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A/N: Sorry the update took so long. The next chapter will be up within a few days – I'm making plans for where I want this story to go (yes there will be smuttiness and action – just be patient!). I have upped the rating to R for language and sexual situations. I know that there is a lot of cussing, but it's nothing you didn't hear in middle school. Your reviews keep me going. Feel free to give constructive criticism or suggestions – I don't bite!
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"Let me use my cell phone, or otherwise they'll suspect something." The last thing Dylan wanted was for her friends to come riding to the rescue – they would surely be killed.
"Right on. Don't want your mates coming to spoil our party." Seamus drawled out. He moved to stand in front of her with his hands folded across his chest, biceps flexed in an altogether delicious way. *Delicious? Dylan! Cut it out! Emergency here!* Dylan looked up at him, waiting for him to move into action. Finally he spoke. "And the fucking phone is where?"
*God I'm such an idiot!* Trying to appear unruffled, Dylan snidely replied "Where the hell to do think it is? In my pocket!"
His green eyes widened slightly, then a sly smirk settled over his face. "Your pocket, aye? Well, let me help you with that…" Uncrossing his arms he reached for her, and Dylan felt a slight shiver run through her as his large strong hands caressed the front of her pants pockets, obviously looked for the phone.
Closing her eyes and inhaling quickly to try and ignore his still familiar touch, she spoke through gritted teeth. "In the back pocket, you eejit!" Seamus merely smirked and stepped closer to her, his hips barely an inch from hers. Dylan glared up at him, feeling completely overpowered and helpless. Those intense eyes held her own as he slowly, almost seductively, moved his hands over her hips and toward her back pockets. His hands paused, and she realized that she had pressed herself flush against the wall in an effort to move away from him and thus he could not reach her phone. Grudgingly she arched off the wall to allow his reach, only to feel her hips brush against his. Before she could even register what was happening, his hands were cupping her ass and lower back, pulling her into his hard body. A *What the hell is he doing?* flashed through her head, and then a *God he feels good* as an all too familiar tingling heat rushed to where their bodies were joined.
It was as though time stood still. Details suddenly came to focus, such as her heartbeat, loud and pounding in her ears, and his, pulsing in his erection that was pressed against her. His cologne, his hands heating her skin through her clothes, his incredible mouth. Giving herself to the moment, she looked at him through half-closed eyes. He was staring at her mouth, and Dylan almost moaned as she watched him lick his lips, thinking of all the wondrous things that tongue could do, had done to her. She waited, her lips parted, as he slowly lowered his mouth toward hers, and she almost went through with it. Part of her longed to taste him again, to kiss the man who surpassed all others she had been with before or since. But the rational side of her that had been in hiding for the past 2 minutes finally surfaced. At the last possible minute her head turned to the side so only her cheek received his kiss. "Seamus, the phone please." She pronounced each word slowly, hoping to mask the confusion and desire she felt. Seamus' lips pulled back quickly, and because she stubbornly refused to turn back to him she missed the hurt that flashed in his eyes. He didn't move away completely though; as he pulled her small cell out of her jeans he smacked her right ass cheek, making her hiss at the impact. *Bastard. Always has to have the last fucking word*
Finally breaking the almost magnetic contact, Seamus moved a step away from her, examining the phone. He looked like he was trying to calm down. "Red, aye? To go with your temper? And it's 5:54."
Dylan didn't respond, she was still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. *I was actually going to let him kiss me! I was going to let a fucking murderer who wants to kill my friends kiss me!* In the back of her mind, Dylan knew that it wouldn't have ended there if the kiss had happened. As sick as it was, her body had been crying out to his, and it was no secret that he wanted her, as evidenced by the large bulge in his worn jeans. *I don't know if I could have stopped* This thought scared her to no end, but somehow she was comforted by the fact that he had stopped when she asked. He had no commitment of honor to her, she was chained, helpless and he had made it clear earlier that night that he had violent intentions. *He could have fucked me against the wall with my chains still on and I couldn't have stopped him – or wouldn't have stopped him…but he didn't. Maybe the asshole's not as bad as I thought*
"Helen. You want to make the fucking call or wot?" his voice brought her back to focus. He was at her right, leaning casually against the wall on his left shoulder, watching her, his face unreadable.
"Of course I still want to make a call, asshole." The insult was out before she could think, but the barb merely glanced off of him as he looked down at the phone. At a small 3 inches, it was dwarfed by his large hand.
"The number" he simply said.
