CONTAINS CONTENT:
Warnings for mild language and mild sexual content.
{{Unedited}}
Marielle went into the training room where another round of games was wrapping up.
Vincent was watching as he had previously from the balcony.
In the arena was Tala, Liam, Hazal, Mateo, and Wei Ling. Mateo looked shaken, and was throwing glances at Hazal. Marielle had no idea what they’d been through, but she knew that with Hazal in the mix, there was a good chance that at least some of it was fear inducing. She shuddered.
All of them looked spent, like Vincent had probably put them through the emotional rounds the way that he had done to Sabine, Austin, Han, John, and her the day before.
Marielle shuffled in, and went up the steps to join Vincent. He threw her a soft smile, and noted that others were filing in as well, so he called a timeout to those in the arena and they all took a break.
“How’d they do?” Marielle whispered.
“Not too badly,” Vincent replied, kissing her forehead. She smiled at him. “Dinner tonight?” he whispered. She nodded, excitedly. “I want to take you somewhere.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh?”
“Oui. I want you to think about something lovely to wear. I’m taking you for dinner and dancing.”
She leaned into him, biting her bottom lip. “I know of a dress. What should I wear under it?”
He smirked against her lips. “Rien du tout.” Then he kissed her, passionately.
Marielle could never break away from the thought that Austin was just outside of her field of vision staring at them, or that he’d at least seen, and that it was somehow killing him.
“Oui, rien du tout, mon amour,” she replied excitedly, lifting a hand to fan herself in the heat. “Et comment vas-tu m’avoir alors?”
“Tremblement.” He was keeping her, holding her against his body tightly, and grinning down into her face as she playfully squirmed, bending her back over his strong arms. She could feel his muscles tense to hold her, and she flushed a little as he chuckled while she attempted to get away. He kept her, forcing her stay against his hard body.
She smiled, breaking away; he let her go.
Yup, Austin had at least seen some of that, if not heard it.
He was, however, pointedly ignoring all of it, and had wandered toward the gun table in the far left of the room, aimlessly.
He probably knew every weapon on that table, but he’d familiarize himself with all of them again if it meant distracting himself from the two of them being all over each other.
Liam stood beside Vincent as everyone else shuffled into the room, including Barbara. She hadn’t seen Barbara in a while. It was true that she didn’t stay at Valorant the way the rest of them did, and when she was there, she was often haunting an office at the end of the hall. But Marielle remained suspicious of Barbara overall.
Barbara – in her gray suit – was the one who stepped forward to speak. “I heard that you were updated on our situation today, Mr. Fabron,” she said to Vincent. Marielle glanced at him, unaware of what Barbara might be talking about.
Vincent eyed her with about as much suspicion as Marielle felt like she had for Barbara. “Oui.” Everyone in the room fell silent, listening. “We are going to need to travel to Venice as soon as tomorrow morning. I want a specific team to join me.” He looked over the large group scattered about the room. “Who can’t go?”
Hazal lifted her hand. “I have to return to Turkey tomorrow night. New intel…” She looked down. “I’m still trying to find him,” she added under her breath, sadly. Marielle hurt for her. Both Vincent and Marielle understood this; her father had disappeared – Hazal suspected kidnapped – a few years prior.
Wei Ling raised her hand, “I can’t go, either.” Vincent nodded. “At least until the night after tomorrow,” she looked down for a moment, like she was concerned that she was letting everyone down. Sabine glared daggers at her; everyone needed Wei Ling. “I can meet you there?”
“That works. Anyone else?” There was a pause. “Does anyone not want to go?” Vincent careened his head over the railing, looking down at them all.
Erik raised a metal arm. “I have no desire to help in Venice, and I’m busy.” He spat.
Vincent leaned back and nodded, tucking his lips in. He understood that this really meant that Erik had no desire to help with anything that Vincent was doing. Vincent gave him one strong nod. “Understood,” he said dismissively. “You may leave if you want,” Vincent said to the man. Liam looked Erik over disapprovingly, but Erik ignored him and left the room.
“I’ll go,” Sasha said, raising a hand. “I’ll help anywhere I’m needed.”
“I’ll go,” Kirra said.
“I’m going!” Klara added cheerfully.
“I go where she goes,” Tayane said gesturing to Klara with her head. Then she put an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder.
“I can’t go,” Kiritani said, looking over his phone, the light illuminating his face. “I have an important appointment day after tomorrow.”
Vincent looked at everyone who was left. “I want to take Sabine, John, Marielle, Kirra, Sasha- Wei Ling, I want you to meet us if you can,-” she nodded her response, “-Jamie, Liam…” He looked over the room, and his eyes landed on Austin. “Doctor Rancor.” Vincent looked to Barbara as if asking if that was okay. She nodded, once.
