OTHERWISE
Elke
OTHERWISE
Elke
Chapter Two
He sensed her exhaustion, and without wanting to, he held her closer to his chest for some seconds before gently easing her down on the shabby mattress.
Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and touched her hair with his fingertips. She was still cold, shivering even in her sleep. The thin material she was dressed in was not suited to keep her warm in this cold place so far below the earth's surface.
He himself had always preferred this secluded, roomy cavern to the moist and hot sector where Paracelsus and his lot had lived most of the time. Moreover, through this solitary life he'd been spared the permanent sight of Tamara's and Erlik's loathsome faces.
His broad chest trembled with a low growl. Erlik...
Through all those years they had hardly been able to tolerate each other, and at last they had become deadly enemies. They were too different to exist side by side.
He'd always been repelled by Erlik's dog-like obsequiousness, because he had never given up himself. He'd always been concerned about keeping his independence and his own will. First - when he was very young - only in secret, without showing his real feelings, for he had known all too well that otherwise he would be exposed to the 'master's' cruelty. Later, when he'd been aware of his extraordinary physical strength, there had been no reason to avoid open conflicts any longer.
Even then Paracelsus had found ways and means to torment him; cleverly devised, painful and humiliating torments, which were meant to bend him to his ruler's will. He had resisted them all - though some would have been lethal to anyone whose physical condition was weaker than his. John Pater had never been able to break his will - only to awake unbridled hatred...burning hatred against any living being.
Realizing that his fingers were still touching the woman's soft hair, he drew back his hand and rose abruptly.
Clothes... She needed clothes that would keep her warm...but down here he wouldn't find anything she could wear. After he had started the fire, Tamara's cave had been the first place consumed by the flames. All things that might have been useful had fallen victim to the blaze. That appeared to be a problem now - on the other hand smoke and flames had done a good job, so that everybody who had survived his furious attack had been expelled from this territory once and for all.
He was alone - now he was the sovereign of this world. It was a solitary power over a solitary, bleak empire - and yet much better than to grovel at somebody's feet.
And Erlik... Wherever that bastard was hiding, he would find him - and then...
*
The pitiless cold roused her from her sleep, and however desperately Catherine fought against waking, she couldn't keep hold of the light dream that had eased all her despair and pain for a brief time.
Rising, she felt a coarse material beneath her hands and realized it was the surface of an old mattress on which she was lying, covered with a threadbare blanket.
This room looked different from the narrow cave where she'd been overcome by sleep. It was more spacious and sparsely furnished with things that had obviously been picked up from the street. On the far side there was a heavy old table and a rickety chair, on the left a closet, one of its doors only poorly fastened on its hinge. A torch sticking in an iron-ring near the doorway gave off diffused light; in various small niches candles were flickering, and untidily dropped things lay scattered all over the room. Dirty clothes and other junk; a smashed mug next to a single boot, a broken lamp, and a lot of tableware that hadn't been washed for a long time. At the foot of the mattress she found a dark-green pullover and a pair of jeans; to her amazement folded up neatly, and as she looked down at the floor her eyes were drawn to a cracked, water-filled cup and an opened tin.
Although her stomach rumbled immediately she reached for the clothes first.
A pair of white socks fell into her lap and, genuinely astonished, Catherine realized that the clothing was not only clean but even new.
There were still price-tags on each item, and she was aware that the clothes were meant especially for her. But certainly they hadn't been bought in a store.
Without hesitation she put them away. She would rather bear the cold than wear anything stolen.
When she turned to the meal she was in for another disappointment. Whatever was he thinking of, expecting her to eat bean stew for breakfast? Being much too hungry to be choosy, she would have eaten willingly...if the tin hadn't been as cold as ice and the water lukewarm. Both tasted nauseating.
Fighting against tears, Catherine lay back. This was not a nightmare - it was much worse than any nightmare could be...
"You still haven't dressed? Why not?" His voice brusquely interrupted her grief. She sat up with a start. She hadn't been aware of his approach...
Enveloped in his black cloak, he stood directly in front of her - a huge dark shadow that had emerged soundlessly from out of nowhere. But although she suddenly felt very small, she straightened her shoulders and replied with audible defiance in her voice, "I don't wear stolen clothes!"
His eyes darkened, but she withstood his angry gaze. She did no longer care about anything now. Even if he killed her the next instant - it wouldn't matter to her. If she had to stay here any longer she would die anyway. Either gradually from hunger or from cold, and compared to this, a quick death at his hands was still preferable...
