A Haunting of a Different Kind
Champagne Challenge #142: Something With "Ghost" In It...
Disclaimers: I don't own 'Moonlight', or any of its characters. They belong to Warner Brothers, Joel Silver Productions and perhaps CBS, but I owned them they'd still be on! I'm just playing with my TV action figures.
Spooky? I'm not so sure….Haunting? I hope so.
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To be alone with her was almost too much; it was tension like a Gibson string wound twice too far, a haunting far more penetrating than Poe or Koontz. Tonight this was far too much external stimulation, her heady pheromones, her staccato heartbeat and the fiery heat of her body even yards away from him. Beth stood at the corner of the wall, globe wine glass full as she balanced the stem from hand to hand trying not to heat up the Chenin Blanc. She wore her allure as ghosts wear their pain on the wisps of their transparency.
It was his undead nature to see the night sky's brightness in broad expanse of black sky punctuated by so many stars. Tonight they seemed to throb at him, just another aspect of his 'over-stimulation'. He knew all Beth wanted to make was love and then breakfast tomorrow morning. Mick craved to make headway toward that but he had stumbled for miles on both of those aspects of their relationship.
Yes, the door had closed; weeks ago. Yes, they kissed until their lips were bee-stung plump. Yet when his chilled body had absorbed the heat of her excitement his wall went up and he backed away harboring the churning feeling that he would hurt her. Yes, a worn out argument to Beth yet it was the foundation that shook in Mick's soul. Mick had left her in a sweaty tangle of clothing she hadn't expected him to see. Even shirking out of the muddy sweater Beth was left heated and wanting as her restrained lover backed away from the sofa. All the while her spine tingled to a beat like the opening notes of Phantom of the Opera Overture.
The subtext was: Not tonight, honey, I have a conscience ache.
Reticently Mick tugged the tail of his Henley back into the waistband of his jeans as he sluggishly backed to her kitchen island. He watched her temper swing from passionately enflamed to flammiferously incensed. He could feel her heated emotions roiling at him, that she wanted, no, she needed to fall into that drowning place of love.
That night 'it' didn't happen. It didn't happen the next week when she arrived on his doorstep with an outrageously expensive single malt scotch tinged with her blood. He fought the pull of her hunger with every cell of his strength, to the extent that his undead heart doubled it's ephemeral pace.
As always the image of her incandescence haunted him. The scent of her firm and glowing flesh left him intoxicated. Then when she would call and leave a sweet and breathy message he would collapse on his sofa, phone in hand, hanging on every syllable. The days melted into weeks. While their hearts wrestled with his angst their physical chess game stalled.
Despondent, he lay in the freezer, frenzied by images of Beth exsanguinated in her bed while he snapped back from his blood thirsty rage. His gut churned at the image of tearing out her throat after electrifying himself with her body and blood. Certainly Mick felt any steps toward their petit mort would only cause her death and his devastation.
Mick had bundled so many emotions into his love for Beth. She was the wide-eyed gossamer haired angel he plucked from Coraline's hands, but she had grown to be ripe and delightful in her humanity. He had lain in his freezer beating back the desire as it mounted. Why had he been drawn to the fountain that night? He fought that she was his destiny and she knew that. In a gamble of the wills all bets were on Beth.
Then it was Samhain.
Josef leaned back in his chair, his wrist deftly circulating the brandy snifter. "Mick, come on. I'd never bash the head of an infant against a stone idol. Although I do use the date to thin the herd."
Mick's lips twisted in disdain.
Josef jerked back at Mick's disfavor, "NOT like that! It coincides with the fall college schedule and I usually release a few Freshies so they can tend to their studies!" Josef drew the snifter to his nose and fell into a fond spell, ahhh, this was Melody and she was delightful. He slowly dipped his tongue into the sanguine treat, let it ripple the fluid before he deliberately drew it back to run over his descended fangs. Josef was playing with his food.
"So the big soiree is bonfires and costumes and new employees?" Mick stretched out his arm to plant it on the doorframe, waiting for Josef to snap out of his 'appreciation'.
Then with a 180 degree turn of attentions he quipped, "Have no fear, you won't be forced to carry a hallowed out rutabaga nor will I make you sing and dance for a treat. Speaking of treat, you are bringing Ms. Turner." With Josef's eyes flickering as they were it wasn't a question.