Austin wasn’t looking at him, his gaze was fixed on the ground. He took in a deep pull of air, put his hands into his pockets, and looked up at Vincent, trying to control the jealousy coming through his eyes. Vincent saw it, and dismissed it with a tilt of his head. He was waiting for an answer. Austin nodded, once.
“Why are we taking him?” Sabine hissed. “He’s not part of us.”
“He’s absolutely part of us,” Marielle said, quickly. Sabine glared daggers at her. Marielle drew back; she hadn’t meant to bark at Sabine.
Austin briefly met eyes with Marielle. -Thank you. She nodded.
Vincent looked between all of them. “Marielle is right, he’s part of us,” he said dismissively. Vincent turned to Sabine. “Also, if it wasn’t clear, we’re going to Italy… Austin is Italian. He can translate if we need him to.”
“You’re Italian?” Kirra asked, turning to him with interested eyes.
He flicked his gaze to her, briefly. “Sono.”
Marielle smiled to herself; she knew that Kirra had something of a crush on Austin.
“We’re still allowed to come, right?” Mateo asked, stepping forward. WingMan pushed through his legs and lifted a little fist at Vincent. Vincent smiled; unsure of whether WingMan was threatening him, or reassuring him that he could fight; and nodded his reply.
“Obviously we are also still down Amir, Varun, Zyanya…”
“Where is Reyna?” Han asked, stuffing the rest of a pastry in her mouth. Her words had come out slightly muffled.
“Taking care of something in Mexico,” Mateo replied.
There was a pause. “Chamber will be meeting us there.” Sabine looked away, disgusted.
“You still haven’t told us what’s going on,” Jamie stated, joining the conversation. Han lifted a finger, pointing to him as if agreeing.
Vincent gestured, “Klara and I have done something a little unconventional…” Vincent seesawed a hand in the air.
“Tell me what else is new…” Sabine snarled under her breath.
“I used the bodies that we have in the morgue to create a specific signature,-” Klara started, “-one of the ways that it can be detected is through satellite, er- the same one that Liam uses for his orbital strike.” She nodded at Liam, he nodded back. “Basically, our dead friends have a specific – we’ll call it scent – and that scent is now detectable.”
“Scent?” Mateo asked, cocking his head to one side. Jamie sniffed the air, and backed away from Mateo. The two chuckled.
“It’s the best way she can put it. Basically, we told the computer to start scanning for any copies from my world, specifically. We started in Italy since Han had an…encounter there.” Han chuckled ironically. “We found some. As we suspected they’re in Venice, Italy. They’re also working with Kingdom.” Everyone glared at Vincent.
Klara broke in. “We also found two possible plant sites for a spike. We think they’re gearing up to do this at the end of the next forty-eight hours.”
“How do we actually defuse a spike?” Kiritani asked, leaning forward, “I understand that I won’t be with you this particular trip, but color me curious.”
“Klara also took care of that…”
She produced a black, long-handled device that looked like the kind of contraption that a police officer used to read how fast someone was driving. “Tada,” she said in a sing song tone.
Everyone leaned in, examining it. “And that’s going to stop this thing?” Kiritani added.
“It’s made with radianite that will heat to an extreme temperature, which will defuse the spike, yes.” Vincent said.
“Everything sounds fool proof,” Sabine growled sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
Liam gave her a fatherly glare, and she glanced down, shamefully.
John reached for her hand and took it, interlocking their fingers and squeezing. She squeezed back, her demeanor calmer.
“Vincent’s orders come from me, Sabine,” Liam said, sternly. “He knows as well as I do that we have to stop these guys, or they’re going to take the planet.” Sabine nodded, agreeing. Liam addressed the rest of the room. “And to anyone who thinks the same, I am still in command. Vincent and I have spoken a few times outside of all of this… I won’t say what about, or why, but I will tell you that everything that he orders has gone by me and Barbara first and has been approved on. If you have a problem with him, then you have a problem with me, and you can bring it to me or there’s the door,” he gestured to the hall.
“We won’t just be fighting radiants. We’re going to be fighting Kingdom. They have a small army of highly trained soldiers who are ready to go to work against us,” Vincent explained.
“Why is Kingdom working with Cory?” Barbara asked from the back of the room.
Vincent narrowed his eyes to see her. “That’s not something that we’re entirely sure of, but we have some idea. It boils down to the idea that they are experimenting the same as we are. They figured out how to teleport from the other worlds, and believe that Cory, his sister, and his group can help them get radianite from different worlds and advance their research.”
