HERE WE ARE! My delicious (in my opinion, anyway) submission for the fanfic4kids fundraiser LoveActuallyFan, Emmy1512 and myself are doing! If you don't know what that is (where have you been these past few weeks?), you can check out the super detailed explanation on any of our profile pages.
Basically, for every signed review we get between now and the 28th of January we'll donate $2 CAD to Sanctuary4Kids. Whoever's story gets the most reviews will donate half of their sum again.
Also, we're asking anyone and everyone who has some money to spare to save their pretty pennies and, on the 28th of January (next Saturday) make a donation to Sanctuary4Kids with 'fanfic4kids' in the organization name.
Also, I'm asking you to hit alert on this story if you could because next Saturday, once all the reviews have been tallied, I'll post how much we've raised with this story alone and then you'll get a gentle reminder to go donate to S4K :P
So, without further ado, I present to you 'El Tango de Nubina'!
xx
Paris, 1892:
"May I come to Paris with you?"
It was a simple enough request and one he'd easily granted. Spending time with Helen between a pair of lectures he could give in his sleep? He'd be a fool to say no. The small amount of time they'd spent together in London hadn't been nearly enough for him. That said, he did want a lifetime so a few stolen days in the company of James and Nigel was hardly going to satisfy his want of her.
It hadn't been until they were halfway across the channel that she'd admitted to the real reason behind her visit.
"I want you to take me to the Moulin Rouge."
He'd spluttered, he wasn't ashamed to admit it. He had coughed and choked and stared at her wide eyed for a good minute and a half before he'd had the good sense to cast his gaze around the very public room they sat in. Her words had been quiet yes, but he'd still worried for their privacy.
Looking back to Helen, he'd seen the sparkle in her eye and been struck by just how much she'd changed since they'd last seen each other. It had been only six years since they'd parted company but this woman was far more confident in herself than the one he'd known. Sadly, it only made him want her more.
He, of course knew of the Moulin Rouge, of its wheeling and dealings but never had he frequented such a place. Even in his youth courtesans of the 'highest calibre' had never attracted him. Now days if he truly needed a partner there was never a shortage of women willing to disrobe and dance between his sheets, despite his very public claims to celibacy.
And of course Helen would know of such establishments, especially one as renowned as this 'Red Mill' but to have him visit with her? The idea made his head spin in a not terribly unpleasant way.
"Why?" he'd spluttered, shifting closer so that their conversation could not be so easily overheard. Damn these public boats. It was a cold and dreary February morning and while Nikola hated the brutal English winter, he hated being on the ocean during it even more. Not that he got cold now days but the thick coats he required to keep up appearances were cumbersome.
She'd proceeded to explain her plan to him, firstly with gusto and a confidence that he didn't expect but slowly that faded and she ended up stumbling over her words and, as she tried to tell him exactly what she required of him, she blushed. It would have been the sweetest thing Nikola had ever seen if he wasn't so disturbed.
"So," he muttered, lips almost brushing her ear as he leaned in close, unwilling to allow even a skerrick of their conversation to be overheard. "You want me to waltz in there, spend what little money I have on a woman who could very well give me some kind of unmentionable disease, seduce said woman and try to get her to lead me to the laboratories underneath it all while you wait in the carriage outside?"
She nodded, flashing him a tiny smile as her cheeks continued to pink. He pulled back and made a face.
"You know that's never going to work Helen."
"Well it's not like I can just waltz in there," she bit back, sounding flustered. She cast a nervous glance at their fellow passengers before sitting up a little straighter, fixing up her lavender skirt with cotton gloved fingers. Nikola had almost laughed then. Here she sat, the picture of elegance, asking her old friend to go waste his money on women who couldn't hold a candle to her in terms of irresistibly or plain old sex appeal.
Then he'd had an idea. Not one he thought she go with but an idea none the less.
"You can too waltz in there," he'd whispered, giving her his very best leer. Maybe if he could scare her off the idea, she'd give up. It was unlikely but really, were a few pheromone producing abnormals worth all this?
She'd stiffened, seeing where his mind had gone in an instant.
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes!"
"Nikola..."
"Helen..."
"I can't..."
"It would work."
"So would my plan."