Mick nodded with an arched brow. "You know how she feels about your . . . . food." After all it wasn't so many months since Beth gave him the 4th degree over a slip of Mick's lips over Simone's wrist. Josef's lips rose in gleeful memory, he did love awkward especially when he could watch his buddy squirm. If Mick didn't unequivocally love Beth Josef wouldn't find it to be quite so enjoyable.
"All you have to do is bring her to the party; she's never been to the house." Josef waved at the lush garden and ponds encircled by the engawa, "Have her pack a suit, or better yet, don't mention a suit and see if she bites." Now he turned back to the pool as one of his coterie languidly backstroked laps. Josef's eyes twinkled as the redhead's body moved through the bright water under the ebony sky. Her hair moved like rubicund tentacles as her arms gracefully stroked the crystal water.
Mick figured Josef wasn't listening, "I'm making no guarantees, Josef. I'll arrange for costumes -"
"Done" the answer was automatic, without Josef's eyes leaving the swimmer's robust form cutting through the glistening water.
"How . . . do you know her -"
"Mick, Mick, you underestimate several hundred years of my well trained eyes. Wear the costume, enjoy the evening and reap the rewards." Now Josef's whiskey colored eyes bored through Mick. It was that same expression Josef gave him when he accused Mick of being afraid of being hurt. Without his kissing and telling Josef felt Mick's self-imposed pressure. What Josef would have taken and given back ten-fold, Mick was struggling to stall. What a waste of a sumptuous blonde, Josef thought as he watched Mick's retreating form.
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"Mmmnn," Beth answered the phone half asleep. Mick could hear the slumber in her voice; almost grasp the silken rumble of her blond hair around her shoulders. In his mind he saw her splayed back against the pillows on her bed, her sleep shirt rumpled like a belt around her hips. Then he shivered at the idea of her with no panties.
"Did I wake you?" Mick knew he did.
"I fell asleep, too early, Talbot was in foul mood. I came home, drank half a bottle of wine and went to bed at 7." Mick knew the job with Talbot was fraying her edges, between Ben's out and out jealousy and the weight of being Josh's golden girlfriend she was wilting. Each case reminded her that she had been a victim, that she was following cases where there was no supernatural guardian angel to pry back a criminal's clutches.
Feeling all that and having no remedy he asked, "It's only 10:30, may I come by?" Always the polite pre-WWII gentleman.
"Did you want to stay?" The words slipped from between her lips, 1 part invitation 1 part caution. She was ready for the inevitable, as much as Mick feared it she would have sustained the bite - she even welcomed it. Her anger at finding Mick's fangs on Simone's wrist was born of desire and raw boned jealousy.
"Let's see." The tone of his voice rang with his anxiety. Mick made up his mind to be in some level of control, laughingly he figured he'd be just this side of a panic attack. Beth would see his pallor as situation normal, until she caught his trembling, and wide eyes.
All the 'Cure' in the world wouldn't put Mick where he wanted to be: permanently mortal. He had argued alone in his loft that being Vampire had propelled him into Beth's life while his internal debate raged that if Coraline had not turned him, Beth would have never been endangered. Damned either way, yes he was.
Bouncing back to here and now, he queried "Are you hungry?"
"I could eat." She nearly purred as he heard her rise from the bed, heard her pull straight the bedcovers. "If you bring something, make it a surprise." Mick heard her yawn as her bare feet padded over the floor.
Mick thought about it, "Give me 45-50 minutes, OK?" He hoped she dress, preferably in layers. Lots of layers.
Before he could raise his knuckles her door opened, "Hey, I was hungrier than I thought and all I had was the rest of the wine." Beth blushed at the sight of him, the dark curls at his collar, the stone colored Henley and the raspberry lining of his duster showing as he crossed to the island with a smirk and a nod.
Tension was cut by the fragrance of the red peppers in the Kung Pao chicken, Mick stood back as she scrambled for a large plate and utensils. Holding up the chopsticks she mused, "You really trust me, to walk in here with not one but possibly two stakes!"
