A/N: Hello, my lovely readers! Hope all is well, and I am, again, sorry for the irregular updates on this story and I am immensely appreciative of your patience with me;) But do not fear, because I have no intention of abandoning this story, and I plan to see it through until the end.
Rated T for adult situations
Chapter 9 is from Vanessa's POV again. Enjoy!
R&R! I love hearing your feedback!
Pulling. Something is pulling at me, and I can't tell if my eyes are opened or closed as I stumble through the darkness.
Reaching out in front of me, I blindly feel around. My fingers scratch against frozen earth, and only then do I realize the numbness in my feet. It reminds me of the time Mina and I dared each other to run barefoot, through the snow-covered yard, when we were children. I wiggle my toes, trying to bring some warmth back into them, and listen for any familiar sounds.
Nothing. Silence.
The only sound is my frantic breathing, which I try to calm by taking in deep, gulping breaths. The air tastes damp and earthy. Like something underground.
Extending my arms outward, my palms hit a wall on either side. The pulling sensation stops. And for a second, I hold my breath. Then something cold clamps down on both my wrists.
No, not something, someone. Hands I realize, thin, long-fingered hands. The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and I fight the urge to look behind me, as another pair of thin hands pulls the hair away from my neck.
More hands join in. All cold and long, like the unliving.
Pulling, tugging, tearing away at me. I try to free myself, only to find myself unable to move. Paralyzed. And as those hands of death become desperate, hungry even, I do the only thing I can do.
I scream.
oooOOOooo
I jolt awake.
With wide eyes, I scan my surroundings, only to let out a sob of relief, when I see familiar brown eyes hovering above me in silent concern. The hands tightly gripping my shoulders, lessen slightly as I flinch back. I stop myself from shaking them off completely. These hands… these hands I know. They are warm and broad and alive. They are safe. So, unlike the ones that haunt me in my dreams.
"It was just a dream." Ethan soothes, gently brushing the damp hair away from my face.
He gets up from the bed and dampens a cloth from the bowl of water on the dresser, and walks quietly back to me. I let my eyes fall closed, my racing heart calming, as the cold cloth comes to contact with my flushed skin.
We both know it wasn't just a dream. I've been having them for weeks now. Every night, since the evening I came back from my visit to Catriona.
They are not always the same. Some nights it's the Demon himself, taunting me with his onyx eyes. Other nights are the hands or something of a similar sense.
And every night Ethan is there, waiting for me on the other side of consciousness. He doesn't ask me what I see, doesn't pressure me to relive them. He is the steady lifeline in the dark of the night.
As I open my eyes to look at him now, I see the fatigue etched into the lines around his eyes, the worry there creasing his forehead.
With shaky fingers, I reach up and trace his temple, as if I could soothe the lines away.
"I'm sorry," I frown, my throat raw from my screams.
Ethan shakes his head, a smile touching his lips that don't quite reach his eyes.
"There is nothing to apologize for." He whispers, bringing his thumb to my forehead, rubbing the line that has formed there, just as I had done to his.
I give him a small smile in return.
Glancing to my right, I see the shadows of dawn peeking through my window, and I know that sleep is now out of the question.
So, with a sigh, I drag myself out of bed.
We won't talk about the dream for the rest of the day.
oooOOOooo
After my conversation with Catriona, she delved into research. Sending word only when she found something of use.
Which hasn't been very often, much to our growing frustration. Especially Ethan's.
She dropped by last week, to quickly deposit a stack of books she thought might be of use, saying she had sent word to Mr. Lyle about our situation.
Whilst waiting for his reply, Victor, Malcolm, Aseema, and Ethan and I have spent countless hours, studying the ancient books.
Ethan growls in frustration, closing a book with a sharp thump.
"There is nothing in these god damned books!"
He catches my cautious gaze and runs a hand through his hair. It has grown an inch or two since he's been back.
And though he hasn't brought it up, the full moon is tomorrow night, and I know the dead ends in these books, are not the only cause of his rising weariness.
Aseema looks up from her spot next to Victor, closing her book in a calmer matter.
"There seems to be nothing in the histories, speaking of an exact manifestation as the one you are experiencing, Vanessa."
She was thoughtful for a moment before reaching across the desk and plucking the book from Victor's grasp, stacking it on top of hers.
To say the Doctor looked astonished was an understatement, and I had to press my lips together to keep from chuckling.
Aseema doesn't hide her smile at Victor's expression.
