptanceand comfort both sides so desperately needed.

He had clung to her for hours. The bedside clock read two a.m.now. At first he had cried as if his heart would break, his bodytrembling in her embrace. The occasional choked sob and increase inthe tightness of his embrace had followed, but even that had taperedoff. Now he lay motionless, breath quietly warming her stomach.

"Vincent?"

She could tell her voice had startled him. He would get up now,apologize for his behavior, and run below...

He wasn't moving.

"How are you feeling?"

For a moment his head burrowed into her once more, just a smallmovement, but speaking volumes. A heavy sigh gusted against her as hereleased his hold and rolled onto his back.

"I don't know. Lighter."

"How do you mean?"

"Like I was Marley's ghost, dragging my chains around forcenturies and then suddenly finding them gone. Adrift."

"Like there are no more barriers?"

Abruptly he turned his head to face her, blue eyes sparkling grayin the moonlight. "Catherine, what did you do?"

"Do? I didn't do anything."

"You did! You stood there and faced it. Defeated it."

"I faced him. But it wasn't hard at all. I knew there was no harmin him, at least not for me. I've known that for a long time now. Asto defeating him, no one did that but himself. Or, I should say,yourself."

Vincent shook his head and sat up. Undaunted, she rose with him,taking his arm.

"Defeat is not the word I would use, either. He was scared. Icould see it in your eyes. He's so frightened of rejection, and ofhurting me. He's just as terrified as you!"

"But he did hurt you! And it could have been so much worse."Tenderly he stroked his thumb over the tiny puncture wound. His chestrose unsteadily in a shuddering breath. It must never happen again."Tonight, you were thinking about me and feeling..." His wordstrickled off and he dropped his head in embarrassment.

"If you mean I was thinking about us together, then yes, I was.It's something I've denied myself for a long time. I was afraid thosekind of thoughts would drive you away. But it's time that I, that we,stop being afraid and start taking some chances. The strain ofholding back so much is hurting us both, especially you. I'm sureit's part of why you were so sick. You told me once that one eithermoves towards love or away from it, that there was no otherdirection. Well, I think it's past time we started moving towardslove. The other direction is impossible, for me if not for you."

"Catherine, please, I ask you not to do this, not to ask suchthings." His need to constrict such a natural expression of her lovewrapped a sick twist of shame around his heart. "It's for your ownsafety. Those kind of thoughts strengthen that other part of me, theyweaken control and I am lost."

"But I know that side of you already. You're so afraid ofit, but if it weren't for that side I'd be dead! Many times over!It's true that you can be lethal in certain situations, but surelyyou know by now that that side of you could never harm me. That'sbeen proven tonight, twice over."

He felt her hand insistently tugging him to face her, to meet hereyes. Their truth blazed through him.

Tonight the Beast had been in control. Not that it hadn't beenbefore, many times, but always those had been times of danger, whenthe need to protect called forth ferocity. Tonight, however, had beendifferent. Twice this night, twice the Beast had forced itself intobeing, stripping him of control in the situation he had most fearedfor over two years. With Catherine close by, reachable. And eachtime, his deepest fears had proved unfounded.

The Beast still lingered, close. He could feel its turmoil beneaththe surface. Desperately wanting but inexplicably not fightinghim.

"Vincent. Would you do something for me? Please?" A tremuloussmile trembled on her lips.

"If it's within my power, I can refuse you nothing. You knowthat."

"Do you truly mean it?"

"You can ask, after all you've done for me?" At the stubborn tiltof the chin, he acquiesced. "Yes, I truly mean it."

"Stop fighting. Drop your control."

She could not have asked anything less expected. Eyes widening inhorror, he shook his head in automatic negation.

"Trust me. I've more than earned it. Prove that trust. Prove yourbelief in me. Drop your control. Just let him come."

"What you ask- "

"I know just what I'm asking. I do. Trust me, it will be OK. Don'tforget, I was there too this evening. He loves me just as much asyou. And, Vincent, he is you, just a part you're scared of. Apart you're more frightened of than anyone. But I'm not scared. Thereis no harm in him for me."

A cold shudder rippled across the back of his neck. He had neverdone this. Never even considered it.

