OTHERWISE|
Elke Prietl

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Chapter Five

If you tame me, my days will be as if filled with sunlight. I
shall know the sound of a footstep different from all the rest.
Other steps make me run to earth. Yours will call me out
of my foxhole, like music. And besides, look over there!
You see the fields of corn? Well, I don't eat bread.
Corn is of no use to me. Corn fields remind me of nothing. Which
is sad. On the other hand, your hair is the colour of gold.
So think how wonderful it will be when you have tamed me.
The corn, which is golden, will remind me of you. And I
shall come to love the sound of the wind in the field of corn...

*

Clasping the torch she had picked up in passing, Catherine advanced deeper into the subterranean world, hoping desperately that her sense of direction wouldn't let her down. Down here she'd been only once, and then she'd been much too frightened to pay attention to the way that led to Vincent's cavern.

For some time she was getting along without difficulty, but then the corridor came to a sudden end in front of a rock face. Heading back, Catherine wondered whether she had taken the wrong direction at the last branch or the one before. No, surely she'd turned to the wrong side at the last fork.

Even though she was walking along the other tunnel now, she still felt uneasy. The path was broad, but almost six-inch wide fissures ran through the ground and walls.

A few minutes later the corridor became narrow and increasingly lower, and soon Catherine could only stoop.

This corridor, too, ended at a solid rock, and Catherine looked skeptically at the only passage, a crevice through which she would have to crawl.

For some time she hesitated about what she should do. Then she took a deep breath. The hole didn't look very inviting, but at least she wanted to see what was hidden behind it. Perhaps the way continued there...

Without further ado she went down on hands and knees and was just about to squeeze through the opening, when somebody grabbed her at her hips and pulled her back abruptly. A woolen garment on her mouth smothered her frightened scream, and a hand gently stroked the painful spot where the back of her head had hit the rock.

"Catherine...!"

She recognized Vincent's voice, but could only see a part of his grey pullover directly in front of her eyes. He, too, was on his knees, clasping her tightly to his chest, almost too tightly for her to breathe. Still stroking her hair with his free hand, he barked at her, "What are you doing here? Are you out of your mind?"

"What?" With a cry of protest Catherine brought her hands up to his chest and pushed him away with all her strength. Her knees still felt like jelly, yet her eyes flashed with indignation. "And what about you? You nearly frightened me to death!"

"Do you expect me to stand by and watch you fall?" he retorted; he was just as incensed as she. "Behind this there is nothing but a precipice of almost forty feet! How could you be so careless! Why did you come here at all? On your own!"

"You can't be serious!" she exclaimed. "Do you really think they would lead me here after all you've done?" Realizing that he was about to reply, she cut him short. "How could you! Vincent, these people saved your life! And you...you thank them by destroying their hospital chamber and attacking their children!"

Again he opened his mouth, but Catherine had talked herself too deeply into her righteous anger to give him a chance to speak. "I don't wanna hear it! What you did can in no way be justified! I'm disappointed in you, Vincent! Very disappointed!"

If she had expected him to feel remorseful now, she'd been mistaken. Instead of showing any sign of regret he bared his fangs with a deep growl, and his nose wrinkled in a way she knew all too well.

"Shut up!" he yelled at her, so loudly that she started back with a shriek. "You know nothing! Nothing! I just did what had to be done! And my...gratitude...," he spewed the word out as if it were the epitome of indecency, "I showed it adequately by not killing them all!"

Dumbfounded, Catherine stared in his face. This creature, fraught with rage and hatred, had nothing in common with the Vincent she had nursed just a few days ago. Everything about him seemed to have changed. His eyes glinted like cold amber in the faint light, even his golden mane looked darker than before. He was breathing in short pants; obviously he was very close to losing his self-control.

"Nobody will ever chain me again!" he snarled when he regained the ability to speak.

"Chain you...?" Catherine repeated uncomprehendingly.

"The children..." Falling silent, he sank back to the rock. Again his expression changed within a few seconds. His features softened, hatred and rage disappeared from his face; only deep pain was left in his eyes when he turned his head to her.

"I happened to hear them talking about...putting me...in...chains...," he whispered in a flat voice.

"No...," Catherine breathed. "I can't believe that they..." A single glance at his face convinced her that he had told the truth.