Austin took a few steps forward, his eyes shifting a bit. “What kind of research does Kingdom do?”
“All kinds, Austin. They experiment with radianite,” Vincent’s expression turned dark, “and radiants.”
Austin flicked his gaze to Marielle. She read it and knew what it meant. Keep some of her abilities under lock and key. She looked down, considering. Her particular powers could be used in certain ways, and considering that Cory was after her, she’d need to be careful. “We’re looking to get a team to go to Venice by tomorrow mid-day to go and infiltrate Kingdom and stop them,” Vincent announced. “They have a massive facility.”
“If they attempt to spike plant before that?” Han asked.
“Stop them,” Vincent replied with a small shrug.
“As many of you know, we have a warehouse in Venice,” Liam said. “It’s small, but we can work with it.”
Liam announced a flight time for eleven thirty in the morning, departing from LAX and told everyone to disperse; to go home, pack, and get some rest.
Vincent whirled around and took Marielle against him, again.
“I feel like you’re being a little impatient, love,” she said with a blush.
He grinned at her, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I’m always impatient with you, love.” He leaned into her right ear, and gently bit. “Maybe I’ll just have you on the table.”
She giggled and pushed him away, “Vincent!” She inwardly cringed a little. She knew that that was almost exactly how she always said Austin’s name when he repeated it, playfully mocking her. She knew that he heard them, even though he was across the room.
He broke away from her. “Alright, everyone, weapon up, pack up, tell Liam and Barbara who is coming before the end of the night, tickets will be available at the gates,” Vincent said and he waved them all away. They scattered.
Then he turned back to Marielle, and again, he pulled her against him, kissing her neck, and whispering. Why did she care so much that Austin saw? He was leaving- already halfway out the door, but he saw, and it was causing him pain, and she hated that.
She made a deal with herself… no more caring about what Austin thinks or feels for the rest of the night.
Tomorrow everything could be quite a bit different and she didn’t want to think about that or what the future might hold. She’d think about Austin later, maybe after dinner… God knew that she thought about him at night… around midnight…when Vincent was asleep… and his little bites running up and down her collarbo- okay, enough.
“Go home, get into the most elegant dress that you can find among your collection. If you can’t find something, go buy it, but be fast about it,” he spoke quickly, “I want you in something backless,” he whispered.
“Backless? How backless?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“As backless as it can be without showing anyone anything that’s mine,” he said breathlessly, pulling her hips tight against his. She became dizzy, and took in a pleasured gulp of air. “I want to look at your beautiful back one last time before I give you your guns,” he breathed against her ear.
“Oh!” She gasped, excitedly. “Oh, really Vincent? Really?” She pleaded.
“Oui, mi amor.” He nodded. “I’ve been working on it. I can do the first part tonight. The next few parts will have to wait a few days, but that will help with the pain and the adjustments. You should be more ready when we return from Venice.” She grinned wildly and jumped into his arms. “But let me be clear… be stunning tonight. Clean, hair up. I want to see your skin.” His fingertips glided up her spine, bit by bit, bone by bone. “All of it,” he whispered, kissing her on the mouth. She grinned and held him to her. “I have to stay for a little while, but get ready, and I’ll tell you where to go,” he said. “It’s not far.”
She nodded and took off, heading for the garage. She’d brought her car today when she’d driven them both there.
When she crossed the dimly lit space – walking by several vehicles – she realized that there was loud music coming from one of them. Of course… Austin. He hadn’t seen her, he was twisting at his midsection, dealing with something in the back seat, but he was blaring something loud, dark, and aggressive. She vaguely recognized the song, but the lyrics were what stuck out to her; something about a dark cloud, a virus, and a cheap whore.
Great, Austin… me? I’m the whore? I didn’t exactly sleep with you, or even get close. She rolled her eyes and kept walking to her car.
She didn’t see him turn straight forward after he’d shifted some dry cleaning and watch her every movement, darkly.
He counted her steps; forty-seven to her black four door car, and his gaze lingered on her body as it swayed with each stride. He watched her long legs, and their shape, her hips as they moved one way, then the other, her supple waist, and the pretty shapes that her shoulder blades made as they tensed and released with certain movements, and as she dug for her keys in her purse. It was darker in here. He glanced around the parking garage. He saw no one else, they were alone.
He observed her ignore him as she ducked into the driver’s seat, and he watched as she put her keys into the ignition, started it, and pulled forward, eventually driving past him.
She didn’t look at him, once. Her mind was in the clouds, thinking of Vincent and whatever he had planned for the night.
