The hotel was bustling with more and more people as time inched closer and closer to Christmas. A large pine tree was settled in the center of the lobby, eagerly greeting the people with bright matching ornaments consisting of red and gold, and the occasional green, of course. The doorman and other employees wore a red jacket suit and golden vest to match. Of course, when it came to a business such as this, presentation meant everything. Even down to the Persian rugs and intricately carved from oak piano, which housed a woman, also in red and gold.
The woman, who could not possibly care any less about her attire, had made it a point to go out and buy herself an extravagant dress to match the hotel's dress code in order to keep playing the precious piano. It was her first love, her life, and she would do anything she could to stay close to it. Her fingers moved fluently over the all-too-familiar keys, playing the simple melody of everyone's favorite "The Christmas Song." Some people loitered around the tree or sat around the sitting area to listen, half expecting the beautiful woman to begin singing as well. She smiled to herself; singing was not her thing. Of course, she couldn't expect any of the loiterers to know such a simple fact.
Little did she know, there was one man in the far corner of the room who had taken a particular interest in her. He'd been watching her for a while now, completely immersed in her song, a tiny smirk gracing his features. It was hardly noticeable, but then again, so was he. Aside from the small child or two that happened to pass him by. No one paid him any mind. It was as though he wasn't even there, which made it much easier to him to watch her.
He closed his eyes, sinking into the wall behind him as he engrossed himself in the melody. In all his years, he'd never heard it played so beautifully before. And he had heard many professional piano players before – Mozart, Beethoven, and Bach – he'd heard it all, but then again, perhaps he was bias. The woman was a beauty, after all.
The man opened his eyes and gazed around the room to be sure no one was looking his way and he made up his mind. He pushed himself away from the wall.
The woman, still completely immersed in her song, was completely oblivious to the world. That is, until a man, a seemingly ageless man with silver-white hair dropped a twenty dollar bill in the overturned top hat placed atop the piano. With a nod of acknowledgement, she ended the song softly, trailing off into an almost incomprehensible sound. Her dark, forest green eyes pierced his icy blue ones and she felt her heart stop for a moment.
"What would you like me to play?" she asked the man once she found her voice, motioning to the white three prong binder that lie open next to the top hat. Music sheets were tucked in plastic sheet protectors, and a different song stood out on every page.
He hadn't thought about that, but he thought fast. "The First Noel. Do you know it?"
She nodded and held her hand out to take the binder. He passed it to her, careful not to let their hands touch. He watched her gather up the music sheets for "The Christmas Song" and tuck them into an empty sheet protector. She flipped through the sheets a few times before flipping backwards one or two sheets. She must have passed it up, he thought to himself. It was something so adorable, so simple, and so incredibly human.
She pulled the music sheets out of the protective holder and handed the folder to the man once again so she could spread the sheets out. In total, there were three or four sheets, but he knew the song could go on for as long as she would let it.
Her fingers hit a few chords hesitantly as her eyes ravaged the papers quickly. She liked to go over it in her head a few times before actually playing it. She didn't like mistakes. She let her fingers fall on the keys, without playing just yet. She let her eyes scan the white haired man next to her, but scolded herself. It didn't matter who he was, or why he was there, or why his dark eyebrows didn't match his colorless hair, or how old he was. All that mattered was that he'd given her an amazing tip. She wasn't going to question it, or him, when his tip very much helped her pay rent.
He leaned on the piano, leaning his head on his fist. She glanced at him disapprovingly when he'd closed his eyes, but said nothing. If the manager had a problem with it, he would tell the man something. She wouldn't have to. From that moment on, she minded her own and he minded his, though he was still resting on her piano. As she played, she found that she didn't much mind the company. In fact, it felt as though she were actually playing for an audience other than herself. She wanted to make sure it was perfect for the man who'd given her such a generous tip. On her worst days, she'd make a few dollars in change, and on her best days, her biggest bill was a ten, and considering what an extravagant hotel she played at, she considered the customers to be cheapskates.
