*Mushu voice* I LIIIVE…Okay. Before you all hate me...Please accept my apology of 5,795 words (in two parts) thatcan be found and read below.
I hope this chapter will make your long wait worthwhile.
(More notes at the end...)
Disclaimer: I don't own Underworld nor any of its beautiful characters.
Chapter 13 – The Only Man I've Ever Loved (Part 1)
Selene allows herself to have a few minutes to gaze at Michael's profile, while giving silent thanks to the Saints that no one was witnessing her blush – not even Michael himself – especially since she believes that her pale skin, dead as it was, would have no trouble giving away a slight tinge on her cheeks. She also allows herself to be...a woman.
Just like our first time.
A woman who finds herself with a handsome stranger on her bed.
Because that's what you are, Michael. Right now you're a stranger to me.
This thought doesn't stop her hands to be all over him however. She touches his chin this time instead of laying another kiss on it, her usually nimble fingers trace with unhurried zeal over his five o'clock shadow, to the edges of his jawline, and even lower…down to his overly exposed neck...
Selene stops.
Any other woman would devour that neck with kisses and it would be acceptable. But a vampire like herself…She closes her eyes, trying to control her now labored breathing and the bloodlust that was threatening to overpower even an immortal of her strength.
This is why I told you to sleep in your own bedchamber, Michael.
She didn't need such sudden onslaught of both frustration and arousal this early in the day. There were a million errands to run, meetings to hold and a daughter to keep company.
Hell, the council hasn't even decided on the perfect plant to decorate the foyer's central balcony with.
Why would the foyer even need a fucking plant?
"Because you've made this the most peaceful of wars and they have nothing else to focus their attention on, my sweet queen." She hears Varga's mocking voice in her head.
Whatever.
She'd like to see Cassius welcome his guests with nightshade.
Letting out a deep sigh, she opens her eyes and still doesn't get up from the bed nor untangle herself from Michael.
One of her wandering hands has now found its way back at the hairy plain of his chest. Biting her lip with one fang, she undos one, two...three buttons of his shirt before she could lose her nerve.
Michael gently stirring puts a hold to her ministrations however. Before Selene could completely panic, he doesn't wake, but only frowns and tightens his hold around the blanket that still enveloped her nakedness. The hybrid was still blissfully unaware of the vampiress who has been taking advantage of him and his wonderfully warm body.
Selene and Varga head to the wide, open field at the back of the Eastern Coven. The one where the Cornivus-strain hybrids, such as herself, Eve, and David, could get away from the dark walls of the castle and breathe in the sun, practice archery (one of Eve's favorite pastimes) or simply just…escape.
This was where Selene stays to watch the twilight break in the horizon, signaling the start of another day for the undead. Varga doesn't go out with her, only hides behind one of the pillars near the entryway while Selene sits on the stone steps that were still hot from being bathed in the last rays of sunlight.
She thinks of the only thought she ever lets slip past her mind whenever she's here.
It's the memory of the first time she gazed back at the sun after being burned by it for so long.
Michael Corvin had been with her then. He was with her to bask in the sudden glow, feel the sudden outpour of unbelievable warmth all over her skin.
When he reaches her, the tears in her eyes flowed unbarred. She could no longer hold them any more than she could hold her emotions. He was alive. The reality of it was just now slowly sinking in, now when she's allowed an emotion that wasn't fear—fear for her life and that of Michael's.
She meant to reach for him, to meet him halfway, but he was there in front of her suddenly. Everything about Michael was sudden—inevitable—but sudden. It was like realizing you're on the tracks a little too late. You know you needed to get off, the train will come—inevitably so—but you never leave your spot, not until the last second, not until your breath's let out all the air it can let out from the panic, thinking about the oncoming clash.
He was an accident waiting to happen. He was a handsome face, caught by the woman that resided inside her cold, long-dead self, and suddenly, he wasn't just that. He was an enemy, a creature she trained all her immortal life to fight and kill, and suddenly, and intensely—an intensity that prickles her senses in silent denial, but also in silent recognition, one of 'Where have you been all my life?'—he became everything she wanted to live for.
And when he cups her face and leans her head toward his, the touch of his lips was warmer and more real than the sun.