Sighing, he turned his own vehicle on, but paused a moment.
When he’d started working at Valorant, he’d desperately wanted to own… that.
He had been planning to play it cool for a few days; only give her glimpses of interest, tease her, and make her think of him in that way.
She’d want him; he knew that just by searching through her social media and cold reading her from a variety of pictures, posts, and personal thoughts as captions above her photos. Of all the women’s profiles that he’d gone through at Valorant, hers stuck out to him the most. She was the one that he was the most attracted to. Small and pretty with a dangerously innocent look in her eyes. She was also strong willed, something that he planned to break over time. Not too much, she was resilient after all, but enough to make it fun for him. Her social media profiles revealed her as dark, independent, and edgy but also emotional, romantic, and vulnerable in a lovesick way. She wanted a lover; someone romantic and dangerous, but protective and deep. He could be that. Hell, he was that… without the addiction.
As he’d done his research on her, he’d lingered on sexy bikini photos, and drooled over pretty photos of her in a wedding a few years ago. She was into guys like him… at least for some fun. This would be easy; just a few days, a week; two at most, and he’d have her panting his name.
-Steven, was it?
He smirked at the memory of their first meeting. That was the moment. That was the moment when something had moved differently in his mind. It was small, hardly there; a whisper in the back of his mind behind his intense lust.
But that was the moment when he knew this was going to be different. Marielle Jeanne Chaenes could figure him out. It was thrilling… it was scary. Actually, it terrified him.
It was supposed to be easy… Hit it and quit it. Or hit it a few times, then quit it.
Except it wasn’t easy. Now it was complicated because something had shifted. The very sound of her name drove him to madness, and his name on her lips? He could die happy each time.
He was losing this game now, not her, and it was allowing him to admit two things to himself; his biggest fears.
The first was what she’d said to him that day after their near miss the night before at his house. Although he’d never taken the time to sit with himself, have a conversation, and conclude it; the moment that the words had left her lips, he realized that she was right. He was going to die alone. He was going to take his last breath surrounded by… no one who cared about him. If he was lucky, some nurse that he barely knew might be nearby somewhere to witness his soul leave his body. That was it.
The second biggest fear? It seemed far worse in comparison.
He held up a shaking hand, desperate for his fix… he was so dry that he felt it in his throat, and stomach, and brain. He had had every intention of driving to a hooker tonight. That was until she walked by; soft smile plastered on her face. Was there any chance that she was thinking about him? She’d said as much the last time he was in her office… albeit, in her mind, but she’d still thought it to him, that she thought about him nearly every moment that she wasn’t with Vincent; his little bites. He bit the back of his finger. He wanted to bite her again. He wanted her to be obsessed with him the way that he was obsessed with her.
He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, his jaw tensing, his groin aching.
No, his second greatest fear had changed now…
It used to be something along the lines of not being able to shake the trauma from a mission, or something leaning that direction; which happened on occasion, and the company that owned him had to reset him during a twenty-four-hour period.
Three years ago, while he had been trying to catch Chamber’s trail again, he’d been in Greece, and ordered to follow a man of importance. When in broad daylight at an outdoor cafe, the man had attempted a deal that went wrong. Austin had to pull a gun, and kill everyone involved. The deaths weren’t what stuck with him. What stuck with him was the little girl… she was sitting at a table just ten feet away. He’d never forget her. Her hair fell over her little shoulders in big, dark curls, and she had giant brown eyes. She was looking over the three dead men, the blood; a piece of bread still hanging from her little mouth. She met eyes with him again, and he could see her innocence fade in an instant; she’d never be the same. He could also see words forming in her pure mind that related to him, “monster” “danger” “threat” “terror.” He hadn’t even heard the little girl’s mother screaming as she went to pick her daughter up, begging him in Greek not to hurt them, shielding her little girl, who was wearing a silver necklace that said, “Sophia.”
Tears filled his eyes, and he went to his knees, stretching out a trembling hand. No… I’m not a monster. I just saved you. But you don’t know it. His pale, handsome face was spattered in blood.
For days he thought of nothing but “Sophia.” She’d be in his dreams screaming, “Téras! Téras!” And he’d jerk awake in a cold sweat. She stood at the end of his bed, and asked him, “why did you kill them?”
He’d swallow and hang his head. “I had to,” he tried to find the words, “they would have hurt you.”
She would stare down at him, “Téras,” she’d say accusatorily.
“Maybe sometimes you have to use monsters to kill monsters,” he’d reply.
He had conversations with her often, trying to destroy the trauma. “How old are you?”
“Four.”
“What can I do to make it better?”
