Chapter Four: Flying to Paradise

~There is nothing holier in this life of ours,

Than the first consciousness of love,

The first fluttering of its silken wings. ~

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

          She could feel a slight pressure on the skin right below her collarbone. Softness. A strange kind of roughness. Warmth. Skin to skin. It was a delicious feeling, a sensation that she hadn't experienced before. Her hands roamed around the hard canvas, pausing in places, pulling it closer. Oh, how good it felt! There was a comforting weight on her body, a heaviness that seemed unnervingly familiar, and felt right.

          His big, heat-generating hands were caressing her waist not even faintly aware he was doing so, and his hot breath hit her skin in short intervals. His hands were traveling up, leaving a trail of fire, thumbs grazing, gripping, and they finally landed on one of her most sensitive places.

          Her chest; more specifically, her right breast.

          Her lashes shot open suddenly like a crack of thunder, and she breathed in shallowly, her chest rising and falling heavily, her chin feeling the softness of onyx strands of hair. His face was under her chin, his torrid breath brushing the faint outline of her breasts that were exposed because of the neckline that had decided to fall lower during sleep. The thickness of the sweatshirt was apparently not enough for the constant heater Van Fanel was. If she stayed in this position any longer, her sweatshirt would surely burn to a crisp, a situation she definitely did not want to think about.

          But, as luck had it with her, he chose that particular moment to brush her breasts with his long fingered graceful hands and nuzzle her neck, groaning low in his throat. His other hand went to bury in her hair, sensuously kneading her scalp, and then coming down to caress her nape in little circles. She stiffened like a floor board and she was ambushed, half of his body over hers. She was spellbound in a pool of sweltering heat that would leave her in ashes if she didn't do something quick. What was sort of man was he? Was he so used to doing such things all the time that he could do it to just about any woman? Hitomi Kanzaki was definitely not used to such a ritual, and the most frightening thing was: she wouldn't be bothered waking up like this...

          ...if it weren't Van Fanel!!

          What kind of man is he?! Just because he said a few sweet things doesn't mean I am going to let him have his way with me—She gasped when she felt his head lifting, the weight from her chest rose, and she had to face his eyes that only rendered her speechless.

          His irises were that stormy color, containing a more red than brown. Passionate eyes. He was looking at her wide-eyed, very much awake, the flutter of his exhalation like that of a fire breathing dragon. Just looking at her and if she thought he even cared about her, even desired her honestly, he was most probably undressing her right that moment in his mind.

          But he didn't care about her and there were definitely many more desirable women in the world; had they suddenly perished and died of some plague to have this virile, hot, man looking down at her as if he was going to devour her? 

          Not in this lifetime.

          His voice was edged with unevenness, a thickness, "What are you doing?" The question was more of rhetoric, an inner query that was along the lines of What the hell are you making me do?!     

          She looked up angrily at him, painting the picture of an irate child with her hair mussed, her eyes brilliantly verdant, but her speech definitely had a more adult note to it. "If you remove your hand that has somehow crept under my sweatshirt, onto my waist, then maybe I'll consider not slapping you!" Her voice was deadly, and very, very serious and icy.

          Indeed, his hand had strayed there, and Van Fanel found himself doing a thing that he considered that was beyond his age of twenty six. A tint of red decorated his cheeks and he forcibly pulled it away, his knuckles zipping through her satiny skin.

          But his eyebrows rose in what very much seemed to Hitomi to be a satanic look but he spoke raggedly, "I pulled my hand away, would you mind removing your hand from my hip?"...no matter how much I mind and want it there, but thinking straight while your hand strays is like trying to breathe without oxygen.

          It was her time to blush a fiery tomato, while his was a vague one that disappeared underneath his tan skin. If there was one good reason to get a tan it was that: it masked annoyingly, violent blushes. She mentally added that to one of the long list of what she wanted changed about her looks.

          However, at the moment, there were more serious and perilously tempting things to consider about. Like the possibility of not being scorched to a burnt toast under his gaze. "Would you stop looming over me?" He looked like an ardent lover floating over his love, and presently, Hitomi Kanzaki couldn't even begin to consider such possibilities. Nay, it would be better for her overall health if she just packed her bags and went out in the storm and walked to her destination, rather than stay one second more with him.

          Even angels were tempted.

          He swiftly went to the side and lay beside her, very provoked to answer 'no' to her rhetoric. For a few minutes, they just lay there, listening to each other's shallow breaths, feeling the coldness creep into their bodies, the warmth that the other irradiated trying to fight it off.

          Her mouth opened gradually, with effort as she spoke. "I'll go and shower first."

          He somehow found his voice, but a wry smile graced his features. "Leave the door open," she blushed fiercely, "I admit now, I am into voyeurism." He gave the façade of a very officious person, his voice like honeydew, "I could rub your back." When it concerns you only, sweet. Her face, gradually got hot more and more so, her body responding in the same way. Did it make any better that he kept telling her all these, well, fiercely alluring things and expect her to think like an intelligent young woman?

          "Idiot," she muttered. He propped up his head on his elbow, realizing that just talking to her generated heat in his body.

          He grinned, his eyes twinkling like the morning star itself, "If you find that offensive, don't worry, I'll leave mine open."  

          Thus they rose, teasing, little by little, that Hitomi did not even realize the cold of the carpet, or that she was heading to the cool tiled bathroom. His banter kept her hot as a volcano till the tips of her toes.

          Could she get used to this? Maybe...but she dared not to.

~*~

          "Well, Fred, the major part of the storm has passed. Previous weather reports indicated that a cold blast would take over the northeast but the storm course has been changing and now its apparently heading northwest," couples and family gathered around the TV found in the commons area of the hotel room, and at the sound of the weather report, a general smile crossed everyone's face.

          Lunch had been served, Hitomi helping again, and the people now grew close to her, seemed like a family. That's what she'd always wanted. A big family, sisters, cousins, uncles, aunts, but her father had been the only child and her mother only had a sister who still remained single. Heh, you'll be like your aunt unless you stop picking apart guys…Aye, she'd been doing that, thinking up on little details about Allen, his habits, his attitudes, and comparing it shamelessly to the last person on Gaea she should be comparing to—Van Fanel.

          His lips quirked into a smile as he looked at her, almost as if knowing she was thinking of him. Great, I land with a mind reader. She looked away at the children huddled around a plump looking woman who appeared quite blatantly harassed as one a little girl accused a boy of cutting her hair, a little fair haired boy sucked on a candy cane drooling all over it, another chased his siblings. Her eyes softened at the sight, she'd done enough of chasing her brother, but he'd come close to killing them when he'd nearly burned down the kitchen because of leaving the oil in the frying pan for too long. How did I survive all those years? She smiled wryly to herself.

          He was mesmerized.

          He'd brashly watched her during the time she was helping with the lunch. There was something unique to her, the way she smiled warmly so that her eyes lit up like sunshine on verdant leaves, her genuine desire of wanting to help others, her acceptance of her failures (she'd tried her hand her at chocolate mousse, but unfortunately the chocolate seized when she tried to melt it since water droplets had gotten into it, and the expected liquid chocolate turned grainy), and her curiosity to learn. She was plain amazing and was always making people smile, laugh, or offering encouraging comments. Laughter and smiles trailed Hitomi like a magnet. If he'd been of a poetic nature, he'd go as far as to say that the whole room lit up because of her. No. That was too clichéd. The whole room was basked with sunshine wherever she went.

          …he wasn't poetic, right?

Van Fanel, hailed as being extremely intelligent, couldn't explain why she wasn't cozied up with a man. Nay, there were many men who didn't even deserve her. She was beyond them, worth her weight in gold. Perhaps, he mused, she hadn't found a man worthy yet…and it wasn't much so the problem of her being unattractive as she so vehemently claimed. She's too attractive for her own good…

          He realized that he'd been absolutely crazy in the beginning when he'd thought she wasn't particularly beautiful. Had he been blind? Blinded by her beauty that you couldn't even see her! But little by little all those small quirks she possessed became endearing to him somehow, the way she tilted her head when she talked to him, her engaging voice, even her manner with children.