Standing up, she slowly traces her way back to Varga, still lost in thought, trapped in a memory…
Varga gives her a rundown of the matters that need attending to, unaware of her routinely walk down memory lane. Then he says something – an afterthought to him but something that successfully pulls her attention back to the present: "And oh...Corvin didn't sleep at his chamber last night."
Selene starts. She masks her face—and her voice, hopefully—with an indifference only she has ever mastered. "Oh. Really?"
"Yeah, I dunno where he went. I was too...Well, anyway, I'm not his babysitter. I just want to inform you that your Lycan lover was off to the Saints know where and—"
He stops talking and Selene could only imagine the wheels turning in his head as understanding dawns on his face. She doesn't know if she's annoyed that he now knows what's going on or if she wants to laugh at him. She settles for being cautious. "And what?"
"He went back to your room, didn't he?"
Yes, and you could have stopped him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh my god," Varga declares, amusement and exasperation in his voice. "You two have a 15-year-old daughter and you're off behaving like a bunch of insatiable—"
"Hey," she says, cutting off the foray of colorful words that were inevitably going to come out of his mouth.
Nothing even happened.
"Nothing happened," she continues, lowering her head as she fiddles with the straps of her collar with a sudden interest.
Her most trusted man has his arms crossed now and it was getting harder for Selene to fight back a...giggle at the disgust on his face.
She turns her attention back to him and shrugs her shoulders. "We just…slept."
"And in the morning?"
"And in the morning what?"
"Oh, for fuck's—Don't tell me you didn't have rough morning se—"
"Michael."
And truly, Michael was behind Varga then and there.
"Hi." He says as a greeting, eyes solely looking at her, as he walks over tentatively to them. Upon closer inspection, Selene takes notice of the reddening of his face.
He has overheard their ridiculous conversation.
Michael was also still wearing his clothes from last night but his hair...was wet.
He showered.
Of course he showered, a tiny voice in her head admonishes. What else do you think he did in the bathroom earlier, Selene?
She catches herself staring a little too long and averts her gaze quickly.
Damn that hair, she thinks, realizing she was beginning to hate its short length a little less every day.
Varga clears his voice dramatically. "Hello, Lord Corvin."
Michael turns to him. "Err…Hi, Varga? Please don't call me a 'Lord.'"
"I don't make the rules, sir," he says with a shrug, and continues with the same unnatural tone, "By the way, where were you last ni–"
Selene looks at him in alarm and then gives him a death glare, as she feels the twisting of nerves in her gut.
"…Never mind. I'll…I'll see myself out." He then turns to her, giving his queen a smirk before he leaves.
Men...Why do I even bother?
The fact that she was alone again with Michael doesn't lessen the annoyance she felt though, and so she gets directly to the point and asks him: "What are you doing here?" as soon as Varga turns to a corner and fully disappears in sight.
How did you even know I was here?
"Well," he starts, once more shoving his hands into his pockets. His cheeks were still red. "When I got to the shower this morning you were still asleep and...when I got out..."
"Oh." Selene says, calming down and getting a little bit distracted if she was honest with herself. "I was...I was running late meeting Varga here. To discuss…matters and...shit."
Michael gives out a light laugh. "Okay," then he smiles and asks, "So you haven't had breakfast yet?"
I could have had earlier if I'd lost my sense of rationality.
"No. And I don't usually—"
"Great." He doesn't let her finish. "I'll see if Eve's awake now too so we can all eat together."
Again, without waiting for her response, he leans forward and puts a kiss on her cheek, much like he did last night, but this time he has one hand cradling her jaw as he lingers a bit longer to stare at her up close.
"Good morning, Selene," he whispers inches from her face, sounding almost as breathless as she was.
Selene raises a hand to rest upon his hand that was cupping her face, and that was when she sees him glancing down at her lips…before meeting her eyes again.
...Shit.
Before Selene could make a fool of herself, he swallows and gingerly lets go, leaving a dumbfounded and still very much frustrated queen to stare at his retreating form.
(Later, at the Training Grounds)
Selene has been drinking. Again. The only way to get through this whole tribulation was to drink. Not blood, nor wine. This time it was the ridiculous vodka and coke combination. She had discovered herself that Varga was indeed telling the truth about certain types of food and drinks that the vampires can partake in. It was so good to taste some human delicacies again. She's been testing a few, cooking for herself, Eve, David and Lena—whenever the third Elder comes to visit her daughter. There wasn't a wide selection of what they can eat but it was nice to be able to do so nonetheless. What was funny though is that it was only Selene who can drink a whole bottle of alcohol without throwing up. And she's been taking advantage of this since then. Although one should be wise enough to not point out the fact that she was becoming an alcoholic if they know what's good for them.