Stephen was virtually obsessed with the idea of killing Vincent. She just didn't know whether hatred or fear had evoked this wish in the boy's heart. The tunnel-people were kind and peace-loving, so Catherine was almost sure that hatred could be excluded. But fear could be the source of terrible things.

However... There was no hurry to have a serious talk with Stephen. The boy could wait. It was Vincent who was sitting beside her, desperately needing all the comfort she could give...

His eyes were closed now. Outwardly he appeared calmer, but his clenched fists revealed that he was very far from relaxed.

Suddenly Catherine felt helpless. Any other man...any ordinary man she would take in her arms now to hold and comfort him until his pain eased. Perhaps she would even kiss him if he was an intimate friend. But Vincent... He was no ordinary man; she didn't even know whether he was hu...

She didn't finish the thought. When he had called her name, his voice had been full of fear, and she had seen how the horror in his eyes gave way to boundless relief when he realized she was safe. He had held her tight and yelled at her at the same time because he had feared for her life. Only a human being would act in this way. Somebody who couldn't handle his emotions very well - but somebody who...loved...

Realizing this almost hurt her. He felt anger, hatred, pain and fear - there was no reason why he shouldn't feel love, too. But if love had influenced his behavior - what had sent her into a panic when she had thought that his state might have grown worse again? For she had felt nothing but panic...an incredible fear that he would die or might be dead already.

A movement at her side roused her out of her thoughts. Vincent had turned his head; his eyes were focused on her. But although he was looking at her directly, he didn't seem to be aware of her presence...at least not of her physical presence...

Then she felt it - hesitant and groping deep inside her, like a shy question that was as light and soft as the touch of a butterfly's wings.

A few seconds later this sensation faded, and her heart filled with the same feeling she had already fought when she'd been his prisoner; the same feeling she had repeatedly forced back during the last week. Tenderness...

And this time Catherine didn't fight against it.

"Nobody will put you in chains!" It was so easy to wrap her arms around him. "They're so young, Vincent, scarcely more than children. They talk without thinking."

He stiffened in her arms. "All the others... They, too, hate me..."

"They don't hate you, Vincent!" Catherine whispered reassuringly. "They fear you. We'll talk to F... Jacob Wells and everything will become clear. You were wrong to attack them, but what the young people had planned was wrong too."

"He won't believe me!" His attempt to get free from her arms was half-hearted, and Catherine didn't let go of him.

"Oh, I'm sure, he will! And I won't leave you alone!" She felt his head moving, then his cheek lay on hers and his breath caressed her neck and her ear. And suddenly, hardly aware of what she was doing, she touched his mane with her lips. "I think we'd better go right now!"

"No!" With a hoarse moan he buried his face deeper into the curve of her neck and her shoulder. "Not now... Please..."

Please... Never before had she heard him say this word, just as he never expressed his thanks. So he could if he just wanted to...

"Tomorrow?" Catherine asked, a little breathlessly, for he had put his arms around her and was squeezing her firmly again. She had to tell him that...

"Yes ... tomorrow..." he breathed with obvious relief. Suddenly he released her and rose to his feet. He had to bend forward but still his shoulders and the upper part of his back touched the ceiling of the tunnel. His height was really impressive... "I'll take you home." Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet and turned to go.

Following him through the corridors, Catherine had a silent, desperate battle with herself. What she wanted seemed too absurd, even to herself...

"Perhaps..." she began hesitantly after some time, "I could stay w..."

She fell silent when he spun around and stared at her with such disbelief, as if she had suddenly turned into a ghost. No...facing a ghost wouldn't have disconcerted him that much.

But then he only shrugged his shoulders. "If that is your wish..."

*

Why the hell had he agreed when he had exactly known what was to happen? Cursing his compliance, he tried to lie absolutely still. The last thing he needed at the moment was contact with her body - even if only accidentally. He could only hope she would fall asleep soon, so that she wouldn't notice when he slipped away.

"Vincent?"

Damn! Wouldn't she sleep at all?

He uttered an indignant growl. He was lying beside her - he kept her warm! This had to be enough! She really couldn't expect any kind of conversation!

"How could you know I was in trouble?" she asked. "How did you know where to find me?"

He let her wait for his answer for a long time. Then, hoping, his voice wouldn't reveal the turmoil he was in because of her, he confessed hesitantly, "I feel ... the things you're feeling when you do..."

Catherine rose, surprised. Braced on her elbow, she gave him a long, searching look. "How do you mean?"