"And why don't you eat?" he asked in a menacing voice. "If you also despise stolen food, you will starve to death. I cannot go and buy something..."
Of course! She hadn't considered that. The food, too, was stolen - how else would he be able to survive...
"That's not the reason..." she answered in a softer tone of voice. "It's just because...cold beans don't taste good, and the water is w..."
"This is not water! It's tea!" he thundered. "Besides - you're already lying on my bed, do you really think I would also waste my time heating your meals?"
You already did waste your time with preparing tea for me, even if it tastes like stale dishwater, Catherine thought, and suddenly her opinion of him changed. Perhaps he wasn't the cruel monster he pretended to be...
At this very moment the pullover was snatched out of her hands and held right in front of her nose.
"You'll get dressed instantly! Otherwise..." He didn't finish his threat. "If you fall ill who do you expect will care for you? Me? I have better things to do than to argue with stubborn females!"
He growled the words, but his eyes looked down at her softly. Too softly... Catherine even thought she detected a trace of anxiety in them. Obviously he didn't have the faintest idea that he was betraying himself and playing some trump cards into her hands...
Slowly, she leaned back. "Your name is Vincent?" she asked, hiding a smile. Possibly this long-maned barbarian would be tamable, if only she behaved cleverly... She would probably have to make some concessions to him - but maybe he would let her go sometime...
He nodded, hesitantly, as if he were becoming conscious of his name only now.
"Will you tell me your name?" he asked after brooding silently for a while. When he spoke quietly his voice turned into rough velvet - a sound that made Catherine's skin tingle softly.
"Catherine," she answered; and since he momentarily seemed to be in a better mood, she asked, "Is there anything like a stove? I'd like to heat my meal myself...with your permission..."
"Catherine..."
A slight, pleasant shiver ran down her spine. Never before had her name been pronounced in such a way.
"Catherine..." Letting the word melt in his mouth, he caressed it, visibly enjoying the soft vibrations this produced in his throat. "Catherine..." he repeated once more, still holding the pullover in his hands, before he abruptly answered her question. "The fireplace is back there. "
*
At the end of the day Catherine looked around the cavern once more.
She had been shown the fireplace, an old metal drum that was adapted so that it could be heated with methylated spirits. It was not altogether safe - that was why she had been strictly forbidden by Vincent to light a fire in his absence. Then he had led her to a place where she could find drinking water as well as a hot spring if she wanted to take a bath or to wash her clothes.
Afterwards, without saying a word he had disappeared and still hadn't returned.
Catherine had passed the time tidying up the cavern as much as possible. First she had gathered up all the dirty clothes and had steeped them into the small stone pool where the warm water accumulated before it disappeared somewhere between the rocks.
Inside the closet she had found some clean sheets. One she had spread across the mattress, the other she had used as tablecloth. Unfortunately she hadn't found a broom to sweep the floor and to clean the cobwebs from all corners and niches, but all in all the room now looked much more cozy than before.
In a candelabra on the table, two candles were flickering and in the makeshift stove a steady fire was crackling, warming the air in the cavern so that Catherine felt fairly comfortable in jeans and pullover she'd changed into because gown and shawl had been too restricting for her work. She had needed more freedom to move... moreover the clinging pullover caressed her skin in a very pleasant way, so that she wondered if Vincent had chosen this garment deliberately.
After washing and packing away the dishes; spreading his wet clothes across a rock where they could dry, and taking a bath herself, she felt weary to her bones. She'd never liked doing housework - but this had been absolutely necessary to make her imprisonment a little more bearable, and she was satisfied with her work and with herself. Now all she had to do was arrange the sleeping-place a little closer to the fire...
The vague feeling of his presence made her draw back her hands from the mattress. She rose in surprise.
Standing in the doorway, he was gazing around the room. When he caught sight of the fire, his eyes darkened immediately.
"I told you not to light the fire, didn't I?" he barked at her. "It's dangerous and exclusively meant for cooking! Or do you think methylated spirits pour out of the rocks like water springs?"
Crossing the room with long strides, he flashed her a fierce glance, smothered the flames hastily - then turned to her again, snarling, "What the hell does all this mean? What have you done with my cavern? Who ordered you to clean up?"
"Nobody!" Catherine retorted, feeling herself growing angry, too. Even if he disliked any idea of tidiness he had no right to treat her this way. "But unlike you, I don't wallow in dirt like an... animal!"
He winced, glared at her visibly affected - then abruptly turned his back on her and vanished out of the cavern.
His eyes... Had there been pain in his eyes?
