TO EVERYTHING THERE IS A SEASON
By Karen Mason-Richardson
(Author's Note: To EverythingThere is a Season was originally a four part story published in my BedtimeStories Zine. The four components were separated by other stories (In theDarkness, Even Stones can Fly, and Far Above the City Streets). It is presentedhere in collected form).
WINTER
Photocopierscan make a lot of noise, especially a dinosaur on its last legs like this one.
The small copy room was one of the few places ofpotential solitude available to employees who didn't warrant an actual office,and in the District Attorney's Department, that meant mostly everyone. Thegrating motor and squeaking belts of the machine drowned out office chaos andbolstered the illusion of privacy.
Hummingquietly to herself, Catherine sorted the stapled copies into piles on the sidecounter, placed the next transcript into the automatic feed, and pressed thestart button. She just needed to finish this stack and Monday would be overwith. Usually this wasn't her responsibility, but Rita had today off. Anyway,it was nice to do a bit of relatively mindless work for a while, work thatallowed her thoughts to wander and dwell on the past weekend.
Thissecond Winterfest had been so different compared to the last. This time therewere no deaths, no hidden agendas or threats. Just a wonderful evening with agroup of people she cared deeply for.
EspeciallyVincent.
He, too, had been different thisyear. Last Winterfest he had been so tentative, so unsure: of her, of them, oftheir acceptance as a couple in his community. But this
Catherine smiled as she setanother stack of documents into the automatic feed and started the copier oncemore...
"...wasnothing there after all!"
Delightedlaughter warmed the cavernous hall as, with a flourish, Sebastian swept the redsatin away from the now empty soup bowl.
Catherinegasped in astonishment. She felt Vincent's hold on her hand tighten as helaughed quietly beside her.
Sebastianbowed in acknowledgement of the crowd's applause and, spying a fresh knot ofpeople ripe for his talents, excused himself. An entourage of childrenfollowed, clamoring for his secrets.
"Howdoes he do that?"
"Magic.How else?"
Catherineglanced up into laughing blue eyes and lifted an eyebrow in disbelief."Magic?"
"Oh,yes." His tone was light, teasing. "Sebastian is a true
"Really?"She turned to watch the tuxedo-clad gentleman levitate an apple. He was thecenter of attention and here in the corner she and Vincent found themselveswith a rare moment to themselves. On impulse she leaned back and rested herweight against his solid strength. "If he can do real
Hedidn't tense or move away from her. Instead, slowly, he put his arm around herin a loose, one-armed embrace.
"Forsomeone who can wield true power, what better way to disguise that ability thanbehind a curtain of common sleight-of-hand?" He whispered the words intoher ear conspiratorially, his cheek brushing lightly against her hair.
Atthe other end of the room, a lively jig drew to a close with a rush. Dancers,panting from exertion, applauded Karl's talents as he raised his violin oncemore and began a slow waltz.
Catherineglanced towards the dancers wistfully. Against her back, she felt Vincent'schest expand with a deep breath.
"Wouldyou like to dance?"
Surprisedand pleased, she twisted and looked upwards. "Yes. I'd love to."
Witha nervous smile, he laced his fingers with hers and drew her towards the dancefloor. Reaching the edge of the dancers, he slipped his arm around her waistand together they glided into the whirling crowd.
Hewas a marvelous dancer, a sure, confident lead that she could relax into,responding to his subtle cues with easy grace. The floor was crowded and hepulled her close to avoid another couple, closeness he didn't relinquish whenspace opened up once more. Unbidden, her left hand wandered from the correctposition on his shoulder, across the heavy suede vest, to rest against hiscenter of his chest. Here the only covering was thin linen. Beneath herfingertips his heartbeat was palpable, strong and heavy. The warmth of himseeped though the material and she could feel the springy resistance of hairbeneath her hands.
Heglanced down in response to her touch. His eyes were dark and hazy as they methers. Claws scored lightly against her waist as he flexed his hand, gatheringher closer still.
Allthat remained was the music and the rhythm of the dance.
Heswept her into a sharp turn and, for an instant, his thigh slipped betweenhers. Bodies moved as one and the world narrowed further. Gradually his headlowered until only inches separated them. The heat of his breath mingled withhers and they were lost in each other and their music.
Neithernoticed the waltz end and another begin...
Itwas the quiet that had caught their attention at last. Vincent halted abruptlyand she would have stumbled if not for his tight hold. Jarred from the sensualspell of their dance, she looked up to find the two of them alone on the dancefloor. Karl was at the beverage table and raised his glass to them with a winkand a smile before drinking thirstily. On the small stage, the next group ofmusicians had begun setting up their instruments. Several other guestsunsuccessfully tried to hide smiles of amused delight at the couple's obviousembarrassment.
Slowlyshe stepped back, pulling Vincent off the dance floor. His head was lowered andshe could see he was blushing furiously; skin flushed a dark copper beneath thegolden bristles on his cheek.
Therest of the evening flew by. Other than a few teasing comments, the incidentwas forgotten and Vincent eventually relaxed. All too soon Winterfest was overfor another year. The circle was completed, the closing address spoken, and thehall cleared. As usual, Vincent was the last to leave, replacing the heavywooden beam to seal the Great Hall until the next occasion.
Thewalk to her threshold was far too brief. They both dawdled, neither wanting theevening to end, but inevitably the breach in her building's foundation wasreached. Light spilled from the hatchway beyond and cast giant shadows onto thetunnel floor.
"Ihad a wonderful time tonight."
Heturned and leaned back against the masonry wall. "As did I."
Hismane was wild, disheveled by the chamber winds. Slowly she reached upwards tosmooth it with her palm, brushing it back into place. Her actions revealed,just for a moment, his ear. More rounded than normal, with a fringe ofreddish-ginger fur on the rim. Automatically he ducked away and twitched hishead, the motion swinging his hair back into place. Anxious eyes studied her ashe glanced through tousled bangs to note her reaction.
"Monday'sgoing to be a pretty quiet day at work: I should be off on time for a change.Would you like to come Above? Tell me how the cleanup goes... and things?"
"Youmean, tell you if Father gives me a lecture about our questionable behavior onthe dance floor?"
Shehad laughed, a rueful chuckle. "Yeah."
"Yes,I'll come Monday evening. Around nine?"
"That'llbe fine."
Neithermoved.
Heturned and leaned a shoulder against the cool brick, facing her. "It'slate."
"Yes,it is. You'll be busy tomorrow, I'm sure."
"Theday after Winterfest is always busy."
Thebasement was chilly and she pulled her wrap tighter across her shoulders.
"You'recold. You should go up now."
"Isuppose."
Shestepped forward and leaned into him. How she loved the warmth of him, the scentof him. His arms came around her as she knew they would, but with a difference.The usual light embrace was absent. Instead he held her tightly, splaying hishands across her back as he pulled her against him.
"Itwas so strange, tonight." Wonder was in his voice, wonder andthanksgiving.
"Tobe seen as a real couple. In public."
"Yes."
Carefullyshe leaned back and once more placed her left hand just above his vest ties,where the cream linen was thin. His heartbeat was fast. "Vincent, we are
Helifted his head to look beyond her and sighed heavily. "Are we?"
"Oh,yes, we certainly are."
Shelifted her right hand to his face and slid it across the soft bristles of hischeek to smooth back his wind-tangled mane once more. This time he accepted hertouch, not shying away from what it revealed. Gently she ran her index fingeraround the furred rim of his ear. She felt his shiver of response beneath herpalm.
Slowlyshe rose on her toes, slipped her hand to the back of his neck and subtlypressed downward. His head lowered and she softly kissed the indentation at thecorner of his mouth. Her hold on his neck tightened at his stuttered gasp ofshock.
Hedidn't move away.
Daring,she leaned further into him, nuzzling underneath the pads of his upper lip.This time, her kiss held no thanks, no friendly warmth. It was nothing like theone she had given him after her father died. This sent a totally differentmessage, one of passion and wanting. Moist lips trembled against hers. Lost inhim, she flexed her nails into his scalp lightly.
Witha low rumble, his grip tightened abruptly and he answered her unspoken plea atlast...
Sudden silence shook her fromreverie and she noted with a stab of annoyance that the copier had run out ofpaper. With a muffled growl she opened the supply cabinet, fetched anotherpackage of paper, reloaded the machine, and started it once more.
Wow. It had been quite the firstkiss, if she did say so herself. And really, it was the first. The little peckshe had given him after her father's death didn't count; at least she
It had seemed as if time hadstopped, collapsed into those few seconds of unleashed wanting.
Vincent had broken the kiss witha rough half snarl. He had gazed down at her in stunned astonishment as hisclaws released their tense grip on her waist.
