THE BROKEN ARABESQUE
by SANDY P. SHELTON



PART 1


For hours, Vincent sat at the falls staring into the showering mist. Above, he knew Catherine had watched as Lisa was taken into the grand jury room to give evidence about her former lover's illegal arms trade.

Catherine -- this whole thing had been as hard for her as it had been for him. In a few days time, she had learned that he had loved someone else before her and that there were things he could not bring himself to tell her. He remembered the look of pain on her face just before he turned and left her standing in their meeting place at the Central Park threshold. How could he have done that? She trusted him so, believed in his truthfulness beyond question.

She deserved the complete truth even if it hurt her as it had him. He should have already told her but he knew the reason he had not. He was afraid it would drive her away. They were fast approaching a crossroad in their relationship and this -- truth could well decide which road would be taken.

"I must tell her," he confessed to no one. He slowly rose to his feet and wiped away a stray tear. When he returned to this place later, his whole life could be in pieces.

* * * * * *

His heart pounded and his mouth became incredibly dry as he fearfully waited in the shadows of Catherine's balcony. On any other night, he would simply tap on the window and wait for her to greet him with a child-like smile and warm hug. This night, however, fear paralyzed him because what he came to tell her could destroy their dream forever.

The click of the door lock caused him to catch his breath. He watched as Catherine walked slowly out onto the balcony and looked out into the city. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, all he could think of was what he stood to lose.

By sheer strength of will, he forced the most precious word in his vocabulary from his lips. "Catherine."

Sedately, she turned and gave him one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen. He savored it in an effort to freeze the moment in time. He was sure that his confession would take away that smile and replace it with fear and repulsion.

"I wonder if I'll ever not be surprised to see you there," she said softly.

The breeze ruffled the soft silk of her robe and the strands of her honey-blond hair. Her beauty could literally take his breath away. Concentrate, he ordered himself.

"We've never withheld the truth from each other," he began.

"No," she answered simply.

He could sense that she knew the difficulty he was having and was patiently allowing him to say what he needed to without interruption. "Catherine, there are things I must tell you -- about who I am--what I am." A lump of emotion choked back his words.

She walked over to him slowly and said the most comforting yet painful words he had ever heard. "Vincent -- to me -- you are beautiful."

As she stood in front of him, looking into his eyes with nothing but love and compassion, he fought back the tears and the words came. "What I have to tell you is not beautiful. It's terrifying and shameful but it is the truth."

Without hesitation, she responded. "Then I want to hear it."

"It's about Lisa and what she meant in my life." The words were becoming more and more difficult but he could not stop now. This was too important.

"Yes," she prompted.

"I would watch her dance." In his mind, he could see her as he talked, gliding around the Great Hall like a graceful swan. "She would dance in the Great Hall alone, for herself, for me. There was nothing in the world as beautiful as Lisa."

Understanding and compassion emanated from Catherine as she said, "And you desired her."

He looked at her in surprise and relief. She did truly understand.

"There is no shame in that," she tried to assure him.

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the admission he had to make. "For me there is."

"Why?"

The tears burned his eyes as he fought the lump in his throat. The shame and fear he had lived with for twenty years tore at his soul. "Because I hurt her. In my desire, I forgot who I was--who I am. As she moved closer, I wanted to hold her. She was dancing and I felt a pull. It was pulling me to her and I reached out for her," he blurted out.

"Suddenly, in her eyes, I saw her fear of me and I saw myself -- but I couldn't let go of her." Looking down at his cursed hands, he clenched them in agony. "These hands wouldn't let go of her." He couldn't control his sobs of pain. "And I hurt her. And I knew that these hands -- were not meant to give love."

As he cried, he waited for her disgust to bombard their bond. He truly believed that in seconds, she would pull away from him and bring to an end all hope. Instead, she gently took his hands in hers and brought them to her face. He watched as she gently rubbed them against her cheeks.

"These hands -- are beautiful. These are my hands," she said just before gently kissing each clawed, inhuman hand.

Her words reached that dark, desolate place where he had hidden his shame and fear. Where once there was only coldness and pain, the warm light of Catherine's love flooded in. Tears of relief flowed down his cheeks as she leaned closer and their foreheads touched. Their tears mingled and the healing began.

