Beyond Beginnings Book 2

BEYOND BEGINNINGS - BOOK TWO
Linda Barth

Chapter Six

Sunday brunch had become a favorite tradition among those in the community Below, and it was one Catherine usually enjoyed. Sharing in their day-to-day life gave her a sense of belonging, a lingering contentment that allowed her to shut away her other world for just a little while. Yet as much as she cherished her hours in that safe and special place, she was continually reminded of their transient nature, and she’d come to realize that brief stolen moments would never be enough. She no longer harbored any doubt that this was where she truly wanted to be; it was only a deceptively simple matter of deciding when hopes and dreams would become reality.
As she carefully folded her worn linen napkin, Catherine glanced at Vincent who sat opposite her at the long oak table. He had leaned down to respond to a remark little Danny had made, and his face was obscured from her view by the bronze curtain of his long hair. She could hear the quiet rumble of his voice, but could not discern the words he uttered to the raptly attentive child. She knew she had no part in their conversation, and yet she could not look away, cherishing the all too infrequent opportunities to see him as the others did, a valued and beloved member of the large tunnel family. And it was becoming increasingly easy to picture herself as part of that same family, as part of his world and his life, as part of him.
She began to look away, thinking she would talk with Rebecca who was seated to her left. But in an instant, it was as if nothing else existed for her. She no longer heard the interwoven sounds of friendly voices raised in conversation, the clinking of cutlery and china, the high-pitched wail of a baby too soon awakened from its slumber by an inquisitive toddler. She no longer saw the bright golden lamp and candle glow that illuminated smiling faces and reflected off the highly polished surfaces of old copper kettles and battered brass serving trays. And she no longer felt the hard wooden bench beneath her or the wrinkled napkin she twisted between her fingers. There was nothing for her but him.
For less than a moment, she tried to restrain the deluge of emotions that surged through her, but even then she knew it was as futile as trying to catch a tidal wave in her hands. A longing devoured her, engulfing her entire being in its embrace. And she knew it for what it was -- a hard, driving, undeniable need for inviolate constancy, for the freedom to be a part of him forever, not only through the miracle of their bond, but within the abiding reality of their everyday existence. To be joined with him now and throughout all the seasons of their lives, even beyond the reach of time itself.
In a single convulsive heartbeat, Vincent felt the floodtide of her emotions inundate him, and he raised stunned eyes to meet her wide, unwavering stare. Despite everything that had gone before, there had never been a moment when he had felt such raw, unrestrained power reaching for him through their bond; and yet for a very long time he had known that it lived within her, just as it lived within himself.
For several seconds he felt as if he could not breathe, and then with one abrupt motion, he rose from the bench and was at her side. Wordlessly, he held out a large, trembling hand and pulled her to her feet. Mumbling some meaningless excuses to their tablemates, he led her from the dining chamber as quickly as her injured foot would allow, and once in the antechamber he bent to pick her up and carry her away. With unspoken accord, they understood that he would not halt their flight until they were far from the now unendurable presence of companionable noise and heat and light.
Without conscious thought, Vincent strode onward. The grace and power of his precise movements were those of a highly trained athlete or dancer; yet they were as natural to him as the racing current of his heart which beat in perfect answering rhythm to that of his bondmate. He could feel Catherine's heart pulsing within her as she clung to him, not out of fear, but rather in utter, unshakable possession.
He knew then that no matter what the future might hold, he could never again deny the heartfelt truth of the vow she had made. He was the only man she would ever want and she would never willingly turn away from him. With every word and look and gesture, she had offered him her pledge, and, at last, he had truly accepted it. A life apart from her now was unthinkable, and he knew he must find the courage to overcome the last of his fears so that he might honor her with promises fulfilled.
As his strength finally faltered, Vincent staggered slightly and slowed the frantic pace he had set for them. With a single, searching glance, he realized they had reached a little-used side tunnel, not far from a recent excavation site. He leaned back against the rocky wall and, still holding Catherine in his arms, he slid downward carefully until they reached the dusty floor. For several minutes they sat together, cradling one another in body and soul as they waited for the storm tide to recede.
At last, as one, they drew in deep, calming breaths. Catherine pulled back slightly and looked up at him. She knew the tumbling emotions she found in the depths of his eyes were mirrored in the tumult he would see in her own.
"Are you all right, Vincent?" she whispered hoarsely. "Do you understand what just happened to us?"
"I don't know...I'm not sure." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I have no rational explanation for it. I felt such an overwhelming power surrounding me through the bond, pulling me toward you, stronger than ever before. It was as if I had no will of my own. I could not deny its force."
Her face darkened. "Did you want to deny it?"
His response was instantaneous. "No! No, Catherine, I did not. What I felt from you made me rejoice, and yet..." His voice trailed away uncertainly and he gazed down at her. He felt his heart constrict with guilt as he saw knife thrusts of pain pierce the joy that had flared to life in her eyes. Still, he could not withhold the truth. "And yet for a time I was afraid."
To his surprise, he saw her smile. "I was, too," she acknowledged with a slight, hushed sigh. "Those feelings are always with me, but they've never been so strong or overpowering as they were at that moment in the dining chamber when I looked at you. It was almost too much to bear, and yet I don't regret it for a second."
"No?"

Her smile widened as she shook her head, but her voice was serious and strong. "No, Vincent. How can I regret our sharing all the truth that I hold in my heart?"
"Oh, Catherine, Catherine..." He sighed deeply as he raised a shaking hand to caress her face and then gently eased her head to rest against his chest. In a captivatingly familiar gesture, he nestled his cheek into the tousled silkiness of her hair, and breathed in the evocative fragrance that both soothed and enflamed him.
For many minutes they stayed as they were, seeking time to calm the turbulence slowly ebbing from their bonded souls. Yet Catherine knew she could not rest until she faced another question that still throbbed inside her with painful, insistent need. She slid from his lap and knelt beside him on the cool stone floor. His eyes were closed and his head slumped forward as if bereft of strength without her support. To a casual observer he might have been lost in peaceful sleep, but when she cupped a small, strong hand beneath his chin and urged him to look at her, that benign illusion vanished. In its place was the unmasked face of a man who, far too often, saw his soul balanced on the edge of an abyss.
"Vincent, that power you felt within me -- do you know what it means?"
He hesitated for only a moment. "Yes," he admitted in a low whisper. " I know what it means."
She let her hand drift downward to clasp his. "Because you know my heart."
"Yes, because I know your heart...but, Catherine, it’s more than that."
Her small fingers convulsively tightened their hold on him. "Will you tell me?"
Catherine's hands and voice were gentle captors, and Vincent knew that if he asked it of her, she would let him escape. But he could not. He needed to say the words as much as she needed to hear them.
"I know that power, Catherine, because it exists in me as well. I feel it growing day by day, hour by hour, until sometimes I am aware of nothing but its strength and its fire."