He had spoken no parting words;had probably been incapable of coherent speech at that moment. The hollow,animal sound of his panting breath had echoed off the bare rock. He had stoodunmoving, except for his eyes. They hadfollowed her, wide and wild, their expression unreadable as she backed into theshaft of white light and reached the ladder.
Words had not been possible foreither of them just then. She herself had been in a daze...
Tonight would reveal the falloutfrom that relaxing of barriers.
She checked her watch as shestapled the last of the documents for tomorrow's hearing. Six o'clock. Enoughtime to pick up dinner for two at the gourmet take-out near her apartment, gethome and change. She had set the table yesterday in readiness.
She intended to invite him tojoin her for dinner. Inside.
That is, if he didn't panic andnot show up. Or decide that they were getting too close, and try to persuadeher to seek a normal life with a normal man. Again. Or if Father's sure lectureabout what could and couldn't be was convincing enough to put them right backat square one.
All significant possibilities.
"Cathy
"In here, Joe."
She heard footsteps approach thecopy room. Joe appeared in the doorway and leaned against the frame.
"Are those the Lucciarellistatements?"
"Yes, all done andready."
"Well, you can toss 'em.Monahan's skipped."
"What
"Afraid so."
"But Joe! The hearing istomorrow morning! We've got nothing without him!"
"No, we've got stuff, justnot very much. There's got to be something more we can dig up. I need you to goover the grocery manager's testimony and the two cashiers'. We've got to keepthis thing going till we can locate Monahan. Sorry to do this to you, but we'vegot to try to save this."
Catherine's heart sank. Therewere reams of interview documents from those three.
There was no way she wouldfinish anytime before midnight.
* * * * *
"Vincent?"
"Come in." Vincentpushed away the schematics he had been trying fruitlessly to study.Concentration on anything but thoughts of her had been almost impossible for the last two days.
Geoffrey trotted into the roomand held out a small envelope. "Mrs. Overton sent this for you."
Vincent took it with a quiet nodof thanks. Running footsteps echoed off the rock as Geoffrey left to rejoin hisfriends, and Vincent ran a sharp claw under the envelope flap, withdrew andunfolded a note.
Vincent:
Catherine justphoned from her office. She asked me to let you know there's a problem at work,and she won't be able to get away until very late. She's sorry, but she has tocancel your plans.
Give myregards to William, and could you please remind him he was going to send methat squash recipe?
Thanks,
Melinda
Vincent dropped his head againstthe back of his chair with a resigned sigh. It wasn't that he hadn't expectedthis. Through the bond, beginning around six o'clock, he had sensed herfrustration and regret, and had guessed this was coming. Still, it wasdisappointing. He had so hoped he was wrong.
She was disappointed as well; hecould feel her emotions augmenting his own. Amazing that such a thing could be,especially after...
Determinedly he took a sheet ofpaper to write a reply. Pen poised above the blank sheet, he hesitated.
What to say?
He didn't notice the uneasygrowl rumble low through the chamber.
What did
Nothing, nothing could bewritten. Such could only be shared, together.
Taking a deep breath he wrote ashort reply, folded it carefully, and tucked it into an envelope. The whitepaper glowed ivory in the candlelight as he penned her name on the front.
With a rough mumble of decisionhe tucked the note into a pocket, rose, swung his cloak over his shoulders, andleft his chamber with determined strides.
The small envelope seemed farheavier than its size would indicate. It was weighted with possibility, thechance of seeing an end to years of hopeless longing and futile dreams. Dreamsmostly unacknowledged, until her.Dreams she shared.
Really, he couldn't put a fingeron just when his habitual fear of her, for her, had begun to fade. It was agradual process, the barriers inexorably being whittled away by time spenttogether, by his growing confidence in her love and acceptance of him. All ofhim, the good and the bad. She had certainly seen him at his worst, and yetloved him still. He was beginning to give up questioning how this could be, andaccept that it simply... was.
He could find his way to herbalcony in his sleep. It was a path traveled as often in fantasy as in reality.In dreams, when he would walk into her apartment without hesitation, becauseshe knew him and welcomed him still.
It was snowing when he arrivedon the rooftop, a good three inches already accumulated. Snow always increasedthe danger of discovery. Footprints could not be avoided, but the snow stillfell and would cover his trail. Careful of ice, he climbed down onto thebalcony.
The city lights were obscured,reduced to furtive glimmers through the falling snow. Here on the balcony onlythe north corner was bare of the heavy white blanket. The small table andchairs were covered.
The curtains to the dining roomstood open and he glanced inside. Her dining room table was set for two, asmall vase with a single rose in the center.
A table set for two.
She had planned on asking himinside.
He had almost gone in once, ontheir second anniversary. He had begun to step forward when the shrill ring ofthe phone had once more brought crashing down the huge differences betweentheir worlds. Between them. But, for a moment, he had again allowed himself todream.
Those moments were coming moreoften lately. Moments when he drifted from what must never be to what might be.What could be. What should be. Moments when he found the strength to shake offthe self-imposed rules that had always governed his life.
Saturday night. He stillcouldn't believe it had really happened. That they had danced together,intimately, with no negative repercussions. He had been embarrassed at the end,true, but Catherine had just laughed and led him away to get a welcome cooldrink. Of course Cullen had managed to get in a good-natured barb or two, andseveral others had teased him. Father, however, had said nothing, not just forthe length of the party, but still. There had been no dire warnings, noreminders of his limitations.
He had spoken of the kiss to noone. It was too personal, too private. That she had done such a thing amazedhim. That he had stood and allowed it, no, reveled in it, astonished himfurther. She had assaulted boundaries that, appearing solid, had collapsed likea house of cards with one small push from her. Even now they resistedrebuilding. That particular wall was shattered.
He had responded to her kisswith all that was in him; had answered her gentle persuasion with his firstreal taste of passion. Intoxicating. Electrifying. Exhilarating.
Terrifying.
Melting snow trickled from hisbangs. He snorted as the cold wetness trailed down his nose, tickling throughthe short fur.
She wanted him to come inside.His presence was welcome in her home; he knew that. But entering that apartment was not as simple as just steppingacross the threshold. That action, that step, contained a wealth of meaning forhim. It represented a line that must never be crossed.
But Saturday night that line hadpushed back. Significantly.
The door was not locked. He knewit. It had been left open for two years. Open, but never opened. Not by him.
He peered through the glass oncemore, to a place so unlike his own home. It was a place of bright lights, withwhite walls rather than gray rock and soft carpet instead of solid stone.Different, yes, but it was her home.
The time spent with her in hischamber was a peculiar pleasure. It was a sense of sharing a small part ofhimself with her; when she curled up on his favorite chair or read on his bed.Afterwards, a sense of her presence remained. He could see the imprint of herslight body on a pillow, or catch her scent on a book she had held. It left astrange feeling of closeness, of belonging.
She wanted that feeling too.
It was such a small thing toask.
She wanted him to go inside -and he would. Not tonight, however. Not without her presence there. But soon...soon.
Ruefully Vincent glanced aroundthe balcony. There was nowhere to leave his note where it would not be buriedby falling snow. Another drop of water splashed onto his nose and heimpatiently reached up to brush the snow from his mane. The flakes were heavyand wet, melting quickly against body heat. It was the kind of snow that packedwell. As children, Devin would surely have instigated a snowball fight by now.
The dampness seeped through thefur on his fingers, chilling the skin beneath, and he slipped his hands intothe pockets on his cloak.
The pockets were not empty. Hewithdrew several small objects and examined them absently. Last week he hadhelped several of the children with making Winterfest gifts. Afterwards, he hadsupervised the clean up. Forgotten was the fact he had tucked little bits ofleftovers that they had missed into his pocket to be tossed away later.
Here was the solution to hisproblem.
With an impish half smile,Vincent reached down and gathered a handful of snow from the table top,carefully shaping it into a perfect ball.
* * * * *
Catherine dropped her purse andbriefcase on the couch and shrugged out of her heavy winter coat. It was wellpast one in the morning; her feet hurt, her eyes were burning, her head ached,and she was exhausted. The drive home had been a nightmare of icy streets andbrake lights, but at least the lateness of the hour had precluded much traffic.
Hopefully, Vincent had gottenher message in time.
The dining table was as she leftit, except the rose had begun to open. The light pink flush in the center ofthe white bloom was visible now, and she bent to inhale its delicate fragrance.
Behind the table, through the Frenchdoors, she could see the snow on her balcony had been disturbed.
Nope. He hadn't gotten themessage.
With a tired sigh, she kickedoff her shoes and padded to the doors. Through the glass she could see thenormal smooth blanket of white had been replaced with a disordered jumble offootprints. He must have been pacing...
She leaned her forehead againstthe door and rolled it from side to side, the chill a welcome balm to heraching head. Pressing her right temple against the cold glass, she noticed thather small metal table had been moved.