"I think," she says as she goes around the room gathering the books in one stack,"What we need, is a break."
Victor clears his throat as if to speak, but Aseema holds up a delicate finger, silencing him.
"I think we can all conclude," she continues, "That we are not making any progress. So, let us wait until we are in touch with this Mr. Lyle friend of yours until we go any farther."
And with that she takes her leave, heading into the kitchen.
We all look at each other before Sir Malcolm speaks up, amusement evident in his voice.
"Well, you heard the woman," He says, giving the Doctor a pat on the back before he follows Aseema into the kitchen.
"Maybe she is right," I say, "Let's just wait until we hear back from Mr. Lyle."
Victor just nodded his head and mumbled something under his breath, sounding distinctly like "mad woman," as he disappeared through the kitchen doors.
I allow myself a small chuckle and walk over to where Ethan is. I link my arm through his and give him a slight pull to bring him out of his thoughts.
"Care for a walk?"
OooOOOooo
The city of London is teeming with life, as we walk down the crowded, cobblestoned streets. I watch the people as we pass by.
What must life be like, to be unburdened from the dark forces of other realms?
I don't allow myself to think on it too much, as I glance up at Ethan, bringing up a gloved hand to brush away a strand of hair that has escaped in the autumn breeze.
He's staring straight ahead, barely noticing the commotion around us. Usually, it is him, pulling me out of my thoughts during our walks, not the other way around.
"Hey," I say, nudging his side, "Where have you gone off too?"
He looks down at me as if just noticing where we are. "Sorry, lost in thought."
And then he smiles.
"I'm all yours now." He drawls, playfully nudging me back.
I see right through his attempt to hide his distraction, but I leave it alone for now.
I'll ask him about it when we are alone.
We wonder through the streets awhile longer, and Ethan stops to purchase us a bag of roasted chestnuts. I wait for him by one of the pillars in the square.
"Miss Ives?"
I turn to look behind me as I register the figure coming out of the shadows.
"Mr. Clare!" My eyes widen in delighted surprise, "I didn't expect to see you again."
He smiles warmly at me, though there is a haunted sadness in his beautiful, strange eyes.
"Nor did I, Miss," he rasps, "I went to see you a few weeks ago, but there was no answer."
I give his arm a gentle squeeze.
"Yes, I was… unwell." I pause, meeting the questions in his eyes, "But that is a story for another time. How are you, Mr. Clare?"
He looks at something over my shoulder, and a look of awe sweeps across his scarred face. "That too is a story for another time, Miss." He raises his head, and I look behind me and see Ethan making his way over to us.
"I am happy for you, Miss Ives, so very happy."
And then he is gone. Back into the shadows.
"Who was that?" Ethan asks as we start our route back home.
"A dear friend, whom the world has been so unkind to." I give him a bittersweet smile before popping a chestnut into my mouth.
oooOOOooo
I walk through the threshold of my room, shedding my overcoat to the nearest chair and glance over my shoulder to find Ethan lingering by the door.
"Ethan?"
I frown at the pained expression on his face, as he looks at me. Like he's trying to decide on something.
"I think," he draws out a long breath, "I think it's best if I stay in my room."
A tightness creeps its way into my chest.
He must see the expression on my face because he hastily adds,
"Just for tonight."
The tightness eases a bit at that, but it still lingers. A plaguing reminder of how broken I still am. The thought of being alone again in this room frightens me more than I am willing to admit.
"Is this because of tomorrow night?" I ask.
The full moon. The memories of the last time I had seen him transformed flood through my mind.
Ethan nods.
It was the day he left… I try to ignore the voice in my head, as I walk back to him, only stopping when I am a hands length away from him.
"Tell me."
He shifts beneath my gaze and looks at an invisible speck of dust on my shoulder.
"All day, I've had this feeling, a scratching at my skin, begging to be let out," Ethan keeps his gaze fixed away my mine as he speaks, like he's afraid of what I'll find in his eyes if he does, "It happens a few days before I turn, like the beast is letting me know it's almost time."
"There is always anger when I change, but this time is different," I watch him, silently struggle with the internal battle inside his head, as he chooses his next words carefully, "I feel this… swelling rage. Like I'll snap before I can control it. And I'm frightened by it."
He looks at me now, fresh, raw, emotion, swirling with the soft browns of his eyes. I take one step forward as he takes a step back, not allowing him to distance himself from me.
"And you think you will frighten me?" I state, rather than ask.
