Chapter 9

Crush

After listening to his story and crying my eyes out, I start to realize he has some kind of hold on me; some way to influence me emotionally. I felt such grief and overwhelming sadness as he held me, and all I wanted to do was sooth his pain. I felt almost safe as he held me, with the ghosts of his first love and his family hovering in his memory to keep him in touch with his humanity. But then something changed.

I felt a sense of peace as I dried my eyes and again sat with him. I felt his confidence that he would fight not to hurt me, but then I saw a distance in the way he stared, without moving. The thought slipped into my head that he would make a beautiful statue, and suddenly all I could think about was his perfect beauty. His rich curls, large dark eyes, and the elegantly long fingers that touched me as he held me. I'm sure the change didn't come from him, but from me. Once again he's outside the cell watching me.

"I'm sorry Stefan. It looks like this must be all my fault."

He laughs then, transfixing me with the music of his voice and his humor. "So you apologize for having an influence on me. Surely that influence is what spared your life in the first place. However I believe there is more at work here than a minor influence you have. Why does it make me want to ….ravish you rather than release you, mon joli?"

I don't know how to tell him. Oh, just spit it out Summer, what more can he do to you than he's already planned to do? "I'm attracted to you Stefan." I watch his eyes and I have his undivided attention. "I think I was the very first time I saw you. I remember thinking that you were certainly going to kill me, but if I died in your arms I would at least die happy.

"You're the best looking man I've ever seen, and it's like you're everything I've ever wanted and ever dreamed of, but then so much more. I feel so drawn to you. It's like a physical ache just to be near you. I've never felt like this before, and I really feel like I'm going crazy. I'm practically nothing to you, but you're everything to me.

"I want to fight, and to scream and to make you let me go. I know you will probably kill me and yet I can't stand the thought of walking away from perfection. I want to hold you and kiss you and make love to you – which totally baffles me since I have never ever wanted to before. Just thinking about you makes it hard for me to keep any sense of reason." I can't look at him. I am afraid he will laugh at me, or look at me with pity or revulsion.

I stand up and get a drink of water. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely hold it. What is wrong with me that I get all flaky over a ….a killer. He's someone who can take my life, hide my body and go on as if I never existed. At least it isn't a conscious decision. There is some comfort in the fact that it is all chemistry and not rational thought. I really haven't developed a death wish .

When I can finally turn around and face him he is gone. The door to the cell is wide open and I am trying to figure out what it means. Is he releasing me? A part of me wants that, but an even bigger part of me doesn't want to go. I stay where I am for a little longer, trying to reclaim the part of myself that can still think independent of Stefan. If he is letting me go, then I have to go I decide. As much as I want to be with him I can't take the chance of sticking around in hopes that things will turn out well. Armed with a sense of self preservation I slip out of the room. I know he can hear my movements so I don't bother to be quiet or sneaky. In fact I speak aloud as I go.

"Okay Stefan, I'm leaving the room. I don't know what you're plan is, but I'll play along." There are more crates and boxes stored in the cellar than upstairs. I make my way through everything and face the dark stairway. I go up slowly, one step at a time and gradually my eyes adjust. There is a heavy sheet of paper with my name on the top tacked to the wooden door. The ink is still damp, and I pull it free. The door opens freely and I step into the kitchen and the lights are on. I am surprised to see it is dark outside.

The note is written in the most beautiful script. It reminds me of a wedding invitation only the ink is black and bold. It takes some effort to read it since the letters have curves and flourishes that almost disguise the words.

'Summer, Please do not try to leave as I am still determined to keep you here. I am trying to behave in a gentlemanly fashion in light of your revelation. Your candor takes my breath away almost as much as your passion. You are a beautiful woman and I too would like to participate in the activities you mentioned. For reasons you do not need me to explain I fear that this would be impossible at this time without a threat to your life and safety.

'I would like to ask that you return to my suite. I will stay clear and you will have relative privacy to shower or bathe. I have purchased clothing that you may find more appropriate than what you have on or what I have previously chosen. I apologize for destroying your own clothing; my sensibilities are ancient and my indignation was misplaced.'

He signed with a large stylized S. I have to laugh at the way he can take a simple note and make it seem like a prized piece of literature. I lay the note on the kitchen counter and do what he instructs me to do. Back in his room I am surprised to see his bed is covered with women's clothes. There are several pairs of shoes lined up on the floor and even a couple night gowns. All but one outfit is either dresses or skirts, but they are all modest and acceptable. He's even bought lingerie and I know he had to go to a specialty store to find the brand.