Mick relaxed with a dawning smile on his lips as he worried his bottom lip, and slid his hands into his pants pockets, fanning the duster back it caught Beth's attention, "Before I eat, did you want to take off your coat?" her eyes roved up and down. Catching herself Beth slid the chopsticks across the island toward him, surrendering her 'weapons'.
She ate and he managed to peruse her bookshelf rather than to watch her fork food between her lips. He fiddled with the playlist on her iPod; she thought he was going to find a seat when he'd move a throw pillow and land in another location.
Their conversation was empty rambling of people with something they needed to talk about.
"We have an invitation, up to Josef's home; you know the one on the hill." He insinuated the subject after her conversation about Ben's most recent rant.
"Ooh, what does all that entail?" her blue eyes shot sideways, leery of being summoned. She hadn't reconciled with Josef over whatever he might require after their little 'deal' for silencing a certain photographer. She swallowed hard at being cornered, being asked for something she couldn't give.
Mick felt her breath catch for all his reasons and he hesitated, "Dressing up for a costume party, little bit of dancing. Josef's sending costumes for us."
"Please don't tell me." She closed her eyes and giggled, hiding her full mouth behind her hand.
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Beth dragged the delivery into her apartment. Actually it was three cartons that sat like layers of a cake. The smallest held an ornate blonde wig on a blind eyed mannequin head. Standing the form on the counter she marveled at the ornate ringlets and jeweled clips. Intrigued she opened the next box and drew out a brilliant yellow-gold bodice with chiffon and beaded drapes over the upper arms. This seriously looked like something from a film set; Beth had never handled couture work like this. The final box held the hoops, the shoes and kid gloves and the enveloping expanse of gathered and draped buttery silk.
The boxes at Mick's door leaned for a few more hours, only to be retrieved when Mick rose at twilight and found a text message he'd received a delivery. The party was a day or so away so Mick hoped it would all fit whatever this collection turned out to be. Box after box he shook his head; Josef was going to pay and pay dearly for this.
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"Why did you do this to me, Josef?" Beth choked on her laughter at his phone call.
"You know me; I always have a thing or two up my sleeve. I'm sending a limo out for you and Mr. Angsty; he won't be driving in his costume." Josef held himself in check; he wasn't going to give into the urge to guffaw right along with Beth, his partner in crime.
"Trust me; you'll have a night you'll never forget." With those words Josef clicked off the call and waited for Mick's call. "3, 2, 1, any time boyo." And his phone chirped.
"What the hell is this?" Mick growled at his oldest friend as he looked at the opened boxes.
"The only character more angtsy than you. I thought it was fitting. I'm sending over a make-up artist at 3 it's going to be about 3-4 hours for your transformation. Also I've arranged a limo for the two of you. I don't think it's safe for you to drive in that thing." Josef shook his head he was holding back so much laughter. Then his tone grew serious, "And Mick, being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, loving someone deeply gives you courage. You have both, boyo, and you need to accept it."
Mick nearly spat back, "Josef, I'm fighting forces that could take her life."
"Mick, she has the means to save yours. Love her" And Josef closed the call.
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That night, Beth had pulled herself together, layering the each item of clothing until she felt like a lemon confection. Settling the ornate wig into place she sat, no she teetered on a stool at the island until she figured she'd have to pull the voluminous skirts up and sit her pantalooned tooshie on the backless bar stool. Once she was settled there was an unfamiliar staccato knock on Beth's front door.
"Ms. Turner?" Through the door the British voice inquired, "I am Hank your driver this evening." The man held an ID card up to the peep-hole.
Drawing the skirts with her she unchained the door and gathered her small evening bag. Hank didn't bat an eye at her costume, "Mr. St. John is already in the car, he suggested he remain in the limousine."
As Hank held the passenger door open Beth's mouth drew initially drew a wry smile. She did love to see Mick dressed up almost as much as she wanted to see him undressed and lounging on her bed. Yet drawing nearer to him in the ivory leather limo interior she lost her breath.
Mick had slid as far back into the corner as he could; leaving the length of his legs thrust forward, ankles crossed in elegant black riding boots. Beth's curious eyes followed the tops of the boots to admire the ebony satin breeches held to his slim waist with six ornate brass buttons. Those buttons covered forbidden territory. Mick's retreat was completed by his turned head, gazing out the opposite side's window. His hair fell below his shoulders, wild waves of gold-auburn locks shimmered in the limo's led light. These wild tresses and a gloved hand obscured his face.