"No it won't. You know that."
"I can't... Really Nikola."
"Can too."
"Don't be so lewd."
"I promise I won't tell anyone."
"I'm not doing it."
"Do you want to help the abnormals or not?"
She'd paused, biting her lip and turning to look out the small window. He'd let it go after that, figuring she'd find another way to do it but then, in the carriage from Calais to Paris, she'd turned to him, that steely determination in her eye.
"Oh Helen, no! I was kidding," he said quickly, more than willing to back track.
"You're right Nikola, there's no other way."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No! Helen you can't! Think of... think of..."
"My father?" she'd offered with a smile. "I'm a grown woman and perfectly capable of making this decision. I do, however, have one condition."
He'd swallowed, nodding wide eyed as he fiddled with his gloves.
"You'll have to come too."
"WHAT?"
"Relax Niko," she'd said kindly, reaching across to pat his knee. "You can pretend to be a patron and protect me from any of the more lecherous patrons."
"But... but..." he'd spluttered. "Helen you can't be serious!"
"I'm perfectly serious," she'd retorted, frowning at him. "That man is taking advantage of the poor abnormals and I have a duty to help them before it gets any worse."
"You think he's taking advantage of them," Nikola corrected sulkily. "You don't know anything about them. Maybe they're there voluntarily?"
"Then why didn't Mr. Zidler respond to any of my communiqués?" she had asked tartly and Nikola fought the urge to kiss her pert little lips. She really was far too adorable for her own good. Even when she was making him blush like a school boy.
"I may not know specifically which abnormal they are exploiting but I do know they are importing them in great quantities from South America, locking them away in the basement below the Moulin Rouge and creating some kind of perfume that they douse the entire place in."
"But..."
"They are using these creatures to create a more amorous atmosphere for both the dancers and the patrons," she said, colour rising in her cheeks though he hadn't been sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. "It's not fair to the creatures or the women who are forced to work in such an environment!"
"You didn't tell me that before," Nikola had muttered, feeling like a school boy as the blush rose in his cheeks again. Being in an establishment solely devoted to pleasures of the flesh with the one woman who still haunted his dreams wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to if only for the sheer number of ideas it put in his head.
But, despite his reservations, here he was, standing in the entrance way with a few dozen other men, most of whom seemed just as nervous as he was though he figured it wasn't because they were planning on sneaking down into the bowels of the place with a fake courtesan.
In retrospect he didn't quite know how he'd gotten there.
Helen had come to him earlier in the evening, shaking like a small child as she begged him for the courage to go through with it. They'd managed to source a costume for her and while she hadn't allowed him to see it just yet, the maid who'd brought it in had been bright red, giving Nikola a fair idea of what he was about to endure.
She'd been terrified though, begging him silently to give her an out but for some strange reason he'd said nothing, simply handing her a large glass of brandy and taking her over to sofa by the fire. She too had said nothing, downing the glass far too quickly before handing it back to him.
"More," she'd ordered, her voice surprisingly firm. He'd done as she asked and, when they were an hour out from her scheduled departure time, she was rosy cheeked and bid him goodbye with a lingering kiss to the edge of his mouth. He'd discreetly handed her an old flask he had, pleased when she smiled gratefully at him but then, as she walked from the room, leaning a little to the side, he'd wondered at the intelligence of further inebriation.
He'd thought about calling it off then but by the time he'd made up his mind to tell her to forget it, she was gone. He'd reached the window of her room just in time to see her carriage trundling down the street.
After that there was nothing for it, he'd returned to his room to change, going over the next day's lecture as he did so in an attempt to keep his mind from thoughts of Helen at that place. Sure it made sense to arrive separately, to give her time to sneak in the back and blend in with the other girls but the thought of other men watching as she danced and twirled and lifted her skirts... Well it made his blood run cold.
Even now as he was shepherded into the main hall his senses were in over drive, not taking in the sumptuous decorations of the smoky room but focused on finding her. Damn it! He should have at least asked what colour she'd be wearing. But more than that, there was something floating through the air that was clouding his senses, making it impossible for him to detect any more than the faintest trace of her scent. Probably that damn pheromone.
