Chapter 3

"Vincent!" Catherine started after him, picking up the rest of his clothes and his towel on the way. His only answer was to walk faster, and she felt the bond shrink to a mere trickle. He was trying to shut her away!

A deadly silence followed Vincent's reaction, soon broken by Samantha's vehement protest. "But, Father, it's not Vincent who scratched me! It's Geoffrey! Vincent's careful! And now he's upset, and it's all your fault!"

Catherine didn't look back to see how Father reacted to that. She hoped Vincent was going to stop, if only to put his boots on, and she could catch up with him. He had not succeeded in shutting the bond completely, and what she felt from him frightened her. He was in such despair! If she let him go now, he might never come back! Her heart sank at that thought.

To her relief, she soon felt him stop. She followed her sense of him to what appeared to her as a dead end, until she saw the entrance of a low, narrow gallery half hidden by a rock. Yes, there!

She had to go down on her knees to enter, helping her progression with her free hand, oblivious of the uneven rocky floor. After ten feet or so the tunnel took a sharp turn and she emerged in a cavern she'd never seen.

Vincent was there, in the darkest corner, He was sitting on his cloak, his arms around his folded knees, rolled into a tight ball of wretched misery.

"Please, Catherine go away! I need to be alone!"

Ignoring his words, she walked straight to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Vincent…"

He shrugged her hand off and turned away from her. "Leave me, please!"

She sat down close to him without touching him again. "I won't leave you. My place is with you, and if you leave me I'll die!" she said in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone. "I love you, Vincent!"

He moaned as if her words caused him unbearable pain.

"Catherine, it was a dream. I dared to dream and forgot what I am! You've seen for yourself that releasing…that part of myself was a mistake! Father was right. I am dangerous even to those I love. Our beautiful dream must end here, for I would die if I ever hurt you, Catherine!"

"You could never hurt me. I know it, and you know it, too! Father is wrong, Vincent! He was wrong in accusing you. You didn't hurt Samantha, Geoffrey did!"

That earned her a quick look, before he turned his face away again. "I could have!" he grimly replied.

"Certainly not! I was watching you, remember? While all the children were piling up on top of you, I saw you extend your arms on the side and bury your nails in the sand." He turned a puzzled, incredulous frown to her. "Vincent, I promise you I saw it! You didn't do it consciously, maybe, but you made sure you wouldn't hurt the children!"

She knew she had made a point as she sensed a tiny ray of hope work it's way through his battered soul, but he wasn't convinced. "I will not take such risks anymore!" He shook his head stubbornly, his wet hair projecting droplets around. Catherine decided not to insist, for the moment. She rose to retrieve the towel she'd brought and came back to him.

"I brought your clothes, but first you should dry yourself a little." She came to kneel behind him, and gently rubbed his damp hair with the towel.

"Catherine!" he protested, trying to evade her hands.

"Sshh, it's all right, darling! Please let me do this for you!"

Aware of her determination under the gentle, soothing tone, he sighed his surrender. Still convinced that their beautiful dream had to end, he felt unable to refuse her, and himself, that small comfort. The future, whatever way he looked at it, seemed to hold only unbearable pain for both of them, and he allowed himself to enjoy the present moment while it lasted, even relaxing slightly under Catherine's hands.

Sensing Vincent's acceptance, Catherine relaxed, too, and set to the task of drying his hair, trying to keep her touch light and tender, one of comfort rather than sensuality. That, she hoped, might come later, but for now her only wish was to relieve some of the pain Father's words had caused Vincent and coax him out of that prison of despair he'd locked himself in again.

Satisfied that his hair was as dry as she could make it, she pushed it aside to rub the towel on his powerful shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and shudder under her hands. She massaged them with a gentle, caring insistence until she sensed the tension ease away. She continued down his back, patiently rubbing his fur dry. It looked temptingly soft, but she dared not touch him with her bare hands. Not yet. When she got close to the waistline of his shorts, a sudden tightening warned her not to go any further. She sent a warm, reassuring current through the bond and felt a timid, grateful answer.