"Yes," she whispered. "I feel it, too. The intensity -- "
His voice was low and rushed. He knew that he must tell her now before his courage deserted him. "That intensity is our need to be together. Truly together, not just for days or hours, but always. And when the pressures of our separate lives push us apart, the bond holds us together in a way no external force could ever alter. It has always been true, but now the power of our bond has grown, as if its will cannot be denied. And yet that power has freed us so that we can fulfill our destiny...at last."
Catherine's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "And I think our bond has that power and freedom only because you and I are finally ready to move on. To go toward love in every way -- together."
He took a deep, shuddering breath as if he'd journeyed long and hard to reach the safe haven of his dreams. "Yes," he whispered, his voice a raspy warmth that wrapped around her heart. "Yes."
Both knew that single word confirmed a sacred oath and offered an avowal of trust that would never again be broken. No other words were needed.
With a slow, smooth motion, Vincent pushed himself to his feet and then, wiping his dusty hands against the faded fabric of his jeans, he reached to help her up. He knew they should probably return to the home chambers, and yet he hesitated. His gaze swept away from Catherine to their surroundings and back again, and in an instant he had made his decision.
"Your ankle, Catherine, I know it’s still somewhat painful. But do you think you can walk a short distance?"
"Yes." She nodded quickly. "I'm sure I can. Where are we going?"
His slight smile was enigmatic. "I have a surprise I'd like to show you. It isn't far."
"What is it?" she asked, immediately intrigued, as their hands joined and they began walking toward the narrow entrance to a smaller passageway that branched off to one side. "Oh, I know, I know. If you tell me, it won't be a surprise, right?"
"That's right."
"And I didn't need the bond to tell me that's exactly what you were about to say," she replied to his smothered snort of amusement.
For a few brief seconds, her mind flashed back to their early days together, a time of such emotional constraint and confusion that she rarely saw him smile, let alone laugh. And it gave her a tremendous feeling of joy to realize that through her love, she had given him the chance to free his heart to happiness at last.
He looked down at her quizzically. "What were you thinking about?" he asked softly. "For a moment, you looked as if you were far away."
She shook her head and smiled up at him. "No, I'm right here. I was only thinking about how much I love to see you smile and hear you laugh. And how much I love being here in your home with you."
He said nothing, but his shy smile spoke for him, and his hand held hers in a tighter, warmer grasp.
He had slowed and shortened his stride to accommodate her restricted gait, but it was not long before they reached the entrance to the smaller tunnel. He paused and held out his arm to prevent her from entering.
"Please be careful, Catherine. This passageway isn't long, but it is narrow and the surface of the floor is uneven. Wait here while I go and light the wall torches in the chamber beyond. They'll give enough light for us to pass through safely."
"Go ahead. I'll be fine," she told him. "I don't plan on going anywhere without you."
His nod acknowledged the layers of meaning of her words.
She watched as he disappeared into the murky darkness of the tunnel in front of her. In the silence of that outlying area, she could hear his receding footsteps and then the scraping of matches against rock and the quick rushing crackle of torches set alight. Brief moments later he was ready to return to her side, and as his massive form gradually emerged from the faintly glowing channel of shadowed stone, she found herself beguiled by the impression that he seemed almost other worldly, an enchanted, mythic knight from another time and place, drawn into her world to fulfill a lover's promise.
"Catherine, the way is safe now. We can go on."
There was an unspoken question in his voice as he reached again for her hand. A question that was answered in an instant as her eager fingers collided and entwined with his.
When he touched her, she felt a delicious tingling sensation ripple through her, and one look at his face told that he, too, had felt the same sensual stirring. It's as if our bodies are becoming even more attuned to one another, she realized bemusedly. As if everything within me responds to something within him. And it will only get better and stronger...
Moving with care, Vincent led Catherine through the tunnel, keeping a tight hold on her hand while glancing back over his shoulder every few seconds just to reassure himself of her well-being. The passageway was so narrow in places that he found it necessary to turn his shoulders sideways in order to proceed, and even then the rough surfaces scraped against his quilted cotton vest and caught at its trailing suede fringe.
He worried that Catherine might feel uneasy in the tight, dimly lit space. Although he knew she would try to shield her discomfort from him, he reached out to her, probing strongly within the bond. In an instant, he was filled with an all-encompassing sensation of warmth and serenity, and he knew at once that it was further proof of her complete and utter trust in him and the deep contentment she derived simply from being with him. That she could gain such tranquility and satisfaction from his presence, the same tenderly impassioned feelings that being with her had always evoked in him, moved him to the soul. And he knew that as long as he was with her, his Catherine, he need never return to a solitary life of cold and agonizing aloneness.
As the light grew stronger, Catherine could easily see the outline of an entryway into the chamber just a few feet ahead of them. Beyond it the light seemed to flicker and dance with a life of its own. The effect was lovely but unsettling, as if it defied normal laws of the physical world. She started to ask about the unusual sight, but before she could speak the words, Vincent paused and turned toward her, urging her forward so that she now stood in front of him.
"Come and look, Catherine," he said, his husky voice brushed with hopeful anticipation. "Tell me what you think of this place."
She moved ahead and stood at the threshold of a small chamber. Its rocky walls formed an uneven elliptical shape about thirty feet wide and fifty feet long. A narrow ledge followed the perimeter to enclose a pool and the dark glassy surface of its water that shimmered with reflected torch light. Her gaze was drawn upward to the chamber ceiling that arched less than ten feet above the pool and seemed to glisten with tiny fluid stars that glimmered in the moist condensation on its stony surface.
"Vincent, it's beautiful!" She continued to gaze at the sight before her as she spoke. "Like an enchanted world hidden away. How did you find it?"
He laughed softly, relieved and elated at her response. "I didn't. Cullen's work crew was assigned to clean the outer passageway after the rains that recently seeped into some of the lesser used tunnels. He followed a trail of rainwater and found this. We were about to seal off the entrance to keep the children from wandering into what could be a dangerous area, and then Mouse came up with one of his more inspired plans."
"What was it?"
"Well, we thought the water would soon become stagnant and unhealthy, but Mouse discovered that was not necessarily true. Look." He leaned closer and pointed past her shoulder toward the pool. "Do you see the slight movement on the surface of the water?"
For a moment Catherine was only conscious of his body pressing lightly into hers and she could not resist leaning back against him. His arms enfolded her without hesitation, circling her waist and drawing her nearer, and she smiled in surprised satisfaction as she answered, "Yes, I see it. But there's not even the hint of a breeze in here. What's causing it?"
"Mouse's latest invention," he replied, his voice softened by the lingering hint of a laugh and the pleasurable closeness of Catherine. "This chamber is not manmade. We were aware that it existed, but until last week it has always been dry, and because of its odd contours we've never found a reason to make use of it. However, Mouse was convinced that it was too good to waste, and he was determined to find a way to turn it into a wading pool of sorts."
She tilted her head and craned her neck to look up at him for a moment. "But how did he manage that?"