          Her everything.

          He liked it too much for a man who'd sworn that most women weren't honest that there wasn't one woman who still had such high ideals and morals as she did.

          But she did exist. Only an arm length's away.

          She arched her eyebrows, a smile flirting on her lips, "What's swirling in that mind of yours?"

          He grinned, "Something you wouldn't want me to share."

          She gave a mock expression of disgust but muttered to herself genuinely, "probably mentally undressing and fantasizing about that red-head there…"

          He shook from laughter, his rust colored eyes swimming in mirth, "Sweetheart, the whole male population doesn't do only that, and there are other things that you can't share."

          She gave him a skeptical look, "Like what?" Had she really been thinking he was thinking of the pretty red-head dressed in an outfit that showed more than covered?

          However, his lips spread crookedly and he leaned all the while her eyes growing larger at his close proximity. For some reason, her heart beat double, her breath caught, her stomach felt twisted near his presence. Luckily, he was a hairsbreadth away from her ear and didn't see her face flushing. He gave the appearance of sharing a little, loving secret. "You know sweet, it's also very erotic to verbalize fantasies…" His breath tickled her ears, and the flush that was pink, became a bright magenta.

          "Fanel," she hissed, "I swear, I shouldn't even talk to you!" She stood primly on the comfortable chenille couch, and she reprimanded like a mother would if a child swore. She looks so cute when she's annoyed…

          He grinned like a lad, so happy he looked that for a moment she just watched him, stopping her talk.

          Their eyes met; his was warm, the color of cinnamon and raspberries, and hers the first, young color of spring leaves.

          She smiled up at him, her eyes crinkling and an understanding dawned between them. "You're an awful man, Van."

          "You humble me each time you speak," he flashed his teeth.

          She came closer to him, her face drawing closer to his, and for a moment he panicked. His eyes were widening, his breath getting caught as she inched closer with that misty look in her eyes, but she did as he had done before. She went to his ears, so that her breath grazed his ears in a manner that he found surprisingly  arousing. "My poor little virgin ears don't need to hear such things…" She wrenched away, grinning like an innocent school-girl.

          He forced a smile on his face, God, she admits!

          He truly was feeling like he was Satan. At that moment, it was so keen. That desire to just simply to pull her in his arms, just to hold her, just to feel her. Its nature wasn't sexual; it was something purer, a kind of affectionate need that he hadn't experienced with other women. The only women he'd ever embraced were his mother and his sister and that was no passionate embrace. Nay, he wanted to pull her to him so tightly and never release her.

          But her smile shrunk to a normal curve and her eyes had a very far away look. Slowly, she rose, and he observed her as she headed to the window, away from other chattering couples. Curious of what she was going to do, he silently followed her.

          She was gazing out the window, the kind of way that reminded him probably the way Juliet would've done as she'd done her monologue. Yearning. Wishing. Longing.

          He wanted to find out, it burned within him. To know the enigma, the intricacies of her mind, what behind it, what she yearned for, what she dreamed of, what troubled her.

          Outside, snow fell like angel's feathers, but the temperature outside was such that it wouldn't stick to the ground and become hazardous.

He found himself exhale a sigh.

Not wanting to startle her, he quietly stood beside her so that she would be aware of his presence. He was surprised when she spoke, her voice soft, like a little child's, "What did you always dream of, Van?"

"Hmm, in what sense?" he asked gently, not wanting to break the aura of calm that enfolded them.

"Like impossible things…things that you can't do but always wanted to be able to do."

He ran a hand around his nape and being perceptive as he was, he knew she wasn't just talking about getting an A on AP Chemistry in high school that he'd failed in getting. "What did you want to do?" He wasn't sure. He'd never considered of seemingly impossible things he'd wanted to do.

"Fly," she tilted her head to meet his eyes, her smile warm, "I always wanted to fly and touch the skies."

God, he was crazy! He was mad! But he knew the dangerous thought that was crossing his mind. He wanted to her wishes come true. It was inevitable, he should've seen it coming, but now his mind was abuzz, processing her simple wish.

He gave her a small smile, "I think you could say I wanted to do that myself many times…"

She grinned, "I was such a crazy girl when I was a kid."

His dark eyebrow shot up and if the scene wasn't so perfect, he might've even been a bit cynical in his reply. But he softened. And he wasn't sure why. "How so?"

"Well, when I was five and introduced to the wonderful thing called swings, I thought if I swung hard enough maybe I'd be able to fly and touch the skies. I used to love looking out of airplanes when we'd go through the clouds, they were always so pretty." She shook her head as if finding those thoughts ridiculous. She still was guilty of wanting to swing…the simple rush of soaring, the freedom, the wind whipping in the face, coloring her cheeks.

"Don't."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Don't trample on your dreams." He was quiet, and his face serious, stern.

She raised eyebrows doubtfully, "So, you think I can fly and touch the skies?"

He shrugged. "You never know."

They remained, looking out, as little cottony flakes, whispers of snow fell to the ground, making it look like a white wonderland of dreams.

He wasn't going to do it. Hurt her. She was too good, and he wasn't worthy of her. He'd better keep his hands off of her and god knows how tempted he would be, how painful that would be. That irrational part of him just wanted to reach his arm around her back and pull her close to him and tell her foolish things. He wanted to do these things for her, finding a desire so strong that it overpowered any sexual desire he had for her. But he knew. He'd have to let her go and allow her to walk another faceless man's arms, a man he was unreasonably angry with at the moment.

  How could he explain this mood swing? How could he explain the way he felt for her, the sheer protectiveness, possessiveness, and the need for her to talk to him, to look at him with those softened green eyes that would have men on their knees, at least he could vouch for himself. He would go on his knees and more if a single tear leaked out of those eyes only meant for sunshine, giggles and laughter; rain had no place for them. Happiness; she was meant for happiness.

That, he could not offer.

But, it was for that reason that he didn't touch her, prompt her to believe in him, to get too familiar, though others may beg to differ. What if she was some passing intriguing creature? What if this was borne from lust? The last time he'd bed a woman was six months ago and perhaps that fire was lighting because of not being with a woman.

 She needed something more than those superficial things, she deserved something permanent, stable. He'd seen countless marriages go down the drain, even though his parents' relationship was still going strong. The magic of courting faded and couples were faced with work, children, and wanting to kill themselves for the pressure put upon them and the understanding that didn't exist between them. Oh yes, he'd pondered a lot about why he didn't want to marry.

He had some values, and that being marriage would lead to kids. He didn't see marriage as two people living together, it was more intimate, they were sharing their joys, their sadness, their grief; everything. It was the absolute giving of oneself to another, body, soul, mind. The other had the key to all these and it was theirs. He didn't want his kids to grow in an environment of fighting, tears, and sorrow. Nay, he wanted what seemed idealistic: a marriage of minds. He wanted to be able to look and tell what the other was thinking, be able to understand each others wants and needs.

If he married any woman that pleased him in bed, he knew that he would be coming late, doing things that he pleased, be selfish and if he was lucky she'd nag, and if he wasn't, she'd quietly seek someone else to fill the emotional need and accept his motives and actions with the façade of a smile. There were always those willing to offer that, he thought disgustedly. He didn't want his marriage to be one of show, where the only part that made you a good couple was if your wife was hanging down your arm and you looked good in a tux and she in a dress in societal functions. 

Stuff of dreams, his thoughts were the stuff of dreams and not to be found in the world we simply called Reality. In his own way, Van Fanel was a dreamer, but this universe was not made for dreamers and it was harsh to those who chose to live by them. That's why he'd locked himself, chained his heart, so that nobody could glimpse into them.

His jaw was set, firm in place. He knew what to do now. It was inexorably drawing close and the conclusion he'd drawn did not please him. Not a bit.

Bending down, he spoke quietly, "I am going up."

She looked at him, surprised, "I'll come with you, then."

"You don't have to," he pointed out matter-of-factly, a voice so alien that she blinked twice rapidly and her face looked concerned.

"I want to; besides, are you feeling well?"

Damn.