Long days of recuperation in bed had given him a lot of time tothink about what had happened, and why. A similar sickness hadplagued him once before, after attraction to Lisa had first testedhis control in that manner. Control that had been strainedunmercifully since Catherine had come into his life. In onewonderful, terrible day, his world had been remade. "Catherine, I-"

"Please! Trust me. As you love me, please, just let go."

He sighed heavily and dropped his head back in defeat. It had cometo this, finally. What she asked was for him to reach for hisdeepest, most hidden dreams; to gamble everything on the possibilityof being able to love her in all ways. On the chance to be everythingto her but, in so doing, chance spawning his worst nightmare...

In truth, he could deny her nothing. Not when what she asked waswhat he most wanted to give.

Here and now, then. Above. If the worst happened and the Beast ranamok, then he would be discovered, hunted down, and shot orimprisoned. And, if such did happen, it would be the least hedeserved.

With a brief but heartfelt prayer, his eyes drifted shut as heunlocked the cage...

She was so beautiful.

Rumpled, sitting on the bed, resting her head and folded arms onher knees, wearing a wrinkled cotton nightshirt. Gazing steadily athim when he opened his eyes at last. There was nothing morebeautiful.

"Catherine." His voice, full of wonder.

Unmoving, she continued to gaze directly at him. "Is it done?"

"As far as I can tell."

"How do you feel?"

A long pause. How did he feel?

"Strange. Open." His head lifted as he met her direct stare.

"Give me your hands." Uncurling herself, she extended her owntowards him.

Slowly he mirrored her gesture. She took the deadly clawed handsand curled her fingers around them protectively. Concentrating fully,she turned them in her grasp, examining from all angles. With thesoft pads of her fingers she tested the hardness of his claws anddrew them over her wrist. She brought her face down to nuzzle andruffle the fur on their backs, kissing lightly.

"I love your fur here. It's so silky. I like its other textures,too. I've felt them all, when you were sick. I took care of you andbathed you, and I loved what I saw. You have no mysteries thereanymore, no secrets, nothing to hide."

It had not been a dream, after all. It was near pain, thistumbling of yet another barrier, and in its wake a tiny whisper ofpride sounded. She had smoothed her hands and cheek over his body.Her joy and approval had bathed him as he lay, unable to respond. Shehad touched... all of him. Deep within he felt the stir of theBeast's response. Freed of barriers, its presence spread through hisbody, rich and dark. Smooth. The customary horror and shame-ladenbattle for control was supplanted by an oiled, hotly pleasurableglide into awareness. Heaviness settled into his groin, tense andthick. Breathing deepened.

"Do you remember what I told you about these hands?" She looked upexpectantly, patiently awaiting his answer.

"You said... they were your hands. They were beautiful." His voicewas a low rumble. Heavy lidded eyes, slumberous and dark, met hers.Hazy.

Summoning her courage, with a brief unspoken prayer, she asked afinal question. "Are my hands meant to give love?"

His eyes closed and he dropped his head. Suspended, she awaitedhis response. Minutes passed until, finally, his hands closed aroundhers. With a gentle tug he drew them forward to graze his lips acrosstheir backs before placing a licking kiss in each palm, a gift and atreasure. Looking shyly up through ragged bangs, he opened theirworld.

"These hands... are love."

"Yes." The word was borne on a slow sigh of relief. He understood.At last.

Gently Vincent tugged, pulling her to kneel before him. A singleclaw smoothed tangled hair from her face, revealing the small scar.His callused palm cradled the side of her face and flowed down herneck, following the lure of collarbone to close lightly around herleft arm. The skin of her exposed shoulder glistened in the sparemoonlight. He wanted, needed, to taste that satin glow. Hollow pantsgusted against her exposed flesh as his mouth opened to reveal fangtips. Unselfconscious. Lost in the wonder of touching her.

Catherine slipped her hand under his chin and ran her thumb acrosshis lips, feeling the moistness of his breath. Soft hair on hismuzzle teased her fingertips. A languid tongue slid out to lapagainst her thumb as he moved to take her hand into his mouth, bitinglightly.

A rumble shivered though his chest, resolving into an audiblepurr. Startled, his breath caught, a reflexive stab of embarrassmentpiercing through the fog of pleasure. Immediately, he released herarm and the sound abruptly ceased.

"No. Don't stop. It means you're happy. It's wonderful." Leaninginto him, Catherine wrapped her arms around his neck, burrowing herface into his mane.