Beth watched in silence at his still figure, clutching his curled left fist to his chin. His right hand, visible on the seat beside his hip was encased in exquisite tan kid glove seeded with downy hair and tipped with dangerous claws. He did not have to turn his face for Beth to understand, her love in the blue waist coat was The Beast and she was his Beauty. Then at the rustle of her silk he turned.
"Truth in advertising, wouldn't you say?" Mick's voice seemed shrouded, his usual deep silky voice influenced by the deftly applied makeup. His features had been manipulated by latex and foam and downy golden hair. His brows rose in permanent diagonals over his blue-green eyes. This emphasized the pain in his eyes, pain Beth had always seen. His aquiline nose had been covered by something of a lion's snout down to the cleft over a thin upper lip. And his beautiful teeth had been augmented; bypassing his mutable incisors the make-up artist had applied upper and lower fangs. Mick sat forward, moving cat-like and carefully, less this façade be more frightening in the odd half-light.
Beth froze half in and half out of the limo; she knew only a comrade like Josef could set these steps into motion. Mick was breathtaking – even more so than his typical supernatural self. Now, here in this Beast's garb he exhibited all the pain he had tried for months to communicate to her. This leonine façade drove home the truth of what he felt, that he was a monster, a beast of a creature. But, he was her Beast and Beth understood what Josef was doing by this clever orchestration.
"I would say that you are animal magnetism, personified." Her voice was a husky whisper, requiring him to move closer to her blushing lips. "Finally a situation where your preparation took longer than mine!" Beth had to bring up that night outside Club Valis. She gathered her skirts around her feet and felt the limo move smoothly up roads to a sandstone hillside in Beverly Crest. Along the ride Mick sat, upright, his gloved palms resting on his knees while his eyes roved over the golden silk meringue that enveloped Beth.
His eyes spoke with his joy at seeing her so luscious wrapped, "Why a wig?" he nodded to the piles of curls frozen in place with rhinestone clips.
"Cause there is a God, and he knows no woman has this much hair." Beth's eyes consumed him as she sat as comfortably as her bodice allowed. Her smile crested at the thought, perhaps Josef counted on each of them to peel off these costumed restraints for a first carnal resolution? If so she would thank him later regardless of whatever payment he might wager.
"He's a clever bastard." Mick nodded affectionately, shaking that full head of hair. His face moved oddly under the 4 hours of re-crafting. Did the diagonally arched brows accentuate the pain in Mick's eyes? Indeed it seemed that way.
"If we look like this, imagine what the rest of the party is wearing?" Beth slipped closer to Mick's deep blue satin shoulder and let her eyes roam over the ornate gold braid stitched in a military style. Her own kid gloved hand sought his clawed hand and drew it close. Their eyes met as she ran a finger against the grain of the downy fur, then with it to run down his lithe fingers to the treacherous claws. Without fear she tested their veracity and found them nearly puncturing her own gloves. Their words did not come during this 'discovery' until Beth's eyes and fingers sought the broad golden nose and the fangs that rested in waiting. "Have you tried to ah, you know, phase while in this get up?"
"Yeah, right in the middle, the poor makeup artist would have had a heart attack if she hadn't been one of Josef's other employees." Mick was warming up to be this satin-swathed Beast. Beth recognized the twinkle of his smile, right there in his eyes.
Imagine trying to hide a Beast and his Beauty in the crowd of togas and aliens. Their indigo and golden presence was felt as well as seen in a room of undead and mortals. They moved amid the throb of house music, more electronic and minimalistic than the disco Mick would snark at in the day. The gyrating crowd turned their heads then froze to see this fairy-tale couple in such an organic home.
Cutting though the still crowd, Josef raised his hands, in triumph at their actually arriving, "I was beginning to think that party at the Queen Mary was going to win out." Then he sidled close to Mick, "Didn't I tell you, I'd find a character more angsty that you." And it earned a hearty growl, rising slowly and deeply in Mick's broad chest to erupt between four fangs. "Oh, what big teeth you have!" Josef fluttered in a comical falsetto and giggled back at Beth and spoke in sub-tones to Mick, "The better to bite you my dear, hey?" as his head bobbed toward Beth.