I step into the hallway to look at a grandfather clock I remember seeing. It says it is nine, but I'm not sure if I can trust the time. I go ahead and shower. He has provided me with most of what I'll need and an hour later I'm clean and dressed in a night gown. There are even warm slippers for me to wear and I'm feeling way too comfortable for my situation. I brush my hair after I towel it dry, and now I'm a little confused about what to do or where to go.

I wander around his room looking at anything and everything. His desk looks very tempting and I want to pull out drawers and investigate what he might have hidden. But even considering who and what he is I just can't bring myself to cross that boundary.

I start to get irritated with myself. Why should I sit around and wait for him to tell me what to do next? I don't have many options – at least not the kind that won't have him coming to stop me or kill me. I know there must be doors and windows left unlocked, but I've heard the dog barking outside and I know it can run faster than I can. I think also of his friend Vladmir's rooms and wonder if I could get in and make an emergency phone call before he stops me. What would he do if he stopped me? Worse, what would he do if I succeeded? It's not worth the risk I decide. There's only one place where I'm at least partially safe, and I need to get back there.

I gather up clothes for tomorrow, thinking that at least it looks like I'll have tomorrow. I take the hairbrush with me as well and head back toward the basement. I'm halfway through the immense house when I hear him. Somewhere in the middle of the house he is singing. It's the most amazing sound, but what strikes me most is it doesn't sound like something that was meant to be performed. It's relaxed and natural, like sometimes when I'm doing dishes or folding my laundry I'll catch myself humming something with no words. But his is so enticing I find myself turning to go look for him. I follow the sound until I find him.

It's clearly a library, but he has an enormous desk in the center and he's sitting in a large wing back chair writing. I don't know why he doesn't notice me, but I stand and watch him, listening to his beautiful voice. He's got a leather bound book open and as I step a little closer he dips the pen into an ink pot and continues writing. He moves so quickly it looks like he's using a normal pen as the words seem to flow onto his paper.

I'm not sure how long I watch and listen before he notices me. Lightening fast he closes the ink and sets aside his writing. When he stands he looks almost guilty as he stares my way. "I'm sorry, I did not notice your approach. I will go if you wish to look around."

"No, don't go. I didn't plan to come in here anyway. I just heard you singing and ….it's beautiful." I look around the room, at the books lining the floor to ceiling shelves as well as stacked on most of the flat surfaces, except for his desk. "It looks like you belong here; I'll leave."

"Wait." It's not a command, just a quiet request, but I'm rooted to the spot. He smiles and turns to the book he was writing in and blows gently across the page to dry the ink. When he holds it up to show me I see the book is more than halfway filled with his beautiful script. "This is all about you; I started a new book yesterday. I cannot stop thinking about you and the only thing that seems to help is to write about you."

We stare at each other for long moments, the whole time my mind is screaming, 'go, leave, get out of here!' But I don't leave. And he doesn't go either. I try to will myself to stay still. I look into his rich garnet eyes and try to imagine they are brown. It seems so unfair that he has been like this since before there was photography. I would love to see what he looked like before he was changed. I imagine his skin was a light brown before he was turned into a living statue. I close my eyes, breaking our connection to try to get control of my runaway imagination.

I fight to think of the calmest thing I know. I imagine standing on the beach at sunset, watching the sun set fire to the ocean as the waves pull gently at my feet. I love the way the tide rushes across the sand to kiss my toes before running away again. The sound of the sea birds calling as they dive for fish or race the incoming waves to snap up a meal before it disappears into the sand. I'm starting to feel the calm when I feel something tugging at my arms.

I open my eyes and he is with me. He pulls the clothes and shoes from my arms and sets them on the floor. When he pulls me against him I can't resist. I look up into his once brown eyes and the intensity makes me gasp. He smiles at me and runs his fingers through my damp hair. He touches my face with his cold fingers and I reach up to press his palm against my cheek. His hand feels like it's been carved by a master sculptor and I feel his skin warm slightly as I hold him against me. His arm around my waist holds me tight against his hard body and I'm very conscious of the thin fabric of the nightgown as his hand slides along the curve of my back.

His other hand moves softly around my neck and I am held securely against him with my own arms going around him without my permission. I tip my head back, looking up at his angelic face and breath his name as he bends to kiss me. The power of his scent and his taste are a drug to me and I open my mouth to drink in more of his essence. When our tongues meet I'm barely calm enough not to be overpowered by my own needs. I close my eyes and fix the ocean in my mind, trying to calm my racing pulse and get a handle on my desire for him.

