IN DAYLIGHT AS ONE
by Linda Mooney
V ~ The Second Night
They spent the afternoon sitting in the porch swing and talking of past childhood escapades. Their bond grew and expanded, nurtured by their nearness and the sharing of childish dreams and wishes. Several times Vincent reached out to brush back her hair or touch her cheek or clasp her hands, watching her face as she talked. And when dusk came, they stood at the foot of the steps wrapped in each other's arms and watched the sun go down behind the trees at the far end of the lake. As the first stars emerged, Vincent pointed out and named each constellation for her, but soon the wind picked up and the darkness brought the cold.
"It's time we went inside," Vincent said. Catherine nodded and they walked back into the cabin.
"When was the last time you had ice cream?" she asked him.
"I don't remember ," Vincent admitted. "I think it was vanilla."
"Did you like it?"
"Yes, I did. Why do you ask?"
Catherine grinned and went over to the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. With a flourish she held up a half-gallon container. "It's vanilla, but I brought some chocolate syrup to go with it."
Vincent shook his head in wonder. "Catherine, you are full of surprises."
Half-seriously, she replied, "That's because I don't want you to ever get tired of me."
Vincent studied her face. "My heart will never tire of you or of your love." His voice was very serious.
Catherine busied herself with the ice cream but through their bond Vincent felt another emotion - uneasy, faint, and tremulous.
"Catherine...have I said something that disturbs you?"
"No, Vincent," she answered, her back to him. "I cherish...the things you tell me. I only wish . . ."
"Wish for what?" he urged.
She shook her head. "It's not important."
"Catherine! Wish for what?"
She faced him. "I wish there was something more!"
At first he was confused. "More?"
"Yes, Vincent. More than just words. More than just...telling me you love me."
He held out his hands. "What else is there?"
The word was barely spoken. "Desire."
The full impact of her intent leapt across their bond and numbed Vincent with its meaning. He stood shakily and reached for his cloak.
"Vincent, where are you going? Don't go."
Without a word he pulled the hood over his head to shield his face from her. He had to get away - to think. He turned and strode to the door .
"Vincent!" Catherine ran over to stop him but he was gone. She stood at the door to watch the night swallow him until the freezing cold forced her to finally shut the door and retreat to the fire. Slowly, she sank down on the rug and laid her head on the edge of the sofa, letting the tears blur the light of the flames.
* Vincent raced across the shore and into the woods. The black cloak billowed and snapped about him like a living thing as he ran until the cold air made him gasp for breath. He stopped and collapsed against a massive oak. Jumbled, confusing thoughts kaliedoscoped through his mind, his own emotions in such a turmoil that he cried out into the silent darkness, the moon the only witness to his voiced pain.
He so completely understood her. They both knew the desire was there, buried but pulsating just behind the walls each had put up in self-defense. And there had been times - so many times - when that delicate balance had been in jeopardy as the fires threatened to overwhelm them. At those moments their individual fears had, like an iron lid, closed over their body's demands, smothering the flames, but not entirely extinguishing them.
Now, Vincent fought - and won - control over his own heart. At a distance he felt her calming. One day...someday...they would have to face the beast of their fears and one, only one, of two things would eventually happen. Either they would completely deny themselves of even the smallest affection, and Vincent would inevitably lose her...or the fires would finally consume them, with the same possible outcome. Whichever happened, Vincent inwardly shrunk at the thought of having to live without her .
That would not be living, he corrected himself, that would be eternity in Hell. He turned to go back. Vincent could feel her worry about his absence and he realized all he wanted to do at that moment was to have his arms about her and to beg for her patience and understanding.
He loped easily past the trees, as one with the night and stars here as when he would run through Central Park in the tranquil hours after midnight. He longed to be back with her in the cabin, to feel her love heal him, to comfort her in return.
He leaped onto the porch and flung open the door .
"Catherine"'
The living room was dark. All the candles had been snuffed till the fire in the grate behind the metal screen was the only light. He saw the faint glow of a lantern beneath the bedroom door and in three strides he was in front of it. He hesitated, listening, and when he could not detect any sound or movement inside, knocked softly.
There was a faint "Come in"; slowly he opened the door and hoped he wasn't disturbing her .
She had been preparing for her bath. Standing now in front of an old free-standing mirror, brushing her hair, she locked eyes with him in the reflection. Her light blue flannel robe was loosely tied at her waist, the slightly opened V down her neckline revealing the sparkle of the crystal pendant she wore. A pulsation began in the air between them and Catherine felt a tightening in her stomach - her will through their bond reached out to him and begged him to come in.
Like breaking iron chains, Vincent turned and stumbled back into the living room.