Catherine didn't know exactly what she had seen but was certain that she had touched on one of his sore points. Obviously he was as vulnerable as anybody else...as she herself was; and so he suddenly seemed a little more human...a little bit closer to her. For some seconds she felt sorry for what she had said, but then she resolutely shook off her consternation.
She must not forget that he was holding her prisoner. He didn't deserve her sympathy. And if he had got the idea that from now on his cavern and his clothes would be permanently kept clean by her, he was completely mistaken.
Suddenly her attention was drawn to an enticing aroma, and turning to the table, she realized with delight that it came from a small loaf of bread.
She hadn't noticed when he had put it down there, not even that he had done so, but now its smell was irresistible - fresh, warm, crunchy...
Putting off the question where he had taken it from, she began to eat hungrily. Only when her aching stomach signalled her `too much' did she become aware that scarcely anything was left for him.
Though...why should she worry about him? It was his task to care for her welfare. If he now felt the full force of responsibility he had burdened himself with by kidnapping her, it would only be fair.
Replete and tired, she made herself comfortable on the mattress. A little later her eyelids grew heavy, but just when she was about to fall asleep she was startled by his voice.
Standing at the table, he looked grimly down at the left-over bread.
"When your stomach starts to ache you will know how stupid it is to eat everything at once!" he said. "There are always days when I can't get anything to eat..."
He ate a small piece and laid the rest back on the table. "We'd better put this aside for breakfast..."
He couldn't have eaten enough...
Fighting down a pang of conscience, Catherine wrapped herself into the blanket. So what? If he remained hungry he only had himself to blame.
She closed her eyes and heard him pacing back and forth several times before he opened the closet and left the room a few seconds later.
Surrounded by utter silence, Catherine drifted into a light sleep - until she woke with a start because she felt a sudden movement at her side and his hand on her shoulder.
"Move over!" he ordered in a tone that nipped any protest in the bud. "I'll be damned if I'm going to sleep on the hard ground so that you can plant yourself all over my bed!"
Trembling, Catherine did as he demanded - but pointedly turned her back on him. The mattress was pressed down by his weight; he tugged at the blanket, then she felt him moving next to her.
Vaguely she recognized the faint scent of soap, but she didn't have time enough to wonder if he had taken a bath. When he slipped his heavy arm around her waist and pulled her closer toward him, she cried out with fear.
"Shhhh..." His breath warmed the nape of her neck. "Don't! I will do you no harm..."
Vincent felt her trembling; her fear stabbed his heart like a knife. He had to soothe her, but how could he show her that he didn't intend to do what she was afraid of...? Not to her...never...even though her smooth, delicate body almost drove him crazy...
Frantically forcing back a guttural groan, he tried to avoid any movement that could possibly intensify her fear. She was so close...she smelled so good...and he wanted her so badly that he was hardly able to breathe. And yet, what he felt was not only desire but also... However desperately he searched for an apt expression, not a single word could describe the velvety feeling that made his heartbeat skip and his body hair bristle with sheer delight - so soft...so warm...so good...
Then he was no longer able to resist. He could not help pulling her still closer so that her head came to rest on his left upper arm.
Strangely enough she didn't even try to push him away but relaxed gradually. Her tension eased, her body softened, and he almost cried out with the pleasure that ran through him when she moved slightly toward him.
In vain, Catherine tried to resist this irrational need. Surely she was going insane, otherwise this closeness wouldn't evoke such pleasant feelings in her. OK, it didn't look as if he was going to rape her the next moment, but he was a b... no human being. How could she be sure that he wouldn't change his mind if he felt invited...?
And yet... His body-warmth was too tempting, and his arms cradled her so...so softly... yes softly... making her feel secure in a way she couldn't explain.
Sighing, she snuggled into the hollow which he formed with his body. Tonight she wouldn't be cold...
*
When he stumbled on a basket which impeded the entrance, his furious curse could be heard all around the tunnels. As he found the source of his anger packed full with food, his heartbeat quickened spontaneously for some seconds. Then his momentary joy turned into bitterness.
Whoever of Jacob Wells' people had put this basket down here had brought it for the woman and not for him!
Up there nobody worried about him and nobody would leave the safe area because of him. They didn't care whether he had enough to eat!
Although he talked himself into believing that he wasn't touched by this, and that the whole lot of them could go hang, the obvious neglect burned like fire in his soul. Having returned to his cavern he slammed the basket on the table with such force that Catherine, who had been dozing on the mattress, shrieked out in horror.
"This was at the entrance!" he hurled at her. "For you!"