“Nothing!” She’d scream.
He told no one that before they reset him, he’d found out who she was, gone to her house in the middle of the night, and left a soft, brown teddy bear on her porch with a red ribbon around its neck. He watched from his car as Sophia’s mother opened the door, found it, read the note attached that said, “For Sophia” on the front, and on the back, “I’m so sorry” And took it in the house.
Presently, sitting in his car in the dim garage, he squeezed his quivering fingers into his palm. This… oh, this was so, so much worse for him. The second worst fear was a word; a word that he knew deeply well… intimately. But he’d never truly experienced it. At least, he’d never experienced it in a way that made him want to change every fiber of himself in order to truly be a better man and get what he truly desired… The only time he’d ever felt enough affection for a woman to call her “wife” he’d gotten her into bed within forty-eight hours of meeting her, and basically agreed that he liked her enough to let her call him husband.
If he recalled correctly, their wedding had been planned quickly; somewhere in the realm of four months after they’d met and been sleeping together. He found it funny now that he’d purposefully changed the classic vows to Erin. He’d said, “to have and to hold from this day forward in sickness and in health.” But he’d cleverly left out the bits about “til death do us part” and “forsaking all others,” and the bit about the “all of the days of my life.” Because a promise to Austin was a promise and he’d rather die than not keep it. He knew…somewhere in the back of his mind and in his spirit that he wouldn’t be able to keep that part of the promise.
Now something was changing, and the change felt like shedding skin. It was painful. It ached, and left him tormented every night, and almost every waking hour. Yet, he couldn’t escape it, and so, so much of him didn’t want to.
He pictured Marielle with him every moment. She was there right now, sitting just to his right in the passenger’s seat, singing at the top of her lungs with him. She would walk into his house with him, where he’d kiss her, and pick her up, and offer her chocolate ice cream and butterscotch syrup before he took her to bed and made love to her. She was there when he woke up, smiling at him, and whispering three words that he didn’t want to accept or believe. She was there, eating breakfast with him wearing nothing but his shirt from the night before…and did she ever look beautiful in it. She kissed him when he brought her coffee made just the way she liked- two creams, three sugars. She held him for a moment before he went into his office, and she into hers. They met for lunch, and laughed about some stupid thing that happened at work. They made dumb faces at each other, and acted like foolish children every opportunity they got. They played when they made food together. They delighted in each other’s cooking – hers more for sure – he could barely cook. They slow danced at midnight. They tickled, and giggled and rolled around in bed. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes and shared the same fantasies, and dreams. She pressed into him, melding with his body… and made him feel complete like he’d never felt with anyone in his entire life as she passed through him, their heartbeats intertwining, their own thoughts mixing and swirling inside one another. He took her to theaters, and parks, and the opera, and to new restaurants. They drank wine and held hands. She slipped him her panties under the table, and he asked for the check. He held her at night, tucking her into his body, and protecting her. He gave her soft kisses and bites down her spine. He took her with him when he had to leave the country, and she waited for him in a hotel room where he told her to get lavish room service, and sightsee as much as she wanted before he came home, and made her his over and over again. Sometimes they fought side by side. She helped him on certain missions. Then… a pretty gray hair…and another… and another… and a soft line around her gorgeous mouth, and his… and the sound of baby cries in the night… and him going to the side of a crib, overjoyed to be looking down at his little, dark haired daughter…and… another gray hair… and grins… and first wobbly steps… and… “dadda…” and…
He pulled out of the parking spot in the garage he decided that he was done haunting and started to drive home, pulling up a number on his phone. It said, “Jakkie…” She was a prostitute that he liked.
It rang twice, and then a familiar, feminine voice answered with a sensual tone. “You’re a lucky boy, Joe. I just had a cancellation. I’m free tonight. Can I pencil you in?”
Lucky boy… he felt about as far from. Austin closed his eyes briefly and swallowed hard, his hand shaking. “Actually, I- I didn’t call about that.”
“Oh?”
“I was wondering if you- you would answer me a question, Jakkie.” There was silence. “I mean, I can even pay you for it if you really want, I just-”
“What do you want to know?”
He put his turn signal on and waited a beat. “What’s your real name?” Silence again. “I mean, I understand if you don’t want to answer, and you don’t have to, and you don’t have to give me your full name or anything, I’m just curious… W-what’s your real name?”
“Uh…” She paused. He knew that she liked him. A lot.
“It’s okay, I-”
“Sharon. My name is Sharon.”
A soft smile spread over his mouth. “Hi, Sharon… my name is Austin.”
“Oh? Not Joe?”
“Not Joe.”