"Because of the shape of the pool, it seemed obvious that at one time water had flowed into this chamber and over hundreds of years had hollowed out the indentation in its floor. That meant, of course, that there must have been inlets and egresses to permit a constant and fairly strong flow of water. Mouse persuaded Kanin to help him, and they found several naturally formed vents in the walls just below the water's edge at each end of the pool. But they had become closed off with tightly packed stones and debris over the years."
"And that's what kept last week's rainwater from leaking away once it had run in," she suggested.
"Yes." As he nodded in agreement, his chin brushed lightly against the crown of her head, rustling the satiny strands against his skin, and he felt a small answering wave of pleasure sigh through both of them before he continued. "Then they discovered that an underground stream still flows beneath this chamber, much smaller and weaker than it must have been centuries ago, but still active. After convincing Father and the rest of the Council that any danger would be slight, they reopened the vents and then tested the water for purity. What you see is the result -- a pool with safe, clean-flowing water. It’s only three feet deep, and soon we’ll be able to bring the children here to enjoy it."
"It's wonderful! Your world is full of such amazing things, Vincent. I can't imagine ever getting tired of enjoying them."
The genuine enthusiasm in her voice warmed him to the soul, as yet another shard of doubt loosened itself from his heart and was swept away. Her world, the world Above, overflowed with wonders which could be hers for the taking and which would be forever barred from him. But perhaps, he told himself as he felt his tentative confidence grow, perhaps at times my world might be enough...
Her voice gently invaded his reverie. "I'd love to stay here for a while. Can we go inside and maybe sit along the ledge and talk?"
"Yes. There's a place about halfway along the right side where the ledge is wider. We'll be more comfortable there. But be careful, Catherine. There are three small steps down into the chamber and they’ll be damp and slippery."
"I'll be careful," she reassured him. She looked downward to judge the distance, but then found she could not move. Vincent had loosened his embrace only slightly and his hands were still clasped together firmly at her waist. Turning within the circle of his arms, she looked up at him questioningly. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
He shook his head. "No. I just thought that perhaps I should carry you the rest of the way. You're still unsteady on your feet and I don't want anything to happen to you."
She smiled up at him, feeling tremors of quiet pleasure at his blatantly transparent wish to keep her in his arms and twinges of regret when common sense told her that to do so would be impractical.
"And then we'd probably both end up falling in," she laughed. "I'm very tempted to say yes, but I think I'd better do this on my own."
He smiled and even in the uncertain light, Catherine could see the slight blush that rose along the sturdy column of his neck. "Then let me lead the way, just in case," he replied as he edged past her and descended the three shallow steps to the ledge below, before reaching up to take her hand to carefully guide her down.
Moments later they had reached the spot where the ledge was just wide enough to let them sit comfortably side by side facing the water, even if Vincent stretched his long legs out in front of him. Catherine began to lower herself to the floor, when Vincent reached out to gently restrain her. "The floor is very damp. I should have worn my cloak so we would have something to sit on. This might not be a good idea after all."
"Oh, no," she protested. "I'm sure it'll be fine."
"But what about your clothing?" he continued, frowning slightly as he gestured toward her pale pink outfit. "It will be ruined."
"This is only an old jogging suit. It can go right in the washer the minute I get home." The look on her face defined determination, and yet she knew that in seconds he would ignore her resolve and continue his argument.
Without giving him a chance to change his concern for her into yet another inhibition, she grasped the hand that clutched at her shoulder and used it to balance herself as she dropped to the stony surface and decisively pulled him down with her. "I can put up with it if you can," she told him with a satisfied grin. "I really don't want to go back yet, do you?"
In reply, he raised their clasped hands to his lips and, turning her hand inward, kissed the soft skin of her palm, watching carefully as her eyes darkened with the desire for him that always rippled just below the surface. "No," he murmured, his voice soft and warm as he slowly lowered her hand and then reluctantly let it go. "I don't want to go back yet either."
They settled back against the fairly smooth surface of the rock wall and for a while simply enjoyed being together. As Catherine nestled against his side, Vincent draped his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled their bodies closer, sharing the soft, pleased sigh his action drew from her.
For several minutes Catherine let her thoughts drift in a contented haze as she gazed out over the softly shimmering water. It's almost, she thought, like being set adrift, away from everyone and everything that tries to keep us apart. She sighed again, hearing in her heart the unspoken wish that it could always be this way for them, and knowing without words that he was listening to the same wish as it whispered through him.
As an enticing idea gradually edged into her mind, she managed to concentrate once again on their surroundings. "Vincent, the air in here is pretty warm. Is the water the same temperature?"
"It's much warmer," he replied. "That's what helps create the humidity in this enclosed space. Kanin thinks the water originates in hot springs buried far beneath the surface. As the water rises and flows, it cools somewhat but still retains enough heat to create the warmth in this chamber."
She sniffed the moist air appraisingly. "You can smell the minerals in it, can't you? Do you know what they are?"
"No." He eased away from her and moved to a crouching position in order to lean closer to the pool. Reaching out, he cupped a handful of water and raised it to his mouth before turning back to kneel beside her. "I can't identify the source, but the taste is not unpleasant."
Immediately, Catherine rose to her knees and reached for his hand, cupping both of her hands around the slick wetness of his furred skin. She drew his hand to her mouth, and then licked at the warm, earthy droplets that still clung to his palm. Over and over her tongue slowly stroked across his wet skin, rhythmically caressing the rough but supple flesh. So pleasurable was the sensation that the idea of stopping never entered her mind until she became aware of the uneven, rasping of his breathing. As she raised her eyes to meet his wide-eyed stare, she grazed her teeth along the length of one finger, scraping firmly over the sensitive pad at the tip. She felt the tremors that raced through him echo within her own body, and then, at the sound of his harsh gasp, she let the softness of her tongue soothe once more over his trembling skin and sharp claw before reluctantly settling back against her heels and slowly releasing him.
She had never dropped her gaze from his, eagerly seeking to lose herself in the desire that churned in the darkened cobalt depths of his eyes. Deliberately, she traced the tip of her tongue over the soft fullness of her lips, and then briefly caught her bottom lip between her small, sharp teeth before curving her mouth into a sensual smile.
"No," she replied, her smoky voice sending breaths of fire up his spine, "That taste is not unpleasant at all."
Almost unaware of what he was doing, Vincent tore himself away from the passionate promise in her eyes and stared down at his own hand. Then, locking his heated gaze with hers, he slowly raised his palm to his mouth. For an instant the firelight glinted on his sharp teeth as he parted his lips, and then he let his tongue follow the moist path that hers had blazed across his skin. He found the taste of her there, and it filled him with an unquenchable need to reach for her, to let his hands and mouth explore the warmth of her silky skin until he knew the scent and touch and taste of her everywhere.
As she watched him, Catherine felt everything within her seem to melt in a fiery flood of desire. Yet she remained as still as if she were a part of the rocky chamber itself, unable to move for fear the moment would be ended all too soon.