She did the cute gesture of placing the back of her hand on his forehead, something nobody had ever done for him, at least no female that he'd only known for a couple of days. Her lips quirked into an enchanting smile,"Nope. No fever."

"Thank-you for your consultation, Doctor Kanzaki," he muttered dryly.

"Hey now, I was just caring for you! Don't need to get so huffy." Van always got the flu at least once a year and many women had run from him, only sending him get well flowers that stunk up the whole house and made his head ache; ultimately, the exorbitantly priced flowers were found lying in the trash. He'd heard many syrupy notes on the phone, voices that sickened him further.

"Are you really alright? You don't look it." she asked doubtfully, her eyes regarding him with that curious nature as if she was searching into his soul, going to the very darkest depths and seeing him for what he was. A man who wasn't worthy, a blackguard that mothers would want to fence away from their daughters. 

He ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah."

He turned on his heel, knowing very much how rude it was, but he had to do it. He had to...he had to...

He didn't want to.

Rapid footsteps behind him indicated that she was following him and immediately he quickened his pace.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed her head onwards, "Fanel, we're not racing! Just slow down!"

He paused at the foot of the stairs. Laughter drifted over from the commons where everyone was gathered. She should've been part of them, laughing with her beloved, a nameless creature that he'd begun to despise for no particular reason.

She looked up at him, "There is definitely something going on I don't understand! One moment, you're just this wonderfully funny person and the next—"

"There is nothing to understand."

She halted, her eyes grown large, calmly watching him, offering no judgment, no condemnation. They were pure. She didn't say anything and just fell in step with him as he took a stair upwards.

A shock registered when she wove her arm around his waist. And he realized exactly what she expected from him: she expected him to return the gesture. But, was he going to do it? No. Her arm was warm, and the funny heat seeped though him wherever her hand touched him.

~*~

She was pacing like a caged animal and most aggravated by the dark haired male who sat before her and typed miscellaneous things on his laptop. He'd distanced himself from her, become reserved and quiet, only answering her questions with a word or two at the most.

Resisting the urge to pull on her hair, she serenely seated herself in front of him, soothing the jeans she wore. "Look, Van," he continued on, but she knew he was listening, "Damnit! I said look at me!"

His eyes instantly rested on her, those big, inquisitive, knowing, intelligent eyes, right now emotionless. Suddenly she felt very nervous and embarrassed, No surprise, you see to be doing a good job of embarrassing yourself at every opportunity you get. "What?"

"I-I just want you stop that, stop acting like that." She straightened her spine, somehow realizing that it gave her more spine to talk to him. "Like in that annoying manner of I-don't-give-a-damn about you!"

What makes you think I do? He was mute, just watching her. But, unwillingly, he found himself talking, something he'd decided to avoid as much as possible unless it was extremely dire. "...do you give a damn about me?"

Her voice was a hushed whisper, quiet, like an abashed child's admitting to stealing cookies from the jar. "...yes."

He was rooted to the chair, his finger resting on the keyboard, seemingly paralyzed. He clenched his jaw. He would not say it; he wouldn't! ...he would.

She raised her lashes, and the full force of her eyes hit him like a bolt of lightening.

"...I do too."

A slow, sweet smile spread across her face, her eyes illuminated like some Christmas lights, his breath catching.

 Damn his weakness.

~*~

It was everywhere, snow. They were busy constructing a snow man, something he hadn't done in forever, and by now, he knew she was out of the ordinary and wasn't surprised by any of her suggestions, at one time seeming childish but finding himself even more astonished that he enjoyed it. She had the tact and sophistication of his urbane friends, but she wasn't like them at all. She was genuine, made of flesh and blood, not some flimsy creature only to be doted on from afar decked with all the shallow, phony appearances; honest and sensitive when she needed to be.

The sky was a watercolor clumsily painted upon, the light gray shades mixing with white, a concoction that gave it an ethereal, misty, manifestation.

                The snow was like feathers heaped up and as he breathed in the fresh smell, his head rising heavenward, green eyes watched him beneath thick eyelashes.

          He looked so at peace and now when he seemed relaxed, she had the fluttery feeling, like he could pass for an angel, an angel whose arms vowed an ecstatic heaven and beyond. She shivered not because of the gentle cry of the wind and continued molding her snow man.

          "What kind of masterpiece are you working on?" he called behind her shoulder.

          She bit her lip in a smile, "You'll see…" Expertly, she dug her fingers in the snow man's head, forming a little mouth that resembled wicked lips of a Halloween pumpkin. He raised his eyebrows peeking at the face she was sculpting, albeit one that looked very menacing and mean, it was still done very well.

          "Are you creating a Frankenstein there, or a man?"

          She grinned, "I didn't know you considered yourself as a Frankenstein," she shook her head mockingly, "such new revelations I discover..."

          "What was that supposed to mean?" his tone light and curious.

          "Well, this is no Frankenstein, or snow man, this is snow-Van." She grinned at his face and he burst out laughing as he saw her snow-Van. The thing was the stuff of nightmares of children with its eyes that looked stony, a little twig as his eyebrows that looked menacing and about to bite one's head off, its mouth open in a yell.

          "Funny perspective you have," he said dryly. "I never thought I looked like that," he winked roguishly; "many women have given me a more flattering appearance than that." Oh yes, once he'd bed an artist and she had painted his features, in what he considered was probably more flatteringly, saying that he was a feast for an artists eyes and surely God had been an artist of the highest order to create him thus. He'd shrugged it off.

           It was a rude, impolite thing that landed with a smack.

          A snowball.

          She grinned impishly, grabbing a fistful of snow, throwing another one at him that hit him on his chest. He ducked the next one, gathering snow in his hand and threw it full force at her which slapped her face. She brushed if off, a giggle erupting from her throat and reached for another one, not realizing that was backing away from him, laughing, and he thwacked her leg next, another one on her arm, another on her abdomen…

          It continued on seriously, him doubling over and laughing and pausing to catch his breath, she being mercilessly cruel and showering him with snow even when he was helpless, "You're a brutal woman!" he said as one smacked his back.

          "That's what Mamoru always said when we had snow ball fights too!"

          An idea formed in his head and he grinned wickedly. He trudged through the soft snow, coming closer and closer to her, all the while she aimed snow balls at him. It wasn't until he was five feet away from her did she looked slightly frightened, "Wh-why are you grinning like that?"

          "Oh, and now it's a crime to grin?"

          "No, no, I didn't say that!" she stepped back and he ran full force. She didn't see it coming, and was astounded as she hit the ground, resting on the soft snow. Cold. It was so cold as snow began to rapidly cover her. It was Van. He'd tackled her to the ground, tickling her until she fell and covering her swiftly with snow.

          "Now, now, princess, just taking your word for wanting to be covered in six feet of snow." He gave her an angelic grin and she couldn't help but sputter as he kept piling the snow on higher and higher.

          "St-stop! I was kidding! It's too cold!" she moaned, but he continued anyway.

          "Only if you admit it." He grinned wolfishly.

            "Admit what?" giving him a look of ice and daggers, and perhaps a bit of annoyance.

          He paused for a moment, "Admit that you prefer my warmth to the snow."

          She looked at him as if he was insane, and her eyes narrowed, "You're better than the snow." She huffed, trying to get up, but he gently pushed her down, hovering over her, "I did it, now just let me go!"

          "Now, now, sweetheart, I didn't say verbally admitting it." He was having too much fun, he knew it, but it was getting very interesting. Her eyes were rounding, expecting the most horrible of things to come out of his lips.

          "Then how?" she became irritated at her own nervousness and bit her chapped lips.

          "Actions speak louder than words. A kiss from you."

          He was as astonished with his suggestion as she was though his external appearance was calm.

          "Eat snow, Fanel!" she hissed.

          "Anywhere, anytime. One kiss," he continued, "I'll tell you when."

          She clenched her jaw in an obstinate way, "Might as well give up, continue with your covering." She wasn't like many of the women who gave their kisses freely, without restrains. No, kisses were special and only for exceptional individuals. She did care for him, but he was still a stranger, no matter how at ease she felt near him, or how much he made her laugh, or how she trusted him that he wouldn't hurt her.