Wishing he had James' powers of deduction, Nikola again looked about the red and gold room. From what he could tell there were six blondes with hair the colour of Helen's, two of them with hair too straight to be hers and a third close enough for him to be certain it wasn't her which only left three young women from which to choose.
The girl closest was in vivid red, her skirts hiked up high as she sat amongst a group of no less than eight boisterous and lusty men whose adventurous hands were trying to do things Nikola didn't even want to think of in relation to his Helen. Her skin was creamy and she held herself like a true woman yet the amount of leg she had on display made him certain it wasn't his Helen.
The next woman he saw was in powder blue, entertaining only two young and very eager looking men as she leaned over a balustrade in a manner all too provocative. Then he heard the woman laugh, a tittering giggle he was certain Helen was incapably of producing and crossed her off the list too.
Which brought him to the last possible candidate. She was tall, certainly tall enough to be Helen and her golden curls cascaded freely down her back. The olive green dress she wore was unattractive but they'd sourced it at the last minute so there was no reason to think that she'd be dressed as richly as she usually was. She was dancing but her skirts weren't too high and the captivated gentleman she was with didn't seem to have his hands all over her. Very Helen, he mused, looking her up and down. Smirking, he began to walk through the crowded room, pleased that it had taken him only a few minutes to find her. She'd be most disappointed at that he was sure.
A few women stepped into his path as he walked towards her, smiling invitingly as they moved in time with the music but he ignored them, nodding politely before stepping around them. But then she turned around.
That was certainly not Helen, he realised, heart sinking. Her nose was too pointed, eyes a dark, muddy brown and she had a rather prominent mole on her cheekbone. She was beautiful, yes but not his Helen.
Sighing, he turned around, running a hand over his moustache as he once again swept his gaze over the room in search of her. Maybe she'd gone off in search of the illusive laboratory? Maybe she'd been found out? Maybe she'd lost her nerve and-
Oh.
God.
The woman in red.
Her lips were painted crimson to match her dress, a few jewelled combs holding her golden curls high up on her head. Around her neck was a dainty black choker, strings of black crystals trailing down to sweep over the expanse of her collar bone. The generous amount of bosom that was exhibited bounced as she laughed freely, leaning back on her hands. And - ohgodinheaven – he could see almost all of her legs. Her skirts were rucked up, ruffles pooling on her lap, leaving her long, stocking clad legs on display for her admirers. She was... she was... she was bloody indescribable.
Then he noted a hand on her knee. A hand that was not hers and he had to fight the urge to use his nails to cut off each of the man's round fingers. Suddenly images invaded his mind, images of her with these men wrapped around her, their lips on her skin, their hands sliding up those beautiful thighs. He could see the desire in their eyes as they drank her in. He had to go to her, had to take her from them. She was his to touch, to caress, to love.
Helen Magnus was his.
Just then she turned her head, as if feeling his eyes on her and she smiled, a coy little smile he'd never seen before but did things to his insides that just about had him on his knees and all murderous thoughts disappeared. Her blue eyes were accented by a thick layer of kohl around them and Nikola changed his mind on courtesans. If they looked even half as mouth-watering as her, he'd be a regular customer.
He nearly pouted when she turned back to her companions but then she stood, letting her skirts fall back down. He could hear the moans and complaints of the men she'd been entertaining but she simply curtsied, flashing them another of those alluring smiles before turning and walking over to the staircase. Her eyes locked on his as she sauntered towards him, her hips sashaying in a way he'd never before seen. He tried, he really did but he couldn't keep his eyes from her satin clad form.
The tight corset she wore made her already tiny waist seem even smaller and the dark red satin hung on her frame artfully. His eyes drunk her in from the delicate curls that bounced with every step to the black heeled shoes she wore. Thin straps of silk held the sinful looking concoction in place while more silk and black lace fell about her shoulders. He could see, even from this distance she'd worn her own stockings, the silk of a far better quality than that of any other woman in the establishment.
"Monsieur," she greeted sedately, bowing her head and shooting him a look from beneath her darkened lashes as she came to a stop before him.
"Madam," he breathed, unsure of what to do. But then her lips twitched and he couldn't help but smile.
"Do you like my dress?" she asked with a grin, stepping closer to him as she put a hand on her hip, sticking it out in a pose.