He sighed soundlessly. Would she understand?

"Just know that it's true! I know whether you're happy or scared...and your pain is my pain. Sometimes almost as if we were one..."

"But..." Her face showed boundless amazement. "How can this be?"

He turned his head so that he didn't have to look at her any longer. He couldn't tell her! "I don't want to talk about it!" Clenching his fists, he concentrated on the bare rocks above him, scarcely conscious of the pain when his claws dug into his palms.

For a long time he had fought these sensations without understanding what was happening to him. Only with time had he learned to accept her feelings - had even learned to get pleasure out of sharing them with her. Meanwhile he thought he knew the cause of this connection - but he couldn't talk about it. Not before he was absolutely certain...

Love... A word he had heard and read so many times - but how could one recognize love? How could one know for sure that one...loved?

"There's another thing I want to ask..." Making herself more comfortable, Catherine happened to touch his hip with her hand. "When you..."

"No!" he cut in sharply. "I'm not in the mood for talking! Sleep now! Now!"

For a while there was silence, but after some minutes he heard her voice again.

"It's too cold..."

She was right. Her jogging suit was meant for the sunny autumn-days Above, but couldn't keep her warm down here. It was just as useless as the thin blanket...

Vincent ground his teeth. Why wasn't he able to ignore the fact she was cold? Why couldn't he pretend to be asleep...? Would he never find peace again?

Nevertheless he rolled over, opened his arms and growled, "Come here!"

That was precisely what he had tried to avoid! Damn it! Why couldn't he resist her? Why did he always feel so...gentle when he was with her...

With all his might he tried to resist the surge of warmth inside him, but admitted defeat when Catherine snuggled into his arms with a soft moan.

No matter what made him always do things he didn't want to do - it was wonderful! These feelings were much too precious not to savor them to the full...

*

Against his expectations he soon fell asleep. It was not until the early morning that he was woken by an unfamiliar weight on his chest. His broken ribs were aching, but the pain immediately became insignificant in comparison with the other, so much sweeter sensations her warm, supple body was evoking in him.

Sound asleep, Catherine was lying half on his body. Her face was nestled against his neck, her right leg resting on his thigh, and her fingers were entwined in his hair.

For several minutes he abandoned himself to the bittersweet yearning that filled his chest and from there slowly spread into his entire body. Then his arousal grew too strong, too urgent, almost painful, and he was hardly able to control his shaking hands as he disengaged them from Catherine. Once he took the liberty of running his fingers over her back and hips, then he pushed her away resolutely.

"Is it...time to get up...?" she murmured.

He watched her when she stretched languidly and opened her eyes, still half asleep. Her gaze, blurred and dreamy, touched him deeply.

"No... Go back to sleep..." he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. Again he was inundated by this irresistible warmth that enticed him to hold her...to touch her. He had to leave...had to leave quickly before...

Her arms enfolded him, bound him to her like silken ribbons when she came closer again. "When you brought me here the first time", she whispered into his chest, "I know it was because you wanted me. But why did you let me go at last?"

Vincent uttered a despairing groan. It was quite unbelievable! Scarcely had she opened her eyes when she asked him questions again! Even highly embarrassing questions...

"Because I...wanted you too much," he replied after a long hesitation. If she got frightened now, she would have to blame herself. Nobody shared his bed with him without having to pay for it.

Much to his surprise she didn't appear frightened at all. Her arms remained where they were: one around his neck, the other one across his chest.

He was too puzzled to notice Catherine's smile. So that had been the reason. She didn't know what little devil stirred her up to play with fire, but she apparently couldn't resist.

"And now...?"

That was enough. No, it was too much. Not only did she make him feel as if he were on a roller-coaster ride between heaven and hell - she had to torture him with her questions, too.

With both her wrists in his hands he rose on his outstretched arms, then slowly sank down on her, burying her beneath his massive body. Now she would feel his arousal and understand how close he was to losing control. This would teach her to act more prudently in future.

"If you don't immediately stop teasing me, you'll find out!" he hissed.

Simultaneously he concentrated on the bond in order to withdraw from her. She should only learn from it - he didn't really want to frighten her.

Some seconds later, though, he wondered whether this was possible at all. Dammit! Had he suddenly turned into a cute pussy-cat so that this woman wasn't a bit afraid of him?