Moving to his right side, she took his forearm and lifted it from his folded leg, gently pulling to extend his arm. His hand was closed into a tight fist, and she softly coaxed it open. Tears came into her eyes when she saw beads of blood where the nails had dug into his palm. Oh, my love, why do you do that to yourself? She met his tortured gaze and swiftly brought the hand to her mouth to kiss the wounded palm. "My hand!" she whispered, looking straight into his eyes before they evaded hers again. She was aware of the fight in Vincent, as a part of him that had tasted freedom rebelled against the re-established boundaries. She kept a firm hold on her own arousal to convey only calm, loving waves to him through the bond as she moved the towel along his arm, drying him as thoroughly as she could, until she knew he was quietly enjoying her touch.

Then she did the same for his other arm, but this time, she ran her fingers into the thick fur covering his forearm, and allowed some of the pleasure she found in touching him to seep through the bond. She had wanted this for so long!

A surge of warmth answered her, from behind the weakening walls that held Vincent's sensuality in now precarious check. Edging closer, Catherine ran the towel up the powerful biceps to his collarbone, then down to the wide, heaving chest. The silky fur there was almost dry already, and while one of her hands wielded the now useless towel, she let the other one run freely in the warm softness, enjoying the contrast with the hard, quivering pectorals underneath. She stifled a moan of delight, resisting the need to bury her face close to his wildly beating heart, and bask in the feel of him. She felt Vincent's halting breath on her burning cheeks, and the tumult of his conflicting emotions roared through the bond.

Vincent tried to hold on to his slipping control, but how could he do that when half of himself was fighting on Catherine's side? When every touch, every sensation brought him back closer to the belief that this was right between them? Her hands on his naked skin were the sweetest, most exhilarating feeling he'd ever experienced, and he knew she was getting great pleasure from it as well. How could such joy be wrong?

Yet when he felt Catherine's fingers slip down his abdomen, when he knew she'd soon discover the throbbing erection that distended the light fabric of his bathing trunks, shame and fear surged back up in a desperate counterattack. Seizing her wrist, he stopped her movement and eased her off him, turning his face away. From deep inside him rose a frustrated, despising snarl. You chicken!

Catherine didn't let that momentary setback deter her. She was aware of Vincent's highly aroused state, and decided to take things a bit more slowly for a while. Only for a while.

With a smile, she knelt in front of him and retrieving her towel, began to work on one of Vincent's big, furry feet. His head turned back abruptly to look at her, wonder filling his darkened eyes.

She beamed to his surprised face, and quietly went on drying his leg, working her way up to his knee, and beyond, with a tantalizing slowness. She progressed up his hard, muscular thigh, seemingly very absorbed in toweling already dry fur, while the only thing she could think of was what waited only a few inches away. She tried hard not to look at it, though the sizable bulge was difficult to ignore. She edged slowly closer, progressively releasing her control on the bond to let Vincent share her arousal, and felt him stiffen, not in fear, she realized joyously, but in expectation.

Abruptly, she withdrew and went back to his other foot, as if she intended to dry it, too.

She felt it happen, right then, as she had hoped. The acute frustration caused by her sudden retreat was strong enough to overcome the remaining fears. The walls came tumbling down and the now familiar warm wildness surged through the bond. Her Vincent was back, all of him!

"Gotcha!" she thought triumphally as a strong arm reached for her to pull her close. Then she stopped thinking when a greedy mouth came down on hers, taking her into a whirl of pure sensation.

They clung together with a desperate strength. They had come so close to losing each other again! Yes, so close! Vincent thought, unconsciously tightening his hold on Catherine. Hearing his fears and doubts expressed by the one voice he'd trusted all his life had given them a new strength, and he'd almost let them engulf him again. But Catherine had saved him. The gentle, loving magic she'd patiently woven around him had once more driven the fears away, and brought him back to where he truly belonged. Back to the wonderful warmth of her love.

He pulled himself away from her mouth to look at her. Her lips were swollen by his kisses, her flushed cheeks and dark emerald gaze spoke of her desire, for him. Him! His heart almost bursting with love, he cupped her face in his palm.

"Thank you, Catherine!" he said with emotion.

She smiled almost mischievously. "You're very welcome!"

"Oh, Catherine, can you forgive me? I listened to my fears again, I forgot to have faith in our love. I almost lost you!"

She turned her face slightly to lay a kiss on his hand. " Never, my love! You could never lose me! And I won't let you get lost again!" She looked straight into his eyes, her soul in her gaze. "You'll never be alone any more, Vincent!" she promised.

He felt the total, irrevocable commitment behind her words, and knowing deep inside that it could be no other way, he simply nodded his acceptance, offering his own soul, his own life in return. "And I will be with you, Catherine, always, if you will have me."