She became so immersed in her playing that she hadn't noticed the song was ending until she hit the last note, so she played it down a few more notes until the music faded into nothing. The man against the piano, she noticed, had opened his eyes and stared at her. She ignored him purposefully and glanced at the clock, which read eleven fifty-eight in bold, red colors. Her eyes widened, and she hurriedly stacked her music sheets together and put them back into the binder.
"I have to clock out in two minutes," she told the man, unsure why she felt the need to explain herself. "For lunch. But I will be back in one hour, if you will still be here by then." Her voice was soft, and she cursed herself for it. She was a strong, nineteen year old woman, falling apart at the seams by a white haired, ageless, handsome man. It wasn't right. She barely knew him, and for heaven's sake, she couldn't tell if his hair was white or silver, and they didn't even match his eyebrows. For a split second, she wondered if the rest of his body hair was white or as dark as his eyebrows. Whereas she was strong, she was also a woman who hadn't been with another man for two years, and it was beginning to take its toll. No, she told herself. It didn't matter. A glance at the clock caused her to panic. She had one minute left to get to the time clock. "I have to go.
"Wait," he told her, grasping her by the arm. "Your song was amazing. Let me buy you lunch."
She didn't have time to wait. She had to go so she could clock out at exactly twelve o'clock. Any later and her OCD would flare up. "Okay," she told him quickly and pulled away. "I'll be right back." She hurried her steps into an almost run. By the time she made it to the time clock, she was out of breath. The time clock read exactly twelve o'clock. She nearly pulled down the wrong time card, but thrust hers in as soon as she could grasp it. She pulled it out and gave it a glance over, seeing the consecutive numbers running all the way down. She breathed out a heavy sigh before tucking the time card back into its rightful place.
She ran a hand through her thick curls, only to have the pieces fall right back in her face. What had she agreed to? She thought as she made her way back to the piano. The man, of course, was waiting for her. Could she even call him a man? He looked more a teenaged boy than anything, and she'd let him talk her into lunch. He must have done it on purpose. He had to have. But then, how could he have possibly known about her obsessive compulsive disorder? He couldn't have. There was no way.
She calmed her breathing. Still in all, she couldn't deny that the man-boy was in fact, very handsome. Not to mention, she needed to eat, and she didn't always bring her food, or want to pay for it, either. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.
When he noticed her walking toward him, he turned to her and gave her a playful, boyish smile. "May I?" he asked, offering his arm to her.
She was shocked at the gesture, but took his arm, no less. They walked in silence until they were out of the hotel. "Where are you taking me?"
He looked at her, smile still on his face, and a certain playful softness in his eye. She found herself in a certain trance, staring into those eyes. She didn't want to stop. "It's my little secret," he told her, putting a finger to his lips. The motion caused her to glance at his lips, perhaps for a second longer than she should have. It had been so long since. . .
His smile was replaced by a smirk when he noticed her staring at his mouth. Good. That's the reaction he'd wanted from her. Her cheeks tinged with pink as she blushed. He appreciated her blush, in fact, he loved it. He wanted to see it every day.
"Very well," she said finally. "But you must have me back before one. I have to punch in at that time."
"Really? At that exact time?" he asked playfully.
Her cheeks burned hotter with embarrassment. "Yes." She had no intention of elaborating.
He chuckled and quickened his steps. "We'd better hurry, then." He placed his hand over hers to stop her from letting go.
Thunder rumbled above them, threatening to open up the sky and unleash hell upon them. She jumped at the sound, and tightened her grip on his arm. She didn't like the rain. Or thunder. Or lightning. Come to think of it, she didn't like a lot of things.
"Come on," he told her and pulled her into a nearby café. It was a place she'd never seen before, come to think of it. Not that she was too concerned about it at the moment, seeing as though the sky was planning on opening up at any given second. She needed to get home. Mr. Levi would understand. He would let her go home. But still, she had to go back for her tips. Another rumble from the sky caused her to wonder whether it was truly worth it.
All throughout lunch, thunder roared, and lightning even struck a time or two, but the rain ceased to fall. Perhaps she would have time to return for her tips and get home just before the rain. Somehow, she doubted this, as she tugged her scarf tighter around her neck. This cold front was supposedly the last one of the month and was meant to bring upon some snow. Snow, she could handle. Thunderstorms, not so much.