"I'd like it better if all these men weren't leering at you," he admitted with a growl and she chuckled, the colour in her cheeks rising. "Helen," he asked cautiously. "How much have you had to drink since you got here?"
She looked down guiltily and he noticed the faint dusting of freckles across her generously exposed chest. For a moment he had to fight the urge to bend down at taste them but then she hiccuped and he had to smother a grin.
"Dance with me," he said impulsively. He knew they were here on a mission, that they had work to do but he wanted her in his arms, he wanted to show that no one else should be looking at her.
"It'll give us a chance to talk," he continued, stepping closer to her as the music changed to a raw and sensual tango that gave him all kinds of silly ideas. Being this close to her was a mistake but as she smiled that coquettish little smile at him again, he couldn't very well step back.
Nodding she stepped forwards, raising her hands. One fell delicately to his shoulder and he clasped the other for a moment before he almost burst out laughing. Dropping both hands to her hips, he yanked her closer until her body was pressed against his. She yelped in surprise but went easily enough, looping her arms around his neck.
"Too proper," he whispered in her ear, unable to resist dragging the tip of his nose across the sensitive skin below it. "You have to dance like you are trying to seduce me."
She nodded once before smiling that smile at him and leaning in to his ear.
"Do you mean like this, Mr. Tesla?"
And with that she hooked her right leg around his hips, halting their dancing as she threw herself backwards, relying on his sure hands by her hips and the iron grip of her thigh to keep her from falling. Her hips were pressed snugly against his, the thin pantaloons she wore providing very little in the way of layers between them and, despite his much thicker garments, he could feel the heat of her pressed against him.
He stared down at her, watching the way her thick skirts fell back, giving him a perfect view of the tiny red bows that held her bloomers in place. There was a small stretch of deliciously pale thigh on display by his hip between her pants and stockings so it really wasn't Nikola's fault when he slowly began to drag his hands closer and closer. One little touch wouldn't hurt would it?
He heard her chuckle, deep and sensual before her balance changed and she swung herself back up so that he came face to face with one very pleased and flushed Miss Magnus. She was grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief as her curls took on a slightly less rigid structure.
"Why do I get the feeling you finished off that flask?" he asked with a grin, taken aback when she smiled too, unashamed of drinking more alcohol than most men could manage.
"This is rather fun, isn't it?" she whispered eagerly as she started to unwind her leg but Nikola grabbed her thigh, holding her steady as his other hand held her by the waist.
She gasped, hands tightening on his shoulder and, in time with the music, he took one great big lunge backwards, dragging her upper body with him. Their noses were almost touching, her soft pants of breath spiralling across his cheeks.
"Quite," he agreed roughly. She stared for a second, eyes wide before he felt a change sweep through her. She smiled, her lips curling delicately, her head tilting to the side slightly and he swallowed before standing them both up. She went willingly enough but as soon as they were vertical again, she began to lower her leg along his, making sure to keep in constant contact.
If he hadn't known that this was his Helen, innocent little prim and proper Miss Magnus, Nikola never would have guessed it. The look in her eye was something he'd never seen before as was the little arch in her back as she pressed her chest to his.
When her heeled foot touched the ground once more she spun in his loose embrace, pressing her back up against him. One of her arms snuck up to loop behind his neck, pulling him down so that she could turn her head and speak into his ear.
"You'll never believe who I met just before," she said with an almost childlike enthusiasm that had him struggling to keep up. From temptress to eager student in a matter of seconds.
"Charles Richet," she continued, rotating her hips as she moved in time with the music. "Of course I couldn't tell him who I was but that man is something of a genius Nikola, I can only imagine what kind of things he'll be involved with in the next few years. I'd love to sit down and have a proper chat with him one day."
He merely grunted in response, following her as she twirled in his arms. Giving him a peculiar look she leaned back once more, not as far as before but she kicked up a leg beside him as she did so, giving him something akin to a heart attack.
"Bloody..." he muttered as she righted herself and she frowned, the most adorable frown that was in complete juxtaposition to her sultry make-up.
"But he kept calling me le pétale Britannique," she continued, not hearing him as he pulled her closer, spinning her around in a very loose interpretation of a traditional tango. He honestly had heard less than half of her chatter, more focused on the feel of her corseted figure pressed against him.