          He sighed and started the miserable task again, "Tsk tsk, your mother never taught you to compromise?"

          She gave him an icy look, "I don't compromise myself for trivial things and this is definitely not the kind of compromise my mother would approve of."

          He raised his dark eyebrows and she winced as snow covered her jeans now, "Always looking for approval, aren't you?"

          "No," she grit her teeth, "I go by my values."

          He gave a sigh, "Sometimes you need to relax a bit."

          "You relax too much," she shot back.

          "Well then," he stopped piling up the snows on her, "Why don't you want to kiss me?" he grinned, "promise, I don't bite!"

          She rolled her eyes, "I don't know how you govern yourself, but kisses are special things," her eyes became like a summery green pool and soft, "they're not to be carelessly given or taken."

          God, if she felt that way about kisses, what did she think of lovemaking? Suddenly, he felt very uncomfortable, uncomfortable about his past and his activities. He'd taken pleasure in such things without thinking too much… He'd been careless, selfish. Near her, he felt unclean, tainted, and the Devil himself. If he had any morals, or any scruples, he'd withdraw the little offer. But he wasn't a gentleman, and desire hit him hard, wanting to just bend down now and take her lips in his. The battle raged on within him and he came to the conclusion if after ten minutes she didn't relent, he'd not force her and let her go. He didn't want her to get hurt or cold. Heh, besides, you can warm her afterwards in bed…He lingered on the last thought more than he cared to admit, and the sensations of this morning came back to him and he resisted the urge to groan and pull her to him.

          However the next thing she said offhandedly had her captive. The mouse was ensnared and the cat loomed over… "Besides, I have no desire to kiss you." Therein she stumbled in a trap, she couldn't convince him that she had 'no desire' especially after awaking each morning by her side, engaging in touching each other.

          He chuckled, "Really?" his eyes laughed, "if that's what's holding you back, sweet, you know I could fix that quite willingly. It'll be painless!" He inched closer to her face.

          "Move away, Fanel, before I decide that you need a concussion!" she said, her face, a mixture of fierceness, fright and…pride.

          "Well, your call. You said it." He cheerily pulled away.

          Minutes passed…six…seven…eight… She was rigid in position, not moving, and the look on her face softened him. He was going to stop and pull her off the ground, be a gentleman—

          "Stop." She whispered, "…I'll do it."

          He blinked, not sure if he'd heard correctly. Somehow, it wounded him to think that she'd not won the race, and he'd forced her to this. He felt, not for the first time, like a lecherous man, bent on taking her innocence.

          Placing his two hands on her waist, he lifted her, telling himself that it was impersonal, that he hadn't been doing it to touch her. She gave him a dirty look, "Give me one reason to continue talking to you?"

          He smiled helplessly, "You care for me?"

          She snorted, "Right." She dusted away the snow from her body and shivered madly, rubbing her arms, hoping friction would create some more heat. "Now, I'll be cold the whole day," she muttered, not hearing his voice that had spoken.

          "…I wouldn't be too sure about that, now."

          When the stepped into the hotel, many eyes went over to them, some smiling and giving her knowing looks. She wasn't quite sure of why… And then it hit her. Her hair was bedraggled, her cheeks glowing from the cold, the incorrigible man grinning in a very satisfied manner…

          She groaned inwardly; the people probably thought that they'd had a nice 'tumble' in the snow! She gave him a helpless look, hoping that he'd stop grinning like that clarify that they'd not been having a 'nice tumble in the snow'. Oh yes, like he'd go and announce that you two weren't touching or anything like that…fine thing to say, Kanzaki. Knowing him, he probably wants them to think that and is enjoying your response!

          She just went up to go and change when she was met with the round, wrinkly face of Aya, the innkeeper's wife's sister. She came to her lovingly, reminding her of a grandmother and fussed with her. "Now, now, Hitomi, you'll catch croup or a bad cold; you go on upstairs," Hitomi had to bend down because she her voice was raspy with age, "go wear something nice for dinner, we're havin' a candle lit dinner tonight. Romantic for the couples." The woman with kind brown eyes winked with a kind smile.

          "What for?" she asked as they headed toward the staircase; Van had retreated behind them, giving them space.

          "Well, the couple who founded this lil' town o' ours, it's their anniversary today. We always celebrate it," she gave a beatific smile, "that's why we value love here a lot. It was their dedication, their guidance that made this town flourish, but above all, it was their love."

          "Quaint," she observed, nodding in agreement.

          "Aye, now go on and fix your lil' disheveled state," her eyes laughed at her, sparkling like a young girl's, "your husband is quite a fine looking man, canna blame ye for not being able to keep yer hands to yourself."

          Bright, flashing flags stained her smooth cheeks and she wanted to correct the woman and tell her that a) he wasn't her husband and b) she had not touched him! But she just nodded and continued on and her old friend left her side, giving a secretive smile to her 'husband' who was mildly amused. He'd caught the last few sentences of their conversation and if Hitomi knew that she'd probably be beyond mortification.

          She told him casually as they stepped into their room, "Wear something nice tonight."

          He gave her a look of mock offense, "You mean my clothes aren't nice?"

          Knowing what he wanted to hear, she spoke dryly, phrasing it in a manner that seemed more like something he'd say, "They are so nice that women don't want you to remove them."

          "Ouch. Injure me some more." He gave her a lazy grin.

          "Shower's yours," she mumbled as she attacked her suitcase, searching for her attire. Looking back she gave him a warning look, "I am going to take a bath today, and I might be tempted to drown any Peeping Toms."

          He threw back his head and laughed, "Now, you know you want a slave to wash your back."

          "I can handle that very well, thank-you, very much," she threw back sarcastically.

          "Killjoy."

          "Exactly. Now, go will you?"

          He grumbled, "And to think that you cared about me…"

~*~

          He tapped the floor anxiously pulling on his coat. It was around half past six and he'd expected her fifteen minutes ago. Women; never trust them to be on time when it considered dressing up. He sighed as he absently saw a pretty dark haired woman pass in a ridiculously short skirt, but it made him smile. His Hitomi would probably be too cold in that skirt so she'd never wear it, also probably it was too short and based on what he'd found out, she would not be caught dead in them.

          He whistled to himself airily, a content smile on his face, his eyes heading towards the top of the stairs—

          And paused.

          Oh. My. God. The image sunk in and Van Fanel was sure even though till the moment he died, he'd never forget the first moment he saw her in a dress.

          She was stunning, literally.

          With that shy look that sought his approval, she carefully stepped down, the heels being two inches long. Her gown was a flowing whitish-cream wrap dress that exposed her shoulders and fell down to her calves, yet the material was whispery. The body of the dress of cream had an overlay of gauzy fabric, giving it a look of simplicity and elegance.

          And he was very attracted to that figure. She gave him a hesitant smile, not sure of what to make of his intense gaze. Does he like it? You couldn't tell, the way he was looking at her. He was merely gaping as if indeed she was an angel with wings. Gaping like a little middle-schooler who'd never seen a girl in a dress before.

          It highlighted her curves and gave her a very feminine appeal. It was going to be tonight, tonight he would ask for a kiss. Her hair hung down and was nicely parted, her pink lips needed no lipstick and she'd skipped the blush, knowing full well that when she was with him, blush was no problem.

          She wasn't sure the kind of impression she made on him; Allen had always insisted on taking her to a parlor and getting her hair intricately done, applying all sorts of cosmetics to enhance her features, and even then he hadn't looked at the way the dangerously handsome man, Van Fanel, gazed at her. She noticed he did not look too bad himself; nay, she was lying if she said that. He looked too good to be true, so much so that it was criminal! It was sinful to be so beautiful! Seriously, Hitomi, breathe in and out…

          When she was only a foot away from her, he reached up and clutched one of her hands, a gesture that was almost endearing. She blinked up at him. He needed to touch her and check if she was real, and the best neutral gesture was holding hands, at least then he wouldn't scare her away…

          "Shall we?" her voice a bit unsteady, her eyes wavering, nervous.

          "Yes," he spoke, "but only after I tell you how beautiful you look. Don't want any other man to say it before I do."