Vincent raised his head slowly. The tears were spent and the wound opened. Where they went from here was a mystery to him. He took a ragged breath then looked into Catherine's eyes. The love and acceptance he found there reached into the depths of his soul and put an end to his aloneness.

Her eyes were still filled with tears but she managed a warm, loving smile. "Let's go inside."

The innocent invitation evoked that old sense of dread. Deep inside, he feared the crossing of that division between their two worlds would be passing the point of no return. He didn't belong in her world and his presence in her apartment made that fact very clear.

Her small hand captured his and he felt her tug gently until he moved toward the door. He couldn't believe he was doing this! That little voice inside him was screaming that he shouldn't be here but the ache he felt needed to be eased by Catherine. He needed for her to heal him, and in the process, set him free.

She helped him remove his cloak then led him over to the nearest couch, still clutching his hand firmly. It was as if she feared he would flee if she let go. Perhaps, she was right. He sat down next to her and watched as she pulled his hand into her lap. Once it was safely nestled in her protective grasp, she began wrapping strands of the longer hair on the back of his hand around and around her finger. When she noticed he was watching, she laughed and blushed. "I always wanted to do that," she admitted.

Looking up into his blue eyes, she could see the vulnerable state of his emotions. "Vincent -- what happened between you and Lisa was an accident. The real tragedy is the guilt you've been carrying around all these years."

"I hurt her, Catherine."

"I know. Just like the incident with Devin. You didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"But I did," he argued. "I hurt the people I love."

"NO YOU DON'T! You hurt yourself more than anyone else."

"They carry the scars of my good intentions."

"We all have scars. We all have baggage we carry around with us. Your scars -- are inside and no less damaging than Lisa's or Devin's."

His gaze traveled to the scar on her left cheek and he remembered how her face looked after Father had stitched the wounds. He began to wonder about the scars she carried inside. He studied her face for a moment then spoke his heart. "I just can't imagine a life without you, Catherine. It would be no life at all."

The strong emotion, he felt rising in her in response to his words, momentarily overwhelmed him. He was already struggling to control the rising tide of his own feelings. Having hers bombard him like this was almost too much. He had to put some distance between them. He stood and walked over to the fireplace then rested his hands on the mantle. He needed the support it offered.

Catherine rose slowly and approached him. "I wouldn't want to live without you either," she replied in a soft, reassuring voice.

Here they were, trapped somewhere between reality and dreams without any idea of how to escape, Vincent acknowledged to himself. "What are we to do, Catherine?"

She moved a little closer and touched his forearm gently. "What do you want us to do?"

Without thought, he turned to her and blurted out his desires. "I want to be able to give you what we both need. I want to love you without fear or limits!"

"Then do it, Vincent," she quickly responded. As he watched, she removed her robe. The baring of her arms and shoulders was meant to demonstrate her complete trust in him. "Don't let the memory of an adolescent tragedy keep us apart. I'm not Lisa. I won't pull away."

Opposing forces waged war within him. Fear versus need were locked in their final battle to control him. Hesitantly, he reached out to her when the gentle pull of desire became an irresistible force. But when his inhuman hands came into his line of vision, he froze. How could he risk it?

He felt Catherine take his hands in hers and watched as she placed them against the bare skin just over her heart. "I love you, Vincent. I love you."

Tears once again rimmed his eyes as he felt her love and trust reaching out to him. When the inner struggle ended, he pulled her into his embrace. She slid her arms around him and he cautiously pressed his deadly clawed hands against the delicate skin of her back.

Time passed slowly and Catherine remained patiently still until Vincent finally found the courage to begin stroking the warm, smooth skin beneath his fingers. Nothing felt as soft or smelled as sweet as Catherine.

In a surprisingly short time, he felt comfortable enough to nuzzle into her hair and breathe in its scent. For the first time in years, he was experiencing the joy of the moment and not the fear of the past. "I need you, Catherine." Did he really say it or was it merely a thought?

Catherine lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him intently. The fear she would pull away shot through him. But instead of pulling away, she reached up and traced the outline of his unique mouth with her index finger. The sensation rocked him to the core.

