No More Need to Hide

Vee Horning

Chapter 1

He claimed her with the right of a conqueror, self-assured and triumphant. Her body was his to command, however he pleased. His hands explored every inch of her submissive frame. His mouth feasted upon her, hungrily. His manhood probed deep, taking possession of all that belonged to him. She was his now. His victorious roar echoed throughout the chamber as his torrent surged within her, lifting her into blinding insensibility.

Catherine sat up, flinging aside the satin sheet, soaked with sweat. Rising from the hazy mist between sleeping and waking, she felt strangely lightheaded and dizzy. The dream. She thought. That dream again. Shaking her head, she reached for the alarm clock on the bedside table. 3:47am. Exactly like last night. I can’t stand it. God, please, don’t do this to me every night. She pushed herself up from the bed and running a hand through her damp hair, padded into the bathroom. No way am I getting any more sleep tonight. Might as well take a shower and do some more work on that Taylor brief.

 

Far below, in his darkened chamber, Vincent paced back and forth, retracing the time-worn pattern of the carpet. Through the bond connecting them, he knew she was awake now and safe. But the knowledge had no comfort for him. A storm of emotions raged within him. In the past, he had often witnessed her more powerful dreams. Beautiful dreams. Some with vague blurry images of her mother smiling down at the child she used to be. This was different. This was much, much worse.

After the ‘Lisa incident’, he had developed an involuntary habit of moderating his innate need for physical contact. Since Catherine came into his life, he had become even more meticulously diligent, always camouflaging his growing desire with chaste embraces. Vincent had always believed that, as much as she loved him, she never thought of him in sexual terms. Further, he had firmly convinced himself she would be appalled if she knew of his hunger for her.

Now, the vivid erotic images of the dream and the feelings they evoked within him threatened that carefully maintained façade. The passion coursing through their bond was growing stronger with each passing day. He could no longer deceive himself into believing theirs was only a spiritual connection, pure and virtuous.

Suddenly the ceiling above his head felt too low, the walls too close and confining. Losing his struggle to control the rising tide of his emotions, Vincent hurriedly dressed then left the chamber. Thanks to the early hour, he found it was easy to avoid the few community members still awake. The moment his foot fell beyond the ring of the main living quarters, he broke into a frenzied blind run.

Sentries hidden behind granite walls took note as he sprinted past, his face streaked with sweat, his cloak billowing behind him like the dark wings of a bat. As soon as Pascal piped the notation of the six o’clock hour, a runner delivered a dispatch to the patriarch of the tunnels.

**************

Coming home late that night Catherine was surprised by an envelope taped to her apartment door. Dropping her briefcase and purse at her feet, she snatched it open, finding two neatly folded notes. The first was in Father’s hurried doctor’s scrawl.

Her hands shook as she unfolded the second note instantly recognizing Vincent’s elegant calligraphic handwriting.

Bewildered, Catherine reread both notes. Questions swirled about in her mind.

Father said he left unannounced that morning. Maybe he didn’t want to disturb him that early, but why didn’t he at least take food and supplies with him? Her analytical legal mind concluded that Vincent had undoubtedly left the home tunnels on the spur of the moment, unprepared for an extended journey. Why? His note specifically said he had not lost himself. Something must have happened to drive him away from home.

Suddenly aware that she was still standing in the hallway, she retrieved her apartment key from her purse and shouldered the door open. The letters and envelope still clutched in her hand, she kicked her briefcase into the room ahead of her, stepped inside, and then slammed the door shut. Leaving the briefcase where it lay, she crossed the room and dropped onto the loveseat.

His note said he needed to discuss something. Why hadn’t he just come to me? He’s come to the balcony in the middle of the night before. We haven’t seen each other since Sunday night but that’s not unusual. Nothing upsetting happened over the weekend. Whatever it is, it had to have happened during the night.

"My dream! Damn it! He must have felt that damn dream."

Although she had not mastered his skill of manipulating their bond, she closed her eyes and struggled to reach out to him. Unable to feel anything, she couldn’t stop her rush of anger. So I dreamt of making love with you. So what? You can’t expect me to control unconscious dreams. Do you think I can turn my love on and off with the bloody light switch? Furious, Catherine changed into running clothes and spent the last daylight hour racing around Central Park.

**************

Approaching the hub just after 9 am Saturday morning, Vincent opened the bond he’d kept tightly clamped for two days. Momentarily stunned to sense her Below so soon, he quickened his pace, listening as the sentries announced his return over the pipes. After depositing his camping gear in a storeroom near the kitchen, Vincent headed directly to the study, in part out of respect for his father and in part, to stall for more time before seeing her again.

"Hello, Father."

"Vincent! Thank heavens you’re back! Are you all right? I’m really annoyed with you, I must say."

"I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to worry you."

"But that you have. To disappear so suddenly, in the middle of the night, without a word."

"Mouse gave you the message I left, didn’t he?"

"That note only made matters worse. Vincent, what on earth could you have been thinking?"

"Father, please. Chastise me another time, not now."

Father’s anger evaporated as he looked more closely at his son’s drawn expression. Rising from his chair, he rounded the desk and reached up to place a physician’s hand on Vincent’s forehead. "Son, sit down. Your note said you were well but now I have to wonder. You look as if you haven’t slept at all. Tell me. What’s happened?"