          She blushed slightly, "And I think you're looking excellent yourself," she looked away, not wanting to see his face, because she'd turn into some ungodly color of pink. You didn't need to consult a coloring chart to see the different shades of red and pink; you just needed to see Hitomi's face. 

          Candles were lit everywhere as they made their way and Van noticed how well his Hitomi's legs were shaped, getting a violent stab of possessiveness and jealousy that they were there for any man to see. Fanel, keep your eyes to her face, don't you even stray down…He had no business looking at her well fashioned, long legs and even more so to think of things pertaining to it. Well, why the hell does the rest of the male population get to look at them? Oh, because the rest of the male population does not go beyond the fact that she has long legs…and they'd better not, replied his other side. Illogically, only he had the right to go beyond…

          They sat on the table as dinner was being served, tonight's specialty being steak. She cleared her throat at the silence that was on their table, while others chatted loudly, "You're awfully quiet tonight. Ran out of dirty thoughts?" She baited him with that glowing smile.

          "Well, what thought seemed particularly 'dirty' to you, sweetheart?" His eyes laughed in amusement and he knew she was stuck.

          She wouldn't be so easily caught telling him about what he'd said and the only thing she could probably say was the comment he'd made earlier. "Well, there was that 'verbalizing fantasies' thing back there…"

          "Oh don't tell me you don't have any fantasies?" he scoffed, enjoying her being uncomfortable all too much.

          She chose that particular time to take a sip of her wine; at least that would buy her some time on how to reply to his question, "I don't know," she said lamely.

          "Really?" he chuckled.

          "This isn't exactly an appropriate dinner topic, you know." She huffed, and racked her mind to think of another subject suitable enough to converse about, "You're different, now."

          "How, so?" he asked curiously.

          She twirled her fork in the lasagna, "I don't know. You were harsh when you picked me up, bit of an ass, if you allow me to say,"

          He grinned, "Such intelligent vocabulary."

           "And now, you're just…"

          "Different?" his brows were raised, his lips, smiling.

          "Exactly!"

          "Well, I suppose so," he winked, "I didn't want to pick up a murderer or something."

          "More like I am stuck with one…"

          He nearly choked on his wine with suppressed laughter, "Why would I murder you?"

          She was amused, and it brought an absurd dose of pleasure to him. "Well, for one, I am more afraid of going insane than dying really."

          "Awful woman you are, exactly know how to how make a man feel good."

          "I am sure other women have covered that job pretty well," she remarked wryly. It wasn't until a few seconds later that it took him to register that she was probably referring to a physical sense.

          He was vaguely humored and didn't respond. They continued eating their meal when she raised her eyes questioningly to him and asked him the last thing he'd expected to hear. "Will you marry?"

          His face snapped up to hers. How different that question would've been if she'd added a 'me' at the end. "No." He said flatly.

          "Why?" she frowned. "Nothing wrong with marrying."

          "Well, let's just say, I don't want to be a lousy man when I marry." She raised her eyebrows wordlessly asking him to explain. "I don't know…the heat fades somehow for most couples when they marry, wives are left waiting for their husbands, husbands feeling restricted…you know…all that responsibility. Take it for example, you like coming home late, you have a furious wife waiting to strangle you, probably kids waiting to see you." He shrugged, observing her changing faces, and the soft look.

          "Well," she approached the topic quietly, "I think if you were in love with your wife you would be the first person rushing out of the office to get home." She cocked her head up at him, bestowing a gamin grin. "It's quite obvious, you're probably not ready for love and you're probably looking for her."

          "Her?"

          "The Right One," she straightened her back, "the One who makes you want to not even go to work, to just stay by her side, to talk to her all night long. Being with her makes you feel like there aren't enough hours in the day, not many days in a year, for all the things you want to do together, talk together, see together…" a small  smile touched her face, and he realized that this was what she wanted. Unconsciously, this was what she was revealing about her dreams. Stubbornly, she believed in thing called 'love.' It had to exist. Simply had to…if only for her sake.

          He was hushed and he met her eyes slowly, almost reluctantly, "and what do you do when you see her?"

          "You court her and make her fall in love with you, of-course, and then get married and have a life of happiness."

          Really? Was it that simple?

          His next question however was more difficult to answer, "Well, does everyone meet their One?"

          "I don't know, I want to believe so, but," she titled her head in thought, "everyone gets a chance of meeting them once, and if they aren't blind they'll realize that they're right for each other. Some don't, and they may be torn because of societal rules, regulations and others simply because they expected someone else…" she shrugged.

          He found her thoughts intriguing and it kindled the fire to his curiosity. "What are you doing to prepare for not missing him and overlooking him?"

          She shrugged, "You can't really do anything but have your eyes opened on a look out. Sometimes, they're the last people you'd expect to fall for…"

          …those last few phrases hung in the air, ominously, the irony not noticed by both.

           He sipped his wine, watching her head in concentration. Would he ever find the Right One?

          But the bigger question that he lingered on was: Who would be her right one? Surely not Allen…

~*~

          Music tumbled as a guest played the piano, a very pretty piece and some couples had begun to waltz in the open room. She jumped when he grasped one of her hands in his big, warm one. "Can you waltz, sweet?"

          "Yes," though she didn't remember the last time she'd waltzed. Maybe in the high school graduation dance…

          His eyes were dangerous, dark embers of fire and wood. She placed a hand on his chest, all the while watching him, his one arm weaving around her waist, and he held her other hand in his. The music was slow, having an unearthly, engaging melody.

          She could feel his body heat, hear the erratic heartbeats, hers or his, she wasn't sure. He pulled her even closer, his head just grazing her shoulder.

          And he whispered.

          "Do you know how beautiful you look when you smile, Hitomi? When you laugh? When you embarrass yourself?" Why the hell was he saying this? Because he needed to. He was afraid; if he didn't verbalize things, he might actually start demonstrating the intensity of his thoughts i. e. touch her. He couldn't hurt her; it was a mantra in his mind, always keeping him in check.

           Her throat ached, and she stayed there, swaying slightly, just enjoying his warmth, his touch. His dark hair richly contrasted with his golden-honey like skin, his shoulders broad and lean, his thighs, strong and having a singular torridness of its own. Aye, she could feel the heat of his legs, his chest, and to the tips of her fingers. He was everywhere to her, and for those moments as they swayed to the lilting sound of the music, they were each other's universe, each other's air, so ardently they felt each other's presence.

          They didn't realize when it was that they'd stopped dancing, and her hands had wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his chest, his arms encircling her and holding her so closely pressed to his body. It was a tenderly fierce embrace and they were lost in each other, so deeply immersed in each other that one couldn't even tell where one began and another started. They didn't leave space for a molecule to squeeze in.

          The last few traces of the spell remained as a young couple tapped them on the back telling them that pictures of various couples and family were being taken in the adjoining room.

          The wrenched away, slowly, as if they'd been joined by glue and it took effort to just part.

          Her confused eyes collided with his, but he gave her a tiny smile and they took each others hands, each gripping it tightly and went to the designated room.

          "Now, now," the man with the high-tech looking camera came to them, "why don't you stand in front of your husband," his voice was authoritative, bossy, and not a question. Hitomi followed the directions, even though slightly exasperated. "And you, yes, you stand behind her, just lean in, exactly like that, yes, yes, good."

          Van didn't need directions on how to hold Hitomi; he gave him a dark look. He knew exactly how; he pulled her back to his chest, his fingers interlocking on her abdomen. They were very much cognizant of each other's bodies and their faces looked tensed.

          "Now, now, think of your happiest moment together," he tried to relax them.

          Various memories crossed her mind… his teasing, his laughter, him kissing her nose… Her eyes betrayed her and she found herself turning and cocking her head to face him. And smiled. His lips curved, fire present in his eyes. But now, he didn't want to scorch or burn her alone. Nay, he wanted her to see the fire that dwelled in him, for her. He wanted her to accept the fire and be part of it, feel as scorched as he did; he wanted them to burn together.

          The camera flashed and the moment was immortalized forevermore in the confines of a glossy paper.

          "You can pull away now," the man said, slightly amused.