Seeing the food, Catherine overcame her shock very quickly. Never before in her life had she gone without anything - and she'd never thought that one day she would get such pleasure from a loaf of bread, some eggs, a piece of sausage, cheese and four apples. But now she was close to shouting with delight.
"Oh! That's wonderful!" She forgot he had just yelled at her without reason and dismissed the cynicism in his, 'for you!'
"Vincent - this will be enough for a couple of days if we..."
"We?" his rumbling voice interrupted her. "You! Only you will eat this! I surely won't touch it!" With his eyes flashing he threw his head back and straightened, looking even taller than he actual was. "I don't take charity!"
Catherine tried to ignore his foolish behavior. He exaggerated grossly. Soothingly she laid her hand on his arm. "Vincent, be reasonable! I can't believe that all these things should be meant for me only. And even if they are - I'll share them with you in any case."
Evading her glance, he brusquely shook off her hand. "I don't want anything! I do not need anything! Do you understand?"
"Of course, I do!" Again he had spoiled her joy with a few words. "You did yell loudly enough!" Who did this jerk think he was? If he expected that she would fall on her knees to talk him into eating her food, he could wait till his face turned blue! She didn't need his dubious company to enjoy her meal, but it would be highly interesting to see how long 'Mr. Pride' was able to withstand his rumbling stomach.
Slowly, she began to unpack - pointedly splitting the food up into two equal parts. From her half she took a large sausage-sandwich and half an apple, the rest she put back into the basket. Then she laid his share on the table.
Munching heartily, she made herself comfortable on the mattress, pretending to be completely absorbed in her meal but secretly watching him out of the corners of her eyes.
It was late in the afternoon, and both of them had last eaten in the morning. Then the bread had been used up - and the rest of the time they had spent quarrelling almost incessantly. About trifles, such as who would have to fetch fresh water, or where the mattress should be placed; even the number of burning candles had given them a reason to fight.
Therefore she had hoped that he would leave her alone like the day before - on the other hand the silence here was almost unbearable, so that, at last, she'd been quite thankful for his presence. Her fear of him had abated during the night, and as long as she didn't take these arguments too seriously, they could even be fairly amusing.
Having finished her meal she leaned back comfortably. With his arms folded, he was still standing in the middle of the room, turning his back on the table like a defiant child. As he made no move to change his mind, Catherine grew tired of waiting. She rose.
"Since you refuse to go, I will look and see if the clothes have dried already. Your clothes," she said. He didn't take any notice of her, and because this made her even angrier, she went on, "A little exercise will be good for me now. I'm full!" She gave him a searching glance, then, knowing this was quite a malicious remark, she added, "I really don't know whether I'll be able to eat anything before tomorrow's lunch..."
His warning growl made her take to her heels, but inwardly she grinned. Having reached the spring, she gathered the dry clothes and deliberately took her time for smoothing them on a big, flat stone.
And indeed some time later, when she returned to the cavern, he lay sleeping on the mattress - or he pretended to be asleep... Whichever - large pieces had been taken away from bread and cheese, and one apple had vanished into thin air.
With a smile Catherine put his clothes into the closet, murmuring something about 'rats that must certainly be somewhere in here'.
When she turned around, he had risen and, braced on his elbow, was looking at her. He knew that she'd guessed - and for some seconds his blue eyes sparkled with unconcealed amusement. A scarcely visible smile played about his lips, and his golden hair shimmered as if set on fire by the candlelight.
He was damn good-looking...
*
The darkness was oppressive; all at once the silence seemed deceptive... Down here he was dripped with sweat after the slightest movement, and when he stopped to listen inwardly, the hot moisture made his throat sting.
Though he was exhausted, he felt the craving as strongly as before. He didn't remember when he last had been running like this. His aching shoulders were certainly covered with bruises...
First he merely hadn't paid attention to the walls of the narrow tunnels, and later, when his desire had grown into an almost uncontrollable inferno, he had deliberately slammed himself against the rugged rocks, hoping in his despair, that the turmoil inside him would be smothered by the physical pain.
Groaning he sank to the ground. He had to go back soon; without drinking he couldn't stay here very long.
But what would happen when he returned...
Not to the cavern - not yet! Before he could dare to come so close to her he had to regain control over his feelings otherwise he would be overwhelmed by them, and then...
He wondered what had come over him, so that he tortured himself this way, although he could have satisfied his desire quite easily. What had made him lie beside her for one and a half nights, feeling her smooth body so close to his own, warming her and finding painful pleasure in holding her without touching her the way he so desperately wanted to...?
Usually he would have taken her without thinking twice...