"I think it was meant to be a term of endearment but I can't figure out how he knew I wasn't French."
"Your accent is atrocious," he ground out, hoping that by cutting into her stream of conversation she might remember why they were there in the first place.
"Is not," she retorted, her lips a little too close to his ear. Her entire body was now pressed against him, one leg between his as they moved in synchronization across the crowded dance floor. Not that many of the couples were dancing but he supposed that the way in which the girls were now parading around together was meant to be some kind of dance.
He grunted again before grabbing her waist. He needed distance, he needed to not have her wrapped around him, he needed to not be close enough to her that he could, if he was so inclined, kiss her sultry red lips.
Helen gasped as he all but threw her into the air, spinning her around once as her hands grabbed onto his shoulders. Very quickly he dropped her back to the ground but he allowed no distance between them, holding her as close as he could, not caring about how she might react. While the view the manoeuvre had afforded him was mouth-watering, he knew the second he'd separated them that he'd made a mistake.
"Nikola," she breathed, her tone halfway between scandalized and... if he wasn't mistaken... aroused. Pheromones, he reminded himself. It was just those damn pheromones.
She pressed herself to him, tightening her grip on his shoulders as his hands continued to drift further and further down her sides. Pheromones, he chanted internally as his fingers bunched up the fabric of her skirt. Pheromones, pheromones, pheromones.
"Pheromones," he growled, not meaning to say it aloud but somehow his inner mantra slipped out.
Her eyes widened in comprehension and he felt her entire body shudder against him. She was relying completely on him to support her weight and he was loving it. He held her tighter, letting one hand drift to the small of her back, pressing her close.
"Oh, right," she breathed. "The pheromones."
He nodded once, jaw tense as he tried not to kiss her slightly parted lips. Her slightly parted, softly glistening, invitingly red lips.
She swallowed, still looking up at him with those blue eyes he had no power to resist as they continued to dance only now they were both clinging to each other. She did not raise her legs, he did not twirl her about, they remained pressed against each other as the music continued.
"Ab- abnormals," Nikola spluttered as one of her legs ended up between his once more. It was only for a fleeting second but it was enough to send his mind into a spin. He was hanging onto control by the skin of his teeth and he knew it.
"Abnormals," she breathed in reply.
Pesky little buggers, he thought as he began to direct them to the edge of the dance floor. This was one powerful aphrodisiac.
When they tripped over what appeared to be the discarded jacket of another patron, they finally broke apart, both panting somewhat.
"Which way?" Nikola asked her, praying that he'd one day be able to rid himself of the memory of her body pressed against his. Well, he didn't really want to but it was sure going to make it hard for him to concentrate with that memory.
"Follow me," she replied breathlessly, holding out a hand which he gratefully took. Together they wound their way through the crowds until they came to a small, well concealed door by the edge of the stage.
"The girls will start the routine soon," she whispered, pulling him close as she threw her arms around his neck. Play the part, he reminded himself. He was meant to be paying for her attentions, she was only pretending. "Backstage will be deserted and I believe I located the stairs that will take us to the basement we're looking for."
He grunted the affirmative in her ear as his hands proceeded to find their way back to her hips. It astounded him how well they fit under his hands, how perfect they were to pull her closer.
She gasped against his neck, sending him into another tailspin.
He felt her hand grappling behind them for the door knob and, reluctantly released her hip in favour of getting her out of the public eye. His control was slipping with each breath she took and if he was going to ravish her (he was pretty sure she'd not be complaining) he knew he'd much rather do it somewhere they were less likely to be seen.
It took them both a few tries but soon enough they were slipping through the door, into the blessed quiet of the backstage area. It took Nikola a moment to adjust to the dark but when he did, his mind began to command him to do things he shouldn't be doing. He knew he shouldn't be grabbing Helen and sitting her on the scaffolding. He knew he shouldn't be spreading her legs so that he could duck under the beam and press himself to her. He knew he shouldn't but he did and as her legs wrapped around his hips, he really didn't care that he shouldn't be doing it.