Through the bond Vincent felt the intensity of Catherine's passion rush through him, further firing the blaze already ignited by the lingering taste of her on his tongue. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to enter the flames with her and let himself be consumed. But deep within, he knew he could not yet take that final step, and with great effort he forced an unwanted and unneeded distance between them. Instantly, the bond echoed with the chilled, discordant strains of his unspent passion and unbridled pain. Together they heard the whimper torn from Catherine's parted lips as she watched the blue heat in his eyes slowly flicker and dim. He flinched from the unmistakable torment, but he did not look away, trusting with all his heart that she would see and understand that his fever for her had not cooled, despite his desperate need to contain it for yet a while longer.
Catherine swallowed hard as if trying to quell the cold, thick feeling of regret that threatened to choke her. She looked down at his hand where it still lay against the taut muscles of his thigh. For so long she had imagined the way his hands would feel upon her skin, touching and caressing her in ways they both longed for. Once again they had come so close, only to turn away, and for a moment she could not suppress the heavy sigh of disappointment that surged from her.
Immediately, the harsh breathy sound drew a guilt-stricken response from Vincent. His long, claw-tipped fingers curled inward, closing tightly against the callused skin of his palm. He turned his head from her, trying desperately to retreat behind an impenetrable wall of shame and solitude. But as he searched for futile words of apology, he heard her calling to him; and in an instant he knew that never again could he force himself to hide away, pretending to ignore that sweet, seductive sound.
She had reached deep within herself for the trust and tranquility she now offered him with her quiet words. "Vincent, come and sit with me for a while." She pushed herself backward to lean once more against the chamber wall, and when he turned his head to look at her, she smiled and stretched out her hand toward him. "Please, Vincent."
Unresisting, he moved to sit at her side, but found himself still unable to meet her eyes. He stared out across the pool, watching with unnecessary intensity the rhythmic rippling motion of the water, as deeper currents flowed beneath its surface with slow-moving but unyielding potency. Within the bond, he could feel Catherine's love for him as certain and strong as ever, drawing him toward her with its tender, undeniable power, and he turned toward her then, trusting that his heart would help him find the words he needed to say.
"Catherine, I -- "
Before he could go on, she gently pressed her fingers against his lips. The smile she offered him softened the traces of tension that lingered in her face and echoed faintly in her voice. "You don't have to explain, Vincent. I know what you're feeling." Before lowering her hand, she let her fingers trace a featherweight caress along the unique contours of his mouth and felt the tiny tremors her touch evoked. Continuing to look up at him, she tilted her head slightly as she spoke. "Remember, I know your heart, too."
For several long moments, he gazed down at her, his eyes full of wonder and wanting. His mind drifted on the billowing waves of emotion that flowed ceaselessly through their bond, and he let himself be soothed and supported by their strength. Again he felt the great joy her steadfast love had brought to the secret sadness of his solitary life; and yet he was just as acutely aware of an undeniable force that underscored her devotion -- the vibrant drive of their shared desire.
Catherine snuggled against him, nestling her head against his chest, as his arms instinctively encircled her in a loving embrace. Sighing softly, he let his thoughts continue.
She will always love me, he told himself, still unable to entirely release the feeling of awe such knowledge stirred in him. And because of her love, I will never again be alone...Yet, I continue to deny that part of her love which calls to me with words I believed I would never hear, words that tell me she shares all my deepest dreams. I know this is true -- and yet why do I go on tormenting her...and myself? And what reason still exists for us to remain apart?
In a heartbeat, Vincent knew what his answer would be, what it had been for a very long time. There is no longer any reason for it. No reason at all. Catherine, my Catherine, wants me as I am. She desires me...just as I desire her. She wishes to share her life with me in ways I never thought possible. It is Catherine who is the answer to every question I've tried so hard to ignore, to every secret prayer I've whispered, and all the hopeless yearning I've ever felt...And now, as miraculous as it seems, there is nothing more to keep us from fulfilling all our dreams.
Although he had not spoken aloud, Catherine heard the voice of his heart, and she turned in his arms, pushing back just enough to look up at him. The shimmering light in her eyes told him that she had traced the path of his contemplation, and that she found both solace and joy in reaching its long-awaited conclusion.
His voice became a throaty whisper, at once full of strength and softness. "I will always love you, Catherine. Our love is worth everything to me. Everything."
"Yes, Vincent, it is worth everything," she vowed in return, repeating the words that were as true now as they had been when they’d offered them to one another two years earlier. "There will never be a time when I won't love you."
The kiss they shared pulsed with a sweet promise and simmering sensuality that left them trembling in each other's arms. Slowly, they eased back against the rocky wall, for the time being content to savor the power and possibilities their love offered them, knowing that the dreams they had sought for so long were at last truly within their reach. And for countless minutes they remained as they were, so caught up in their own enchanted world that all thought of other forces, other realms, ceased to exist.

//////////////////////////////

For many years the large lower level of Father's chambers had been used by the community as a meeting place. It was almost always occupied by discussions or diversions; meetings of importance when the Council members gathered around the old mahogany table to debate tunnel rules and regulations, and meetings no less significant, at least in the eyes of some, when Father tried to best a member of his large extended family at a game of chess. There were tall cabinets of maps, nearly endless shelves of books, and always a simmering kettle of water or slowly cooling pot of tea awaiting anyone who wished refreshment. It was within this room that the unruly were chastised, the unhappy were counseled, and the unaware were enlightened. And to those who dwelt Below there seemed to be an unwritten rule that, despite its being assigned to Father, this portion of the tunnels was open freely to everyone as their needs dictated.
Yet in the hours following the well-attended Sunday brunch, the chamber was strangely dark and quiet, its shadowy reaches dimly lit by a small handful of slowly guttering candles and its silence for a long while unbroken by the presence of the solitary man within. Having abandoned his usual place, a worn but comfortable chair behind his wide, mahogany desk, Jacob Wells found himself sitting on the small loveseat that had been left in the alcove beneath the stairs leading to the book-lined loft. As still as if he had been carved from a block of granite, the patriarch of the tunnel world gazed into the gloomy haze of the chamber, seeing nothing but the pictures painted by his troubled mind.
Catherine and Vincent strolling hand in hand along the rocky corridors, lost in conversation and in each other.....Catherine curled up in a large velvet-seated chair as Vincent leaned against the cushions of his bed and read to her in his deep, resonant voice, transforming a poet's words of love and devotion into a heartfelt offering of his own.....Catherine seated at Vincent's side in the vast, communal dining chamber, sharing quiet laughter, loving glances, and the patently overt approval of their tunnel family.....Catherine rushing through the tunnels even as Vincent eagerly raced toward her, unable to wait a moment longer to see her, to touch her.....
Even when she was Above, her presence remained a palpable entity Below.....The faraway look in Vincent's eyes as her emotions rippled toward him through their bond.....The hours Vincent spent writing of her in his journal or searching for a perfect poem or story to share with her.....The frequency with which the others mentioned her name and the affection in their voices when they did.....The genuine enthusiasm with which her arrival Below was always met..... The great care Vincent took with his preparations for any planned visit Below or excursion Above, so that every moment they could spend together would be special.....The risks, the dangers, the foolishness -- none of it mattered at all as long as it was for her.....for her.....for her.....