"More," Selene says to Varga, sounding slurry as she holds out her cup for him to fill.
He obliges but with hesitation, which he doesn't fail to voice out to her. "I think it wise for this to be your last one."
Selene stops mid-sip and turns her head to look at him. Varga can be a pain in the arse sometimes but most of the time he's just irrationally overprotective. Even more so than David.
"I think it wise for you to stop being an old grandfather," she counters. "It's not doing favors to your handsome face."
"Oh, stop giving false flattery when it's clear I do not hold your highest regard today when it comes to—" He pauses and shamelessly nods his head towards where Michael was. "...beauty." He ends his teasing by giving her a smirk.
Was she that unsubtle? "Varga..."
"I don't understand why you can't just jump him. He'll like it too, I can tell. That man hasn't seen a woman's breasts since the middle ages, I bet."
Selene restraints herself from informing him that no, Michael has seen another woman's breasts. Hers in fact, she thinks, blushing even more furiously. Just last night...
...Come to think of it, another thought occurs to her, making her frown in contemplation. Has he been with someone else besides her?
Three years was quite a long time...
She shakes her alcohol-clouded head and turns to her loyal companion. "Must you be so vulgar all the time?"
"He just looks so miserable," he continues. "Which says you really were telling the truth about nothing happening last night."
They were both quiet for a while before Varga talks again. "And If I wasn't vulgar, I'd be boring. And you don't want me to be boring. You have David for that."
She can't help but giggle, and a loud one at that, causing more than a few heads to turn to her.
Selene never giggles. But she's been drinking, Varga is good company and Michael has never looked so good that it was all she could do not to throw every ounce of sensibility she had to the wind and just jump him, as Varga had loudly suggested.
She steadies herself and lightly slaps his arm before gripping it. "This wasn't a good idea," she hisses at him, all too aware now of the mad reddening of her cheeks and the heat that seemed to have settled a permanent residence inside her belly.
"Four refills ago, it stopped being a good idea, yes."
"Yes—no. I meant me being here. I'm supposed to hate being here, and I really do have little patience with large crowds."
"You don't hate large crowds you just don't like people looking at you, which is why this is your last drink, my queen." He speaks loudly when he addresses her, taking her cup away. Then he steps back three paces and gives her a bow and a wink before leaving.
And just like that she's his Elder again and he her most faithful Hand, dutifully obedient.
She can feel Michael's gaze on her without really looking at him. Everyone always watched anything she did or anything she was involved in, since their chances of witnessing it happened so rarely. Her presence here at the training grounds was itself a miracle. In fact, it was the very first occurrence. There was all the buzz and and a whole lot more fussing. Three of the finest Death Dealers had to bring The Elder's throne five stories down for Selene to sit on.
It was beyond ridiculous.
She didn't want Michael to see her like this. It was bad enough that he doesn't remember her.
"If it pleases, your grace." Varga was now on the middle of a makeshift arena the Death Dealers had for gladiator-like practice combats. He addresses her just as much as the crowd. "I'd like to propose a challenge."
The Death Dealers stop practice fighting at once and close in, listening curiously as they discarded their weapons onto the cold metal floor of the training grounds.
"Thank you for granting my request for you to join us here today," he takes a bow again to cheers and whistles.
Selene nods and waves a hand for him to continue, not trusting herself to speak coherently.
"Fight me and defeat me. That's it. Simple as that. The winner…" He pauses for effect. "…fights Selene, our great sovereign. Of course...granted you'll allow it, my queen?"
Everyone turns to her then.
Oh.
Varga was good. He was really good.
Anticipation hung unexpressed in the air as the crowd awaits her answer. The coven always craved to be entertained. What can be more entertaining than watching the most powerful immortal alive fight? Bonus points if she's drunk. And she is. She very damn well is. She can feel it in her system. Her healing abilities were not immune to alcohol it seems.
Before answering, she seeks Michael's eyes briefly, unsure what she wants to see from those blue orbs.
His eyes on her gives nothing away and so she turns back to Varga and says: "Very well then."
He gives her another smirk as the crowd lets out a deafening shout of excitement.