Eagerly he ran his fingers up her legs, toying with the garters that held her stockings in place. She whimpered as his fingers brushed against the sliver of bare skin and his eyes flicked up from watching his hands to see her arch her neck and bite her lip.
The smooth column of skin was practically begging to be marked and he moved in, letting his nose brush against her pulse as her fingertips dug into his shoulders. She was perfect, absolute perfection as she bucked softly against him, pressing her chest firmly against his and barely managing to stifle her moans.
"Nikola," she murmured as he nuzzled her cheek, enjoying its softness. Everything about this woman was soft, he decided. Right from her heart to her peaches and cream cheek. Soft.
She wrapped her arms more securely around his shoulder, holding them closer as he balanced her on the thin strut. It maybe wasn't his best move but the urge to touch her had been too strong for him to bother going too much deeper into the bowels of backstage. Resting his cheek against hers, he could see the lights of the stage and hear the outrageous giggle of the dancers but none of it mattered as she ran a hand down his back, caressing him as her lip grazed his earlobe.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, barely readable in the dim light though most of him hoped that the look she was giving him was a 'take me now you damned fool' kind of look as opposed to the 'get your hands off me you vile scoundrel' he expected.
"Niko."
She breathed his name. She breathed his name. Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart, their breath mingling as their noses bumped. He could count each of her pale freckles as they dotted her nose despite the dim light. Her hands had stopped moving and he heard her breath catch in anticipation but he was dizzy, dizzier than he wanted to be. He wanted to revel in her, to taste her with a clear mind, not when he was having trouble seeing anything but her.
But then she closed her eyes.
"Pheromones," she whispered and he was certain of the disappointment in her voice.
"Pheromones," he agreed thickly, biting back a groan of frustration. These abnormals were quickly becoming his least favourite of all abnormals. Maybe they were a long lost enemy of the vampires? If they weren't, they really should be.
Breathing slowly, Nikola stepped back, offering her a hand. He tried not to moan in disappointment as her skirts fell back into place, instead following her as they trekked further and further into the darkened backstage area. Out of the corner of his eye he could see young women half naked, primping and preening but not a single ounce of his being saw it as more than a peripheral annoyance.
He wanted Helen. He wanted her and no one else would do. As they descended a narrow set of stairs, his enhanced eyes saw nothing but the sway of her hips. It reminded him of their dance, of the way she moved so naturally against him despite having never engaged in such things before. Or, at least he hoped that was the case.
"They're down here," she whispered, drawing him out of his daze. "I saw Mr. Zidler locking this door himself."
"Do you have the key?" he managed to ask.
Turning her head, she gave him a mischievous smile before holding up an old brass key.
"You didn't think I was entertaining those men for nothing," she chastised with a triumphant grin. "One of them is a close friend of Zidler with access to the entire facility and I swiped this as he made a move for my breast."
The mention of a breast, any breast but most specifically, her breast, had Nikola fighting for control once more but before he could so much as think about lunging for her, she pushed open the heavy door and pulled him inside.
Thankfully the room was well lit, letting them take a good look at the hundreds of cages that lined the room. Empty cages.
"What are you doing here?" a man called from down in the bowels of the room from where he stood by a set up of beakers and viles. "Get back out there and dance girl!"
Helen immediately dropped Nikola's hand, straightening up before striding down the remaining steps.
"I am no dancer Mr. Zidler," she retorted hotly as Nikola hastened to her side. She really was too reckless some days, dashing in without any form of protection.
"Then who are you and why are you here?" the man asked, his face turning red with anger. "Get out now! I insist!"
"My name is Helen Magnus," she continued, stepping forward and forcing Nikola to do the same. It was hard to concentrate, to not run a hand down her back but he managed, the thought of her being hurt overriding any other ideas.
"Ah," Mr. Zidler, remarked, narrowing his eyes. "The Brit who wrote to me about my concoction. Come to make a change of living?" His eyes raked up and down her body, lingering on all the spots Nikola didn't want anyone else to linger on.
"I've come to stop you exploiting those poor creatures," she replied tartly. "And I insist you do so or I'll be forced to take more drastic measures."
"As much as I might like to see such measures," the man leered, "as you can see, I have given up on the pheromone. It didn't make any difference."
"Pardon?"