She pushed the food around in her plate just enough to where none of it was touching. She hadn't requested it to be as such as she normally would. She didn't want the man to think ill of her.
"Jack," he said after taking a sip from his frozen coffee.
She looked at him quizzically and took a sip from her own steaming mug.
"My name is Jack," he clarified. "What should I call you?"
"Oh," she said, suddenly feeling ignorant. She poked a fork at her salad and crossed her legs at the ankles. "My name is Rebecca."
"Rebecca," he repeated, letting the name roll from his tongue. He liked the way it felt. It suited her. Her dark brown hair and dark green eyes, and even the low-cut red and golden fitted dress she wore. It fit her curves nicely, he noticed. "Do you have a last name?"
"Do you?"
He laughed a joyous laugh, and Rebecca couldn't help but smile alongside him. "I do, but I don't know if you'll believe me yet."
Rebecca let her ankles relax and slide forward a bit, letting her knee come to a rest against his. The motion was subtle, and she could pass it off as if nothing happened, but she'd done it on purpose, and he'd known that. She leaned forward in her seat, giving off an unnecessary view of her cleavage, which was something she hadn't really been going for, believe it or not. She merely wanted to rest her chin in her hands. "Okay, Jack No Last Name. Tell me about your-"
A crash of thunder caused her to flinch, cutting off her words.
Jack watched her flinch and felt his chest clinch painfully. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she made him feel different. He didn't know why or how, he just knew she did. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this way. Not since Toothiana, and even then, it wasn't this powerful. He wanted Rebecca in every single way a man could want a woman, but did she want him that way? God, they just met and he was already thinking of taking her home with him. It frustrated him, knowing he had to wait, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. She was definitely worth the wait.
He glanced out the window at the darkening sky. Small droplets of water began trailing down the glass, blending and flowing smoothly down to the bottom. Rebecca's breath caught, he heard, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. He gazed longingly at her. "Would you like me to take you home?" he asked her.
She wanted to accept, but. . . She sighed. "I would like that, but I need the tips from the hotel to pay rent. I just. . ." she looked back out at the sky. "I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth it."
Jack pondered this for a moment. There had to be a way to get her home and get the tips back quickly. As the thought entered his mind, he snapped his fingers. "I've got it. I'll take you home and then go back to get the tips for you. Does that sound alright?"
"Well. . . I suppose. It's a very good idea. Would you tell the manager that I'm just not feeling well?"
Jack nodded and stood, holding his arm out to Rebecca again. He liked the feel of her touching him. Even if it wasn't skin, her fingers were still on him. She was still close to him.
Rebecca clutched tightly onto Jack's arm as she directed him through the streets. The drizzling had started dropping harder and harder the farther they walked. By the time they reached her apartment, hail had begun falling from the sky. Her hands shook so violently that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't fit the key into the lock. "I can't – I can't. . ." she trailed off, her voice cracking. Thunder roared louder than before, shaking inside of her ears.
Gently, Jack pulled the key from her ice cold, shaking fingers and pushed it into the lock for her. Upstairs, Jack closed the door behind them.
Her apartment was quaint, complete with one bedroom with a bathroom connected to it, a small kitchen, living room, and dining area for the table. Jack's first instinct was to sit her down on the couch, but decided she would be more comfortable in her own bed. He rushed to the bathroom to pull out a towel and wrapped it around her shaking figure. "Are you okay, Becky?"
Rebecca cringed and shook her head no.
"What can I do?" he asked, rubbing his hands up and down her arms in hopes of getting her drier and warmer.
"Can you run the bath water for me? Oh, and don't call me Becky," she told him with a quaky, stuttering voice.
Jack couldn't help but smile at her and nod. "Sure," he said, and placed a kiss on her forehead. He turned away, eyes bulging. Why did he do that? What if she thinks he's moving too fast? Oh. God. What if he ruined his chances with her?
On the other end, Rebecca sat on the counter near the sink, her eyes bulging as well, as Jack turned on the bath water. Her face reddened profusely and she couldn't seem to still her raging heart. It pounded loudly in her ears, and rushed blood to certain parts of her body she hoped to contain. Unfortunately, she didn't know how long she could contain it for.