She took his hand in hers to look at the red puncture marks made by his claws. Shaking her head, she tenderly kissed every one of them before raising her eyes to meet his again.

"Vincent, I want you to touch me." she said. In answer to his questioning look, she undid the first button of her blouse, and brought his hand to her naked skin, before releasing it. "Please!" she softly insisted.

Vincent's breath stopped for a second. What she was asking of him… is only what you both need, so what are you still waiting for? The contact of Catherine's warm flesh shattered his doubts, as he allowed the most instinctive part of himself free rein. His other hand rose to work on the buttons, and soon the blouse opened on a sight that made him swallow hard. A mere wisp of satiny lace, revealing rather than hiding, enclosed small, but perfectly shaped breasts. As he was fascinatedly filling his eyes with the vision, he saw the pointed tips harden under the fabric that covered them just barely, calling for his touch. His hands answered the call of their own will, rising to cup the warm twin mounds, while his thumbs tentatively brushed the sensitive nipples, causing them to harden further.

Catherine's jolt of pleasure went through him as an electric shock, and he took a few seconds to enjoy the moment. He looked at his hands, his heavily furred, deadly-nailed hands, on Catherine's fair skin and delicate lingerie, both awed at the sight and elated at how well they fit there, reveling in the deep certainty that at last his hands had found where they belonged. He let Catherine's pleasure at his touch mingle with his own delight, savoring their shared excitement. Deep inside him the hunger grew. He had to taste this tender flesh!

Catherine's hand rose between his to undo a hidden clasp. Vincent gently pushed the bra apart to reveal rosy, creamy treasures that made his mouth water, and his hungry eyes met Catherine's darkened gaze. Her breath was coming in short pants, telling him of her impatience, of a need already inundating the bond.

He lowered his head to nuzzle the hollow of her throat, taking in the sweet, familiar scent that was his Catherine, mingled with a stronger, wilder note that spoke of her arousal. His tongue flicked out to taste her skin, causing her to moan in sweet pain. With an agonizing slowness, he kissed and tasted his way down, sharing every sensation with her through their wide open bond. His hands cupped the soft weight of Catherine's breasts as he buried his face between them, breathing heavily. His thumbs caressed the erect nipples, exploring their tight, puckered texture, and his mouth finally moved to enclose one of them, eliciting a small cry of pleasure.

In answer to both his need and Catherine's, he began to suckle greedily, assuaging a lifelong craving that went much further than mere sexual desire. It was the desperate longing of a child who'd never known a mother's breast, of a boy who'd hopelessly dreamed of a woman's touch, of a man who'd given up all hope that such happiness might ever be for him. And as he finally quenched his thirst at his beloved's breast, the sweet milk of her love and pleasure flowing into him through the bond, Vincent felt his bliss couldn't have been more complete.

Until he felt Catherine's hand move down his chest and his stomach, her aim clear. A last, faint current of fear rose, soon drowned by the surge of rapture that washed through him when her hand gently pushed his shorts down to get hold of his hardened flesh. He lifted his face from her breast to look at her, to make sure, and met a warm, tender smile as her certainty flowed on him. Her fingers began a slow stroking movement, while her other hand pulled his head back down to her. Vincent stopped thinking, all his awareness concentrated on both the incredible sensation of Catherine's touch on him, and her own waves of pleasure as he now gave his most tender attention to her other nipple. His palms were stroking, caressing her body, as her small, strong hand moved up and down his pulsing erection, every stroke bringing him closer to ecstasy. He let those sensations engulf him, caught into matching, accelerating rhythms, unable now to tell where his own pleasure ended and Catherine's began. As one they rode the waves of rapture that carried them higher and higher until they went over the edge together, moaning each other's name. Vincent arched against Catherine, feeling the contractions deep at her core and matched them with his tongue on her breast to heighten her pleasure as his seed erupted out between them.

Catherine came slowly back to earth, tightly held in Vincent's arms. She could hardly believe what they had just shared, and they hadn't even made love! His mouth still held her nipple, his tongue caressing her lovingly, and she tightened her own hold on his still rigid organ, marveling at his strength and size. He was so thick her fingers couldn't meet around him, and slick with the proof of the wonderful pleasure they had shared through the bond. She let out a blissful sigh, enjoying all those sensations for a few more seconds, before she'd allow the exigencies of her other world to claim her again.

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