          The picture was done, now.

          "Oh right," she mumbled and tried to fight his arms away which did not want to let go.  He released her, his eyes unfathomable, which she felt forced to look into.

          "What?" her voice was hushed.

          "I want it. Now." The voice that came forth was husky, rough, like a tuft of grainy cotton.

            Her eyes riveted to him, frightened, and her hands shook. For the third time in the day, he took it in his, "Shh…don't be afraid."

          She gulped and whispered, "At least not here!"

          "Alright," he took her hand and they wandered in the hallways, coming in the kitchen.

          She sniffed the air of chicken pies and salads. "Right, how romantic."

          "Another place you have in mind?" he grinned.

          "No, no," she searched desperately to hold onto to something because her knees felt weak. How would he react? Was she brave enough? He'd find her, she had the horrible feeling. "Are you sure you don't want some of that wine? Or dessert?"

          "No." I want you; you're headier than wine, sweeter than any dessert.

           "Alright, alright," she said irritably, her voice higher suddenly, "only on one condition though." She met his eyes, challenging to refuse. "You have to close your eyes and bend down; you're too god-awful tall!"

          He chuckled, amused by her request, and also pleased. No, she pleased him too much. "At your service, my damsel."

          The camera man whistled lowly to himself, remembering that he'd left another in the kitchen.

          And suddenly he paused in his place, his hold on the camera tightening.

          Yes, she was supposed to hold his face in place, and slowly, the palms of her hand ran over his skin that was like rough velvet. She absently caressed his skin for a few moments, not intentionally, but because she had gone astray in just the feel of his skin. He didn't open his mouth to complain but tensed under her hands; they were swiftly arousing him, and God, how badly he wanted to taste her!

          She stopped, her hands firmly in place now, and bent her head to let her lips graze his proud, straight, nose.

          Somewhere, a camera flashed.

          She pulled her hands away and she knew he was expecting her to kiss him on the mouth, on his sensually shaped lips that even tempted her. But no; kisses were auspicious, she reminded herself, not given because his lips were particularly well shaped, as if made for kissing.

           But she did what she had planned to do.

          She ran, well as fast as you could run in two inch heels.

          He tried to tell himself that the clicking of the sandals weren't her and he snapped his eyes open, to see her turn in a corner. The little minx! He followed her, running, chasing her like a little boy and when he curved around the corner, he couldn't see her anywhere. The cameraman stood near the hallway and winked at him. He walked calmly to him and whispered, "Check the closet to the right, that's where your miss went."

          He gave him a grateful look, "Thanks!"

          Alright, so she wanted to play cat and mouse. He would. For minutes he roamed about the hallways, ridiculously calling her name, trying to not gain her suspicion, and think she was given away so that he'd have to chase her again. Nay, he wanted her cornered.

          She panted and touched her hands to her cheek. God! What did she think, she could escape him? They did sleep in the same room, on the same bed! What if he tried it in bed? But she'd ridiculously ran. Then again, she did fulfill his bet. She had nothing to fear.

          She did apparently when the door knob twisted and stepped in the last person the face of the universe she wanted to see—Van.

          He gave her an amused smile, "Nice foreplay, sweetheart."

          "Wh-what do you mean?" It was a coat closet and she reflexively found herself burying her skull deeper in the coats, trying to get as much distance as she could from him.

          "What I mean is exactly what I said. Obviously, you haven't fulfilled your bet. I didn't get my kiss." He inched even closer, his eyes so heated that they were like red melting lava on a mountain of rich brown earth. She was nervous and her hands started to become clammy. God, she was a woman of twenty four! She shouldn't be so frightened…but she knew that this man's kiss would be different, different in a very perilous manner. She was scared of what he'd make her feel. He had such control over her body, needing only a moment to have her scalded, bathed in his heat.

          "I bet that I would give you a kiss, you didn't specify where," she said stiffly. "I fulfilled my bargain."

          "You knew what I meant," he taunted her, "What happened to your morals now? Cheating is cheating."

          "I don't think it's very respectable of a gentleman to ask a lady for a kiss for a bet," she said, backing away from him, knowing that there was a wall and she was going to get trapped. Damn.

          He laughed, "Many men have bet on a kiss, haven't you read novels?" All the while, he'd breached the distance between them, so that she was beneath him, pinned to the wall, his hot breath fanning her.

          "This is not a novel," she said stubbornly, meeting his eyes fiercely. Many a romance novel had the woman stuck in such positions and she would too maybe dream of being stuck in a closet with a sinfully, hot, vital male, but this was not what she'd imagined. No, no, no! She wanted to go back to just fantasizing and sometimes she realized, these little fantasies came to haunt you; great, so now God was against her.

          He frowned darkly, "Well, I am not respectable and certainly not very gentlemanly so you needn't concern yourself with that." If only he wouldn't be so close to her, if only he'd step away, she was breathing shallowly and for a moment she considered faking a faint. "Besides, I don't want you to illusion into thinking I am any of those."

          Her eyes were like green blazes, "You're a barbaric, uncouth…pirate!"

          "Why thank you very much, I always wanted to be one when I was a lad," he said in mild amusement, his lips curving into a smile that a god would be jealous of. It was a nice analogy, he was going to steal something from her; he might as well be a pirate stealing her treasured kiss.

          She started trembling, and raised her hands to lie on his chest. She felt very drained and edgy, and not meeting her eyes, she gave away one of her weakness to him. "I-I am afraid."

          "Afraid?" his voice was tender, gentle, not mocking. Concerned. He was in no hurry.

          She faced him, "I am afraid, I don't have very much experience in these matters…and I don't kiss quite well." She looked at the wall of his chest, because she knew she couldn't make herself look into his eyes.

          "Sweetheart," he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him, "I am not going to turn into some Beast, I am a man and will remain that way." He knew that the best way to wrench her out of her shyness was by teasing. "Even though, Belle kissed the Beast and he turned into a man, I am afraid; I don't have such a dire curse. The most it could do by getting kissed by a Damsel is maybe I'd turn into an angel from a Devil as you call me." He gave her a crooked grin. A dire curse would be that I might want to kiss you again… He was afraid as well; afraid that one taste of her lips wouldn't be enough. But this was a test; if she was a passing curiosity then one taste would be enough and if not…God help him!

          His comments brought a smile to her face and he relaxed, his arm rested on the wall, "Now, are you ready?"

          "No," he gave a laugh at frank her answer. She seemed uncertain, but at least not frightened.

          His other hand stroked her jaw, her cheeks, softly, gently, as if he was venerating her skin. "I am going to teach you how to, darling."

          With those words, he didn't even give her a moment to pause or say something. He dipped his head, finding her mouth.

          Her lips were like rose petals, it's softness inviting and his lips molded over hers, his body covering her head to toe, his one hand on her nape, his other on her waist, pulling her closer. She was sandwiched between him and the wall, a palm pressed onto his chest, another on his shoulder and couldn't help but become swept up in the most ardently fierce kiss she'd ever received.

          He kissed devastatingly, consuming not only her lips, but her mind, leaving her unable to utter a coherent thought, her body paralyzed in a mist of emotions that she couldn't even begin to decipher. His mouth was experienced as he sucked on her bottom lip, eliciting a moan from her.

          Briefly, he pulled away, both being shocked at their lost contact, "Kiss me back, darling!" It was a plea, a request, a command.

          And she gave in. She couldn't even think now, becoming a mere shell, entrapped in his kiss, spellbound to his calling. This time, it was her who caught his lips, and she used all his tricks on him, at first being a gentle mating of two lips, her body pressing to his, so that she was leaning onto him. He groaned low in his throat and she could feel his hard body over her.

          Then, the kiss became violently tender, nipping, sucking, tasting, skimming. While her inexperienced skating lips took command of his body, her hands all over him, touching, caressing, soothing, and maddening him to the brink. He nearly lost control as he pushed her to the wall, his lips taking control, and he didn't know when he became from the seducer to the seduced. Very feverishly seduced.