After he ran her bath water, he went back to the hotel, which just so happened to be only a block away, and came back, soaking wet. It didn't bother him, though. He knew he wouldn't get a cold. Immortals never got sick.
He entered the apartment easier than the first time, since Rebecca had let him use her key to get back inside. It was just easier for her that way. When Jack stepped through the door, however, he knew immediately that something was wrong.
Soft sobs made themselves known louder and louder the closer he got to her bedroom.
"Rebecca," he called out softly, pushing open the bedroom door with his free hand, his other occupied by the hat with money. Her sniffles were coming from the bathroom, which had been left wide open. He called out her name again and she came around the corner, brushing her wet locks, dressed in a light pink bathrobe. Her eyes were rimmed red and he could tell she'd been crying by the puffs beneath her eyes.
"Oh," she noticed him. "You're back. That was quick."
He nodded. There wasn't much else he could do with a beautiful woman in front of him, half her body completely exposed to his wandering eyes. A light pink blush formed on his cheeks.
"You can put the hat on the table. I just need to blowdry my hair. I'll be out soon."
Thunder echoed through the room, causing Rebecca to jump and the brush to go flying out of her hands. "Oh," she said again. There wasn't much for her to say. She didn't know how else to handle the situation. If the rain kept up like this, then she'd be hiding herself in the wardrobe very soon.
Jack didn't know what else to do, so he pulled her into his arms, hoping to shield her from her fears. His body was on fire, holding Rebecca like he was, flush against him with a tiny piece of fabric in his way.
She clutched onto him so tightly it nearly hurt, but she wasn't thinking of that. All she was thinking about was the storm brewing outside, and how she needed to stay away from it. It only caused nothing but pain and heartache. She focused on the feeling of Jack's body against hers, and decided that nothing else mattered at that point. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her, and she knew it.
Within one movement, she pulled away from his embrace only to close the gap between them. She kissed him softly at first, for fear of being rejected, but when he responded, she pressed harder, weaving her fingers through his thick head of hair. His unnatural, untamed, white hair. He pulled her closer to him, flushing his hips against hers, eliciting a gasp from her.
She was driving him wild with want.
He was making her insane with need.
He pulled away from her only long enough to murmur. "Are you sure you want this? I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself." He kept his lips tantalizingly close to hers.
"Then don't." She kissed him again, this time more frantic and needy and backed him into the bed. Her hand hit the mattress so she could hold herself up to kiss him, but Jack had other plans.
He flipped her, so that he was hovering above her and pulled her up alongside him to stray to the middle of the bed. She'd given him the go ahead, and he wasn't going to ask twice. His lips left hers and nipped and bit and suckled their way down to her jaw, and then just below her ear. She jerked in his arms and released a low moan that only urged him on further.
Rebecca's fingers fumbled clumsily with Jack's button down shirt, fighting to rip open the shirt. She pushed it down, exposing his shoulders, chest, and stomach, and that was all she needed. Her hands roamed his body mercilessly and finally rugged on his belt. He groaned into her neck, though she hadn't even touched him yet. Not really, anyway. Not in the way it counted. The thought made her giggle.
Jack bit down on the piece of skin he'd been kneading with his teeth and tongue, turning her giggle into a moan. "Oh, Jack," her voice purred in his ear. The fire in his stomach grew, venturing into dangerous regions. He ripped the robe open and tore it away from her body, shedding her of all clothing.
She tugged on his belt again. "You have too many clothes on," she growled seductively in his ear and began unhooking his belt. She took her time, enjoying the look Jack was giving her. The belt was always the most torturous. Why did he wear the stupid thing anyway? Growing impatient, he discarded his shirt completely and removed his pants, leaving his boxers to the naked woman in front of him.
He knelt over her and captured her lips once again, letting their tongues dance in a frenzy. His heart pounded for her, and he knew in that moment that he needed her. He needed her like he'd never needed anyone else. He'd had women before, but none like this. None that he could see himself with forever.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against her lips, trailing his hands up and down her body, coming to a stop at her nether regions. Without warning, he plunged two fingers into her core, causing her to cry out in sheer pleasure. He pumped his fingers through her, faster and faster at first, and then growing slower.