Mick's clawed hand rose, and the reality of seeing his friend living within the Beast's 'skin' momentarily stunned Josef. There Mick's taller height took on broader proportions, the golden braid emphasizing his shoulder's width and his trim waist. The crisp, starched linen ruffles would have matched his undead pallor if not for the copious make up and golden fur sculpting new planes across Mick's face.
The clawed hand hung in the air, then its kid leather palm slid up Josef's cool jaw line until the claws combed into Josef's short hair, "I will trust you, brother, for whatever reason you've done this." Mick drew him nearly muzzle to nose as his free hand waved over his current state, "Your hundreds of years must tell you something I'm missing." And with an energetic release of Josef's head the party host had to balance carefully to stand still. Mick stepped one step lower and held out his claws beckoning to Beth and they swept toward whatever this party was going to be.
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"Did you think I was Rumplestilskin?" Josef snuck up behind Beth, the two of them alone on the concrete precipice of this home built on the sandstone ledge. Beth turned away from the constellation of L.A.'s skyline and shook her head.
Her voice trembled, "You've never asked me to pay for the - - - favor, that's haunted me." knowing Josef dispensed people to La Brea without compunction.
"What are you afraid of? I have immortality." Josef stepped further forward, rocking to test his balance, did he do that here on the crest of jutting concrete because she was human and he loved to hear heartbeats thump wildly? No, he knew his effect on humans; their heart beats escalated just sharing the room with Josef Kostan.
Beth weighed his words and answered dourly, "I don't." Nervously the beauty pouted and toyed with a long curl of her wig.
Hands clasped behind his back he turned a quarter and watched his party going on behind the glass wall, "We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep."[1]
"A sleep or the big sleep?" Her head snapped back, her vision and hearing nothing like Josef's, realizing he was staring at her, she prodded, "You mean the story noted for its complexity or the euphemism for death?"
"Oh, Beauty. Take what you have of this night, see the path down there?" Josef drew her close and her eyes followed his gesture where moonlight brightened the cast concrete steps into oblivion. "Go for a walk, listen to him and when it is time, talk with him. I have every confidence that, you Beth Turner will realize immortality. Then we can discuss your - repayment."
Did she shiver from his chilled flesh or from his prognostication? Silently she nodded and drifted back into the party, she stood in the doorway, watching Mick within his undead element leaning against a piano brought in for the party. Some swell, looking quite like Cole Porter danced his fingers over the keys playing the first few bars of songs while he cracked ribald comments. Beth's hand flew to her heart as she saw Josef's unnaturally rapid movement to share the bench. She knew now they were all using that sub-tonal chatter as Mick had clued her into the habits of the undead. She thought he spent undue time casting aspersions on the undead, as if to ward her away.
How could his words ward her away from him? They were past that, she knew it and by the nature of his avoidance she realized he did too. There had been detours but their love a destination plotted the moment Mick plucked a child from his wife's cold clutches.
If only Mick would succumb to the same fever that wracked her nightly. There was no return to glance back at a life with a mortal man; Beth could not resist his raging cold-fire that lit his eyes crystal blue. She saw the battle raging within Mick, fought with him to let it all go even if it meant he took her down to death. It was only flesh, not life. Her blood raced for him, better to be consumed by the fires of passion than the flames of hell without Mick St. John.
The pianist saw her hovering and drew his tongue over his lips, almost serpent-like. Then the Disney tune played as the two of them sang:
She glanced this way, I thought I saw and when we touched she didn't shudder at my paw
No it can't be, I'll just ignore but then she's never looked at me that way before
We'll wait and see a few days more; there may be something there that wasn't there before
Perhaps there's something there that wasn't there before….
Mick nodded their way, raised a clawed hand shot an especially comical middle finger salute then strode to meet Beth. His smile ironically revealed his longing as well as glistening leonine fangs. Beth had been sure of for months all roses had thorns.
"Will you walk with me?" she asked, one arm around his tailed indigo waistcoat and the other cupping his furred chin. He nodded and fell into pace with her.
Disbelievingly he shook his head, "Where could you be taking me?"