"Yes," she whispered as she moved her hand to the side of his head and guided his face down to hers. She hesitated for a heartbeat then placed a gentle kiss upon his lips. He was so stunned, he couldn't respond. When the brief contact ended, she pulled back and looked up at him with an expression he could not define.

They stared into each others' eyes searching for--something as old as time itself. A question was asked and an answer given without word or thought. It was then Vincent finally broke through the wall he had built around his heart and nearly drowned in the he flood of desire he felt. Unable and unwilling to fight it any longer, he lowered his head and found her waiting lips.

Her mouth was sweet and welcoming as he pressed against it gently. Her lips became pliant and responsive under his as their kisses grew more and more passionate. When they did stop, their newly discovered intimacy, he rested his forehead against hers. "Oh, Catherine," he moaned in a breathless voice. "I love you so much. I want..."

"Say it, please," she pleaded.

"I want -- to love you. Catherine, I desire you more than I can bear. If we don't -- do something about this soon, I'm afraid of what I might do. Please..."

Catherine stepped back. Had his admission frightened her? Just as terror was about to overrun his breaking heart, she grasped his hands and gently tugged him toward her bedroom. Blushing a little, she glanced toward the bed then back at him. Her meaning became crystal clear.

As though his body had a mind of its own, he found himself being guided into the bedroom. The sight of her bed filled him with a strange sense of anticipation. How many nights had he stood on her balcony watching her sleep in that same bed, wishing he could be lying beside her?

She continued to guide him until they stood beside the bed facing each other. He knew he should say something but he found himself at a loss for words. Finally, he simply went with his instincts and pulled her back into his arms. Through their bond, he felt her joy. "I love you," he repeated.

Gazing up at him she smiled shyly. The look of love on her face was so warm and genuine, he felt his last remaining doubts begin to fade. He felt no fear, hesitation, or doubt hiding among her emotions. Her strength, complete trust, and total acceptance were the only impulses he felt and he was humbled by their intensity.

Once his past guilt and shame had been overcome, he felt a great lightness of being. His soul experienced freedom for the first time in his life and it was because of Catherine's strength. As love and light filled the once darkened corners of his heart, tears gathered in his eyes. Despite the many taboos their relationship symbolized, he came to believe at last that what was about to happen between them was right. Gently, he reached up and allowed his fingers to explore her face.

Vincent watched as Catherine's eyes darkened in response to his touch. Desire welled up in them both and could not be denied. No longer forced to battle his desires, he discovered acting upon them to be much easier than he had imagined.

Touch -- it was the one thing he longed for the most yet experienced the least in his lonely life and his hands quickly began to make up for that loss. From her face, neck, and shoulders to the delicate flair of her hips, he savored that particular sense until the longing to move his mouth over her skin became unbearable.

Being ever so careful to gauge her responses, he gently touched his mouth to the side of her neck. She tilted her head to allow him complete access to the vulnerable area. Her skin tasted slightly sweet as he gently nibbled down the delicate column.

"Ummmm - that feels so good," she moaned softly. Her encouragement inspired him to taste the skin of her shoulders as well. She moved a little closer then entwined her fingers in his hair and slowly guided his head down between her breasts. Vincent experienced a moment of uncertainty that vanished quickly when she pressed him even closer.

His arms moved around her waist and pulled her tightly against his hungry mouth. His body, now aching desperately for her, betrayed his building desire and he backed away.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

A few deep breaths managed to get things under control again.

"Vincent," she whispered softly "you're suppose to have that response. Don't be ashamed of it."

"I am familiar with -- that response, Catherine. It is simply a biological fact. It's just that it has never been so intense or immediate. I've always been able to quell the response because I didn't want you to become aware of it."

Catherine looked at him as if slightly surprised by his admission. "I know I shouldn't be surprised, but I wasn't aware it had become a problem for you."

He sighed. "I can't tell you how many nights I've battled this constant desire for you."

"And the shame and guilt it brought," she added.

"Yes -- that too."

"You suffered for no reason, Vincent. All those nights you speak of, I lay in my bed desiring you. All you had to do was reach out for me."