He had never moved her thingsbefore.
Curious, she opened the door,automatically shoving back the pile of snow that fell into the apartment.
Her table had been placed in thenorth corner, where the building blocked the wind and a small patch of bareconcrete still showed. On the table stood a small snowman holding a sign.
Headache forgotten, Catherineducked back inside to grab her coat and hastily pulled on a pair of boots. Bracingagainst the chill, she opened the balcony doors once more
It was freezing outside! Quicklyshe stepped through the snow to reach the table.
The little figure was about afoot high, three squat snowballs stacked just so. Black eyes, formed by twosmall beads, glittered impudently and a bright smile was carved onto its face,most likely by a sharp claw. A scrap of yarn was tied around its neck as animprovised scarf. In the torso, a Popsicle stick had been set for a wooden armand impaled on the end was a small envelope bearing her name.
Carefully she drew the envelopeoff its holder and opened it.
Catherine:
Your messagewas received and I share your disappointment.
Tomorrownight?
V.
He was disappointed...
Carefully, she refolded thenote. The snowman smiled up at her, beaming with approval, and she gave it alight pat on the head in thanks.
Turning, she shuffled throughthe snow to the French doors. Joy and a good measure of relief bubbled throughher, and she was unable to suppress a bright laugh as she spun in an impulsivepirouette.
He was disappointed!
Tomorrow night couldn't comesoon enough.
Spring
The scent was even strongerhere. They must have stopped and rested for a few minutes. Fumes, surelynoticeable even to normal human senses, lay thick and nauseatingly sweet in thepassageway.
Vincent rested a hand againstdamp stone as he examined the dusty floor. Footprints led away from the area.In the north corner a puddle of viscous liquid soaked into the earth, foul withthe acrid odor of bile and other things best not examined too closely.
One of them had been sick.
A low rumble of disgust echoedoff the rock walls.
There were three of them, alldrunk; intruders who must have stumbled upon a tunnel entrance by chance.Someone had to track them down and redirect them Above and, as the de factohead of security, that distasteful task fell to him.
He was definitely not
This spring had been a difficultone so far. The rains had been heavier than usual, resulting in more emergencyrepairs than in previous years. Several older pipes had burst, worn out sealsgiving way under the increased water pressure. Repairing the seal was the easypart – it was clearing out the muck and debris such events left that wasthe toughest job. And with his strength and endurance, the work crews assignedfor cleanup usually included him as well.
Sometimes he just hated spring.
Sensitive ears caught the echoof a slurred shout from ahead, and the mane along his spine stiffenedreflexively. A growl skittered through clenched teeth as he picked up the trailof the intruders once more.
Why now?
The last couple of days had beenspent helping dig Cory and Janine's chamber out from the two feet of sandy mudthat had washed in when Main No. 24 had burst. The work had been dirty andexhausting. Finally they had removed the worst of it, and he had returned tohis chamber to wash and get some well-deserved sleep.
The dreams had come as they didalmost every night of late. Their frequency had risen dramatically sinceWinterfest, as had their intensity, disturbing his sleep further. He was alwaysrestless during spring. But now sensations only imagined had gained a shadow ofexperience, fueling subconscious imagination.
Usually he was unable to sleepuntil very late at night, his nocturnal nature keeping him alert until wellinto the early morning hours, but days of hard physical labor had worn himdown. It had felt so wonderful to curl up in his bed and drift off into dreamsof her. Tonight it had been the park on a warm moonlit night. It had just begunwhen Father had awakened him with the report of intruders.
A beam of light gyrated wildlyahead, a flashlight of some sort.
"I'm tellin ya, man. We'relost!"
"No, we're not, we'realmost out!"
"You two shut up! Juss shutup! I'm scared, I feel like shit, and I wanna go home!"
The voices had the higher pitchof youth. Something struck the ground with a hollow thud and a faintly discernableliquid slosh.
A snarl shivered through hischest. Beneath the surface, the animal side of his nature uncoiled. Easily.
The trio had entered a sectionof tunnels it was simple to get lost in. A twisting jumble of side passages,circles, and dead-ends; it was almost as bad as the labyrinth and great forsecurity. Intruders were not common but most, if they even made it this far,became lost in the maze until they could be subtly guided out.
Subtlety would be lost on thisgroup. From the slur of their voices and the haphazard stagger of theirfootprints, their perception was dulled to nonexistence.
Vincent relaxed further his holdon the inhuman part of his nature and silently circled around the arguing trio,using side tunnels and outcrops in the ages-old stalk of a hunter.
Since his illness last year, thebonds that held his darkness in check were weaker. That knowledge had at firstterrified him. But many hours of reflection and some candid self-examinationhad proved that weakness not as fearsome as first believed. At its worst, whenhe had been completely out of control, twice Catherine had come to him andtwice she had been unharmed.
Slowly he had come to realizethat the other side of his nature was not inherently evil, just different. Manydays had been spent coming to this understanding. He had retreated to hisunderground river where he had allowed himself freedom, loosed the constraints.
The safety of his family haddepended on learning a new kind of control. The iron bars of denial he had enforcedthroughout his life had proven too brittle to depend on. A softer touch hadbecome necessary, one that didn't suppress so much as guide. Outwardly, undernormal circumstances, he knew he appeared unchanged. But inside, it was adifferent world, a whole new landscape to navigate through. And it hadn't beeneasy. It had taken getting used to, an ongoing process. It still amazed him,this newfound ability to work in conjunction with the side of his nature he hadalways labeled as The Beast.
Theworld grew sharper, clearer, as predatory instincts dictated his actions. Theenervating thrill of the hunt rippled through him, tempered by the consciousintent to frighten, not harm. Attention narrowed, focused exclusively on thetrio of loudly arguing teenagers just around the next bend. His chest expandedas he loosed a grating roar.
Afeminine scream sounded, shill and terrified. Male voices shouted confusedobscenities as the frightened intruders stumbled away.
Witha tired sigh Vincent followed the panicking teenagers, carefully herding themback toward the tunnel exit.
Thethick, sweet scent of peaches and alcohol issued from a bottle dropped andforgotten on the ground.
Alow, menacing snarl rolled off rock walls. Ahead, the dry rustle of sandincreased in volume as the intruders shuffled into a weaving run.
Perhapsnext time these particular youths would think twice before drinking to excess.
* ** * *
Springin New York was not pretty. Snow melted, revealing a diverse collection ofwinter garbage. The trees were just beginning to bud, but their leaves had notyet brought the burst of vibrant green that lifted spirits. Streets were muddyand everything seemed drab and grimy. Overcast gray days, drizzle and thechilling damp made early spring a miserable time of the year.
Catherinegrimaced and turned from the French doors. The apartment sparkled after itsspring-cleaning, a tradition she followed faithfully, if begrudgingly, everyyear.
Shecertainly had had the time to get everything done this
Sockfeet were practically soundless on the deep carpet as she padded into theliving room, dropped onto a couch, and turned on the TV.
Saturdaynight and here she was alone watching the tube. "Nice life,Chandler," she muttered as she flipped through the channels. Fruitlessly.Saturday night was definitely not one for decent television, if there even wassuch a thing. She turned the machine off and dropped the remote to the cushionswith a grunt of disgust. There was work she could do in her briefcase, but witha stir of rebellion she shoved that idea away.
Bored,she went to the kitchen and took a soda from the fridge. The popping hiss ofthe opening can was loud in the silent apartment.
Itwasn't Vincent's fault. It was like this every spring. When he wasn't workinghe was sleeping. Previous experience had taught her that this time of yearusually found him dirty, tired, and as close to grumpy as she ever saw him get.
Shefetched a glass from the cupboard and opened the freezer to get some ice.
Inside the freezer, the littlesnowman stood proudly, taking up almost all of the available space. The frozengrin and jaunty little scarf never failed to cheer her, and she couldn't helpbut smile.
Hehad remained for several days on her balcony, but eventually a warm spell hadcome. She had noticed him beginning to melt and on impulse had rearranged herfreezer contents and settled him into his new home. A rather awkward memento,but his message had meant so much to her. She had felt compelled to preservethe hope it had brought.
Itwasn't Vincent's fault that they had managed so little time alone sinceWinterfest either. Sadly, the after-Winterfest dinner never had
Shehadn't wanted to push her luck and had resolved to allow him space to make thenext move. It hadn't taken long. He had been hesitant and shy at first, butthey no longer parted without a good night kiss.
And,wow, was he developing into a marvelous kisser!
Absentlyshe closed the freezer, dropped the ice into her glass, and poured the soda.The clock on her microwave read nine o'clock. Jenn was at a party tonight, andhad invited her along, but Catherine had declined. Fending off the menattracted to either her looks, or her money, or both, had lost its charm overtwo years ago.