           His hands became frantic; brushing her sides, feeling the supple skin beneath that was just layers of whisper-like cloth away. Their kiss was hot, urgent, need laced in every second, and it wasn't until he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips, seeking entrance, did she realize what she was doing, what she had done, and what they were about to do.

          "Stop, Van," she pleaded against his mouth, "Please stop, Van!"

          Never before had a woman refused him and it took him moments to rise up from the precarious sea of need, desire and want he'd been sinking very rapidly into.     

          His eyes were like magenta coals, his face dark with passion, his body thoroughly aroused. And she says she doesn't kiss well!!! They were silent, heaving against each other, catching their breaths, still holding each other, getting back to reality.

          His chest ached, and the sheer effort that took him to leave the pleasure of her lips nearly killed him. He tore away from her. He was like one of the thirsty desert men given only a drop of water and expected to quench his thirst. He had to mentally chain his body, restrict it, because he knew if he got a chance, his lips would be where they seemed to belong: on her, and not just her lips. He inhaled deeply, the intake soothing him very slightly, and he crushed her to him, eliciting a gasp from her lips and a protest, "Van!"

          "Shh, Hitomi. Darling, you don't want me to let you go." For once he was glad she knew what he was referring to, because she was he realized, probably as bit aroused as he was. If he could see her face, he would be loosing all the last few threads of control and go berserk and indeed turn into a full blown Devil. Her kiss awakened the passion that he'd kept within him, the brutal, undiluted sensuality that no other woman evoked. Nay, he did not become an angel.

          It seemed like an Eternity when his iron grip loosened and gradually, little by little, he released, with each bit, feeling colder, and colder, as if he was also letting go of something that belonged to him. She doesn't belong to you! No, no! Damn you, Fanel! You aren't going to get out of this without scathing her...

          ...or yourself.

          The realization sunk into him. She was no passing curiosity. Then, what was she, exactly? He was uncertain.

          Now, the overarching question was: what was he supposed to do? He couldn't ignore it, no and neither could or should she.

          This was a time to be honest; honesty was always a good way to tackle problems, but he wasn't quite sure if the situation they were in was a 'problem.' "I am not sorry I kissed or you kissed me back." He heaved, and he stood up straight, lightly with his graceful fingers brushed her hair into some semblance of order.

          Her lips were swollen and red, no longer remaining the innocent pink. She appeared thoroughly ravaged, even though they hadn't even deepened their kiss. She was also angry. "I hate you!" she hissed and her eyes were glinting, "you come along smiling, kiss me until I can't even hear my thoughts, and then have the nerve to say that! Damn you, Van Fanel! Why did you do this?" Even bitterness and anger couldn't mask the hurt that was evident in every word she spoke.

          He knew what she was referring to. Kisses were special tokens, tokens of love, and this was no such thing. Van Fanel didn't know such a thing even existed and he surely wasn't going to pledge undying love to her.

          She blinked.

          The scintillating colors of the rainbow were locked into the lone tear as it ran its course down the cheek. She raised her hand to scrub it off, but he stopped her swiftly. Keeping her hand in place by his, the fingers of his other hand wiped her tear away.

           "I am sorry you're hurt, but I won't apologize because we kissed." His answer was firm, final and sure.

          He only met her vulnerable, wobbly smile that screamed she was as affected by the kiss as he was. "I never knew flying was this exhilarating."

          He was stunned. 

~*~

          The events of the evening hadn't been erased and he had a strange feeling that he'd never disregard, or fail to remember what her lips felt on his, or any of the minute details of their pleasure.

          The room was dimly lit and her eyes were closed and sleeping. She'd been quiet, reticent, having those questioning eyes that seemed to know him, know whatever went in his mind, in his dark soul.

          The last time he'd been on his knees it had probably been when he was seven and because he'd wanted a bicycle from God. But now, he found himself doing exactly that and this time he sought forgiveness, his motivation purely un-selfish.

          His dark hair labeled him a dark fellow whose one look from his auburn eyes could leave a female soulless. He had a face was sculpted richly with details as if an artist had spent ages just making him. His jaw was firm and strong, his dark lashes long against the wheat-golden skin of his face that had women fantasizing about its texture, specifically how it would feel under their lips, their hands...

          ...and the only woman he cared for wanted to kiss his nose in a gesture that represented her ultimate sweetness.

          He found himself on his knees, watching her, just watching her quietly. She didn't deserve something cheap, some little fling, enlightenment in the wonders of lovemaking. His words were disjointed, not even making sense to him but little by little coherent phrases began, "God, I haven't laughed so much in my entire life than just laughing with you for two days. I am no knight for you, darling, I can't be one. You said, I am a pirate, a Devil; both of which you have no room for in your life.  You need someone better, who'll protect you, love you, treasure you..."

          He noticed the subtle shape of her eyebrow changing but he continued on, not even waiting to check if she was asleep or awake. "Do you know what I thought you were when I saw you? An angel. God, if I could be killed for every time I felt jealous, I think I would be turning in my grave now. You know who I am jealous of, don't you? Your Right One. I despise him, and I am jealous of him in an ungodly way. I don't even have any right over you!" his face darkened, "But sometimes, I want you to not smile so sweetly, not laugh like sunshine, not be so...wonderful." Her iris moved beneath her lids rapidly. Was she dreaming? Aye, probably of her knight in shining armor.

          Which. Was. Not. Him.

            His jaw hardened, face taut, "And you know what I wanted to secretly be able to feel? I wanted to know what paradise felt like." He gave a low, ironic chuckle, "Mother always lectured me on being steadfast in my prayers, always talked about the wonders of paradise and I just wanted to do know what it felt like. Do you want to know what it feels like? Your kiss felt like I tasted Paradise. You are my Paradise, sweetheart. You're the closest I'll ever come to it." He breathed raggedly, "I am afraid Devils and pirates aren't exactly the type to be granted passage to Heaven." A lock covered her face and he gently, with the tips of his fingers, brushed it to the side. "You deserve a Paradise of your own. Go make some man the happiest mortal alive...and know what? Be happy. You deserve to be the happiest woman in the world." His mouth got very, very dry and his voice became more and more broken so much that he had to pause. "But can I ask you a favor? Don't amuse him as much as you make me laugh, please? And don't call him Devil or pirate, either."

          He looked at her lovely face, "Till your Right One comes, I am going to be a selfish bastard and be a possessive man and take care of you."

          He couldn't continue anymore. He knew it; the tightening of his throat, the need that his lips felt to touch hers, his arms as if made only for the purpose of holding her in place. Near him, to him, until he could hear her heartbeats with his own.

          He turned to get up, and going to his side of the bed, he silently parted the covers and slithered in, covering her and himself. Tonight, he wouldn't touch her, pull her to himself and be selfish--  

          She shifted on the bed, surging to a sitting position, her eyes wide open and shining like two jewels, her hair tumbling over her, and her mouth agape. An aching whisper tore from her chest, she'd heard everything. "Van!"

          He didn't even stop to think, to reason, to feel the sensitivity of the situation and every promise he'd made, every vow went out the window to the oblivion.

          He did what came natural: he snatched her in his arms in a bone crushing embrace. It embodied everything, longing, the ache, the need. It took him a moment to sense she was shaking and whispering fiercely, the things she said melting any Devil. "I don't want a knight in shining armor, Van. Devil, angel, pirate, whatever you are; I want you. I want you."

          Her curves melted over him, and he didn't realize the moment he begun kissing her, zipping his lips over the column of her neck, the contact like that of a feather, coming to softly kiss her cheek, her nose, her eyelids and then violently overwhelming her with his powerful embrace. Her hands were holding him tightly to her and he thought he would be the last person who'd ever say such a tender thing, "Don't let go of me, darling! Just don't..." It was an unbearably close hug, and slowly, they pushed themselves on the bed, so even in lying, they held each other intensely. He pressed his lips to her hair, not asking for more, not wanting to want more! It seemed that nothing heightened the proximity between them, and hence he pulled her to lie on top of him, making the position as comfortable as he could.

          Their heartbeats were the rhythm to this new feeling, each one ironically memorizing another, knowing for some quaint reason that they needed to do so.