"I'm not sure." She giggled, pulling him harder through the door and down the luminous steps. As the woods enveloped them their silence became a peaceful place, each of them taking in the ink-black night around them as the far-off cacophony of the city rose to meet them. Once the moon filled a clearing with incandescence Mick lifted Beth onto a prominent flat boulder. Mick fluffed the silk skirts about her then tread a circle to stand back and admire her before he spoke. He scented pine and lavender of the woods wafting around and Beth's excitement.
"I believe Josef did all this" he gestured to their costumes, "To instill a lesson." Beth nodded, her hair glistening as she moved.
His voice nearly cried. "It's just that no lesson could teach me how to return your love and keep you from what I am"
Silently Beth regarded the Man / Beast in the spotlight.
"He's dressed you like a princess, only your kiss, your profession of love isn't going to transform and twist me in glitter to reveal a magnificent prince." His gloved hands opened wide to frame his animalistic face.
"But you're my guardian angel, without that aspect I'd be –" She never knew whether Coraline wanted to turn her or consume her.
Mick threw back his head, that mane of hair flowing wild. His eyes closed tight, fists thrown out at his side. "If I hadn't been vampire Coraline would have never grabbed you." his 'claws' drew pin points of blood that beaded up and healed, he knew that as he scented his own blood.
"You don't know that, do you? When she returned as Morgan, did you ever ask her?" Beth's acerbic reply cut him. No he hadn't, he had spent his conversation on 'The Cure'.
He swept his hands to his face, saw his blood and heaved a deeply frustrated breath. "Beth, babe, I can't remember what happened in those few hours with her. I wanted to be human, for however long I could be. I was different before you - and ever since -seeing you again and admitting that I love you I've been haunted. I've questioned everything that made you love me too." He drew his fist to his mouth waiting for her interruption yet there was none. "Long ago I knew what I was and saving you saved me."
Mick searched her face for an inkling that Beth would interrupt him, there she sat, every inch the demure princess. He felt her restraint and cautiously continued, "Once life was cheap, and I wouldn't even seek love. Watching over you gave me reason to walk the earth with my head up, even damned as I am." Although she shook her head with a rattle of hair ornaments Beth did not speak.
He looked to her and troubled his bottom lip, "The point is - there is no point in my foolishness. I've run from your bed, I've run from your love and whether you believe it or not I am not a stupid man." Now he stood, hands on his hips, golden hair alive on the night breeze.
Beth drew in a deep, deep breath preparing for his answer to her question, "Any coincidence that Josef dressed you like the Beast whose form would never change?"
Mick tilted his head and shrugged, nodding his agreement.
"I would cuddle in bed with my Mom on Friday nights, she'd swoon over Vincent and we'd pray that he'd show up in time for Catherine." Her wistful expression conveyed the precious mother/daughter time at the end of each work week. "After you saved me I would imagine that you lived under ground with Vincent."
"Beth, that's all well and good. . . . but I will always be this way." He held out his arms then in a fit he clawed back the linen shirt, "My skin is as pale as this linen, my body is cold, I rest in a freezer" Then reduced by his agony he dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands, his next words were muffled, "I don't want to hurt you Beth, you're too delicious, I'm not sure I can control myself."
"Mick, don't do this – I know the stakes, I need you." Her words fell like absolution this time.
Mick rose and stepped closer, "I hoped I wouldn't love you like this, Beth that I could set you free. Yet from what I saw you and Josh weren't to be." His Beauty dipped her head at his comment. She was not proud of her loving two men, two very different men. "I stand in my darkness and called myself death and then you - - - breathed life into my heart and drew me out." Now he stood praying for her invitation, he needed to feel her warmth within his arms. Mick heard Beth's breath catch as her fragrance rose into the atmosphere.
"Am I the fire within you, Mick?" Beth's words found his ears and he nodded slowly, his still gloved hand over his undead heart as if his nod were an oath.
"I'll straddle dark and light to live with you, Beth, to love you." Her dark love held out his arms and realized how far he had set her on the boulder. With a small bounce he plopped right beside her, his quick effort causing her to gasp happily. Their shoulders gravitated toward each other. Answers to their many questions danced above them in their heads.