Shehad slept late this morning and was not at all tired. The evening stretchedahead...
Shecould go Below. Father would stillbe up, as would many other tunnel residents. Vincent would most likely beasleep, but he wasn't the only person she enjoyed spending time with.
Ina mere moment the decision was made. Soda forgotten, she grabbed a jacket andher keys, and left the apartment.
Thetrip Below was uneventful. By now she knew the way well and even knew thelocations of the hidden security stations. She waved in the direction of PostTwelve as she strode through the silent tunnels. Nearer the hub, the frequencyof candles and lamps increased and she turned off her flashlight.
Father'schamber was quiet. Aside from candles, a single desk lamp glowed. Behind thedesk, Father leaned back in his chair, engrossed in a thick book. She had tohalt for a moment just to enjoy the sight.
Hehad tried to refuse her Winterfest gift, but she would have none of it, andcould be quite as stubborn as him when need be. For more years than he couldremember, Father had always used an old-fashioned wooden desk chair. Advancingyears, however, had taken their toll, and last fall she had overheard Vincentinquire after his back aches. A visit to a local office furniture store hasresulted in the purchase of the latest ergonomic office chair. It had beentough to smuggle it down without Father's knowledge, but Vincent could be quiteresourceful. Father had been speechless. And that didn't happen very often.
Hidinga grin, she descended the three stairs.
"Catherine!How good to see you, my dear. I'm sorry, but Vincent is sleeping. We had aminor intruder alert earlier this evening, but he's since returned, I believe,and gone to bed." Father shook his head sympathetically. "He needsthe rest. I've seldom seen him so tired."
"That'sall right. I figured he'd be asleep before I decided to come down."
"There'snothing wrong is there?"
"No,I just came for a visit. That's OK, isn't it?"
"Certainly.You know you're always welcome here."
"That'snice to hear. It..."
"Ithasn't always been that way." He closed his book and set it on the pileteetering in the corner. "You know how sorry I am about that. I can beobstinate, I know."
"Really?"Catherine's face was a study of innocence.
Fatherswept off his glasses and pointed at her with the metal frame. "You mindyour manners, young lady."
Shecouldn't help but laugh. The last two years had been difficult, true, butduring Vincent's illness she and Father had reached an understanding. It waswonderful to have both his trust and his friendship.
Catherinesettled down in the chair across from Father and they spent the next hourcatching up on the happenings both Above and Below. Finally, noticing his wearyyawn, she left him to his rest.
Thetunnels seemed unnaturally quiet. Usually she was here during the waking hours,when children laughed and played through the passageways and the muted hum ofoccupancy leant the warmth of home.
Surelyshe could just look in on Vincent? She wouldn't wake or disturb him, just checkon him. She hadn't even seen him for the past week.
Quietly,she crept up to his chamber entrance and listened. There was no sound, and shepeeked around the corner.
Hewas lying on his side, face half turned into the mattress and obscured by thejumbled mass of mane. The covers had slipped down, revealing the roughly hemmededge of his nightshirt and the light dusting of fur on his shoulder.
Daring,she tiptoed to the side of the bed.
Hisbreathing was light and fast and his eyes moved jerkily beneath their closedlids. He was dreaming.
Tenderly,she reached down to smooth the blankets back into place, trailing her handacross the warmth of his shoulder.
* ** * *
Thedew on the grass was refreshingly cool beneath his feet. Branches touched andslid across him, the wetness of dew leaving dark stripes on his fur. Silent, heglided through the trees; senses open to all the night could tell him. The moonshone full and his eyes collected every mote of light it shed, revealing aforest of washed silver, charcoal gray, and a myriad of unnamed shadesin-between: a beautiful monochrome landscape rippling with movement and life.Mice burrowed beneath last year's leaves, preparing homes for their young. Awatchful owl noted his passage, nothing moving but its huge eyes. All aroundhim the forest stirred, celebrating the newness of spring.
"Whereare you?"
Thesoft voice knifed through him, and he whirled to face the direction from whichit came. Ahead and to the left.
Asoundless rumble shook through his abdomen.
"Whereare you?"
Instinctdictated the hunt. Every movement was anticipated, measured, and executed in asilent symphony of intent. Bare claws sank into the loamy earth as he wovesoundlessly through the forest, intent on discovering the nature of thatbeckoning call. Ahead, a bright silver glow heralded a break in the trees.Cautiously he crouched behind an evergreen and peered out from between itsbranches.
Shestood in the center of the clearing. Her long shift was translucent, baringfeminine curves in a shadowed, enticing silhouette.
"Whereare you?"
Shewas calling for him. The scent of her curled through the cool night breeze,lush and inviting.
Hestepped from behind the tree and stood, shoulders back. Tall and proud.Unbidden, an instinctive coughing growl announced his presence.
Thematerial of her gown swirled lightly as she turned. Eyes, washed gray in themoonlight, widened as she saw him. He remained motionless. Her gaze ran overhim, assessing. Judging.
Finallyshe lifted her arms, hands reaching towards him. "I thought you'd nevercome."
Hestalked forward through the grass, heated eyes not leaving hers until he stoodbefore her. Small hands slipped against his biceps and trailed upwards over hisshoulders. The light touch heated his blood. It pounded through his veins, hotand wild.
Thecontact sealed her approval. Her acceptance.
Hewas her choice to stand by her side, to protect her. Her mate: to love her, togive her children.
Desirebattered him, the scent of her longing stripping him of thought. She tipped herhead and glanced up at him, eyes gleaming fey and seductive throughmoon-silvered hair. Her body arched enticingly, begging for his touch.
Witha feral snarl, lethal claws extended, punctured the light cloth of her gown andsnapped down, shredding the garment to free her for their pleasure...
** * * *
"Vincent
Thedark hiss of shredding cloth halted as his eyes opened. Confusion faded tocomprehension as he focused on his extended claws and the eight long, slicingtears in her windbreaker. His head dropped backwards with a despairing moan,eyes closing tightly. He began panting, heavy and deep.
"It'sOK. Don't worry about it. It's an old jacket. You were just dreaming and-"
"Catherine.Go." The words were a quiet rasp, tightly controlled.
Shecouldn't leave him, not like this! Slowly she reached for him, to take his facein her hands and turn him back to her, to force him to listen.
Heflinched from her touch as if burned, an angry snarl bubbling through clenchedteeth.
Hopestumbled as she watched every step of progress made since Winterfest crumblingaway.
"No!Vincent, it was just a dream! Really, I-"
Awild roar tore through the chamber, reverberating off bare rock. He whipped hishead back to face her, eyes frantic, pupils enlarged to a fathomless well ofdark above flashing white fangs.
"Go,now!"
Hewas deadly serious.
Therewas no reasoning with him when he was like this. Her presence would just makehim worse.
"Allright, I'll go." Slowly she backed up to the chamber entrance. He hadturned from her once more, forehead resting against the bookcase, claws digginginto the wood. "But Vincent, we'll have
Hedidn't move, didn't acknowledge her at all.
Witha heavy sigh, she turned and walked away.
Eventhe coolness of night could not completely dissipate the oppressive heat of thepast day. Tempers frayed as the citizens of New York coped with a late summerheat wave that brought clinging humidity and temperatures in the triple digits.At least here, high above the city streets, there was a breeze to providerelief. Not that many would come outside to appreciate it. Everyone in thisbuilding was hiding within air-conditioned apartments, a fact not unwelcome toone who wished to remain undiscovered.
Vincentscooted forward to perch on the very edge of the building and gazed outward,across the dark abyss of Central Park, to the city lights beyond. His cloak layin a heap beside him. It was too hot to wear the heavy wool and leather garmentfor long. His dark blue cotton sweater and jeans would hide his presence, notquite as well as the concealing cloak, but they would have to do.
Shewasn't home. He had known that before he came here, but a part of him needed tofeel her near. It was close to ten o'clock. She would surely return soon.
Afew months ago he would have waited on her balcony...
Theyhadn't spent much time alone together since... that night. A night when, in adream, the animal side of him had risen fully, shown him his deepest desires,and left consequences that affected them still.
Hehad released the Beast earlier that fateful evening, to herd drunken intrudersback to the surface. Both sides of his nature had intertwined, working inconcert to accomplish a common goal. That state faded only gradually, and hehad returned to his chamber using less traveled routes, unwilling to encounteranyone until his equilibrium was regained. Sleep had come quickly.
Thatnight had been a revelation. Proof positive of the wrongness inherent in hisdesires for her.
Itwasn't often that the other side of his nature took over that completely and hewas still coming to terms with the pleasure the dream had brought. But dreamswere dreams, and not of true consequence, at least not usually. The dreamitself wasn't the problem.