"Jack," she purred. She was just on the edge, feeling as though she couldn't take it anymore. Just as she was about to peak, he removed his hand and settled himself between her legs.
"I believe you're forgetting something, love," he told her, pushing his bulge, still trapped within the confines of his boxers, against her heated core.
She gasped, unable to control herself and leaned down to rip his boxers away.
She caressed his cheek as she settled herself beneath him finally, then wove her hand through his hair and pulled him down for a kiss as he roughly shoved himself inside of her. He filled her up in every possible way a man could, and he did it again and again. She cried out his name in pleasurable agony. It was almost too much for her to bear. His kiss burned like fire on her lips, and his body filled her up like no one else could.
He adjusted her hips, pulling her up as he drove into her, hitting that one spot that sent her just over the edge screaming his name. But he wasn't finished. Oh, no. He was far from finished.
Her face, flushed from release, had beads of sweat collected on her brow, and he knew he was doing a good job. He lifted her up, still sheathed inside, and she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. He let his legs stretch out, but kept his torso flush against hers. He trusted her to know what to do, he just couldn't bear the thought of not touching her.
She rested her elbows on his shoulders and rocked her hips. Up and down, back and forth. She smothered his lips with a kiss and she rolled her hips again and again. "Oh, god," he murmured against her lips. It almost sounded pained, but she knew better. She rolled her hips again, pushing farther, letting him hit that spot again and again. "I won't last," she told him through pants.
"Neither will I," he groaned. Suddenly, he was on top of her again, driving into her like a mad man. He pulled one of her legs up to get a better angle, and she came, screaming his name. He kept going, feeling the pressure building and building. Just at his peak, Rebecca threw her head back and groaned. The sound was deep, seductive, and throaty, and pushed him just over the edge, spilling himself into her.
He held himself up with his arms on either side of her, panting. This woman. This woman had worn him out, and he loved it. He loved making her come so many times before he did. This beauty, this goddess below him made his heart swell with happiness like he'd never had it before.
With a sigh, he dropped on top of her, winded and out of breath.
"Oof," said Rebecca, due to Jack knocking the wind from her lungs. She laughed heartily at the man and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, Jack," she said.
He pulled himself away from her with a shudder and lay down, pulling her into his arms. "I could do this with you every day," he said, burying his nose in her hair.
"Then do it," she said bravely, inhaling his scent. He smelled of snow and pine needles, and she loved it. "Move in with me."
He pulled away to look at her, examine her face. "Seriously?"
Rebecca nodded. "Without a doubt."
"Okay," he smiled at her. "Expect me tomorrow morning. I'm too tired to do it tonight." For effect, he yawned and stretched out beside her. A clash of thunder sounded throughout the room, echoing in the silence.
Rebecca jumped and buried her face in Jack's side.
He twisted back around and threw his arm over the cowering girl. If he could do nothing else at the moment, he could comfort her. He pulled her into his chest and tugged the covers over both of their naked bodies. "Go to sleep," he told her, kissing her forehead.
"But Jack," she whimpered. "It's only six."
"Again? Didn't I just say I was tired?" He intentionally misinterpreted her wording jokingly.
"Six, nerd. I said six."
He sighed. "Well, if you insist." He rolled over and climbed back on top of her, smiling at her giggle, and began kissing her again.
In the corners of a dark, hollow cave, Black watched the young guardian. He hadn't realized that the stupid boy was not such a boy any longer. And in this case, it didn't look as though he were an amateur either. Black would have to do something, and soon. That damn boy needed to be out of his hair so he could get back to business. No matter. He'd been defeated by the boy once before, and he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
He summoned up his sand, the deathly black sand, which formed into black steeds with wild manes and the eyes of demons. "Go, my pets. Go and be her worst nightmare."
When the horses were off, he looked back through the globe at the young guardian and his lover. If he couldn't defeat the boy head on, well, he'd just have to find another way around it. And he's just found the perfect way.