He could feel her smile as she sighed delight into his ear. Hersoft shoulder nestled beneath his chin, bare flesh beckoning. Withoutthought, he lowered his head to taste her.

She was warm against his lips, ripe with hills and valleys ofsatin textures. Her scent flooded his nostrils, sweet with a just ahint of wildness. He sipped from the hollow above her collarbone,tasting flowers and sunshine. His tongue swirled over her shoulders,the light rasp in delicious counterpoint to its smooth glide,underscored by the occasional press of fang. Her neck was bathed inmoistness as he traced the pulse of her life upwards. Unbidden, therough purr welled to the surface once more and her answering smiledanced through the bond.

Needing to see that smile, Vincent leaned back in her embrace. Inthe moonlight, her graceful neck and shoulders glistened wetly, tinydiamonds put to shame by the light of joy in her eyes. Her gaze didnot leave his as she unfolded her legs and sank backwards to lie onthe bed. One hand opened and extended in invitation.

There was no resistance in left in him.

Reaching forward, he folded her hand into his own. Pale skin shoneagainst moon-washed fur and gleaming claws. She truly was his lightin the darkness. A growling sigh escaped him as he lowered himself toher side. So beautiful...

Her body curved as she lifted her arms to surround him, to pullhim against her body. He partially covered her as he leaned hisweight on his elbows to hold her face in his hands. She smiled, eyesshining as she smoothed the hair from his eyes. He had to shut outthat sight, to close his eyes and smother a near snarl of helplessdisbelief.

So many years of fruitless longing, of knowing that such couldnever be for him. How he had tried to stop dreaming! When he couldbear no more, he would vow to eradicate those hopes and desires thatbrought only pain and emptiness. Yet, despite his efforts, the seedsof those dreams had always survived and grown stronger. And now, tohave all unanswered longings nestled against him, within his grasp.His Catherine who, knowing all that he was, loved him still.

She was a miracle.

The warmth of her hands bracketed his face as he felt her liftupwards to him. Soft lips brushed lightly against the corner of hismouth, stringing small kisses across his chin. An impudent lickacross his cleft upper lip, lightly exploring. Warm breath caressedhim as the liquid tip of her tongue followed his gasp of surpriseupward into that tight cavity.

Pleasure struck like a whip. Frozen by drenching waves ofsensation, his breathing stuttered to a stop. Never had anythingcompared to this, not even in dreams. A moaning snarl shudderedthrough him as he tightened his grip in her hair and lowered hismouth to her, taking her.

Kissing. He was kissing her at last. Wildly, without reservationor trace of shyness. The vibrating purr deepened and slowed as histongue lapped against her. Opening for him, she took his full lowerlip between her teeth, nipping lightly. His mouth dropped open inhelpless response and she took full advantage to slip her tonguebetween those strong teeth to explore a hard fang, long and smooth.Claws in her hair tightened deliciously, immobilizing her head as hismouth rocked against hers in long, drugging kisses, lifting only totilt and turn her, seeking new angles. Sensuously, she licked acrossthe pads of his upper lip, teasing the center of that sensitive area,slipping her tongue inside. Each time, his breathing would hitch andhe would tense, claws flexing lightly. The helpless rumbling responseshook through him.

"You like that," she breathed into his mouth. A murmuring growlwas his only response as a callused hand loosened to wander over herexposed shoulder. Gentle, biting kisses followed it as he grazed hisway down her throat.

She couldn't keep her hands still. They speared through his maneand trailed over broad shoulders. The textures of rough wool,leather, and suede passed in turn. Not right, not enough. She neededto feel him...

The brush of velvet muzzle halted at the neckline of her shirt. Aheavy gust of breath stirred the cotton as he raised his head, eyespleading. An iron claw slipped beneath the laces, a carefulquestioning tug.

With unmistakable intention, Catherine rolled Vincent onto hisback and sat up beside him. Leaning forward, she grasped the hem ofher nightshirt and in one movement pulled it over her head. Therustle of cloth almost obscured his harsh gasp as her body was fullyrevealed to him.