Fora moment, after he awakened, that dark joy had remained; the hissing shred ofnylon a bright counterpoint to the soundless rumble in his chest. Convictionhad wavered. For one brief instant the temptation to ignore every rule, tocontinue and shred her garments, to take them to completion, had overwhelmedhim. His claws had moved an inch more... two inches more.
Ithad been deliberate...
Hehad looked up at her and seen her eyes wide with shock. Reality had reasserteditself in a blinding flash, and he had known just how bestial his desires were.
Thathe could think of her in such a way! It had been nothing like anything he hadread; there were no thoughts of tender touching, softness, or confessions ofenduring love. No, none of that; just a bone-deep, aching need to take, anoverwhelming drive that had strengthened even further in the last months. Sopossessive, so... hungry.
Thosefeelings existed still, lurking below his conscious mind. At times they wouldrise up and swamp him, leaving him trembling in the midst of some normaldaytime activity. And the nights...
Itwas not normal.
Thesense of her intensified, an inner heat that underscored the warmth of thenight.
Shewas coming home.
* ** * *
Afterthe heat, the air-conditioned apartment building was sharply chill.
"Cathy,you make me sick. This place always looks so clean and neat!"
Catherinedropped several bags onto a couch and set her handbag on the table. "Yeah,but I don't have two kids and a husband running around messing things up."
Behindher, Nancy nudged the apartment door shut, juggling an armful of boxes and anovernight bag. "Want to borrow them?"
"No,thanks."
"Smart woman. My placeisn't called the House of Chaos for nothing. As much as I love them, it's surenice to have a break every once in a while." The heap of boxes tumbled tothe couch beside the bags. "I can't believe I bought all this stuff.Paul's going to kill me."
Catherinetoed off her pumps and flexed her feet in relief. "Did we leave anythingin the stores?"
"Ihope not." Nancy chuckled as she removed her sneakers and flopped down onthe opposite couch. "Man, we haven't done that in way
"Me,too. And if I don't get these nylons off, I'll go nuts. Would you mind if Iwent and changed?"
"Nope.Go ahead. I'm going to help myself to an iced tea. Want one?"
"I'dlove one."
Catherinewalked into the bedroom and turned to close the louvered doors behind her. Herlegs itched from the pantyhose she had put on this morning for work. Quicklyshe discarded the nylons and skirt, and slipped into a pair of beige shorts.
Theyhad had a wonderful day. Sometimes spur of the moment plans were so much fun.
Nancyhad called her this morning. Her parents were taking the kids for the weekend,and Paul was returning from a business trip to Seattle on Saturday afternoon.Since she was driving in to pick him up anyway, she had thought maybe she couldcome in Friday and spend the night.
Catherinehad jumped at the chance for company. She had even finagled Joe into lettingher leave early. A marathon shopping spree, combined with dinner at a favoriteThai restaurant, was just what the doctor ordered. She had needed something totake her mind off things. Specifically, Vincent.
Sincethat spring night when he had torn her jacket, he had backed off. Way off.Become distant, more formal. Good night kisses became a treasured memory.
Theywere never alone anymore either. When she went Below, there always seemed to besome activity, something that permitted only a few moments of privacy, if that.She had tried to bring up the subject during those times, but... well he wasn'ttalking.
"Hey,Cathy?"
"Yeah?"
"Iliked that shirt you bought. Is it for Vincent?"
Catherinefroze. It gave her a start, to hear his name from someone who did not know ofthe world Below. But she had told Nancy some of it that night over a year ago,before she borrowed her car at four in the morning to drive back to New York.No real specifics, but enough. Consciously relaxing, she removed a light beigetank top from its hanger and slipped it over her head.
"Yes,it is." She had been jealous; Catherine had to admit to herself. She hadwanted so much to shop for Vincent the way Nancy did for Paul. She had wanderedaround the Ralph Lauren Men's store while Nancy looked at the fall sweaters, andhad spied the shirt on a sale display. A loose, long-sleeved Henley, in a softblue cotton knit with a darker blue lining beneath the buttons. It had beenperfect for Vincent, sized large enough to fit his massive shoulders, and thecolor would bring out the blue of his eyes. She hadn't been able to resist thepurchase. Now all she had to do was get him to accept it, without revealing theprice she had paid.
"Ithink it's going to be too big."
Big?Nancy didn't know his size.
"Whatdo you mean?"
"Way
Frigid?She wouldn't say that. Repressed, maybe. But beneath the rules and self-controllurked a very passionate side. She knew it. She had seen it. She just needed touncover it.
Wildlycurious, she made her way to the kitchen. Nancy was just filling the glasseswith tea from the plastic pitcher. "How do you figure that?"
Witha smug grin, Nancy opened the freezer door with a flourish. Inside, leaningagainst a carton of Haagen-Dazs, the little snowman smiled back. "I'veheard about keeping men chained up in the basement, but really, isn't thefreezer overkill?"
Catherinefished out a piece of ice from her drink and feigned throwing it at her friend,who squeaked with alarm and ducked away. "I know it's silly, but a friendmade him for me on the balcony last winter, and I just couldn't let himmelt."
"Ohhh,the balcony. Lets take these outside and sit, it's cooling off."
Beforeclosing the freezer door, Catherine grabbed the carton of ice cream and tooktwo spoons out of the drawer, handing one to her friend. "I won't even askif you want some."
"Youknow me too well." Nancy found the bowls and followed Catherine outside.The night air was still warm, but no longer oppressive. At this height, a coolbreeze blew in from across the park. "This balcony is so great."
"Yeah,it is."
"Romantic,too."
Catherine gave a noncommittalgrunt as she filled her bowl with Rocky Road. From below the hum of the citydrifted up, muted at this hour but always present.
"Thatwasn't a very happy sound. So, how are things going with Vincent? Any improvement?"
"No...yes.I don't know. It's complicated."
Nancy'svoice was rife with disbelief. "More complicated than the last
Catherine slowly shook her headand sighed. It was so hard to talk about him when so much needed to remainunspoken. Even that night at Nancy's house she had kept the specifics toherself. But she had so desperately needed a friend, needed someone to talk to,even if only to clear her mind. And it had helped. A lot.
"I'msorry, Cathy, just tell me to butt out. I don't mean to be a busybody. It's theMom in me, I guess."
"No,it's OK. I do need to talk to someone or I'll go crazy. But there's a lot Ican't say, I have secrets that aren't mine to tell. I've made promises."
"I know. I remember."
Catherinestared across the park as she absently ate a spoonful of ice cream."Things have been strained between us lately. Something happened...
"Thatsounds pretty ominous. Did he cheat on you?"
Catherinecouldn't contain a snort of amusement. "No, not that. Sort of theopposite."
"You
"No!"She shook her head in frustration. How did one explain the problem without revealinganything? "He... wants to be intimate with me, but there are things thatscare him... see he's a very big man. Not fat, just very muscular and extremely
"Asize two." Nancy rolled her eyes in disgust. "Don't think we didn'tenvy you to death during college. But the size difference shouldn't affect sex;he'd just have to be careful. Unless by large you mean... really
Shedidn't know. He might be. Couldthat be part of it? Father was a doctor; surely he would know average sizes andsuch. Despite herself, she felt heat creep into her cheeks, and she reached forthe iced tea glass and took a long swallow. "I don't know. Maybe. I'venever..."
Nancylooked incredulous. "Never?"
"Itold you, it's complicated. I wish I could say more, but..."
"Cathy,you do know that nothing you sayto me will leave this balcony, don't you? I mean that, those aren't just emptywords. I owe you. Remember Aaron?"
It seemed a lifetime ago. In away, it had been. Nancy and Paul had been seeing each other since high school,but they had attended separate colleges. Regardless, they had remainedtogether. But in second year there had been that dorm party that had gotten alittle, well, a lot, out of hand. Nancy had come home at nine that nextmorning, disheveled, in the same rumpled clothes. Too much alcohol, a lot ofloneliness, a handsome young man saying all the right things, and no thought toprecautions...
"I'dalmost forgotten." It was Catherine who had been the shoulder to cry on,and the pillar of strength through the week when Nancy's period was late.Luckily, it had just been late andthe incident had come to nothing. Luckily. But those three weeks had beenpretty scary. Catherine had never spoken of it to anyone. "Thanks,Nance." She lowered her head and absently traced lines through thecondensation on her glass. "I think he's scared of letting go. He thinkshe'll hurt me without meaning to, and to be truthful, he really could
"Different?You mean deformed?"
"No!Not the way that sounds. Deformed means something's wrong, something didn'tcome out right. But he's not that way." Catherine's voice gentled, dreamy."Everything came out wonderfully. He is so beautiful, you have noidea."
"Couldhe be impotent?"