"Yes, and no," he says, "You've seen me, as the monster I become, and even though it should frighten you, you have never dismissed me."
"And here I stand."
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and the corner of his mouth tilts up. Though it's not quite a smile, it's better than the hard-set line he had at the beginning of our conversation.
"Yes," He softly utters, "Here you stand."
I chance a small, encouraging smile at his words. He needs to know that I accept him. All of him.
I huff a little at the lingering hesitation in his handsome features.
"You ridiculous man," I whisper, before doing the simplest thing in the world.
I kiss him. Not a long kiss. Just the mere brushing of our mouths.
Ethan goes still under my lips, and I pull back to regard him.
"You have always been so gentle with me," I rasp, "I have never known a time where I was ever frightened of you, -For you, yes, but never of you."
Reaching out, I stroke his cheek, the light stubble there tickling my palms. He closes his eyes, and lets out a deep breath, surrendering. The rest of the anxiety melting away.
My hands, having a mind of their own, glide up to trace the shell of his ear, before rubbing the soft flesh between my fingertips. I smile as he shivers, and takes an involuntary step into the room, closing most of the space between us.
Merely seconds later, he covers his hand over mine, stilling my movements, and opens his eyes. My breathing quickens when I see his brown orbs. Desire, trust, love, and a hint of nervousness, reflect back at me, dark with an intensity so strong I feel my skin flush.
Never taking his gaze from mine, he guides our joined hands until they are resting on his chest. From beneath his shirt, I feel his heart beating as fast as mine.
We stay like that until Ethan lifts his hand from mine, and slowly, as if not to stir the buzzing energy around us, places two fingers to the corner of my mouth, He begins to trace its outline, just as I had done with his ear.
Still watching him, I open my mouth and let out a hot breath. Surely he can hear the rapid thumps of my racing heart.
Letting my eyes fall closed, he trails his fingers along my nose, and then ghosts over my eyelids.
I don't know how long we stand like that, with him tenderly, tracing of my features. And I frown when he ceases his demonstrations.
My disappointment doesn't last long, though, because before I have time to open my eyes, I feel the warm moisture of his lips just under the column of my jaw. Gasping softly, a warmth spreads throughout my entire being, leaving a trailing fire in its wake.
A million thoughts run through my mind at once, but only one grabs my focus. Trust.
I trust this man before me, more than I've ever trusted anyone. And I know, that at this moment, in this time in space, that I want to fully give myself to him, body and soul. The demon in my head be damned.
This is something that not even the devil himself can take from me.
I run my hands through his short hair and tug slightly, reveling in the softness of it. Ethan hums in response and drags his mouth up to hover over my own, his breath fanning across my flushed face.
Releasing his hair, I place both hands against the solid warmth of his chest, and press my flush against his, kissing him wholly.
A tremor goes through me, as his tongue traces over my bottom lip, silently asking for entrance, and I yield myself to him completely. And then he's kissing me harder; with an intensity, I've never experienced before. His taste invades my senses, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel Ethan close the door with his foot.
A groan slips out, which he swallows with another deep kiss, as he places two warm hands at my hips, gently guiding us until the backs of my knees hit the bed.
Suddenly, he's looking at me, a question forming on his swollen lips, but I just nod my head, and before he can say anything more, I twist my fingers in his shirt, tugging, until I am lying beneath him.
He kisses me gently this time, but I quickly deepen it. My teeth clashing against his as I bring our bodies closer. Ethan groans, low in his throat, at the contact and runs a calloused hand over my body.
I want him closer. I want his skin against mine.
My brain his fuzzy and I slide my wandering hands to the buttons of his shirt at the same time as he reaches the ties at my dress.
Time moves slowly then, as we peel away the barriers. We move gently, both fumbling slightly in our nervousness.
Not of each other, but because we both have waited so long for this moment.
And then there is nothing else between us, but the soft glow of candlelight, as we move together.
Nothing interrupts us, as we memorize each other's bodies. Not my demons, not his beast.
And afterward, as we lay tangled up, I brush my nose along his chest and breath in his warm scent, before falling into the first dreamless night I've had in weeks.
A/N: this chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I planned, and it seems that my imagination has a mind of its own;)
Mr. Clare has finally made an appearance! Yay!
And I wrote my first "smut" scene. I didn't want to write anything too graphic, but I still wanted to maintain a sense of intimacy. I hope I did it justice
Also, any thoughts or constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated
Well, until next chapter!
-S