"555-2539. Hold it up to my ear so I can talk." Dylan watched in quiet amusement as his large fingers carefully punched the phone's tiny buttons. No one would ever guess it to look at him, but Seamus had been an excellent pianist, having already played for twelve years by the time Dylan met him. Initially the lessons had been a gift from his dying grandmother in Ireland, bent on making sure her favorite grandson had some kind of talent. Over the years the piano had become a secret pastime for Seamus that he rarely revealed to anyone for fear of ridicule. Dylan remembered the first time she had heard him play, about 4 months into their relationship. She had heard piano music as she approached the door of his house, which then abruptly stopped when she rang the doorbell. When he opened the door, she asked him who had been playing. Looking rather embarrassed, Seamus had eventually admitted that it had been he. Dylan had immediately sat down and demanded that he play for her. Unable to refuse her anything, he had played Claire de Lune (Moonlight) by Debussy, then moved on to Rapsodie on a Theme of Paganini by Rachmaninoff. Dylan had lain on the couch, watching him, amazed at how his hands seemed to skim over and caress the keys like they were living things. He was such a contradiction, her Seamus. His hair was in pulled into 3 inch spikes, he had on his studded belt and wristband, his jeans were torn and the foot on the piano pedal was encased in a scuffed, steel-toed Doc Martin. All in all he looked like the street-smart punk he was. Yet his face was lit up with the joy of the music that was cascading from his fingers, and his body moved forward and back, adding emphasis to the beautiful chords that he knew so well that he could close his eyes in abandon. Dylan knew that Seamus was sharing his most intimate self with her and that she was seeing something that no one else would ever see. Watching him, she had realized for the first time that she was totally and completely in love.
*I wonder if he can still play…after 8 years, he has to miss the music…* Dylan realized that Seamus had completed the dial, and he held the phone to her ear left ear with his right hand. She was calling Alex's cell phone, hoping not to wake her, just wanting to leave a message. Luck wasn't on her side however.
"Hello, this is Alex Mundy."
*Damn her and her early morning cheerfulness* thought Dylan. Instead, in a sleepy voice she said "Hey Alex. It's me. I just had this crazy dream. *Yawn* It's Nat's favorite angel, you know - the De Soto, she'll run rings around you. Careful."
"Dylan, I'm not sure what you mean. Are you talking about…?"
"Hhmmm, yeah. Trust me on this one. It's in the stars. I'll see you in a few hours, I'm *Yawn* going back to sleep."
"Ok, Dylan. See you at 9:30." And across the city, Alex was left in her kitchen, a puzzled look on her face as she made muffins for Jason and her father.
As Seamus hung up for her, Dylan hoped that she had gotten her message across. She wasn't sure how much Seamus knew about the rings, or if he had been contacted by Madison and her thugs but she hadn't wanted to take that chance. "You're a cryptic one, aren't you Helen? Secret codes and all. Hope you didna teller things you shouldna." Seamus had walked in front of her again, and deposited the phone in his back pocket. Now he stood with his feet apart, arms folded and rocking back on his heels, his eyes dark in warning and distrust.
Dylan shook her head, exasperated. "I didn't tell her anything about this. I promised you I wouldn't." As she said the last sentence Seamus tensed abruptly and his facial features contorted into what she could only assume was cold fury.
"Aye, promises, Helen, bloody fucking promises. Not something you're good at, aye?" He was so upset his voice was shaking. "Promised me you'd be wit me forever, you did. Next thing is, I'm in the two-bulb watching your fucking arse walk away!" By now he was shouting. "Jaysus Helen! Doya not know what that did to me? I felt a bloody gobshite for loving you, trusting you. I woulda done fucking anything an' everything for you. You were me soulmate, me bloody life. And you threw me away like a piece o' shite. A fucking piece o' shite!"
As he had started to yell, Dylan shrank back against the wall, trying to escape from his wrath. Seamus had a very bad temper, which usually turned to violence. Throughout their relationship he had never laid a rough hand on her, but she knew that now there was no love to protect her from his anger. The brick at the right side of her face exploded as his fist punched into the wall, and she cried out in fear. *Shit, he's going to kill me* she thought. Next he punched with his left, sending shards of brick flying and coating Dylan's cheek with dust. Then her chin was grabbed and wrenched up so that she would look at him. He was breathing heavily and his eyes, normally so bright green it hurt to look at them, were almost black with anger. When he spoke it was through clenched teeth as though he was trying to rein himself in. "Guess wot, Helen. You can't fucking ignore me now. I'm here to stay."
With that, he harshly flung away her chin so that her face snapped to the side, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. As the door closed with a boom, Dylan was left to dazedly contemplate the meaning of the tears she had glimpsed in Seamus' eyes.