"Idon't think so. We... we don't discuss things like that."
"Maybeyou should."
"I'vetried! But if I push, he gets distant. He's really hard to talk to about thatsort of thing. He gets embarrassed and nervous. It's always one step forwardand two steps back with him, at least it seems that way." Catherine ranher hands under her hair, lifting it upwards. "I'm getting sofrustrated!" The night breeze felt wonderful against the back of her neck."To be honest, lately, I've been feeling a bit... desperate."
Nancychuckled lightly. "Yeah, I can relate to that. It's our age, youknow."
"Howdo you mean?"
"Oh,I was reading about it in one of those women's magazines at the checkoutcounter a couple of months back. You know the ones, with the half dressed womenon the cover and the sensational headlines like Six Sex Moves to Drive Your ManWild. That type. Anyway, I picked it up because it had an article I wasinterested in, one about women over thirty. I'm sure you've heard the thingabout men reaching their sexual peak at seventeen, but women reaching theirs atthirty?"
Catherinenodded. Of course, everyone had heard that old saw.
"Thearticle talked about that. It says that our sex hormones reach peak at aboutour age. We get to the stage that boys go through at seventeen, except we knowwhat to do with it." Nancy's voice dropped to a suggestive drawl."And I can attest to that."
Catherinegrinned. "Oh? Do tell."
Nancyblushed and looked away. "It's kind of scary. You want it all the time.For me, it's usually in the afternoon. I'll be folding laundry or vacuuming andall of a sudden, bam! It's like getting hit by a brick. It's all you can thinkof. There have been times I've actually called Paul at work to see if he cancome home early."
Catherine chewed her lip. Thatsounded way too familiar, especially lately. At work she'd be busy breakingdown a deposition or sitting in a meeting and... Nancy was right, it was almostoverwhelming, an actual physical response. She had thought she was justfrustrated... "I think I know what you mean. Last week I was in a meeting,and like you said, it's like getting hit by a brick. I was almostdrooling."
"Yep.You've got it, too." Nancy chucked ruefully. "It's not like normal,either. You just want it. No preliminaries, no long foreplay. You don't needany. Once..." Nancy snickered conspiratorially and dropped her voice."Once Paul did come homeearly. The kids were napping and I was in the kitchen, and... well, one thingled to another. We did it right there on the island. It was some of the bestsex we've ever had. He even cut my underwear off with the kitchen shears."
"NancyLynn Tucker!" Catherine burst out laughing as Nancy wriggled her eyebrowssuggestively. "Paul must have enjoyed that!"
"Yeah,that time he did. Sometimes he just gets that deer-in-the-headlights look andfinds something to do out in the garage." Nancy chuckled ruefully."Funny how the roles reverse as we age. The shoe is on the other footnow."
"Humm."Catherine ate another spoonful of the melting ice cream, crunching a chunk ofwalnut. "Sometimes Vincent gets that look, when I push too much."
"At least Paul is cominghome tomorrow and we have until Sunday before we pick up the kids. It must betough sometimes for you."
"Itis." She glanced at the empty bowl before setting it on the table."There must be alcohol in this ice cream; I haven't talked like this aboutthings for years."
"It'sgood for you." Nancy set her empty bowl, scraped clean, on top ofCatherine's. "How about this. Why not whap him on the head with a two byfour, throw him to the ground, and just have your wicked way with him? I mean,he's a man, surely he won't struggle too much."
"No,he'd just die of shock. Things aren't done like that where he comes from. Notthat I haven't thought about it, or of sneaking into his place naked except fora trench coat, and assaulting him in his own bed."
"Thatsounds promising. Maybe you need to do something like
Catherinelaughed until she was breathless. It was cathartic, a release of months of frustratedtension.
* ** * *
Vincent sat immobile, frozenwith shock.
It was her! Her emotions, herdesires, influencing his own!
Sensitivehearing had caught ever word, every breathless confession. Eavesdropping was wrong,he knew, but once they had begun he had been unable to move, captured by thesound of his name, the sense of love and longing entwined with her thoughts ofthem together.
Understandingflooded him, leaving him gasping. That afternoon last week, when he had beenforced to leave the construction site, it had been her
Itwas... it was them.
Theconversation below slipped to the past day's shopping and he relaxed his tensevigilance with a shuddering sigh. Ideas and thoughts underwent wrenchingrevision as he struggled with the implications of what he had learned.
Thosedesires he was so ashamed of, that he was so sure were rooted in theanimalistic side of his nature – yes they were his, but they echoed herown. And she – she thought they were acceptable! .
Thesound of his name caught his attention once more.
"Don'tworry. Vincent will come around. I just hope for your sake it's sooner ratherthan later."
"Youand me both."
Heheard the woman called Nancy yawn.
"I'mbeat. Five hours of tramping through stores really takes it out of you. Wouldyou mind if we called it a night?"
"Sure,no problem. You go ahead and use the bathroom. I'll wait out here until you'redone. The bed's all made up; you just have to unfold the couch."
"Ican handle that. I won't be too long."
"Takeyour time."
Thebalcony door opened and closed with light clicks and silence descended, exceptfor a light scrape of metal chair leg against concrete. Beneath him, he watchedCatherine walk to the railing and lean against it, looking out over the park. Awave of wistful longing swept over him, intensified by proximity.
Howcould he resist that? How could he continue to resist her, knowing now thatwhat he had considered to be repellent was actually what she, too, craved?
Silentlyhe rose, turned, and climbed down the wall to the balcony. He shrank back intoshadow as, inside the apartment, Nancy gathered up her overnight bag andentered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
* ** * *
Catherinegazed over the park. It was a beautiful soft night. Perhaps he was down there,walking through the trees. He so loved the park.
"Catherine."
Hisvoice came from behind her, from the side of the balcony where her plants grew.Softly beckoning.
Slowlyshe turned, leaning back against the balcony railing. "Hi."
Hestood in the shadows, one hand braced against rough cement. For a moment therewas a sense of wrongness, until she realized he wasn't wearing his cloak. Itwas one of the few times she had ever seen him Above without it.
Sheglanced away into the apartment. Nancy was in the bathroom, a small line oflight visible under the bottom of the closed door. Silently cursing theirtiming once again, she turned back.
Hecould move so quietly! In that one quick second she had looked away, he hadapproached to stand before her.
"Vincent,I'm sorry. Nancy is here and-"
Thewords died in her throat as she looked up.
Hewas staring at her mouth like a starving man seeing an end to hunger, and heswallowed convulsively. His jaw dropped open, exposing the glint of lower fangsas his eyes met hers. Hazy, dark, pupils enlarged to fathomless black wells.
Hemoved a step closer, bringing his body fully against her. The concrete halfwall pressed into her back, preventing any retreat. Not that she wanted to.
Hewas wearing fewer layers than usual in concession to the heat. She could feelthe rise of his chest as his breathing deepened; feel the rise of his desirepress into her belly.
Shedidn't register the movement of his hands until they touched her. The pads ofhis fingers caressed her temples and slid back, sharp claws grazing lightlyagainst her scalp as her hair was combed away. She was held immobile by thegentle grip on the sides of her head, the press of his weight against her body.A steady vibration, centered in his chest, shivered through to her.
Hedipped his head in a swift movement, capturing her lips with a growling moan ofpossession. His hands tightened on her scalp, claw tips flexing lightly.
Shesighed, slipping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him down further,bending backwards to give him access to anything. Everything.
Thiswas no tentative foray, no careful reintroduction. This was a deliberate andpassionate abandon of rules and limits. The pressure of his mouth on hersincreased as he deepened the kiss, the soft bristles of his upper lip brushingher skin. Electric.
Thoughtswere stripped away in a spiraling vortex of sensual pleasure. She gasped as hismouth left hers and slid down her cheek to her ear, gently sucking. Thevibration in his chest became an audible rumble as he licked the side of herneck and bit lightly, four hard points of delicious contact nestled within thewet moistness of breath.
Hishands left her hair, glided slowly down her across her shoulder blades andsplayed across her back, pulling her hard against him.
Shereached up to bracket his chin with her palms, tracing his upper lip with herthumbs, fingers spread across the soft fur on his cheeks, urging him upwards tokiss her once more. Helpless, she surged, pressing her lower body against thatforbidden part of him.
Hestiffened, standing abruptly upright.
"No..."she cried softly. Pleading. He couldn't pull away, not now. It was too much.She couldn't stand it.
"Catherine,your friend." His voice was deep, rough, forced over the liquid rumble ofhis pleasure in her.
Sheglanced past his shoulder. The bathroom door was opening. She looked back athim, mane rumpled, eyes dark with desire.
Aguttural moan of disappointment wrung her. Of all the timing...
"Youhave to go."
Henodded silently and stepped backwards.