There was a pause. He turned left. “This… is goodbye, isn’t it?” She actually sounded a little sad.
He felt his eyes glisten. “Yeah.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and calmed the voice screaming for him to go get her and take her home. “Goodbye.” He hung up and instantly deleted the number.
Then he pulled into his driveway and let out a ragged sigh before he went into his house, tore the movie poster off the wall from when he’d met Erin, took it to the backyard, set up a pit, and burned it. He’d never been in love; he’d certainly never given it in a way that meant sacrifice. What was he doing?
“Giving up,” he said quietly as he stood over the flames and watched the picture start to bubble, blacken, and curl.
He felt his heart shatter as he tipped his head forward in dark silence. Marielle was there now, too; standing behind him, her fingers slipping around the front of his waist. Why did that feel so good in his mind? He was used to pleasure, this was simply touch, and deeply conjuring it almost made him go to his knees in bliss; her fingertips… just above his bellybutton, gently pulling him back against her. His body shook in awe beside the yellow and orange flames.
He was flying with the others tomorrow… and that reminded him of a song. He took her to the piano, where he sat her on the top, and looked up at her feeling more vulnerable than he had in ages, as started to play.
She wasn’t there, but he let himself imagine that she was as he let his voice carry Defying Gravity from the play Wicked.
Oh God, how he wished that he could write something again, something deep and meaningful. None of this was going to help. It wasn’t going to help relieve the tension in his body. It wasn’t going to kill the loneliness, or the trauma.
It wasn’t going to stop his second biggest fear. No… his new biggest fear was that he might actually be “in love.”
***
When Marielle entered the restaurant, she was dazzled by its elegance.
The entrance was dimly lit, and covered with glittering candles covering the entire venue. There were spreads of brilliant, blooming flowers on tables, and glistening chandeliers on the ceilings that struck a part of the room on occasion with rainbow light glinting from the candles. There were private rooms covered by velvet curtains, and to her immediate right was a bar.
Vincent was standing there – his back to her – his fingers around an empty crystal glass with ice.
He turned to her and paused, shaking his head in astonishment as his gaze wandered over her body, her dress; a satin navy-blue number that went to the floor, had a heart shaped top to show off her perfect breasts, and the back was so deep that it only paused just below her hips, and flared out to create a slight bell shape, giving her a completely perfect hourglass figure.
He came to her, and leaned into her ear. “If you are not careful, I will take you on the table,” he breathed. She smelled like roses and it made him a bit weak in the knees.
She broke out into a smile that she couldn’t contain. “Is that a promise?” she purred back, and their eyes met as they smiled at one another so wide that both of their eyes became mirthful crescents, disappearing among the grins.
“You are the loveliest thing that I have ever beheld.” He took her on his arm, and led her deeper into the restaurant where there was a dance space, and a band was playing soft, classic jazz. A few couples were gently swaying against one another on the twinkling dance floor.
A man in red and black showed them to a private room, asked them what they wanted to drink, and with a smile, closed them in with the curtain after Vincent told him what wine to bring.
“How long do you think he’ll be gone?” she asked playfully. Her cheeks filled with color.
Vincent sipped some water and turned to her, his tattoos sparkling in the dim, twinkling candlelight. “Are you that desperate for love now, my wife?”
She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe,” she whispered.
He smirked, and his eyes wandered over the small, round table between them as if he were considering it. It had two place settings, wine glasses, glasses of ice-cold water, three candles in the middle along with a spread of roses…red roses… She shook her head; she wouldn’t think of Austin right now. There was also a basket of warm bread and butter. Vincent was buttering a piece, now, and he handed it to her with a soft smile. “Oh, thank you,” she beamed and ate it. He put his chin on his folded hands and watched her, gazing intently at her full pink lips. Those lips would be his later.
She smiled, reading his expression. “How are you doing, love?” he asked gently, reaching across the table, and taking her hand.
“It was a hard day,” she admitted.
“Austin?” She didn’t want to think about him, or talk about him in conversation, but here she was, Vincent just bringing him up. She nodded, slowly. Then he went quiet for a moment before he hit her with something that she hadn’t been expecting at all. “Can you read each other’s minds, yet?”
Her eyes went wide with terror. He knew? Of course, he knew. Why wouldn’t he know. She fidgeted and looked down. “Um… yes?” She asked, feeling naked.
“You don’t need to worry; I knew that was coming,” he said flatly, and he drank some more water. The waiter returned with the wine and poured them both some before leaving quietly.
Her throat felt dry. She took several large gulps of cool water. “What else is coming?” She asked shakily.