There was nothing in this world save this woman. His woman. Ivoryskin gleamed, impossible to not touch. Wonderingly, he trailed hisfingers from the base of her throat, between her breasts, and downover the visible quiver of her belly. And the scent of her! Thatsweet musky note, new but instinctively recognized, spiraled throughhim, unrelenting, beckoning to the wildness in him. The tip of a clawgrazed through the nest of curls that flagged her womanhood. Tracingcircles, it wound the curls around it and pulled lightly,deliciously. Her stuttered moan of pleasure sank into him.

She needed to touch him, to run her hands once more over thesensual feast that was Vincent. Leather laces on his vest proved toomuch for coordination and her hands fumbled ineffectually, picking atthe unfamiliar knots. Frustration rose, a harsh whimper.

Hot eyes glittered in the darkness.

Quietly, he sat up and arose from the bed, a tall shadow in thedarkened room. His gaze never left hers as he methodically began toremove the layers of clothing that had served for so long as hisbuffer against the world, against her. Piece by piece, cloak, vest,and heavy corduroy pants all dropped to the floor. Stray moonbeamscast silver luster on smooth golden fur as he stood before her.Proudly. Boldly. No shyness turning him from her.

He was so beautiful! Now, completely nude, fully awake and aware.Diffuse light played across his heavily muscled body, bringing tolife the swell of pectoral muscle, tight abdomen, and the heavymaleness that nothing now concealed. He was magnificent. He washers.

"Yes." His wondering sigh of agreement.

Catherine moved to sit on the side of the bed before him. Reachingup, she stroked her hands up his chest and then down, burrowing intothe thick curls. Softer than they appeared, they slipped through herfingers in a waterfall of moon-washed gold. Following their course,she trailed her fingers downward over muscular swells of abdomen.Downwards, until the hard jut of maleness rose strong and thick intoher hand.

A shivering moan rumbled from his chest. To feel her touch there!It was beyond anything he had ever imagined. Eyes drifted closed on ahelpless growl as her hand encircled him, squeezing softly. Barely,he contained the instinctive urge to thrust himself into that grasp.That incredible enveloping pressure, released as her touch sliddownward to explore what lay beneath. The world narrowed further,until it contained only her and the paralyzing pleasure of her handson him at last.

He was big. All over, but especially here. A rich copper thicknessthat yearned to be tasted. And there was no reason to resist, notnow. Everything he was was hers to explore and to treasure. With agusting sigh, Catherine slid from the bed to her knees before him.Both hands cradled him as she nuzzled her face into the satinylushness suspended beneath his manhood. Firm globes, nestled close,slipping smoothly within their furred pouch. A sweet musky odorfilled her senses, heady and evocative. His hot male scentencompassed her, coiling a heavy ache into that most intimatepart.

He could feel the moistness of her breath wash over his sensitiveflesh, the warmth of her cheek gliding along the length of him as shelifted her head. Forcing his eyes open, he looked down, watching herrun her face against him once more, her sigh of approval a gust ofsweet warmth spiraling along his length. She was flushed, eyesunfocused. Desire coursed through the bond, meshing with his own. Hereyes drifted closed in sensual enjoyment as she ran her tongue aroundthe tip of his erection. Wet lips slid around him.

He couldn't not look. Never had he imagined, even in his wildestdreams, that she would do such a thing. Would even want to. Theliquid heat of her mouth engulfed everything in a spiraling center ofsensation. There was only the sight of her, the incredible feel ofher gliding tongue as she sucked lightly. An unsteady hand rose tocradle her head, to feel the small movements that sent waves ofswamping pleasure through him. Helpless, he trembled as he curledforward, his chest heaved in audible pants. Beneath it all, agrinding rumble ebbed and flowed with each breath.

Sudden coolness as her hungry mouth released him. Her body slidagainst his as she rose, flowing upwards in an electric glide. Handsgrasped his head as she pulled him down. He could scent himself onher, a heady intermingling that begged for more. A rough snarlswirled through him as he grasped her waist in his hands and loweredhis head to take her lips once more.

She was drowning in him.

Everything Vincent was was in his kiss. Passion. Uninhibitedwildness. He devoured her senses. Eclipsed them. His head swayed inmindless abandon as his mouth wove its way to her neck. Catherine'sback arched as she bent to aid his progress. For a moment his wetkiss ended, replaced by the vise of sharp fangs as he took her throatin his teeth, bearing down lightly with a deepening of his constantrumbling purr. Pressure alternated as he gently rocked his head, akilling twist softened to an innate, instinctive claim, clawed handskneading her waist lightly. She felt the sharp vise of his fangsrelax, as his tongue stole out to gently bathe the points ofcontact.