"Wait!"
Hehalted in his turn to climb the wall. He was still breathing raggedly as heglanced backwards, eyes wild.
"Tomorrow.Can you come tomorrow?"
Hedropped his head, mane swinging forward. "This weekend is impossible,I-"
No!There had to be a way. They had waited long enough! "Then next Fridaynight. Can you come then?"
Heturned his head to look at her once more. Slowly he nodded. "Yes.I..." His voice deepened further, an uneven shiver. "I look forwardto it."
"Cathy?"Nancy's voice, from the doorway.
Swiftly Vincent scaled thefifteen feet to the rooftop.
Catherineforced her eyes from him as he turned for one last look before moving away, outof sight.
"Funny,I thought I heard someone out here with you."
"Outhere? Who, Superman?"
Nancylaughed lightly. "Must have been. Anyway, I'm heading to bed. Thebathroom's all yours."
"Thanks.I'll be in in a few minutes."
"Hey,are you OK? You look flushed."
"Yes,I'm fine. I'll see you in the morning."
"OK.Goodnight."
"Night,Nance."
Thedoor closed quietly as Catherine turned to lean against the balcony railingonce more.
"Oh,I'm fine all right." Adelighted grin spread across her face as she gazed once more out over the park."I'm more than fine."
Witha muffled growl, Vincent loosened the tie of his ruffled white shirt and onceagain attempted to construct a passable ascot. For the fifth time. Hands thatshook with nervousness made the chore even more difficult.
Tonightwas the night.
Hernote had arrived Wednesday: a small, lightly scented envelope bearing aninvitation to dinner.
Dinner.Inside.
Tonight,he stepped into her world. Tonight, that particular barrier would fall.
Hehad made a determined effort to finish all the jobs assigned to him and hadcompleted preparation of Monday's lesson plans in advance. There would benothing to distract him from the coming weekend, no uncompleted chore to drawhim away.
Noexcuses.
Ithad been a week since he had overheard Catherine's conversation with herfriend. A mere seven days, time that had dragged unmercifully, but yet had spedby far too quickly for comfort.
Hewas practically ready to go now, two hours early.
Thewait was going to kill him.
Carefulof his sharp claws, he pulled the material through the loop and tightened thefabric. Lopsided. Again. This time his growl was not repressed, but rolledthrough the room, high and nervous.
"Vincent?"
Hespun swiftly to face the chamber door. It was not often someone was able tocome up on him unawares.
"Whatis it? What's wrong?"
Fatherstood in the doorway, looking at him with concern. His eyes visibly widened asthey traveled over the tall frame of his son, and Vincent stood a littlestraighter. He knew what Father saw: a freshly washed mane, the favoriteruffled white shirt, and leather boots that glowed lustrous with polish.
"Youlook... very nice. Is there some occasion I'm unaware of?"
Vincentdipped his head to hide the furious blush that spread across his cheeks."I'm going to visit Catherine this evening."
"Ahhh." Father walkedto the side of Vincent's bed and sank down with an audible breath of relief.His tone was guarded. "You've gone to see her many times, but not withthis level of care."
"Tonightis special. And Father, I..." Vincent swallowed nervously, and tugged atthe knot at his neck. "I... may not be home until late. Quite late."Raising his head, he looked Father directly in the eyes, defiant. "Perhapsnot until tomorrow night."
Fatherrubbed his hip absently as he met his son's challenging gaze. "So, it'scome to that, eh?" He leaned forward with a sigh and removed his glasses,resting his elbows on his thighs, absently examining the intricate pattern ofthe oriental carpet. "Are you sure? Are you both sure? The risks-"
"Areours to take." Vincent walked to the side of the bed and bent down to resthis hand on Father's slumped shoulder. "Please, don't worry so."
Straightening,Father nodded jerkily and replaced his glasses. Hands lifted to touch theburnished gold of Vincent's mane. He spoke quietly, dreamily, as he stoked theshining waves. "Do you remember when you were five, and you gave yourselfand Devin haircuts?"
Vincentchuckled ruefully. "Barely. I doremember you were very angry."
"Ihad to be. A part of me was laughing so hard, I had to get very angry in orderto keep a straight face. The two of you looked so awful! After you were sent toyour chamber, Mary and I had hysterics." Father fingered the rough goldlovingly. "Sometimes, when I look at you, I still see that same little boystaring back at me, frightened and defiant. He was such a sweet child. It'shard to let him go."
Vincentstood. "All children grow up, eventually."
Fathersat silent for a few moments. "Yes. They do." Determinedly he reachedfor his cane and stood. "Well, I shan't keep you any longer. No doubt youneed to be going soon. But, Vincent, please, be-"
"Careful.Yes, we will."
"Iknow that. Just humor the part of me that still needs to say it." He glancedover at Vincent once more and turned to face him. "But a man shouldn't goto visit his lady with a lopsided tie. Hold still, now, while I fix this."Deliberately he retied the knot so the folds fell straight, cascading acrossVincent's broad chest. He stepped back to check over his handiwork with abright smile that belied the glitter of suppressed tears. "There. Muchbetter."
"Thankyou, Father."
Fathernodded slowly and left the chamber.
Thetime rang out over the pipes. Six o'clock.
Hesurely would not survive the next two hours.
* ** * *
Chewingpens was a bad habit, she knew, but one she couldn't seem to shake. At least itwas better than gnawing on your fingernails. Surreptitiously she glanced at thelarge white clock over the office doors. Five minutes to six. Five minutesbefore she could bolt out the door with a clear conscience.
Everythingwas ready at home. The apartment was clean, the table set. The dress she was towear waited in the closet. The meal was ordered and the wine was chilling. Ifshe could make it through the next two hours, everything would work out.Definitely.
Surely.
Hopefully...
Catherineshook her head and refocused on the documents in front of her. She scribbledsome directions onto a sticky note and smoothed it onto the front of the file.Rita could deal with it on Monday.
Thatwas it: she was done.
Duringthe last week, she had put in a determined effort to clean off her desk. Shehad come in early, skipped lunch, and worked late, but it had all been worthit. There was no work to take home, no looming crises, no weekend interviews.Just two – two! – complete days with no obligations. And, if allwent according to plan, she wouldn't be spending them alone.
Hehad replied to her note, a sheet of heavy paper with his elegant scriptincluded in her lunch sandwich yesterday. It had been short and sweet, just'Tomorrow at eight – V.'
Sheset the file into her out tray and opened the lower desk drawer to remove her purse.
"Cathy?"That was Joe's voice, from across the office. "Cathy!" He wasapproaching, holding some notes.
Sheknew it! She just knew it! Why, oh why, did this always happen? Every timeanything of personal significance was about to happen, any time she had plansthat included Vincent, somethingalways came up! Witnesses skipped, cases broke open.
Nope.Not this time.
Sheturned to remove her overcoat from the tree behind her desk and shrugged intoit.
"Cathy,would you-"
"No."
"Excuseme?"
"Isaid no. Ask someone else."
"You-"
"Absolutelynot! Forget it! I'm going home. Someone else can do it." She fishedthrough her purse for her car keys and walked towards the door. "See youon Monday, Joe."
"But,Cathy I-"
"Bye!"She waved over her shoulder as the door swung shut with a swish.
* ** * *
Witha rueful sigh, Joe perched on the edge of Catherine's desk as Rita stopped toremove the files from the out basket.
"Somethingwrong, Joe?"
Joeglanced at the slips of paper in his hand. "No, not really. Say, youwouldn't want two tickets to see Cats, would you?"
* ** * *
Catherineswitched off the curling iron, set it aside, and swept her now softly curledbangs to the side. Perfect.
Nolipstick, Vincent didn't like it. Not that he'd ever said anything, but itwasn't customarily worn by the women below and surely looked strange to him.Instead she applied a light coat of gloss to finish.
Shehad bought the dress on her wild shopping trip with Nancy last week. A rich,deep green that brought out her eyes: the silky material draped and swungbeautifully. The neckline began at the point of her shoulders, and dipped to ashallow V in the back and front, exposing just a hint of cleavage. Classic, butprovocative. Perfect.
Shesmoothed the material over her hips and did one last check in the vanitymirror. As she turned, she noticed the phone beside the bed, the red messagebutton flashing. Automatically, she reached to check, but her hand stopped inmid air as a memory flashed; a mental picture of Vincent, leaning forward tostep inside her apartment. It was hard to believe that that had been over ayear ago. That night he had begun to come inside... but then the phone hadrung, and the crisis with the watcher halted any progress.
"Idon't think so." Catherine leaned over the bedside table and decisivelyyanked the cord from the wall.