“I’m not entirely certain.” He sipped some water. “Your decisions, I suppose.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and swiped some of her hair back behind her shoulder. “My decisions?”
“I want you to have complete control over your decisions here. Who do you want? Austin, or me?”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “You.” She insisted, quickly. He looked away, as if uncertain. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You,” she repeated.
“I’m not sure that that will always be the case,” he explained, sighing, and running a hand over his hair.
She fell quiet for a moment; her voice came out deeper and more serious. “Why are we having this conversation?” she pressed, her eyes glistening a little.
“Because I want you to know that you have a choice. I give you that choice, I won’t stop you. You can have him.” He said, leaning toward her. Her eyes welled more, his eyes added, but please choose me.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, quietly.
“Oh, Masin,” he breathed in a way that hid tears, and he looked distant for a moment. “I’ve done so many bad things.” He shook his head slowly, removing his glasses and looking down into them. “So so many bad things.” He put her hand to his cheek, kissing her palm. “I wanted you so badly,” he whispered.
“What did you do?” she asked, shaking. Her mind was a cacophony of noises that she wished that she could silence.
“All the wrong things… all the wrong things.” He shook his head, shamefully.
A waiter interrupted them. “Have you a had chance to look at the menu? Or shall I give you a few more minutes?”
He replaced his glasses, glancing over the menu. “May I order for you, love?” he asked. She nodded, not minding this time. “I want the lobster, thermidor. She’ll have butternut squash ravioli with brown butter,-” he looked at her as if asking if this was okay. She nodded, excitedly. It sounded good. “-I want crème Brulé for dessert,” he added. The waiter nodded, took their menus, and left, promptly.
He looked her over, again; their conversation from before seemed to evaporate and vanish. “I want to dance with you,” he stated.
“Then dance with me, Vincent.”
He stood, and stretched his hand out to her. She took it, and he led her out, passed the curtains and to the dance floor where he took her into his arms, and stared down at her, longingly. “I missed you like you would never know,” he said as if continuing that conversation that she thought they’d moved past.
“I wish I had known you,” she explained, gently rocking against him.
He twirled her under his arm, “But you did,” he whispered, sadly as he brought her back against him again.
She was silent for a moment, feeling the room spin even though she had stopped. Suddenly things didn’t feel right, and it shook her inside. This was the first time that she truly felt this and she shuddered, and remembered the picture that he’d described of them. “Answer me truthfully,” he nodded. “The photograph…of us at the beach-” She remembered him describing it. How both she and Austin were sticking their tongues out, how she had her arm around him, and his temple was resting against her. She remembered Vincent saying that she was tugging him close to her. How he’d said that he didn’t really want to be part of that picture, and they’d dragged him into it. Her and Austin were mirroring each other, Vincent was the extra wheel. “I was with Austin, wasn’t I?”
He was staring deeply into her eyes, “Yes, you were,” he replied darkly. “And I was the one who was on the side, and jealous beyond belief.”
She shook her head, “What did he do?” She asked, shaking.
Vincent swallowed and looked down. “No, I- I can’t speak of that right now.”
“Why?” she urged. “What are you keeping from me now?”
“The things that threaten us… because I’m a selfish, selfish man,” he breathed against her lips. Then he kissed her, and gently pressed his tongue between her lips, asking her if she’d have him with this action. Sighing and dizzy, she welcomed it, and they kissed for a moment in their own, made-up universe.
He slowly dipped her over his knee and his fingertips gently grazed her skin down, between her breasts, and down to her bellybutton. Then he bent and planted a kiss under her chin. His hand went back to her face, cupping her cheek and he stood her back upright again.
“Your plan is always just to seduce me into submission, isn’t it?” she breathed into his chest.
He nodded, “That’s the idea,” he replied, darkly. She held onto his shoulders, and tried to collect her thoughts. “Now be quiet,” he whispered, his gaze consuming her, hypnotizing her. “Here,” he brushed his lips against hers, “and here,” he gently pressed his fingertips into her hair, and across her scalp. “Ease your thoughts, love. Let me care for you.”
***
When they came back to the apartment, she took him to the bedroom, and discarded her dress, dropping it to the floor.
Now topless, she sat on the bed and waited for him with a childlike innocence beaming through her green eyes.
He looked over at the equipment that he’d brought home from the lab forebodingly and took a deep sigh at the metallic, sharp objects and the heat that he knew they’d produce, and how much it would hurt her.
He shook his head, not wanting to continue. “I’ll just tell you,” he breathed quickly, trying to go to her; hoping to make her forget her demands with physical pleasure.