Jacob shook his head hard as if trying to dislodge the thoughts and images imprisoned there. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, grimacing as his fingers encountered rigid muscles taut with tension. He pushed himself to his feet, but took no more than a single step forward before turning back to stare down at the soft-cushioned loveseat. Immediately an image of Catherine and Vincent appeared in his mind's eye just as they had been during the previous night's concert. He remembered how the two had looked then, nestled together in such transparent pleasure and contentment that their shared happiness seemed to billow outward until it touched and warmed everyone in their presence.
For just a moment, Jacob found his tense mouth relaxing into a semblance of a smile. A love such as the one they shared was so rare and wondrous, a miracle really, he told himself. So full of strength. But they can't see how easily it can all be torn apart, ruined, destroyed...and, in return, how it will destroy everything and everyone along with it...
Once more he shook his head and forced his gaze away. He could feel the pain returning and in a rapid, involuntary movement, he raised his hands upward, pressing hard against his forehead and temples as if to compress the swirling, conflicting images within, forcing them to conform to something more readily dealt with, more easily brought to a clean, swift conclusion. Yet even as he did so, he knew the gesture was useless, nothing more than a futile, desperate action by a confused, desperate man who no longer knew where to turn.
Sighing heavily, he reached for the walking stick he had abandoned earlier at his feet, and slowly made his way toward the inner chamber that served as his bedroom. Just inside the doorway, he lit the torches in adjoining wall sconces and felt a fleeting sense of comfort as the darkness receded. Then, as if pulled by an inexorable force, he found himself moving forward until he reached a tall armoire that stood alone in a small, dark alcove toward the back of the chamber. The once glossy walnut wood was dusty and dull from neglect, and the tarnished brass hinges creaked when Jacob pulled open the door, as if something within resented any intrusion on its solitude.
The interior contained three drawers and several open shelves alongside a row of hooks and a bar for clothing. Two sets of garments, a dark woolen suit and a light overcoat, hung side by side, their outdated styles and slightly musty air of disuse contrasting incongruously with the well-used and unique styles typical of everyday tunnel-wear. Hesitating only for a moment, Jacob reached past the clothing toward the top drawer. As he did so, his hand brushed against the stiff fabric of the gabardine suit, and he shuddered at the sensation. It was impossible for him to ignore the image that flashed through his mind, of how after so many years, he had been forced to wear the suit again so that he might return Above to the world he had abandoned, the world that had rejected him. Twice he had returned in recklessly courageous attempts to help someone he loved, ready to forsake everything he believed in for her sake and for his, ready to risk everything, for Margaret, for Vincent.
No, he ordered his rebellious mind. No. I will not think of that now. There are other things I must do.
He blinked hard, trying to focus himself, but even as he did, a final image flickered before him, searing his already scarred heart and fueling the simmering fires of his torment. As if it had been only moments earlier, he saw Catherine looking down at him as he descended the steps into the subway, feeling the annoyance her voice evoked in him as she further delayed his return home. He could almost hear her words, telling him that she loved his son, and the vivid memory brought a renewed surge of emotion spiraling through him.
She had forced him to speak words of ugliness then, deceitful words that insulted both the miracle of a wondrous love and the dignity of his unique son. Yet even as she questioned his horrible words, her own beliefs would not be swayed. She loved his son. She loved Vincent. She told him so as if she believed that a mere declaration of love would solve everything, that it would make possible a merging of their two terribly disparate worlds.
The memory beat mercilessly at him, and for the thousandth time he asked himself the same questions. Couldn't she see that all her hopeful plans, all the wild longings she had awakened in Vincent, were nothing more than the fragile framework of a silly, pretty, and entirely impossible dream? It tore at him with a bitter pain that would never die. How could the two of them hope to overcome the obstacles the world threw in their path at each and every turn? Why should they expect their love to survive when the love of others had been doomed, destined to be lost in unending bitterness and pain? To give up everything for love, everything, only to be left alone with so many unanswerable questions....And, in the end, what difference could love make?
"None at all," he murmured aloud. "None at all, Margaret."
As the hoarse whispery words hung suspended in the dusty air, Jacob struggled to deny even the utterance of them.
"No!" His voice, full of fear and anger, rang discordantly in the quiet chamber, but he heard only the echo of her beloved name and not the ugly sound of his own voice. "No. Not Margaret. It's over. It's all over, all of it. She's gone....Now it's Catherine.... Catherine. And it will not happen again. I will not let it happen! Not to my son. Not to Vincent!"
He tried to turn away then, but he could not. As if it belonged to someone else, he watched his own hand pull open the drawer and remove a packet of letters and an old, leather-covered journal. He stared down at the objects, wishing with all his heart that he had destroyed them long ago, and yet knowing that even if he had, it would make little difference now. He would never be able to forget the terrible truth they contained. The words inscribed within were etched upon his heart, and the fiery acidic pain of their creation made him suffer still.
Reflexively, he clutched the small objects to his chest, and then with one shaking hand, he closed the door on the remaining artifacts of his other life. It was not the time to even attempt to derive some bittersweet pleasure from his gentler, more endearing memories. For what he had to do now, he needed the strength and power that came only from reliving the worst kind of pain. Once, long ago, he had promised himself he would never again look upon the papers he now held in his hand. But, he told himself now as he summoned courage from the deepest part of himself, it was for Vincent. And Vincent is worth everything.
Jacob made his way to the old armchair next to his bed and lit the lamp on the small adjacent table. As he lowered himself onto the worn needlepoint cushion, he could not suppress a harsh sigh, as if something fatally flawed, yet still precious, was dying deep inside him. Refusing to allow himself even the slightest chance to alter his course, he opened the journal and turned pages that had remained hidden away in darkness and despair for over forty years.

/////////////////////////////

As Father hid away alone in his chamber with agonizing memories and tattered remnants of lost dreams his only companions, Catherine and Vincent dreamed together by a pool of shimmering lights, their hearts wrapped in bright images and endless possibilities of a life together. They did not speak again of what they had shared earlier, nor of what might have been, both trusting that their time to be together would surely come.
The warm, moist air and peaceful silence of the small, enclosed chamber had lulled them into a comfortable languor. With her head nestled against Vincent's shoulder, Catherine felt her eyes grow heavy, and she knew she soon would be asleep in his arms. Smiling, she willingly surrendered to her lassitude, only to be drawn back by the husky sound of his voice.
"Catherine?" He turned slightly to kiss the top of her head, loving the way the satiny strands felt against his mouth. "Are you falling asleep?"
"No, not really," she murmured, stirring just enough to cuddle closer to him. In a slow, languid motion, she let her arm slide over his outstretched body to lie partway across his chest just above his waist. Her fingers played with the long strips of suede fringe that extended from the neckline of his quilted cotton vest and rippled down the expanse of his chest. Over and over she fluttered the leather lazily between her fingers, and Vincent watched her, inordinately intrigued by the simple gesture.