"Vincent! Wait!" Catherine rushed out to stop him from leaving her again. "Vincent, don't go!" ,
He froze in the middle of the room. Facing away from her, he could not bring himself to look up. Arms at his side, he clenched his hands at the new rush of emotions that swept over him - both his and hers. Pain laced his voice. "Catherine, I cannot stay here tonight. It's not safe."
"Why? Why isn't it safe?" She took a step toward him.
"Don't...don't come any closer...please! I...I don't know...I am afraid...of my actions "
"Of your actions? Vincent, look at me!"
"I ...cannot..."
"Why?" she whispered, insistent. She could see from the tightness in his posture he was fighting an inner conflict. "What are you afraid of? Tell me!"
His refusal to face her, to face this dilemma which had been subconsciously eating at them, stung her, and she felt compelled to get it out into the open.
"Vincent...don't you want me?"
His hunger burned in his eyes when he finally turned around. "Yes...yes, I want you! But I can't. It's not right!"
"Right for whom?" she cried. "Vincent, we love each other. We're adults, not children. How could it not be right?"
He placed his hands on his head. "Catherine, please! Think of what you're saying !"
Her voice dropped, trembling with hurt. "I know what I'm saying. I love you, Vincent. I love you more than my own life. And with that love comes desire. Do you know what desire is?"
Again he turned his back to her but she could not stop now. All those months of frustration, of need, of half-remembered dreams from which she awoke her to a pillow damp with tears and a tightening in her throat, had to be vented.
"I'll tell you what desire is. Desire is more than sharing a touch or a look or a poem. Desire is need, and fulfilling that need. We're not in the tunnels where someone may overhear. We're not at my apartment where the doorbell or the telephone could interrupt us. We're here, Vincent. Alone. And I want you," she finished softly. Her legs felt weak and she was trembling, but not from the cold. She half-turned, drawing the robe tighter around her. Her voice was barely audible. "In my dreams I have wanted to touch you...touch your body...and have you touch me. Is that so wrong?"
"Catherine, you are incapable of doing wrong. What you want...your dreams are echoing what is in your heart. But I cannot fulfill them."
"Why?" she repeated. "Don't you want this?"
His sigh was explosive. His head shot up and he now faced her completely. "Yes! Yes. Catherine, you don't know how many nights I went to your balcony to see you, to watch you sleep. And I...I wanted to go inside...to wake you...and love you " Her misery and desire for him was numbing in its effect. It was a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its intensity.
"We of all people deserve this, Vincent," she pleaded. She was almost close enough to touch him. "Why must I go home every night to my lonely bed when I could come down to yours?"
He raised his face to the ceiling, his inner struggle bare to her, his muscles taut with suppressed hunger. She pressed him.
"Make love to me, Vincent. For once in your life, take what you want!" She closed her eyes, bowing her head, and did something she never would have believed, never would have imagined herself doing: She untied the cloth belt around her waist and let the robe drop to the floor, letting the dying glow from the fireplace make patterns on her bare skin. Her body felt unreal, ethereal, as she waited for him to either come to her or leave.
His touch was an electric shock from her neck to her toes. Just as she felt her knees begin to buckle, she heard the rustle of his cloak and his warmth enclosed her, holding her tight against his frame. A feathery kiss lit on her neck, then her cheek, her eyelids. His breath tickled her ear as she found herself being lifted off the cold floor and carried into the bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed, then brushed her hair from her face.
"Catherine." The voice was low and loving. "Look at me."
She opened her eyes and found herself immersed in the deep sea blue of his gaze.
"Teach me, Catherine," he pleaded softly. "Show me how."
She reached up to touch his face and he captured her hand, turning it to kiss the fingertips and the palm. She felt the flame within him growing hotter and brighter as his kisses trailed down the inside of her arm. And when he finally leaned over to taste her lips, she placed her arms around his neck and drew him to her .
Waves of hunger enveloped them, growing within their bond. It became dizzying, blinding them to everything but the feel of their touches. She thirstily drank in the velvet softness of his lips as he pressed her deeper into the sheets. When he finally released her mouth, her breath quickened to feel him tasting, licking, savoring the firmness of her neck, her shoulders, the valley between her breasts where the pendant lay. She moaned and her desire met his within the bond - multiplying their passion until it flared whitely, uncontrollable, primal, raw.
The feel of his furred hands sent waves of molten rock through her body, the pressure of his mouth making her faint. When his hands suddenly released her, she looked up at him through her lashes and saw him kneeling on the bed, stripping off his cloak, his tunic, then his sweater, and throwing them to the floor. He stood, and in the low light of the lantern, she watched him remove the rest of his clothing until he stood before her in all his wild masculine glory.
The hammering of her heart echoed in her ears. She was an enormous, empty need, starving for the want of him to fill her with his body, his answering passion. She held her arms up to him, pleading, and without hesitation he went to her.