It feels hard to breath and I open my eyes to see his are closed. I try to break away from his kiss and it's impossible he's holding me so tight. His fingers pressing into my shoulder are causing me pain and his other arm is crushing me to him so tightly I can't breath! I find myself struggling to get free, even going limp in his arms hoping my weight will pull me free. When I'm finally able to twist my head away I gasp for him to stop. I barely have enough air to whisper to him "no!" I feel my vision shifting in and out of focus with my pulse and I know I'm going to pass out.

Abruptly I'm free and it's only his loose arms around me that keep me from falling. He continues to hold me lightly while taking a step back from me. A brief look of pain touches his face as he looks closely at me. "Did I hurt you? Cara Mia, I am so sorry!"

My head is spinning and I pull in deep breaths of air. I try not to think about what almost happened, but I can still feel the pain where his hands and arms held me. "I think I need to go back." I try to smile at him as I pick up the clothes on the floor, but wince at the pain instead.

"I have hurt you! Oh mon Dieu! Please, let me see." He pulls my nightgown down over my shoulder to reveal the red marks of his fingers.

"Stop! Don't do that!" I pull the neckline back up, but he seems insistent on seeing the damage, lifting the hem of the gown up to my waist before I twist away from him. "Stefan, don't do that!"

"But you are hurt!" He makes another try to look down my gown and I trip into the doorway trying to avoid him.

"Yes, I know I'm hurt! And you're not helping!" I try again to gather up the clothes but he scoops them up before I can. He hovers close watching me.

"I just want to make sure you don't need some kind of help. You should let me look, I have seen you naked before." He's dead serious as he looks down at me.

"I know that too. I'm not hurt that badly. So the next time you see me naked you better be prepared to face me like a man!" I grab the clothes out of his arms. "Thank you for the clothes and the use of your shower." I turn to try to make it back to the basement with a little dignity. I make it three steps before he stops me.

"Summer, let me help you." I'm about to tell him off when I feel him behind me. He's fast and strong and he picks me up, cradling me against him. He holds me so that I'm not putting my weight against the sore spots and he moves gracefully through his house.

"How do you know this isn't as dangerous as what just happened?" I ask as he carries me through the labyrinth of treasures.

"I am next to you so I do not feel your magnetism so strongly, and you are angry, which is preferable to..."

"Turned on?" I interrupt, looking up at him. He exhales, growling deep in his throat.

"I am starting to learn to resist you...slightly. I have hurt you and I am sorry I was not strong enough to prevent that from happening. But two days ago I would have killed you. Your blood is not the strongest temptation you are offering me now."

"And this is a good thing? Listen, I can walk on my own, you can put me down now."

I feel his laughter in his chest. "You are safe now Mouse. I do not know why, but I feel ….momentarily sated." I look up at his smile and he easily opens the basement door. I catch hold of his note from the counter and carry it along with me.

"So, if I'm the mouse, what does that make you, the cat or the cheese?" He carries me down the stairs effortlessly, even in the dark. I hear him laugh at my question but he doesn't answer. When he stops inside my cell he sets me on the bed.

"Never forget I am neither the cat nor the cheese; I am always and forever the killer. The safest place for this mouse is in the trap." He kisses my forehead and his fingers lightly trace down my cheek. "If you won't let me see what I've done, at least get some rest. If you need anything, just ask and I'll hear." He steps out of the cell and closes the door.

He stands on the other side of the glass watching me. I wish I could read his features but his face is impassive. I am exhausted. Not that I've done much, but the stress of the day is catching up with me and I finally feel secure enough to sleep. I burrow under the blankets trying not to wince at the pain. "Stefan?"

"Yes?" He steps closer to the glass.

"Would you sing to me?" I feel ridiculous even asking but I hope that the sound of his angelic voice will keep me from falling into nightmares.

"What would you like to hear?"

"I don't really know; just something soft and sweet." I lie back and close my eyes. It seems he's forgotten, when I hear his voice so soft and clear singing An Irish Lullaby. My grandma had an album with one of the old crooners who sang the song and I remember her playing it for me one time...must have been a St. Patrick's Day if I remember. Stefan's voice is beautiful and haunting and I pull the blanket up to hide the tears I don't want him to see. He probably wouldn't understand that I'm not upset, but that I love it and don't want him to stop. As he finishes I listen to how his voice fades away into the distance of the underground rooms. "Thank you," I whisper as I close my eyes. It feels almost as if my grandmother has kissed me goodnight as I fall asleep in the house of her childhood.