Carefully Beth drew his hands into her lap. Holding his wrist she tugged to withdraw one clawed glove. There with both of his hands in her lap she sought his wary gaze. He braced himself as he nodded and watched her soft fingers tracing the backs of both his own flesh and the glove. "You are my everything, Mick. I wasn't even looking for you when I found you." Gently she turned his hand over to trace the lines of his palm. "When I was afraid you walked in and took charge. All my life you gave me the warmth of your protection." Beth wove her fingers into Mick's and drew them both to her heart. "A human's conception of immortality is just until we die, but - Mick, with you -"her words abruptly halted and she kissed his palm, decisively and sweetly. "I'm sorry, it seems a kiss is the perfect way to silence this conversation."
Mick drew their hands back to his uniquely refashioned lips and left the best kiss he could manage without snagging an extended canine over her flesh. The heat of that kiss spread his desire within her. As she quivered under the surging warmth he felt those tremors as Mick caught her in his arms and whispered, "Beth, I've been horribly wrong to stall you, to hold you and kiss you and then back away from your body." Embracing they nuzzled until Beth caught her breath to giggle.
He caught her joy "What?" Mick drew back from her, his artificial brows accentuating his inquisitive expression.
"The Beatles, Abbey Road, you know the lyric, I never give you my pillow, I only send you my invitations. And in the middle of the celebrations, I break down [2]… It must be a common phenomenon with mortals too." Before Mick could give that thought enough to speak, Beth hopped back down to the ground.
Her mind wondered, how much more will we talk? Beth dropped her chin and let her eyes wash over him seductively, "What's gone is grief bygone; with all the years ahead of us you should be kissing me to happy tears."
Zephyr-light Mick was face to face with her, whipping off the other glove. Now bared handed he was starving to feel the warmth of her flesh on his fingers. "Perhaps I have been guilty of overthought, talk to me about my overthinking when we come out of my loft on Monday." His hands on her shoulders brought her as close as possible, close enough for Beth to feel the rigid confirmation of his arousal. "I can't waste another day or night without you, Beth." Before he could utter the end of her name her lips were locked to his, fangs be damned. Beth wanted to feel fang on flesh, the sooner so much the better.
"Did Josef do this on purpose?" Beth's hands dug into Mick's thick wig, working it loose from the latex facial pieces.
Mick chuckled against the singular pain of losing just a few hairs as she pulled off the wig along with a few of his dark curls, "Beth, Beth, not here-" reluctantly he caught her by the waist, "Do you really want to do this at Josef's?" He licked at his lips as he adjusted his trousers, "He's probably watching us right now!"
Beth covered her mouth, hiding the smirk as he adjusted his 'package' against the constraining breeches. She was gobsmacked that he let himself become aroused, and she was thrilled that she did that to him. She knew he wanted her. "Arghhhhhhhhhh, Mick, get me home, get me out of this dress and let me love you!" Beth bolted toward the path, a gloved hand extended back to Mick as he caught up his wig and gloves.
"This way", Mick darted past her down the path to the parked limousine, "Hank", Mick smacked the driver's window with both palms, eliciting Hank's sudden awakening.
"Yeah, Ah, yes, Mr. St John!" He jumped out of the limo and threw open the door, if he noticed the lack of Mick's wig or the gloves he didn't mention it. Sliding the car into drive Hank instinctively drove directly to the downtown lost's basement garage. Before he could shift into "P" the back door flew open and Beth was out it a flash of yellow silk, Mick smacked Hank cordially on the shoulder, leaving a large bill and bounded in hot pursuit. Extremely hot pursuit.
Mick relished the chase. He let her graceful legs eat up the marble floor to the elevator and delayed they ascent. Standing in the open doors, his hands above his head impeding their closing he took in the sensual sight before him. Her ivory gloved hands folded over her heart, her blushing décolleté seducing him with its humanly cadenced rise and fall. The instant froze in time; they knew this night they would become lovers in every sense.
Mesmerized by the sight of him in the doorway, large and looming she swooned, "How long I've waited, Mick." Her lips barely moved. Had she said it or had he read her mind?
