His lips felt like a memory. The sweet memory of the moments they shared together, and the bitter one of those they would never live. He didn't hold her, embrace her, and his hold on her heart was weakening just as her hold on his sinfully beautiful jaw, slightly shaking under her fingers.
"It's rejection."
The words weren't harsh nor soft. They were definitive. She kept her forehead pressed against his, enjoying the last moments of tender they would ever share. The poor creature in front of her didn't seem to understand the situation, for he simply kept silent, his pale eyes veiled by what seemed like an emotion between sadness and fear.
After a moment, she drew back, staring at him one last time, both her heart and her mind full of regrets.
"Goodbye Mr. Gray."
She didn't wait for an answer, turning away swiftly and leaving him, abandoned and with a bleeding heart. But it was too dangerous to keep seeing Dorian Gray, she had decided after her demons had returned.
For Vanessa Ives was a woman haunted by the ghosts of her past and the demons of her mind. She would only break him, tear him apart, if they let their passion go any further. She had left a part of herself in the garden along with Dorian, a part of what was left of her innocence. Now, that said innocence was running thin, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before nothing of it was to be left.
But Dorian Gray was not the only lost creature that had witnessed her final leaving, for another one was spying the scene that afternoon, pretending to have an interest in the flowers of the garden whereas only one had truly his attention. He was now following her from another path, never letting her out of his sight. His steps fastened, and their ways were now meant to join soon enough. Increasing his pace ever so slightly, he passed her by so that they would collide when their two paths would join.
Vanessa was too concentrated on the memory of how she parted way with Dorian to look at the actual way in front of her. She saw at the last moment the man standing in front of her, brutally stopping to walk so that she wouldn't crash into him. Her eternal frown deepened, even though she had halted soon enough to avoid the awkward situation. The man turned his head toward her, as if he hadn't noticed her either. Well, at least she wasn't the only one unaware of the other. She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, wanted to get away from the gentleman who wrecked her life and darkened her thoughts. It was probably because of the bitter memory of his perfection that she didn't particularly flinched in front of the handsome man staring back at her. He was tall, incredibly so, towering every other man around them. His entirely black attire was one of mourning, of mystery. She herself appreciated to wear black, for it was simple, and kept her mind of of frivolities. It kept her from diverging from her destiny, making her remember every single deed she had ever done, every single person that died because of her. Her life was the eternal mourning of her purity. His hair in itself, slicked back, was of a dark brown, almost black. In fact, maybe it was. His features were angular, and his jawline seemed like one the greek statues had. Her gave off an aura of mystery and danger, a feeling amplified by his dark spectacles.
His face was expressionless while staring at her, and she couldn't see his eyes. It made her uneasy, and she tried to make her way on the side of the path, not bothering with an apology. After all, they hadn't collided, and she still wanted to get the hell out of this place. An hand stopping her arm made her head snap back to the gentleman. With her arm still in his hand, he lowered his spectacle with his other one. His eyes were of a piercing blue, just like hers, and with a smile, he released her to take a hold of her hand instead. He kissed it politely, keeping his eyes on hers.
Her frown diminished, but it was obvious that she was still in no mood for flirting with him. What a pity. But he could at least present himself, so that her her day would be slightly better.
"I apologize for my rudeness. I didn't meant to stare at you in such a despicable way."
Stare at her in a despicable way? He barely looked at her with an air of indifference, when on the other hand, she stared at him with an almost murdeous intent. If one was to apologize, it was her, she knew it well.
"No, don't be. I am to blame, I almost ran into you."
On that matter, he had to say he was a bit deceived. He truly thought that they would crash into one another, but the reflexes of the lady were better than he had expected.
"Vanessa Ives." she spoke softly, controlling her voice despite her raging emotions.
Vanessa. Oh, it suited her so very much. Elegant, yet with a faint feeling of darkness. He had known many women, yet none had given him the feeling he felt at this moment, when, with her low and sultry voice, she revealed to him and only him, her name. Her identity. Who she was.
"Thomas Sharpe."
He was looking at her in a way she couldn't explain. Dorian also had a way of looking at her, as if nothing else mattered but the two of them. Dorian looked at her as if he knew everything of her, even her darkest secrets. Thomas Sharpe looked at her as if he wanted to know about those secrets, and would do anything to succeed in that matter. She couldn't let him do so.
He took a step back when she claimed her hand free, with a certain violence. As if something had happened during the two seconds that preceded when he spoke his name. Her frown was back, and she turned her back to him.
"Have a nice evening Mr. Sharpe."
And, just like she did with Dorian, she ran away from a possibly very dangerous man. But he said something back, something she had expected and feared.
"I am sure we will see each other again, Miss Ives."
She didn't look at him, but her suddent immobility told him she had heard and acknowledged his words. It was only after a few seconds that she moved again, this time leaving the garden for good. She was going to be a true regal. And Lucille would be satisfied he found another one.