Author's Note:Thank you, Philomina and Megumisakura, so much for your reviews! I hope this second chapter doesn't disappoint.
On another note, my story takes place after the end of the original novel, after Victor died in the Arctic. The creature will explain what happened after that in a later chapter. Oh, and I will, eventually, be giving him a name. I hate having to refer to him as 'the creature'.
HELENA
Lena took a deep breath, slow and even, as she waited to make sure he wasn't going to change his mind. His pulse beat slowly beneath her hands, because he was such a large man. She could feel muscle, warm and firm, beneath the heavy fabric that covered his shoulders. Some sort of cloak, perhaps?
After a few moments, she slid her hands from his shoulders up to his neck, and heard him catch his breath as her fingertips made contact with the soft skin there. His heartbeat sped up as she moved her hands up to his jaw line.
That was where she felt the first scar. It was a horrible thing, a mar in soft, supple flesh, raised slightly and patterned by careless, haphazard stitches that had long since been removed or disintegrated. Every muscle in his body went painfully tense when her fingers brushed that scar. She traced it silently from the nape of his neck, over his jugular vein, and down the center of his chest to the collarbone.
"Does it hurt?" She whispered. He chuckled humorlessly.
"No, not anymore."
She felt tears burning in her eyes, but she pushed them back. Let them come later, when she was alone, and she could mourn for him in private. She moved her hands up to his jaw, and found another scar, a different one that ran from the tip of his chin up to his left eye socket. She followed it lightly, so as not to alarm him when her touch strayed. He flinched a bit when she brushed her hand over his cheek. She shushed him and continued, and unconsciously pulled him closer, pulled herself closer, leaned against him and tilted her head back until her face was only inches from his.
A scar ran from his temple up into sinfully soft hair. Long hair. When she brushed her fingers through it, a small sigh escaped his lips and she smiled. Her blood thundered in her ears, and her entire body felt electrified, drawn like a magnet to him.
She had wanted to touch him since she had first heard his voice, pulling her abruptly from her nightmares. She had wanted to know him, to see him. To see the smile she so often heard in his voice.
He was beautiful, but for the scars. As she touched him, she closed her eyes and mapped out a picture of him in her mind. Strong square jaw, large eyes and a straight, aristocratic nose. Silky soft hair – but what color? – and pale scars slashing through his beauty like lightning through a peaceful summer's eve.
Another scar ran over the bridge of his nose and under his other eye, to his right ear. Anger and sadness burned within her, and she could feel her fingers trembling. So many scars. So much destruction. Was his entire body covered with these wounds? No man should ever have to live with such pain!
The last scar, the one that started at the tip of his chin and ran up to his bottom lip; she followed it, felt the slightly raised edges, and when her fingers drifted from the scar tissue, he inhaled sharply.
"Don't," he whispered, but she ignored him and pressed her lips against his. He froze, and stopped breathing. Lena felt her world spin, dance, and then fall around her like rain to focus on the man before her. Soft, warm lips. Pleasure shot through her, weakening her muscles and stealing the air from her lungs. Her blood turned warm, and then hot, and it burned beneath her skin. She slid her hands down to his shoulders and broke the kiss to speak, but as soon as her lips parted with his, he disappeared, slipping away from her instantly, as if he was made of nothing but dreams and shadows.
"Wait," she pleaded, but an instant later she heard the door shut softly. She stood there in silence, hoping with all her heart that he might come back.
He didn't. Eventually she turned and crawled back into her bed, laid back against her pillows and looked up at the night sky, and out over the fields and forest. The moon cast pale light over the scenery, but Lena knew better than to look for him; he was an expert at avoiding detection.
After a while, the tears surfaced, burning in her eyes and down her cheeks. She sobbed quietly, curled up on her side, until exhaustion finally overcame her.
And that night, for the first time in months, her night terrors returned.