Taking another step the doors closed and the car carried them on the longest elevator ride Mick had ever experienced. The door parted, he caught her hand and they nearly danced to the door. Once unlocked, Mick swept her up in his arms and carried her inside. "This is quite a night, Beth." Swinging Beth in a circle in his foyer he froze, "Don't laugh, OK?"
Mick's words stunned her, "Laugh?" she caught his face in her hands to confirm his words, "Why would I laugh?" Mick set her down on her feet and caught her hands in his.
Mick's eyes sparkled "This, what we're about to do…" These words caused Beth to bury her face in her hands.
Anticipating the worst, he caught her up in his embrace, "No, it's not what you expected, I mean - this is going to reveal so much about each other. I wasn't joking that it's been 56 years since -" His eyes travelled upstairs. "My armor -"
Beth hugged him more tightly, "Drop the armor, be selfish, take what you need, talk all you want - and know - it's what I want too!'
What lurked not just beneath the sheets but beneath their skin? They celebrated the excitement of everything fresh and new, their touching a refutation of shared past fears. Their lips and fingers plucked the strings of their excitement as it played along the invisible threads in their relationship — it's wasn't just about the undead man who's last act of love resulted in his damnation. Who they were to one another was exposed as the gently disrobed each other. Silently within the moon shadows their reverence for each other exposed all that.
Face to face they grinned at how far they had come then he felt the weight of a question on Beth's heart.
Her well-kissed lips curled in laughter, "Are you going to wear those?" her fingers gestured to his four exaggerated canines and with a vamp-quick jump Mick was out of bed dancing toward the mirror to yank off the prosthetic teeth. He was determined to not have the humor dampen the evening's enchantment-
Almost perversely Mick had wanted to maintain their simpler lives, he knew tonight upped the stakes. On this sex-slicked pivot their relationship would never be the same. Their kisses rose off their lips to be swallowed by the other's. Their hands led burning traces over flesh alive and undead. As Mick backed away from the past he moved toward the only love that would quench them.
The air was thick with sexual tension sublimated in months of conversation yet it fell away as warm flesh conquered pale undead flesh. What did it reveal? Beth's hunger conflicted with her youth, yet Mick knew her past months spent furiously trying to reach a sense of fruition presented the truth of their mysteries and conflict.
Mick was swept away by his pinpoint awareness in the reciprocal feelings of undressing. Seeing Beth with an eye toward forever he knew he would never forget the play of her warm fingers as she deftly undid his buttons, nor the feeling of releasing her from this silken prison of an ornate corset and gown. "Let me" she whispered as she backed him toward the bed. He couldn't imagine what surprises she would invoke; he'd simply believe she meant them just for him as she unknotted the cravat and undid tiny buttons of his shirt.
A mantra in the back of Mick's mind played, "your love is fated" and those simple words tamed any imagine beast within. Beth, stunned by each touch he allowed, reveled in his 'cool marble' to her keen heat. Her breath caught at every discovery of her undead lover. Their embraces revealed the perfection of their union, concave colliding against sinewed convex flesh.
Each glancing of their lips on waiting skin was so crucial to the next step of their dance. Lips and sighes granted permission for grander strokes. Their carnal tension intensified by heated or icy breath. His eyes flashed nearly silver then he reeled that emotion back, extenuating their long glide toward joining. Beth's fair hands gripped his wrists, with an unexpectedly sharp clutch she shook him, "Don't make me wait-" and her kisses slipped down his hands to suckle his fingertips.
Couching their feelings with silent movement his eyes flashed at the importance of her command. Mick was hers, unequivocally. Now with a sweep of his body she claimed his undead soul. The bed sheets foamed wildly to be cast aside as they rode the moments. His dark dangerousness that months ago invaded her heart now possessed her passion. Passions transmuted to the wildest of love, the purest of emotions, and the strongest of sensations.
At their pinnacle Beth moaned, "Take me, Mick." Far from ice water and the dilapidated hotel bathroom he knew her desire. With a reverent nod his eyes arose icy, his fangs gleaming and sharp. While their senses soared his lips gripped her throat and her heart celebrated his bite.
Now the only haunting was the phantom feeling of that climax that shivered within both their bodies. Pledged in love and sealed in blood they had joined the realms of a mythic pairing.
[1]The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158
[2] Carry That Weight, ( J. Lennon, P. McCartney )