Constance heard the soft knock on her bedroom door. She thought she could escape his questioning glances and piercing stares in here. Apparently not. When she gave no indication of acknowledgment, the door was gingerly opened. In the doorway stood Aloysius: the man she loved, and yet could not seem to bring herself to look at.
"You've been avoiding me, Constance," came the Southern drawl that always, secretly, sent a course of pleasure through her body. Especially when he used her name. It turned to honey on his tongue. She wondered what else he could do with his tongue...
She shook this thought. Here lied the problem: ever since her encounter with Diogenes, she couldn't stop having these thoughts. Diogenes seemed to have awakened in Constance a beast of such she had never even knew dwelled within her. How cruel of a man Diogenes had been. And yet, his passion still came to her mind in the night.
"I believe we need to talk, Constance." There it was again: that warm wave up her spine.
Constance managed to look into Aloysius' eyes. There were so very blue, practically silver. It was as if he was breaking you down and learning every deep, dark secret you had. It was very hard to hold his gaze, but Constance was determined to keep it. She needed to show him that she can handle herself, that she isn't the broken "freak" people believed her to be. Even after what had happened.
"I'm sorry Aloysius. I didn't want to bother you with my troubles when you have so many of your own." It was the truth, at least some of the truth. If she were to be fully honest, she would tell him how she feels the urge more strongly these days, how when she looks at him, despite the strong resemblance to Diogenes, all thoughts in her head turn impure as quickly as his words turn to molasses.
"We don't ever need to discuss what happened if you do not wish to. But I need to know you're alright. You seem to be retreating inside yourself more and more each day. Constance, I...I can't lose you, too." At these words Constance jerked her head up, surprised to find him looking pained, tearing up even. Could it be, that after all this time, he has finally found himself attached to her?
"I have always been honest with you, Aloysius. But lately I find myself not being able to speak about these events, these thoughts and feelings..."
Pendergast walked over to the bed where Constance was sitting and sat down beside her. She was taken aback by his closeness. Aside from her breakdown when he had to control her by restraining her against his body (what a delicious thought...) Constance could not think of a time when his body was so close to hers. Or to anyone's for that matter.
He lowered his head and placed his hands in his lap. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper, so Constance had to lean closer to his body to hear him. She could feel the warmth spreading over her entire body now.
"You blame me. I blame myself. I couldn't protect you from Diogenes. It's the reason you can't look me in the eyes, or why you can't be alone in a room with me. Constance, I am so, so sorry for what he did to you, and this guilt will forever haunt me."
She couldn't believe it. All this time she had thought he blamed her for everything that happened. And here he was, placing everything onto his shoulders. Boldly, she took one of his large hands into hers, and, taking a page out of his own book, used her other hand to turn his face towards hers. The surprise at her bold move was evident on his face.
"Listen to me Aloysius: it is not your fault. None of this. It isn't D'Agosta's fault, it isn't Wren's fault, and it isn't Proctor's fault. It's mine. I allowed Diogenes to keep returning. I foolishly bought into his gifts, his poetry, his lies. I allowed him to..." She paused, trying to summon the courage to say it. "I willingly gave myself to him. I was foolish and stupid. Do not blame yourself, Aloysius." She hoped that the flicker in his silver eyes meant that he was feeling the intensity between them as well, noticed that their bodies had magnetically moved closer to each other. She hoped that using his name sent the same thrill through his body as it did hers. Aloysius, how delicious.
Pendergast shook his head briefly, as if breaking out of a trance. He slipped his hand out of hers and stood up. He paced the room for a moment, his black suit blending in with the night sky through the window. Constance wished he would say what was on his mind or leave. Watching his form move so elegantly around her bedroom made her thoughts stray. What lies beneath that undertaker's suit? How exactly does Aloysius' body move? Is he as cool and confident under all circumstances, or is there ever a situation in which he gives himself over to complete passion?
"What secrets lie in your head Constance?" His silky voice broke her from her fantasies.
"We all have secrets Aloysius. As one who values privacy as much as you do, you should respect mine." Yeah, right. All she wanted right now was for him to invade her privacy in the most devilish ways she could think of. What has gotten into her?
"Lately I've noticed a glint in your eye that has never been there before. I've noticed the hesitancy in which you decide whether or not to stay alone in a room with me. I've noticed a more confident swagger to your walk. I've noticed a passion burning in you that I have never seen before. Tell me, Constance: does this have anything to do with what happened between you and Diogenes? I'm forced to assume it does."
Taken aback, she couldn't think of what to say. Her thoughts were racing: what glint? He's noticed my walk? So he can see the passion; I wonder if he would let me show him...
"I...I don't know what to say...other than you're right. It has everything to do with what happened. Aloysius, ever since he..." She struggled to find the right words. She didn't want to beat around the bush, but she didn't want to divulge all of the personal details." Ever since I gave myself to him, allowed myself, for the first time, to not only be physically close to another person but to also feel such intense feelings, it's all I can do not to think about it. It's as if I can still feel it throughout my body. And to be perfectly honest with you, Aloysius, I like it. And I want more." Constance took a bold step further. She could see Pendergast's frame stiffen, as he always did when faced with physical closeness.
"I see." He was noticeably uncomfortable, and it gave Constance a pleasurable feeling knowing she was causing it. It felt good to finally have the upper hand in their curious relationship.
"You wanted the truth," she began. "And I gave it to you. Now I want you to give me something." Her eyes wandered hungrily over his body, noticing how fit he was beneath the black suit, how you could just faintly make out his muscles under the fabric.
"And what would that be?" he asked in his most buttery, if not shaky, tone.
"Diogenes made it perfectly clear that you don't love me, that you're not capable of love. I have always loved you, secretly, from afar. I need to know...how do you really feel about me Aloysius?"
She moved closer to him than she had ever dared get before. Their bodies were just barely touching, and she could literally feel the electricity between the two of them. Still waiting for his response, she looked into his silvery eyes, and saw something there she had never seen before. That must be the glint he was talking about. It was now mirrored in his eyes. The glint of raw passion.
In a swift movement, Pendergast took Constance's face in his hands and brought his mouth down to hers. It was a moment she was waiting for a long time. His mouth was warm, and she noticed he tasted like whiskey and peppermints. He raked his long, slender fingers through her dark hair, pulling her closer to him, her white dress meshing with his black suit. All of a sudden he broke away, almost pushing himself off of her, his breathing erratic.