          When Van Fanel had kissed her it was as if he'd engraved his lips upon hers, branded himself on her, marked her. No matter how much she scrubbed, how much water she used to cleanse her lips, she would never rid of the sensation of his lips on hers, the feel, the melting sweetness, the promise of his kiss, the sweet abandon.

          She curved her arm around his neck, their body intimately touching every place it could. Her left palm rested at the side of his chest, which he encompassed with his own providing a steady source of warmth, and neither realized the absolute tenderness of the gesture.

          Thus they slept, wrapped in the embrace of a mysterious element heard more often of, than seen, yet one that these two individuals hadn't the vaguest idea of.

           Love.

~But this, in which there is no I or you,
So intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
So intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.~
 
--Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII "I Do Not Love You"

Review Replies:

Chan Yoruyamatiha: What do you think of the tension, NOW? XD, it is growning…and growing quite exponentially…*cackles* feel sorry for poor Van though…

Fluffy'sbabe: Allen…hmm…ye'll be seeing him, will have Hitomi dealin' with him. ^_______^; Thanks for commenting and reading!!! ^_^

Sakura Onto Hitomi: Thanks. ^_^ Here was more…

Sirit0: O_o;; Do you know how much your reviews make me quake in my chair?? You scare me, if you don't mind me saying…XD, too weird…I hope there's not a way to kill over the net…*gulps and yells for Van to protect her* Heh, what did you think of this chapter?

Bisexual Pygmy: Nope, that wasn't Chid. ^^;;

Vi3tBaBi: Sorry about the spacing, that's why I said to paste it onto Microsoft word…^^;;;…but glad you liked the fluff…how was this chapter, now? XD Fluffy enough? ^_~

Angelfires: Thanks! ^_^ I did keep on going. ^_~

Dreamingofflyingaway: XD that's apparently what Hitomi dreams of as well…flying away. *blushes* Gosh, you know how to inflate someone's nonexistent ego, surely! -_-;; No, no no, there's not much to the blonde woman…sorry. This story is pretty straightforward and basically one of discovering that sometimes the right person for you is the last one you'd expect to be…err..that would be Allen, ne (ughh, but he's not it!!). Anyway, thanks a bunch. ^_^ Always enjoy your "badgering."

Kawaii neko: Nope, the blonde woman was insignificant…it wasn't Milly… ^_^;;;  Yeah, I noticed the messed up formatting…gyah, I am gonna edit this ficced all nicely once I am done, including formatting. ^_^; Thanks though for still reading!!

Daisy31: Heh, that's good to hear! ^________^ Was this interesting enough? *winks* Man, this chapter came out fast, I had it done on Wednesday… ^^;;

Kya77: Glad ye liked the chapter. ^________^ What do you think of this one? And what was confusing? O.O;;; Just wanna clear your confusion…

Blubb: XD, I am glad I am humoring everyone. ^________^ How was this one? LOL! Your review made me laugh/smile…I know, I'd like to pull Allen by his hair and make him bald or something…XD, I was ye knowing, messing with the idea of making him gay in this one…heh, nothing against gay people, though. ^^; Keep reviewing!! You made me smile!!

Wink57CS: heeey!! Thanks a loot! XD, I know, this is a major one for any girl's dreams and fantasies…*high five with Franzi* and especially her. XD, I don't think I'll ever think of hitchhiking during the winter snow as same… Feminine mush? ^______^ Hey, it's never bad to be feminie…especially when it concerns Van…^__________^

Epiphanystars: Thanks a lot!! ^____^ Aye, I am glad it has a mixture of sweetness…how was this chapter? XD ^_^ I enjoyed writing this immensely.

Psycangotic: Two in the morning? O.o;;; Gosh, girl, what were you doing awake at that ungodly hour? Heh, I usually close my lil' circus (my mind…-_-;;) by one at max…though I must say I've been staying up till 2:30 these days just thinking and listening to music… Anywhoo! Glad you liked it!! R&R!!

AtZiRk: Whoa…isn't it, erm, painful to type like that? XD ^_^ How long are they gonna stay at the hotel…Weeell, I can't blow the cover…:p you'll have to stick around and find out…but the length of this chapter should give you a hint…*huffs*…did I say something? ^_~

SabineballZ: *cowers* Soorry! Yeah, yeah, the length of this chapter did good for me, and it's gonna be 7 chapters long as planned. ^_________^ I am sorry if that disappoints you, but it's gonna be over 100 pages of Verdana 10 pt of reading in the end, I can tell you that. ^_______^ Thanks a lot for reviewing… the story is coming to a close very quickly…*sighs* already more than half-way finished…

Ali: *blushes* I am glad you enjoyed it!! How was this, now?

Miroku34: *giggles* Weeell, one o' my most consistent reviewers, what did you think of this one? LOL if the previous one left you speechless, wonder what this did to you…*muses and laughs* ^_________^ Thank-you, your comments keep me going. J

Dariel: Aaaah, down to the birthday girl!!! BWAHAHAHA! LOL, that's what I love about b-day presents…they make ye feel like it's yer birthday everytime ye receive a present. *high five with Franzi and then pulls her into a hug* Gosh, ye bloody mind reader!! ^___________^ There was your closet scene!! XD, have I been digging in your mind or what, or is it vice versa…? Aye, aye, lol! I laughed soo much when I read your review…*grins madly* It would take ALL of him to warm her. ^__________^ Aye, *sighs sadly* I would wish it would be winter too forever if it meant being warmed by him. Indeed, love is in the air!! Heh, ye wonder how they'll wake up next morning…XD, *twists hair in fingers* lol, will try to not make ye be scandalized or faint dead… Right, right, I understood your story…such is Fate. It was because of Allen she met the life-changing person. Ye would clean the whole house?! I would clean my whole street neighbors bloody houses!!! Bwahaha!! Soooorry, no aproned Van… XD *winks* Ye naughty girl! Bwahaha, just kidding! ^_________^*blushes* Me tooo, I would have bolted the door…had some nice background music playing…*sniffs*…he's not real Franzi!! T________T MR SCALDING MILK had me in giggles!!!! ^_______________^ Aye, aye, I hope the kiss made yer heart flutter a bit. ^_~ I know, *dreams* a guy watching your movements, and xD he's very quite possessive of her as well. ^__________^  LOL , he has a problem with men lookin' at a certain somebody's legs…*winks*…

Oohh!! Yeah, before I forget…Franzi, gosh, I doona even know where to start!! We have a story for "Windancer" and ohmegosh!! It's sooooo goooood!!! I think Aina will fill ye in on it..it's gonna be an original that we might be working on, ye wanna work as well? (XD, we took the liberty to make that decision and said that you'd work as well) but just making sure, now. *sweatdrops* It's bloody wonderful, that's all I can say!!!

Meg-skylark: Whoa…*uneasy laughter* Gosh, have ye read any of Ryuu Angel's and Dariel's works? Then you wouldn't be saying that this is the best fic ever. T__T…but all the same, I am flattered and ye made me smile. XD exactly!!!! The more I hate you, the more I love you. Actually there's a very thin line that separates love and hate… ^_^;;; XD  How was this for you, now? All the fluff and drama and the tension so much that you could touch it? ^___________^

A/N: Uugh, a bit tired to write the notes, but heh, there really isn't much to say. OHHH YEAH! XD, Read Ryuu Angel's new fic and Dariel's new one as well. You won't be disappointed, trust me!!! XD, "Dream Chaser" is the birthday present Ryuu Angel bestowed upon me *hugs Aina much so madly that she canna breathe* (Indeed, Aina-girl, I am still doing what the title indicates…*sniffs*) and "What a rainbow feels like" by the great Dariel is soooo funny and decidated to our friendship (lol, clover leaf friendship with Ryuu Angel, Dariel herself and me…XD)!!! I loooved it!! Bwahaha. *hugs Franzi in a bear hug and crushes her*

 K, *wipes tear away* this fic IS gonna be 7 chaps long! More than half o' it is over…*sighs*… Till then, review, my wonderful people. ^___________^ Aye, I think I'll do review replies again. Thank you all for your encouraging response. Canna thank you all enough!!

Until the next chapter!  R&R!!