He had expected fear and abhorrence, had expected that she would burst into tears - but not that she would bury her hands in his mane. The green of her eyes darkened, her slightly opened lips shimmered softly in the dim light. And it was not fear that made her tremble beneath him...

That was impossible! It couldn't be!

Completely bewildered he rolled back on the mattress and freed his hair from her grip. Not enough that she wasn't afraid and obviously didn't find him disgusting at all - she wanted him. Him!

"Won't you...try...to sleep...again...?" he gasped. Her desire heated his blood, heightened his arousal more rapidly and violently than he had ever felt it before. Therefore he hastened to rise while he was still able to.

Storming through the doorway, he focused his last clear thought on wondering what had kept him from giving in to his feelings. She wouldn't have protested against his touch...

Had it been the second of doubt he had sensed within her? Or the feeling that always came over him when he was so close to her; the feeling that he had to keep her safe from all harm, danger and pain ... and from himself, too...

Too confused to find an answer, he headed for the spring. The warm water would, hopefully, help him to relax and take his mind off her...

Disturbed, Catherine stared at the empty, dark entrance through which he had just disappeared. She hadn't been prepared for this... Neither for her own arousal nor the way Vincent had reacted. The unexpected, overwhelming desire had completely eliminated her ability to think; she was sure that she would have surrendered to him without hesitancy if he had only wanted her...

Snuggling into the place where she still could feel his warmth, she pulled the blanket over her head, but was too agitated to fall asleep. Every time she closed her eyes she felt his muscular body weighing on hers again, felt the hardness of his sex pressing against her belly, and his warm breath on her face...

The air was shimmering with heat. Throwing his head back, he towered above her, roaring his triumph up to the sun that bathed his powerful shape in liquid gold...

Confused, Catherine shook her head to get rid of the scene that had suddenly emerged before her inner eye like a lost moment of a long forgotten time.

When her mind became clearer, she tried to resume her previous thoughts. Yes, she wanted to become more intimate with Vincent - but so intimate...?

On the other hand - what had she expected? Last night when she had wanted to stay with him ... was it possible that she merely hadn't been aware that in truth she wanted to sleep with him...? Or had she really been so naive to think she would be able to lie in his arms without responding to this closeness?

Little tongues of fire were still dancing through her body, and her turbulent thoughts didn't help her to cool down. She decided to take a bath.

Strolling toward the spring, she felt as though she were shrouded in dense fog, and, completely concentrating on restraining the craving of her body, she realized too late that the pool was already occupied.

His head rested on the stone bank bordering the pool; water cascaded from his long hair down to the ground. He, too, was completely self-absorbed for he didn't notice her. Only when she sat down on the edge of the pool did he slowly open his eyes.

She didn't have to wonder what he had just been doing. She could imagine it all too well though his hand, now, was resting on his thigh. His eyes betrayed him, dreamily and longingly hanging on her, dark and smoky with unfulfilled desire...

Catherine was overcome by a surge of warm, almost painful tenderness. To hell with all scruples! Never before had she wanted a man so desperately! He looked so beautiful, sprawling in the warm, softly babbling water, like a creature that had come from a different world just to make all moral standards become insignificant.

She only had to extend her hand. The decision was hers alone...

Hesitantly she took a strand of his hair; it lay wet and heavy in her palm. "Do you want me to...wash your hair...?" Her voice trembled just as she herself did when she moved closer toward him.

Again this expression of disbelief showed in his eyes, making him even more irresistible.

"If you...want to...," he quavered, yet his eyes implored her to do what she had offered.

She reached for the soap. When she started lathering his head, he closed his eyes and with a sigh slid deeper into the water. With deliberate slowness Catherine worked through his thick mane. She took her time gently rubbing his scalp while his sighs and low moans made her heart flutter. Completely relaxed, he enjoyed her touch - with an abandon she had never expected from him.

Smiling, she wound a golden wisp round her finger, let go of it and watched the hair smooth again. Had there ever been touches like this in his life? Or hugs...?

Certainly when he had lived under Jacob Wells' care - but afterwards...? The thought that he most probably had been living without tenderness for more than three decades made her shudder slightly. Had he missed this? Had he longed for someone to hold and touch him? For someone to love him? Or had he buried these feelings deep inside him because they were too painful...

With her hands cupped, she poured water over his head; some of it ran down his forehead and little drops glittered in the soft hair on his nose.