* Hours later Catherine awoke slowly. Confused and still half asleep, she rolled over to her side - when realization like cold water made her gasp and bolt upright. The lantern was out. Only the moonlight crept through the windows. Cautiously, she moved her hand over the pillow beside her: It was warm.
Shivering from the coldness in the room, she slowly eased out from beneath the quilt. Vincent's clothes were still strewn over the floor, his long-sleeve tunic by her feet. She picked it up and pulled it down over her head, noticing his scent still clung to it, and she smiled.
Tip-toeing over the icy floor, she paused in the doorway and looked out into the living room. Her heart rose to her throat when she saw him enveloped in his cloak, turning the logs in the grate.
He felt her enter the room and he watched her come over by the fire and kneel on the rug before it. Catherine held out her hands to warm them as he placed a fresh log on the fire. She was suddenly shy and awkward in his presence.
With a voice of velvet grittiness, Vincent softly spoke. "I love you, Catherine."
Her fears melted. She looked up into his beautiful face. "You aren't angry with me for what did?'.
"You've done nothing wrong. Why would I be angry?"
"I egged you on. Taunted you. Forced you to lose control," she explained.
Vincent poked at the fire. "You did not force me to do anything. You simply broke through the barriers I had erected...in fear."
"Fear of what?"
"Of losing you."
She reached out to touch his arm. ..You could never lose me, Vincent."
He sighed. "How was I to know? I felt that no matter which path I chose I was doomed to fail. If I held back, you would leave in frustration. If I finally succumbed, you would flee in fear...or disgust."
She felt his uncertainty, his need for reassurance that she would never find him anything but beautiful, and moved over to embrace him tightly. He brought his arms around her waist and pressed her to him. A soft sob caught in his throat and he buried his face in her neck.
"Never, my love, my beautiful Vincent. I am now yours. Completely yours. My heart, my soul...my body."
They held each other for a long moment. Finally Vincent drew back, holding her hands in his. "We must talk."
Catherine looked at him, questioning but silent.
"I must let you know what is in my heart. There was another reason why I've held back." He squeezed her hands, pausing to reflect upon his next words. He felt her patiently waiting for him to continue.
"Part of my dream has always been...to keep you with me...together. But the things that were attainable to others were never meant for me."
"Like walking outside in the daylight?"
"That was one," he admitted. "But another was my definition of 'desire'."
"Tell me, Vincent," she urged. .
Taking a deep breath, he explained. "Desire was watching you standing tall and lovely in your world and wanting to hold you...but I couldn't because of those who stood around you, who would try to keep me from you. Desire was wanting to let everyone know of our love...and to prove it by publicly proclaiming it. To let Father and the community know that you were truly...and forever ...mine."
Her eyes sparkled as a smile of understanding came to her lips. "Vincent, are you talking about... Are you proposing?"
Reverently he placed a kiss on each of her palms. "Yes, Catherine. Will you marry me?"
Her tears began to fall, blinding her eyes from the sight of his beloved leonine face. "No more holding back?" her voice quivered.
He shook his head, his golden hair a halo in the firelight. "No more."
"No more fears?"
"None."
"Then, yes, Vincent. I will be your wife...and love you until the last breath has left my body."
Vincent threw back his head and cried aloud for joy. He reached out and embraced her, gently rocking her from side to side, dizzy with relief and happiness.
Catherine pulled back to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of the tunic. Vincent warmly watched her.
"You realize," she told him, "I'm going to keep you to your word. No backing out - no second thoughts."
He felt her teasing him again and shook his head. They sat back on their heels and faced each other, now seeing the both of them in a newer, different light. A door was closing for them, one that had led to insecurity and wanting - a path they no longer walked. Now, a future lay ahead at the end of a different road they had chosen to travel. Like a ripe fruit, the dreams they had believed could never exist were ready to be plucked and tasted with all their rich, heady flavor.
Catherine found herself wanting him again and her need telegraphed to him. He tilted his head, astonished by the fact that she still wanted him. Slowly she reached up and began to draw his face down to her. When he briefly hesitated, she murmured, "No more holding back."
This time when their lips met it was with all the love they held for each other, pure and unrestrained.
Catherine gently trailed her hands up the back of his neck, luxuriating in the warmth of his hair. She in turn felt Vincent run his unique hands tenderly up her back. She lightly touched her tongue over his canines and loved the feel of them. Playfully she rubbed her nose against the silkiness of his and lovingly traced the outline of his cleft mouth with a fingertip. Vincent felt his desire returning to feed on the gentleness of her touch and he gazed deep into the green depths of her eyes. Sliding his hands under the tunic, he slowly pulled it over her head. Catherine shook her hair free and reached out to draw the folds of his black cloak off of his broad shoulders.
In the bright light of the fire she watched her hands re-discover his body and once more she perceived the delicious ache deep within her and she felt him respond willingly. With infinite care, Vincent lowered her to the rug where they made urgent, tender love before the fire.