She needed him. The musky scent of him inflamed her senses, hishard body against hers a feast of temptation. Bowed backwards beneathhis dominance, she felt the firm press of his maleness against herbelly as he swayed in unconscious rhythm. His kisses grazed down herchest to flow over a breast. A hitch in his shivering rumble was theonly warning before a yearning tip was engulfed in the heat of hismouth. A low moan shook through her as the liquid rasp of his tonguecurled across her nipple. Her hands clenched in convulsive response,response that was echoed within in a dizzying shower ofsensation.

His lips left her body, leaving only the huff of panting breathswirling across her breasts. Slowly, her eyes opened. He loomed aboveher. Waiting...

One hand rose to smooth over his cheek and run gently up the furhis nose. "Please..."

Not taking his gaze from hers he bent, lifted her slight weightinto his arms, and carefully placed her on the bed. The shiveringrumble never wavered as he came down to stretch out beside her, afurred leg slipping up to lay heavily over her knees. One callusedhand came to rest beneath her breasts, claws spread. Deadly claws,spanning her ribcage, drawing sparkling lines across her belly asthey traced their way down to her hip.

"Catherine, I... " Words were forced over the heavy rumble, anunalterable part of who he was.

"Shhhh. Everything will be fine. More than fine." The tip of afang showed as he smiled, hazy blue eyes betraying his apprehension."I need you."

The throaty confession was his undoing.

Beneath him, Catherine arched her hips, her legs drifting apart.The swelling rise of her scent called to him, crying her desire andneed. Her arms urged him forward and he shifted himself to settlebetween her legs, bracing his weight on his arms. A soft whimperwelcomed him as he felt the softness of her breasts press into thefur of his chest. An unsteady gasp as his hardness brushed herwaiting warmth.

The touch of her froze all thought. The only possible response wasunrelenting, driving instinct. Clawed hands slid carefully beneathher to grasp her shoulders as his back arched, pushing his hipsforward against that sweet, secret place. Melting heat caressed himas he felt her flesh yield, bathing him in liquid silk. Sweettightness engulfed him as sinuous movements drew him deeper.

He was sinking, drowning in the unbelievable slick welcome of her.There was nothing in the world except the scent of her need, therolling sway of her hips beneath his, the tight heat that drew himagain and again into her. The feel of her life surrounding the veryheart of him. Beyond imagining.

Catherine moved against him, tilting her hips to take more. Aharsh moan of pleasure was wrung from her as internal musclesyielded, impossibly taking all of him. He was fully sheathed, hissize pressing deep. Filling her utterly, body and soul. Beneath herhands, back muscles flexed. Slow rolling movements translated to hiships, compounding the paralyzing pleasure rocking against her, insideher. Mindlessly she flexed her nails into velvet fur.

Her pleasure was his, each swaying thrust a deepening well ofsensation for both. There was only the helpless physical need formore. Together, they were one flesh, rocking together in a dizzyingspiral ascent. Cresting...

Her strangled gasp as she stiffened. Her long wavering cry as sheconvulsed beneath him. Electric pulsing waves coursing from her,through him. An explosive twist of ecstasy uncoiled from where theywere joined, lifting him in an iron spiral of drenching release.

Throwing his head back he roared his completion, triumphant.

The moon had almost set. Beside him, Catherine stirred, mutteringsomething incomprehensible before turning to nestle her backsideagainst him.

The room was saturated with the scent of their loving, underliningthe truth of what they had experienced. Languorous contentmentweighted his limbs as he traced a claw down the curve of her spine.He felt his maleness stir as she shifted against him.

What they had done had surpassed his most daring fantasies.

Was it wrong, to want it again? So soon? Was it... acceptable? Hisbody told him yes, but then that was not a reliable gauge.Perhaps...

Turning on his back, he willed himself back to sleep. He could napfor a while longer before heading Below.

"Vincent..."

The sultry whisper sent currents of anticipation through everynerve. The mattress swayed as Catherine turned over, sat up, andleaned over him. Unmistakable tendrils of desire crept though thebond, following the soft fingertips that drew patterns on the fur ofhis chest. Could it be? Slowly, he raised his eyelids to see...

See her hot eyes, glittering in the darkness.