Never had a woman given herself to him voluntarily - and none ever would. He was much too disgusting for that. But he had solved this problem. As he was forced to steal food, he also stole pleasure when he lost control over his body's natural demands. That would never change. He was a beast - a repulsive, despicable beast...
He didn't try to hold back and gave vent to his pain in a roaring cry. The mere imagination of her eyes, focused on him full of pain and horror, was unbearable. Pressing his palms against his throbbing temples, he dashed his head backwards against the wall - again and again until flashing points whirled before his eyes.
He would rather kill himself than do this to her! Not to her! Not to Catherine!
*
When he reeled through the doorway, Catherine covered her mouth with her hand, smothering a horrified cry. The pan she was just putting on the fire slipped out of her fingers and cold water poured over her shoes.
She was sure that he would instantly grow furious because she had again lit a fire, and prepared herself for his yelling. She hadn't had a hot meal since the day before, so how could he expect her to do without at least some tea - awful as it may be.
Much to her surprise he didn't take any notice of the fire but without a word dropped down on the mattress, rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately.
A few minutes later Catherine tiptoed to the sleeping-place. Looking down on him she held her breath. He was in a terrible state...
His hair was completely dishevelled and the back of his head drenched with blood; he smelled of sweat and his shirt, too, was smeared with blood and torn to shreds on the shoulders and arms. All in all he looked as though he had just survived a grim fight.
Moaning faintly, he tossed and turned, murmuring incoherently. One single word that he constantly repeated Catherine could understand clearly. It was her name...
Suddenly she felt compassion for him. She sat down beside him and gently laid her hand on his chest. He seemed to be calmed by this, but after a moment he sat up with a jerk and stared at her so confusedly that a cold shiver ran through her. Frightened by his glassy eyes she shrank back, yet was stopped by the dry, desperate sob that came from his throat.
"Vincent! For heaven's sake, what has happened to you?"
Her fear grew as she got no answer. She scarcely knew him. How could she guess what his strange behavior meant?
Then, when she no longer expected an answer, he shook his head in resignation.
"Give me...some water..."
He emptied the mug in one go and sank back on the mattress. As he closed his eyes and lay still, Catherine dared to open his shirt with shaking hands. He did not move, not even when she slowly pulled his arms out of the sleeves.
His shoulders and upper arms were covered with bruises and grazes. Catherine could neither find an explanation for these injuries nor did she dare ask him how he had sustained them. He let her clean and cool his wounds with fresh water; only when she rolled him on his side and put the wet cloth on the back of his head did he give a low groan.
She didn't mean to - but a heartbeat later her hand lay on his cheek, and when he groaned once more, though this time she hadn't touched his wound, she felt a warm feeling rising inside her breast. A feeling she desperately tried to shake off. Tenderness... Oh God! To feel tenderness for him was the last thing she needed...
She ignored it as best she could and was thankful when he went back to sleep and she could take care of him without having to soothe him first.
He slept for the rest of the day. It was not before the evening that he moved again, stretched and rose to his feet, still slightly swaying.
Catherine watched him as he slowly crossed the room and took a clean pullover out of the closet. The upper part of his body was broad and wiry, his breast covered with thick, soft looking hair that was a similar shade of color to his mane. The same fur-like hair ran down from the middle of his upper arms to his long, slender fingers and ended at the base of his claws. Shoulders and back were almost hairless; and the play of his muscles under a skin that glinted like bronze in the dim light, evoked highly disconcerting feelings in Catherine.
Tingling sensations ran through her body, and suddenly she felt the overpowering need to touch him; to feel him; to caress him...
Therefore she sighed with relief when he eventually put his pullover on - though he apparently intended to leave her alone again.
He didn't answer her questions whether he was well or whether he would like to eat something. He only gave her a long, dark look and left the cavern hastily.
For some time Catherine stared at the opposite wall. Obviously he preferred being on his own - and down here she had no chance of passing her time in a useful way. She could only go to bed - and it was much too early for that.
She ambled down to the spring, took a long, relaxing bath and wasted a lot of the valuable soap on shampooing her hair.
Although she was tired from the warm water, sleep wouldn't come. Restlessly tossing and turning, she repeatedly caught herself listening into the silence. After a while she became angry with herself because she was waiting for him and missing his warmth, his arms around her and his steady heartbeat.
He didn't come back, and after some time she fell asleep. When she woke to find him shaking her shoulder, it was early in the morning.
Drowsily she pushed her hair out of her face. Bewildered, she looked at the cloak he laid down before her, scarcely able to understand the meaning of his words.
"It's time for you to go back..."