“No!” She demanded, and she caught his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. His brown eyes pleaded. “No… I want this. Keep your secrets. I want to be armed; to be like you.”
He looked deeply into her eyes with a deadly serious glare. She nodded, slowly. He sighed and let his head fall forward, between his shoulders. “What makes me so scared is knowing that now… you don’t want to know.” He let that hang in the air. Then he lifted his head again, and motioned for her to lay on her stomach. She did, raised on her elbows as she showed him the length of her beautiful back, the skin, muscles, and the vertebrae.
His eyes wandered down the curves, the shapes, and the creamy, white skin. He lifted his fingertips and trailed them down her spine with a feather touch, looking at his canvas. “Parfait,” he breathed, almost tearing up. He thought for a few moments, taking in the blank page and trying to decide how to write upon it. It slowly came to him in a clear, distinct image. Then he grinned, “I know what I’m going to do…” He swallowed. There was a beat of silence. “But this is going to hurt,” he warned. A pregnant pause. “A lot.”
He gently turned her over onto her back, and gazed down at her. First his eyes wandered over her like she was a blank canvas, then they repeated the path with hunger. “So first, I’m going to make love to you.”
She bit her bottom lip and came up onto her knees, forcing him back a little as she slowly crept toward him. Once she got to him, she reached down for his belt, but he grabbed her wrists tightly and put her down on the bed, under the weight of his body.
After the shock had worn off, she implored his eyes with hers quizzically. “You first,” he said, possessively. “Me later,” he insisted.
She shivered, her body becoming alive with need. “Why?” she murmured, feeling once again that feeling she’d had the first time she’d been with him. His thumb moved down her cheek and over her lips, gently parting them.
He smirked, knowingly; the slight raise of his left brow making her giddy. “You’re my wife. What pleases me? Is what pleasures you,” he replied, and she melted under him, her head rolling back in ecstasy at these words.
She screamed as the minutes went by. First in pleasure… then in pain.
***
The door dinged as the elderly woman in an olive-green button up dress, and a beehive atop her head walked back in with a pastry hanging from her mouth. Her name tag said “LISA.”
She put a bony finger up. “One moment, handsome,” she said through the croissant. Then she went slowly behind the desk, rattling it and the chair as she moved to the computer, where she sat down and adjusted her glasses as she looked at the screen. “They told me you were looking for someone?” She asked, her eyes meeting his.
Vincent nodded and glanced around the room. “Yeah, I just want to know if she’s still alive,” he said nervously.
“Name?” Her fingers clicked across the keyboard rapidly.
“Marielle… Chaenes.” He rubbed the space above his right eyebrow with his middle and pointer finger.
“Is that C- H- A- E- N- E- S?”
“Oui…uh, yes.” He glanced down.
Clickity clack, clack, clack… scroll, scroll. Silence. “I’m sorry, love, I don’t see a listing.” She shook her head, picked her pastry up again, and took another bite as she scrolled some more. Vincent exhaled, slowly and narrowed his eyes, confused. “But the computer doesn’t say that she died, either…” She squinted and leaned in. “Oh!” She chuckled silently. “Yeah… here it is… name change.” She flicked a hand in the air. “Maiden name, Chaenes…” Vincent’s face went pale. “Looks like she’s married.”
Vincent’s face stayed calm, but internally he was speaking rapidly in French, disbelieving. A pause. “W-what is the name?”
“Rancor… Marielle Rancor.”
And again, he was on those train tracks, and those two names were rushing towards him at lightning speeds. He pulled Headhunter from his arm, and took aim at “Marielle Rancor” as it sped toward him, preparing to shoot.
Vincent jerked out of the dream, gasping, and sat up, putting his face into his hands for a moment and softly crying.
He turned to Marielle. She was still topless, laying on her stomach. Although she was asleep, he could tell that she was in pain by the jerky breaths that she was taking. He’d given her a strong pain injection earlier, but painkiller didn’t matter much during the first forty-eight to seventy-two hours. She’d be close to agony during the trip to Italy.
He turned to the nightstand and picked up a can that he lightly sprayed onto her bare skin; it came out in a fine mist, coating her back. It was an antiseptic, painkiller, and burn treatment. She breathed a lot more evenly after that, seemingly murmuring something to the effect of, “thank you…”
He put it down and looked over what he’d done. Even in the dark, he could see it; dazzling silver angel wings with billowing feathers spread across her back and shoulder blades. The shape appeared to be turning into liquid and dripping as it came to an end above her hips, and the pattern turned into lines that moved down her arms and to her fingers where the weapons would come from. She’d never be the same…and he’d done this to her. He was beginning to hate himself.