Shaking his head, Vincent took his father’s hand in his. "I’m all right. Nothing has happened, Father. Not yet. I must speak with Catherine. Do you know where she is?"

"I believe she is still sequestered in your chamber. The poor girl has been there since yesterday afternoon. Joe Something-or-other made her take an early weekend."

Vincent turned to climb the stairs but stopped in mid-step. Without turning to face his father, he allowed his distress to surface when he spoke. "Father. Please stay close."

Before Father could respond, Vincent disappeared into the corridor leading to his chamber toward possibly the most difficult conversation they would ever have.

Taking a moment to order his thoughts Vincent stepped into the dimly lit room. Catherine sat on his bed with several pillows supporting her back and a shawl draped loosely around her shoulders. A book lay open in her lap. When she looked up at him, he saw something in her green eyes that sent a shudder down his spine. Shaking it off, he tossed his empty pack in a corner and laid his cloak on the foot of the bed.

"Good Morning, Catherine."

She sat very still, watching him. Her voice was soft and strained. "Are you all right?"

"I am not ill, if that’s what you mean."

Dropping heavily into his throne-like chair, Vincent raised a hand to his eyes, distractedly rubbing them. Although he had grown up in this chamber, he felt oddly out of place now, as though he were intruding somehow. "Catherine, we must talk."

She had learned to dread those words. She decided to face whatever was going to happen head on. "About the dreams I’ve been having about us?"

Vincent looked up, startled.

A brief smile touched her face but faded quickly. "I’m an attorney, Vincent. I’m trained in the art of deductive reasoning. Why else would you have left the home tunnels that night, without a word to anyone?"

"I suppose I should have spoken to Father first. But I…wasn’t thinking clearly."

"So I’m right? You did sense my dream through our bond? And it disturbed you?"

"To say the least."

"So that’s why you sent for me? To talk about my fantasies?"

Pushing himself to his feet, he crossed the room to stand in front of his large maple armoire. Bracing both hands against the carvings, he leaned into it. Instinctively, she rose from the bed and stepped closer to him.

"Please, Catherine. Don’t touch me." Since entering, he hadn’t been certain if the thick air of apprehension within the chamber was the result of his own emotions or a combination of hers mixed with his. However, at that instant, the sensation of a slashing knife wound undoubtedly came from her. Before she could draw another breath, he spun around and gently pulled her into his arms. "Forgive me, Catherine. I didn’t mean to say that so harshly."

She pushed against his chest, forcing him to release her. Looking up, she took a bit of pleasure at the shocked expression on his face. "No, Vincent. I’m not going to cry. While I was waiting for you to come home, I made up my mind. No matter what you say, or what you do to us. I will not cry."

Staring down at her, he saw it again. The shadowy something that sent the chill through him when he first arrived. Consumed by his own state of mind, he hadn’t recognized it then. Now he clearly saw the fire in her eyes. Catherine was furious.

"I only meant…there are things I must tell you. Difficult things that I can not say if you embrace me."

"All right. Say them then." Without turning, Catherine stepped back to reclaim her seat on the bed. "But before you do, know this, Vincent. I refuse to apologize for loving you. Or for wanting you."

In spite of the icy finger running down his spine again, he felt a strong sense of pride. Standing before her with his hands at his sides, palms turned outward, the thought of his unarmed posture brought a smile to his face.

"Catherine, you are magnificent. I have no words to explain how very much you mean to me."

Ignoring her frown, he settled into his throne-chair again. This time he leaned toward her, resting his arms on his thighs while he clasped his hands together between his knees.

"I started this badly. Please, let me begin again. First, there is no need for you to apologize to me, for anything. I’m the one who must beg your forgiveness, Catherine. I have to admit that… I am guilty of a hideous offence against you."

He rose to his feet again, and began to pace circles around the room. "I have to tell you that for some time now, I have used our bond to…perhaps trespass is the best word for what I’ve done. I’ve trespassed on your private thoughts and feelings. Not only to ensure myself of your well-being, but also to experience the sense of having you near."

"Vincent, I’ve always known…"

"Please. Let me finish. It is very difficult to confess this…assault." Finally, he stopped pacing to lean onto his desk and dropped his head, hiding his face within a cloud of golden hair. His voice was now a tortured whisper. "Catherine, the dreams you’ve had, about us. The truth is…the truth is the dreams are not yours. They are mine."

Catherine didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. The bed seemed to fade away and the room began to spin around her.

"Forgive me, Catherine, please. I am so sorry and so very ashamed of what I’ve done to you. You see, most of the time, when the dreams come to me, I wake before…well, before anything happens. But twice now, I found myself trapped, unable to escape. Things…progress in the dream. Progress to the point of overpowering me and I can’t find my way out. I feel myself reach out to you, through the bond, but I can’t stop, Catherine. I can’t pull back. It’s only when I…when my…hunger is…quenched, only then will the dream release me. That’s when I realized that I’ve pulled you into the dream with me. Catherine, I feel your feelings when you awaken. Your confusion and frustration. I know what I’ve done to you. I feel such shame. I feel that I have…violated you. Oh, Catherine, please, please forgive me. Please don’t be angry with me any longer. Catherine!"

Turning toward her, he couldn’t prevent his roaring call that echoed through the chamber as he leapt across the room to catch her just before her limp body hit the floor.