"I set all the little creatures back home," he continued mockingly. "There was absolutely no change in business for me and they were too expensive to keep around."
"Well then..." Helen began. "That's... I mean..."
"Yes, precisely," Zidler drawled, rolling his eyes. "Now, I'll ask you and your companion to leave. I don't need you nosing around and causing trouble. I get enough of that from my girls."
Helen blanched, eyes wide as she stared at the man.
"Helen," Nikola whispered, desperately, grabbing her arm. He tugged once and she turned to look at him, confusions clear.
"You mean to say that there are no abnormals in this establishment?" she asked, turning back to Zidler.
"Well I wouldn't say that," he replied. "Some of my best patrons are a little... as you call it, abnormal but if you're talking about the damn mating machines then no, none left. I sold them to a nice fellow by the name of Watson about a week and a half ago. He was more than willing to take them off my hands, even willing to send them back to South America."
"Watson?" Helen breathed, looking to Nikola.
"Dr. James Watson?" Nikola asked, trying to sound firm but there were just too many things running through his mind for the words to come out properly.
"Yes, that's the fellow. Something to do with a 'Sanctuary' of sorts. Or at least that's what his letter said."
"Well, Mr. Zidler," Helen said, suddenly sounding much too firm. "I'm very sorry that we've disturbed your evening."
And with that she turned, grabbing Nikola by the arm as she scurried back up the stairs. In silence they fought their way through the throng of people now milling about and it was only a matter of minutes before they were outside once more, the chilly night air clearing Nikola's mind.
Turning to Helen, he offered her his jacket, draping it around her shoulders as they ducked their heads and headed for the carriage.
Nikola wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
"I'm going to kill James," she muttered as they settled themselves. "How could he have not told me?"
Nikola said nothing, his mind still reeling. There were no abnormals. No pheromones. No nothing. Just Helen. He felt shame, he never should have taken advantage of her in such a way, never ever should have made such advances on her. He should have acted like a gentleman not a randy school boy and-
But she reacted, a little, evil voice said in the back of his mind. She pressed her body against his, she let him hold her, she let his hands wander.
"Perhaps the pheromones had a residual effect," she said softly, pulling Nikola from his dangerous revere, his mind perilously close to insisting he see how well she'd react now.
He swallowed, looking over to her wide eyed in the relative darkness.
"Perhaps," he agreed, the word barely more than a whisper.
Then it was her turn to swallow as she looked down to her skirt.
"Perhaps," she began shakily, a barely detectable blush rising in her cheeks. "Perhaps the effects might also linger in ones... in ones... in ones..."
"Blood stream?" he offered.
She nodded.
"And perhaps," he continued uncertainly, not meeting her eye, "perhaps if there were two people being affected by the residual pheromones in a facility and it... it got into their blood stream, the... feelings would be... exacerbated by... uh... by..."
"Proximity," she breathed and he looked up, meeting her wide gaze.
It was flawed science, they both knew it was but... but... but Nikola's brain stopped working as she extended one leg to brush against her foot against his ankle, causing him to shiver.
"Nikola," she said, her voice husky as she shot him a dangerous look from beneath her eye lashes. "It's rather cold... Perhaps? For warmth?"
She shuffled over on her side of the carriage, making room for him.
"Of course," he said, clearing his throat before shifting to sit by her side. She snuggled up to him, pressing her side against his.
"Nikola," she began softly as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Where ever did you learn to dance like that?"
He chuckled, pleased at the small ease in atmosphere.
"I could ask you the same question my dear."
She chuckled but he jumped as a hand landed on his upper thigh.
Turning, he looked down to her, startled to see her looking up at him with a determined grin.
"I leave tomorrow," she breathed as she threw one leg over his, letting it dangle between his thighs. "Pheromones?"
"Pheromones," he readily agreed, threading a hand through her hair.
"Pheromones," she whispered, dragging one hand up his chest while the other found purchase at the back of his neck.
"Pheromones," he repeated softly, free hand grasping her by the waist.
They were only millimetres apart now, their breath mingling and they both smiled.
"Pheromones," they whispered together, closing what little distance remained between them.
Also, really big shout out to Emmy1512 who came up with this whole idea! She's awesome, no?