At last, she opened her eyes drowsily and met his fascinated gaze. Unable to resist, she playfully grabbed a small handful of the soft suede strips and flicked them upward to flutter across his nose and chin. His response was immediate, and she felt his chest rumble beneath her head as he laughed at the ticklish sensation. Then his hand closed around hers and he rippled the same strands across her face, grinning as she struggled half-heartedly to escape.
Catherine wriggled up to a sitting position and grinned back at him. "Now, I'm definitely awake. Did you have something in mind for us to do?"
The exaggerated arch of her eyebrows told him exactly what she hoped his response would be, and for several wildly enticing moments, he was tempted to surprise her with willing compliance. Then, sitting up straighter and turning his body to face toward her, he shook his head and opted for the question he had originally intended to voice.
"Earlier you asked about the temperature of the water," he began.
The blatant seduction in her smile trembled into sweetly sensual recollection. "Oh, yes," she whispered. "I remember..." And his rapid breathing told her that he remembered, too.
Vincent swallowed hard and licked unconsciously at the dryness of his lips, almost believing he could still taste her on his skin. Instinctively, he began to lean toward her, his eyes drawn to the moist softness of her mouth; and then with a small, harsh gasp, he leaned back and forced himself to speak, knowing that it would be all too easy -- and too cruel -- to once again begin something he felt he could not yet finish.
His voice was carefully even. "The water, Catherine, I thought perhaps it would help your ankle heal. The temperature isn't too hot, and the properties of the minerals in it could be very soothing. Would you like to try?"
She nodded, her smile once again calm and serene. "That's exactly what I was going to suggest earlier. Even though my ankle is much better, it still aches a little, and I guess I shouldn't have taken the bandage off so soon. The warm water in the pool might help a lot."
Her eyes flickered toward the sparkling surface of the water and then back to Vincent's face. Coming to a quick decision, she reached for the zipper tab at the neckline of her fleecy jacket and, averting her gaze with seemingly casual ease, she pulled the tab downward and shrugged out of the garment. Underneath she wore a tight, white cotton T-shirt which at almost any other time would have been an image of straightforward comfort and simplicity; yet now, she acknowledged silently, it must seem to Vincent as blatant an instrument of seduction as any stereotypical black lace negligee.
"It is very warm in here," she began with an edge of near-defiance in her voice. As she glanced up at him from under the errant fringe of hair that ruffled across her forehead, she found herself first startled and then inordinately pleased by the appreciative smile he tried to suppress.
"Yes," he agreed, his voice a warm, rippling murmur that seemed to whisper across her skin. "It’s uncomfortably warm in this chamber."
He looked away from her, and once again she began to worry that she’d made him uncomfortable. But seconds later, to Catherine's great surprise and even greater delight, he began to unlace the suede thongs that held together the edges of his heavily quilted cotton vest. He shrugged out of the vest and set it aside, away from the rim of the pool. Quickly, as if he might change his mind should he hesitate, he unfastened two buttons at the neck of his blue chambray shirt. Then, with hands that shook only slightly, he unbuttoned the cuffs of the shirt and rolled the sleeves up as far as his elbows.
Although he could not bring himself to look at her, he knew Catherine was watching him. As he stared down at his forearms, he could almost feel her gaze penetrate the dense layer of golden hair to sear the skin of the tensely drawn muscles beneath. Vincent knew she had looked upon his body before, but those circumstances had been entirely different. Then he had been desperately ill and she had been frantic with worry and fear. Now the sensations that reached toward him through their bond had nothing at all to do with life-threatening terror or sickening dread. And even though the very thought still astounded him, he knew that all her tumultuous feelings spoke of love and desire. Catherine's desire for him.
When Vincent raised his head at last, he found himself looking straight into her eyes, and what tiny threads of doubt still clung to him were swept away and discarded like an unwanted woolen blanket on a sultry summer night. As her gaze locked with his, he saw her eyes darken to the color of wet jade before she lowered them again beneath slightly trembling lashes. Once more he thought he felt her gaze scorch his skin, but even that sensation melted away to nothingness at the touch of her hands. He tried to speak her name, but the sound was only a hot, harsh gasp as he both watched and felt her small fingers bury themselves in the soft, tawny hair to caress the firm-muscled flesh beneath.
Catherine could scarcely believe he was permitting her to touch him in this way, but she knew it was what they both wanted. Another step forward, she told herself, feeling shivers of pleasure as she continued to caress him.
When she finally spoke, her voice was warm and breathy. "You feel wonderful, Vincent," she murmured, delightedly smoothing her fingers over his arms. "Like silk and steel."
She could hear his breath shudder heavily through his parted lips as she stroked her hands upward over his chest and shoulders. Yet she persisted, pressing her hands against the back of his neck to urge him closer, and feeling a small surge of relief when he finally lowered his head toward hers. Still, she could not suppress a feeling of dismay when he gripped his hands into tight fists and lowered them to press hard against his thighs instead of gently taking her in his arms. And when she looked deep into his eyes, she sadly understood that phantom shadows of his past haunted him still.
Aflame with both pain and passion, Vincent's glittering eyes narrowed until they were almost closed. His muscles strained with his desire to reach for her, and in a heartbeat, he knew he could not resist entirely. He did not want to. Groaning her name into her mouth, he kissed her hard with a fusion of desire and restraint that burned through her, and left both of them breathless and trembling when he pulled away.
Willing himself to relax, Vincent tried again to reach for her, but in mere seconds, forced his hands back to his sides. The feelings she had evoked in him by only the touch of her hands on his arms, by only a single kiss, were so powerful that they filled him with confusion, leaving him torn and wavering on an emotional precipice, unable to go forward, unable to retreat.
As he started to withdraw from her, Catherine's first impulse was to hold him tighter, but with a small, sad sigh she let her hands drift down to rest lightly upon his shoulders. Her desire to comfort him, to let him know without a shadow of a doubt that she understood the depth of his lingering fears, overcame the tenacious grip of her own need, and she prayed their bond would carry that message to him. She started to raise one hand, intending to gently stroke his beloved face, but as their eyes met, she faltered, hope warring with disbelief as she watched much of his inner torment slowly ebb away in the wake of a growing sense of calmness and serenity.
With love all things are possible, she told herself. But I can't push him farther than he's willing to go or we could lose everything....And yet I want more, much more, and I know he does, too.
Although Catherine knew she must accept that their tumultuous journey was not yet over, she was aware that they had reached a port of refuge, and they would not ignore the possibilities that awaited them there. Still, understanding that for now she would have to let Vincent direct the course of their dreams, she took a deep breath and tried to force herself to be content with all that they had, and to wait with patience for all that was to come. She let her hands glide down the length of his arms in a caress of love and regret, and then slid her body several inches away along the rocky ledge. When she looked up at him again, her smile was tender and unwavering.
"I guess we're ready to see if this pool of yours really has magical healing properties," she commented lightly. "And if it doesn't, I promise not to take any of you to court for malpractice."