Thelight strains of Fauré danced through the air as she closed the doors toher bedroom. Candles on the mantelpiece, the coffee table, everywhere she couldthink to place them, warmed the room with a golden glow reminiscent of thetunnels. Anything to make him feel relaxed. She wanted him to think of her homeas his, to feel comfortable in it.
If...he would come in at all.
Shepadded into the living room and took care of the other phone. There would be nointerruptions from that quarter tonight.
Thesalad was made. The chicken and side dishes awaited warming in the microwave,and dessert had been put into the freezer, next to the snowman.
Hershoes were in the closet. She slipped on the dark green heels, made her wayinto the kitchen, and opened the freezer. The strawberry sherbet had gottensoft on the trip home, but a quick check revealed it had firmed up again.Beside the pink container, the little snowman beamed back at her, eyes gleamingwith bright promise. He had brought such hope last winter.
Maybehe could perform that service again.
Witha flash of inspiration, Catherine dug through her cupboards and came up with asmall wooden platter. The desk in the living room held her stationery and shesank down into the chair to pen a short note.
* ** * *
Todayhad been the first day of fall. A stiff breeze came from the sea, carrying afaint scent of salt along with the damp chill.
Vincentstood on the edge of the building, one leg propped up on the ledge. He knew helooked calm and collected; if there was one benefit to having his unusualfeatures, it was that emotion could be hidden more easily. At least, to otherseyes. Inside, he was shaking like a leaf.
Tonightwas not a simple dinner, not really, at least not exclusively. Tonight wassymbolic, a deliberate and conscious lowering of the barriers that had definedhis life to this point, perhaps even totally shattering them. One week ago hehad been so caught up in the moment that pushing back those barriers had beeneasy. Now, however, now was totally different. He, she, both of them, hadcertain expectations.
Couldhe really do this?
Theclick of doors opening below him caught his attention and he looked down to seeCatherine emerge onto the balcony. She cried out as the stiff breeze whippedher dress against her legs and blew through her hair. Swiftly she set a largeplate onto the balcony table and fled back into the apartment.
Shewas so beautiful. Inside and out, face and body, heart and soul. There weretimes when he had just left her at the apartment threshold, or saw her walkacross a room, when a blanket of unreality settled over him. That one such ashe held the love of someone like her... It confounded him, and yet, it was so.
Hecould no longer doubt her love. Its constancy had been proven, again and again.
Shehad left something on the balcony. The table was against the wall, and hecouldn't quite see what from this vantage point.
Itwas time. He could no longer avoid it. Everything they were was at stake, anall-or-nothing gamble.
Witha deep, shuddering breath, he turned and made the easy climb down.
Thedoors were closed against the wind. Quietly, he moved across the balcony to thesmall table that was sheltered by the sidewall.
Ona heavy wooden plate, his snowman gleamed whitely in the diffuse light from theapartment. He hadn't even imagined she would, or could, have saved it. Butthere it stood, beaming with the large smile that had been carved by his hand,jaunty red scarf fluttering in the breeze. But the note he had left so manymonths ago was missing, instead replaced by a different envelope, one bearinghis name in Catherine's neat handwriting.
Carefullyhe drew the note from the stick of wood impaled on the snowman's side, andopened the envelope.
He carefully folded the note andtucked it into an inside pocket of his cloak. The light of many candles glowedwithin her apartment, a soft, flickering welcome.
Thedoor was open, still. Open, but unopened. Still.
Nolonger.
Witha steady and determined movement, he stepped to the door.
* ** * *
Candlesflickered as a gust from the opening balcony doors blew through the apartment.
Hewas here.
Catherineturned gracefully, unable to not smile as his presence filled the doorway. Helooked wonderful, if wind tossed.
"Hi."She stepped up to the doorway and held out her hand. For a moment he juststood, staring at her, before he took her hand in his and stepped down into theapartment.
Helooked about ready to bolt.
Anothergust whistled through the room, and the tablecloth tossed restlessly.
"Vincent, the door, I haveto-"
"Yes.Of course." He released her hand and turned to close the door behind him.For a bare moment he hesitated, leaning against the closed door.
Whydid it have to be so hard? He looked so nervous.
* ** * *
Whydid it have to be so hard? She could probably sense his nervousness; he wasn'thiding it very well anyway.
Uneasilyhe scanned the unfamiliar space. It even smelled
"CanI take your cloak?"
Hisattention snapped back to her. She looked nervous, too.
He forced himself to slip theheavy garment off his shoulders, gather it together, and hand it to her.Without its concealing folds, he felt strangely vulnerable.
Catherinedraped the dark cloth over the back of her couch, running a hand across therough wool in what was surely an unconscious gesture. His literary mindcouldn't help but note the symbolism; the soft colors and newness of herpossession overlapped by the darkness of his.
It wouldn't be
Shestraightened and walked towards him. She looked so beautiful tonight. The dressshe wore clung to her tiny waist and hips, and dipped low in front,highlighting the swells of rounded breasts.
Theyhadn't seen each other since last Friday, when he... when they...
Heremembered holding that waist between his hands as he drew her against him, thesinuous twist of her hips as she bent backwards, the thrust of those breasts asshe offered herself.
Beautiful.
Fora moment, he was horrified by the swiftness of that carnal turn of thought. Notthat it was unexpected. Not really. Ever since overhearing her confessions toher friend, he had been unable to not think of what she had said. Of herfantasies of coming to his chamber, naked but for a trench coat, and slippinginto his bed...
Hehad thought about that one a lotover the past week. Quite a lot.
Thescent of her reached him as she approached once more, soft and warm, undeniablyfemale. The beguiling scent of his Catherine, calling to him.
Callingto all of him.
* ** * *
Hewas just standing there, looking at her so strangely as she walked toward him,until he dipped his head.
Shesighed silently. Was this how it was going to be? Back to square one, just witha new locale?
Theyboth needed to relax. Squaring her shoulders with determination, she alteredher steps towards the kitchen.
"Wouldyou like a glass of wine? I'm going to-"
Herwrist was enfolded by an iron grip as she passed before him, abruptly haltingher progress. She turned to face him.
Hewas staring at her. His eyes held that same expression she had seen on herbalcony last week. Dark, hazy, and a little wild.
Thehand on her wrist gently tugged her forward. He curled his left arm around herwaist and pressed against the small of her back, drawing her closer. The handat her wrist released and traced up her spine, clawed fingers finding andsoftly stroking the exposed skin between her shoulder blades.
Hisbreathing was quick and shallow, and the lace at his neckline trembled.
Sheplaced her palm against the center of his chest. Beneath her fingers she couldfeel a shivering vibration, and smiled when that vibration resolved to a barelyaudible rumble.
Hisembrace tightened, urging her closer still, closer until their bodies touched,thighs and hips meeting.
"Catherine,is this truly what you want? Tell me now, before I-" His voice was a deeprasp, shivering through her.
Foldsof lace cascaded over her hand, and beneath the thin linen she could feel thewarmth of his skin. Warmth she needed to touch. The knot at his throat loosenedeasily, and with a final light tug fell open. The velvet brush of fur greetedher, and she slid her fingertips through the soft gold. "I've wanted thisfor a long time."
Ifpossible his eyes grew darker, and the rumbling increased in volume.
"Wewill be changed." His eyes drifted closed as her gentle touch moved slowlydownward, undoing each small button in turn. An audible gasp resolved to lowpanting as she moved lower still, brushing the sensitive dip of his navel. Hetrembled as she eased the white linen from the confines of his pants."Whatever happens, there will be no going back. We risk everything that weare."
"Somerisks are worth taking."
Shefurrowed through the thick coat on his chest and reached up to stroke hischeek. With a light moan, he leaned into her touch. Fingers wandered softlyback over his fur-rimmed ear to the base of his neck and she tugged lightly,drawing him down to her.
Fora bare moment more he resisted that pull, eyes boring into hers as ifattempting to uncover any last doubts, any unspoken fears.
Therewere none to be found.
Witha growling moan of surrender, he bent to claim at last what both their heartslonged for.
* ** * *
Thewind had died down. On the streets below traffic increased. A radio in theapartment below was heard briefly as the occupant had morning coffee on hisbalcony, the weatherman calling for increased temperatures as a warm front movedup from the south.
Thelittle snowman had stood sentry duty throughout the night. He had watched thelight from inside the apartment gradually dim as candles burned down. Severaltimes sounds had filtered through the bedroom doors; soft murmurs, laughter,high, soft, feminine cries accompanied by rumbling moans and an occasionalshort roar.
However,all was quiet now, and had been for the last hour. The rising sun painted themotionless sentinel with a liquid gold sheen.
Apool of water gradually filled the wooden platter. Eventually it overflowed,streamed across the table surface and dripped gentle tears onto the concretefloor. But the wide smile, claw-carved so many months ago, only deepened as thelittle snowman slowly melted away.