When she wiped them away with her fingertips, he touched her hand and looked at her from beneath his long wet lashes.

"I'd like...to do the same for you..."

Never before had he spoken to her so softly. Catherine could only nod silently. With shaking hands she took off her sweater, virtually clinging to the garment because her legs suddenly felt too weak to take her weight.

And he... If there was anything like uncertainty in him, he hid it perfectly, for he watched every movement she made. Not once did he take his eyes off her, which would have made it a little easier for her to undress.

As she climbed into the pool, he rose to his knees and moved up to give her room. He waited until she slid into the warm water, then he took her at her shoulders and pulled her close so that she came to sit between his opened thighs, turning her back to him.

Catherine didn't expect that he only intended to shampoo her hair but supposed he would immediately touch and explore her. But he combed her hair back with his fingertips and moistened it with water, so gently that not a single drop came into contact with her face.

His touch, light and soft, made Catherine relax without dampening her desire. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against him. Now it was her who couldn't suppress soft sighs of pleasure - and she didn't want to. She could feel herself sliding deeper into the water, but did nothing to stop it.

And there was no need for her to move. As the water touched her shoulders, Vincent's thighs closed to support her, gently pressing against her waist.

Abandoning herself to his hands and the warmth surrounding her, Catherine lost any sense of time. She didn't know whether she'd been lying like that for an hour or just for several minutes, when he suddenly slid his hands down her neck and shoulders. He cupped her breasts and kneaded them softly, gasping with delight when her back arched in response and her head sank backwards to his chest.

Only now did Catherine realize his pulsating erection in her back; she felt his lips on her shoulder and his breath on her ear.

"Please..." he breathed, "please...," and his caresses made her tremble with the pleasure that was running throughout her in hot little waves.

She felt how her mouth opened and closed, but only a gasp came out. Yet there was no need for words. The way she was reacting was assent enough for him.

Slowly, gently, he moved his hands over her body, enjoying how her muscles tightened under his touch. He stroked along the inside of her thighs - and hesitated, all at once uncertain. She felt so wonderful, so soft...so vulnerable... He swallowed hard; a lump in his throat almost kept him from breathing.

He felt her desire, felt the pleasure he brought her - but he felt the flare of his passion, too. The intensity of this storm would scare her... Until now he had never cared about this; his experience was restricted to getting his own satisfaction. What, if he unintentionally caused her pain...or even harmed her in an uncontrolled moment...? He couldn't bear to hear her cry out with fear or pain...

Writhing in his arms, Catherine moaned with frustration. His hands were still lying in her groin, the thrill making her tremble with anticipation. She was yearning for his next touch, wanted nothing more than just this touch...

He kissed her ear, her nape and her shoulders; her skin felt hot under his lips as he slowly ran them down her spine and upwards again. With frustrating slowness he moved his left hand back to her breasts, and, teasing the hardened tips with his thumb, wrapped his other arm around Catherine's waist, pulling her backwards onto his thighs.

He was gentle, wanted to be gentle - for her. His own desire became secondary to her pleasure, all his senses completely focused on the woman in his arms. Instinctively he trusted in the connection to her, let himself be guided by the bond...

He wanted her to cry out! With pleasure...

Urging her down as softly as he could, he joined their bodies with one long, slow thrust, surprised how easily she took him in. Then he was deep inside her silken warmth and moved slowly, absorbing every sensation of her, while glistening ripples surrounded them like liquid light...

With great satisfaction he realized that he would be able to keep up this languorous, floating rhythm for a long time, but Catherine couldn't stand the sweet torment any longer. Each soft thrust increased her desire, brought her closer to the edge - but didn't give her real fulfillment. In rhythm with his movements she breathed his name, again and again. She knew that she was pleading...begging for her release, but she didn't care. And then he eventually abandoned his control.

Rising, still on his knees but upright now, he pulled her with him so that her back arched almost painfully, and buried himself in her with a deep, hard thrust. His movements quickened, his thrusts shook her, almost impaled her, his hands clutching her breasts. Clasping her to his body, he drove her into a whirl of sheer passion - making her burn...melt...

She lost herself in him, whimpering with delight when his opened mouth touched her nape and his teeth grabbed her skin. Tumbling into a sea of heat and light, she cried out - and was still crying when he flung his head back and roared his release up to the vault of the cave.