Sighing in relief, Vincent gratefully followed her playful lead. "Wouldn't the case be one of false advertising instead? You are voluntarily administering the treatment to your own ankle, so if the suit were one of malpractice, then I believe you would be forced to prosecute yourself."
Catherine glowered at him in mock annoyance but could not keep her mouth from turning up in a delighted grin. "Who's the lawyer here?" she demanded, trying not to laugh at his smug expression. "I'm glad I don't have to face you in the courtroom!"
Vincent chuckled softly, feeling his heart swell with love for the woman beside him. She gives so much to me, he told himself wonderingly, and she asks so little in return, despite her own needs and desires. There must be more that I can do for her. More that I will do.
Catherine tilted her head as she looked up at him. "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly. "All of a sudden, you look so determined, like you've come to an important conclusion of some sort."
He shook his head and answered in a voice that was almost shy in spite of his deep inner conviction. "Nothing. It's nothing, Catherine." And in his heart he heard himself whisper, It’s everything, Catherine. You are everything.
Shrugging her shoulders, Catherine turned her attention back toward the pool. But as she bent her knee and leaned forward to untie her white leather running shoe, Vincent rose to his knees beside her and reached out to cover her hands with his own.
His voice was husky and low, but its throaty sound seemed to reverberate through her. "Let me do this for you, Catherine."
There was an unspoken need for reassurance in his quietly issued request, and she did not hesitate in responding. Gently withdrawing her hands, she turned herself sideways so that she now sat facing him, their bodies parallel to the shallow pool on one side and the rock wall on the other. She watched as he moved back slightly and then, gently supporting her ankle, he slid her right leg forward until her foot rested upon his thigh. Seeking to balance herself, Catherine straightened her other leg, easing it past his right knee until her foot nestled against the strong muscles of his calf. Then she stretched her arms out a few inches behind her and braced her hands against the moist stone floor.
For the first time since he'd asked if he might touch her in this way, Vincent raised his eyes to meet her watchful gaze. "Are you comfortable like this, Catherine?" he asked softly, his voice full of enticing undercurrents.
Her emotions suddenly on edge, Catherine almost laughed out loud, knowing she would have answered "yes" even if she had never been more uncomfortable in her life. "I'm fine," she replied, and then, suddenly unable to say another word, she simply leaned back a bit farther and waited for him to continue.
His head was bent downward, effectively hiding his expression from her hopeful eyes. As she watched, he deftly unknotted the ties of her shoe with the supple strength of his long fingers, and then gently eased it from her foot. Without looking up, he set it to one side and then, with only the slightest hesitation, he reached for the ribbed cuff of her fleecy jogging pants. Always wary of even the slightest chance that he might hurt her, he carefully grasped the soft knit fabric and slid it upward several inches until it eased past the calf-high cuff of her white sock. With great gentleness, he hooked two fingers into either side of the sock and then slowly pulled it down over the smooth skin of her leg.
Catherine had watched in rapt fascination as he acted upon his seemingly innocent offer of assistance. But there was little that was innocent in her reaction to his tender help, nor, she began to suspect delightedly, had there been in his impulsive action. As he drew the sock over the arch of her foot, the short, dense fur that covered his hands brushed against her sensitive skin, and she felt a quick responsive tremor quiver through her. That he felt it, too, came as no surprise, and her pleasure in his touch was magnified by the sight and sensation of his fingers trembling against her skin as he tenderly cradled her foot in his large hands.
His gaze was drawn to the light peach polish that flawlessly covered the oval nail of each toe. He tilted his head in amazement at the sight, so unaccustomed was he to even this small luxury from the world Above. The shape and shade reminded him of the pale, translucent seashells one of the children had brought back from a trip to a Helper's beach cottage. He had thought that handful of seashells lovely, but their remembered beauty now paled and faded away in Catherine's light.
How small and delicate she is, he told himself wonderingly. How fine and beautiful. Each time I see her, I am more astounded by her beauty, within and without. And yet, his thoughts continued, easily rioting down a more reckless pathway, there is so much more to learn of her, things I've only dreamed of..... With a small, abrupt shake of his head, Vincent forced himself to refocus and regain a sense of control he knew could be all too readily lost. Despite his earlier resolve and the heat of desire that always pulsed within him, he was thoroughly amazed that he'd found the temerity to act upon this impulsive idea, and was now at a loss as to what to do next. He knew Catherine was watching him, and he felt certain that she shared his feelings of startled delight, but still he could not meet her eyes. His mind was a slowly spiraling whirlpool of sensations, where currents of danger and desire curled and spun relentlessly. They would not let him rest, and then suddenly, without further thought, he gave in to their allure.
Before his courage deserted him entirely, Vincent gently settled her right foot onto the cool stone floor and then repeated his actions with the left. But this time, after cradling her foot in the palm of his hands, he gently pulled one hand free. Then with the pad of one finger he lightly traced a lingering path along the tip of each toe and over the arch of her foot until he reached her ankle. Hesitating only slightly, he carefully curled his finger inward until the just tip of his claw touched her. Then he slowly, deliberately stroked tendrils of fire along the ivory smoothness of her skin until he reached the hidden curve just behind her slightly bent knee. He felt the always smoldering flames flare up within him, just as he knew they did within her, and, unable to resist, he repeated his arousing impulse once again.
Gasping, Catherine felt waves of heat surge through her entire body. There was never any cessation or easing of the burning hunger she felt for him; instead it grew stronger each time he called to her with a look or word or touch. What would have been nothing more than easily forgotten gestures or merely playful actions with other lovers, took on monumental importance with Vincent, for she knew the depth of courage and trust it took for him to risk them at all. And with each brave, new touch he initiated, each tender caress he offered, her desire for him only deepened until she felt it might consume her entirely.
Taking a deep, trembling breath, Catherine murmured his name, and at the hushed, heated sound he at last met her hungry eyes. The air that flowed between them seemed to shimmer, and for a moment Catherine again felt an odd sense of unreality, as if she'd somehow stumbled into an enchanted world of dazzling, seductive dreams. Then slowly leaning forward she reached for him, even as he moved closer still, willingly drawn by her need and his own. This, she knew in an instant, was no realm of fantasy or fiction. It was the reality she had dreamed of, a world where she would find love as she had never known it before, a place of homecoming with only him. Cupping his beautiful face in her hands, she breathlessly whispered the love-song of his name, and saw his reply flare up in the molten blue flames of his eyes.
Instinctively, Vincent clasped his hands around her waist, supporting her in his strong grasp and helping her upward, as in a quick, graceful motion, Catherine pulled her legs back under herself and rose to her knees. Her heart raced as she watched him mirror her position, straightening the powerful muscles of his thighs and pushing himself up to kneel in front of her. His gaze had never left her, and as she looked up at him, she felt herself drawn into the well of his deep and helpless yearning.
Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck and leaned into him, whimpering low in her throat as he pulled her firmly against his taut body. As they knelt together upon the rocky ledge, Vincent held her tightly, knowing that the hard-muscled strength of his arms could never hurt her. They clung to one another, their bodies pressed so close together that they formed a perfect, inseparable entity. They seemed to be suspended in time, swaying as one in the heated air, until Catherine yielded to the impulsive actions she hoped would incite an equally unbridled response from the man who ached to become her lover in every way.
Unable to keep still a moment longer, Catherine wound eager hands into the thickness of his hair, holding him to her as she pressed her mouth against the warm, damp skin at the side of his neck, kissing her way downward along the strong line of his jaw. He did nothing to stop her, and felt more than heard the soft moan that vibrated deep within him, just as Catherine sensed its answer throb within herself. Enflamed by the sound and the taste of him, she acted on pure instinct, opening her mouth farther to nip at the pulse that pounded in the base of his throat, imagining she could feel the fevered beating of the blood in his veins, as she sucked and licked at the quivering flesh.
With a quick, impatient motion, Catherine nuzzled her face into the unbuttoned opening at the neck of his shirt, bending her head slightly as she pressed kiss after kiss upon his warm skin. Short sleek strands of golden hair rippled across her tongue, and she drew them into her mouth, gently pulling them taut before releasing them again to kiss the tender flesh hidden beneath. The scent and taste of his skin, heated and moist, was a potent seduction she had no desire to resist, and she groaned harshly in protest when he moved even the slightest bit away from her.
Vincent's entire body seemed to shudder with barely suppressed arousal, and as he felt himself harden in response, he knew he could withstand its insistent force no longer. Pulling back only a fraction of an inch, he ran his hands up and down along the arched curve of her back, lightly pressing his clawed nails into the smooth cotton fabric of her T-shirt until they finally came to rest at her waist. He held her there for only a moment, restively sensing her anticipation, and then let his hands move lower until they tightly gripped the curve of her hips.
He felt Catherine hurriedly untangle her fingers from the long hair that clung damply to his neck, and then she grasped his shoulders as if to instinctively balance herself for what was to come. Unable and unwilling to stop himself, he leaned backward just enough to compensate for his greater height. Then, thrusting his hips upward, he arched into her softness. Desperately he sought the welcoming warmth he knew awaited him there even as he felt Catherine's quivering response begin both within the bond and within her. It was more than he had ever dreamed of, but it could not be enough.
Groaning in urgent expectation Vincent sank backward once again, bringing Catherine with him. Moving quickly, he clasped his hands around her waist and turned their bodies so that he sat flat upon the chamber ledge, his long legs bent at the knee and spread wide as he urged her forward to straddle his thighs. Her slender arms encircled his shoulders as she buried her face into the rough silk of his hair, and he shuddered with delight when he felt the moist heat of her mouth tease and caress the sensitive hidden skin of his ear and neck. Then, as he pulled her closer, the rounded curves of her hips and buttocks nestled firmly against the rapidly swelling heat and hardness of him, and his breathing echoed in harsh, rapid gasps, half in fear, half in passion. Holding her to him in this way, he knew she could have no doubt of the extent of his desire for her, but he had passed the point where such rational thought might have any dominion.
From the moment she had felt the curved tips of his claws stroking lines of fire against her skin even through the thin layer of her T-shirt, Catherine's response had been immediate and intense. Eagerly entering into the sensual wonder of another long-held fantasy at last come to life, she needed to rush onward to its heated conclusion and yet savor every ardent moment of the journey. She had felt Vincent open himself more than ever before to her and to the fulfillment of their dream, filling her with wild hope when she imagined where this moment could lead them. And she knew she could not wait any longer.
She threw her head back and pushed her slender hips forward even more tightly against him, as Vincent looked down at the place where their bodies met, his eyes gleaming with desire and wonder. Catherine's eyes were shut tight, but even as she began to move enticingly against him, slowly at first but with unmistakable intent, she sensed his gaze being drawn to the rapidly fluttering pulse that rippled beneath the taut skin of her arched throat. She tried to speak, but only a hot, raspy sigh shuddered from her trembling lips.
In an instant Vincent vividly recalled the sensations of Catherine's mouth against his throat, and he felt himself being drawn by her, aching to offer her the same passionate gift. He let his hands move upward again, one firmly encircling her waist and the other grasping her shoulders, as he straightened and braced the strong muscles of his thighs. Their bond echoed and quivered with erotic expectancy Catherine fervently willed him to go on. And he knew in an instant that he would not disappoint her -- or himself.
Even before his mouth touched her once more, Catherine felt the dry warmth of his breath sear her skin with the welcome heat and latent strength of a desert wind. The sensation was at once deeply soothing and wildly arousing, and she moaned softly, pushing her hips harder and faster against his hard length, just as she arched her neck, inviting his kiss. She heard his hoarse gasp turn into an eager groan and then his lips were at her throat.
Further freeing the lifelong restraints imposed upon his deep and innate sensuality, Vincent let himself follow the instinctive dictates of his heart. He leaned into her and nuzzled his unique mouth against her delicate flesh, sending shimmers of elation and expectancy through both of them as he shared in the flaring pleasure of her response. Parting his lips slightly, he let the warm, moist heat of his tongue caress her, savoring the sweet taste of her skin and the shuddering tremors that strengthened within her. The delicious onslaught of sensations made him wish the moment could last forever, and yet he knew there would be more.
Beneath his searching mouth and tongue, he could feel the vibrant beating of her pulse. Its rapid, rhythmic cadence called to him, begging for his reply, and he felt as if they were suspended within some secret place and time too intimate and precious to withstand the invasion of rational thought. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he found the strength to ask himself if this was what Catherine had felt when she had given in to the desire to nip and suckle at his throat, to feel the surging of his heart in the heated blood that warmed and flowed just beneath the taut skin, to know the pulsating reality of his body just as she knew the eternal promise of his soul. And even as he lingered in such abstract contemplation, he knew without a doubt that it would be his last coherent thought for untold moments yet to come.
Catherine felt her breathing grow more rapid and erratic as she struggled to draw words from the tumultuous delight within her. With effort she took a deep gasping breath and tried to speak, her voice a breathy siren song that called out to her lover with unmistakable intent.
"Vincent, don't stop, please don't stop. I need you..."
Later he would reflect incredulously on the wonders that they'd shared, but for now there was no choice but to yield willingly to her pleas. Once more he let his lips and tongue caress her with impassioned tenderness, instinctively imitating the rhythmic motion of her hips as he moved harder, and then harder still, against her. Opening his mouth farther than before, he set the sharp points of his teeth against the throbbing pulse of her throat, holding her with their extraordinary eroticism as she arched her back and screamed out his name in a voice that blazed with emotions he had never known.
Vincent felt her small fingers grasping his shoulders with frantic force, and then in a heartbeat he felt nothing but overwhelming waves of heat and light coursing over and through him with the incredible strength that could come only from within their bond. He felt overpowered and yet he only wished for the sensations to continue forever, leaving them adrift together in their fire and radiance.

The past is but the beginning of a beginning,
and all that has been
is but the twilight of the dawn.

-H.G. Wells