"It has never been that simple for us, Catherine," he remarked.

"It will now," she declared just as she stepped up to him and slid her arms around his waist. "All you have to do is reach out," she repeated.

He looked into her sincere, green eyes for a moment then put his arms around her and pulled her body against his.

"That's more like it," she responded. "But Vincent -- aren't you a little warm in all these clothes? Wouldn't you like to get more comfortable?"

The thought of undressing as she watched was very unsettling to him. What if they had come this far only to discover his excessive body hair disgusted her? The time had come to answer that question and no matter what the outcome, they had to take this step.

"Vincent -- may I help you undress? I've dreamed of doing that so many times," she admitted.

If he told her the truth, he would have to admit he could use her help. His hands were shaking so badly, he didn't think he could untie or unbutton anything. They found a compromise by unlacing and removing his vest then his layers of sweaters together until his chest was finally bared. As her eyes roamed over him, he held his breath.

She touched him gingerly then moved over and placed a kiss over his heart. His breath caught in his throat at that exquisite sensation. At that moment, he longed to feel her lips on every part of his body. "Oh--Catherine," was all he could say.

Her hands began to stroke his chest. Her fingers worked their way through the dense covering bringing ecstasy with every gentle touch. "Touch me, Catherine. Please." His hunger for touch was unquenchable.

More and more aggressively, her hands moved over his chest and around to his back. Her mouth sought the skin beneath the covering and pressed urgent kisses wherever she could reach.

Vincent's own hands began to move over Catherine's back frantically until he felt her unfastening his pants. He froze, torn between his desire to have her touch him there and his fear of her reaction. He offered no resistance or help in her struggle to undo the pants and slip her hands into the back of them. When she squeezed his buttocks firmly, he quivered and felt the rising tide of his passion. His pants were becoming extremely uncomfortable where he was still painfully entrapped. Finally, he did help her work his pants down further to ease his discomfort and, he reluctantly admitted to himself, to encourage her touch where he most hungered for it.

She understood the meaning of his actions and slowly slid her hands around to the front. He held his breath as she gently lifted his aroused flesh into the palm of her hand and carefully closed her fingers around him. He gasped and grabbed her shoulders.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked fearfully.

"No. It's just -- that I've never had anyone -- touch me there."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Just let me finish undressing first." When Catherine moved away from him, he felt such a shattering aloneness he wanted to cry out. Instead, he sat down on her bed and removed his boots and socks as she watched. He watched her as well, fearful she might simply be an illusion created by his desire.

After he finished removing his pants, he remained seated on the bed, looking at her. Hunger burned through him like a raging fire as his eyes followed the curves of her body. He wanted to see her, touch her, make love to her.

She read his desires readily and slipped the straps of her gown off her shoulders then let it drop to the floor. He was immediately filled with awe at her beauty and the overwhelming desire to touch her, to hold those small breasts in his hands.

He stood up as she walked slowly toward him. The gentle sway of her breasts as she moved fascinated him. She stepped into his embrace and he felt her nipples press against his chest. Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her passionately and continuously for quite a while.

As soon as the kiss ended, he felt her catch his hands and guide them to her breasts. "Touch me, Vincent. I know you want to."

'That's an understatement,' he mused as he felt the warmth and softness of those small mounds in his hands. He began to carefully explore the treasures he held.

Catherine sighed in contentment. "You have wonderful hands. Hands that can be gentle and loving, hands that..." she took a long deep breath as his fingers traveled over her sensitive nipples. "...that can give love."

He continued to touch, to squeeze, to gently knead all the while watching her reaction. She was enjoying his touch, of that, he was sure. In Lisa's eyes, he had seen fear; in Catherine's, he saw nothing but pleasure and a growing desire for more.

"Would you like to lie on the bed?" she asked seductively.

"I would like that," he responded.

In a move that surprised both of them, Vincent picked her up and carried her over to the bed. Very gently, he lowered her onto the comforter then stood up and looked down at her inviting body. She slid over to allow him room and to work the bed covers down. As she did, he watched. Every movement she made intrigued and aroused him.

He lay down beside her contemplating his next move. His body was screaming at him to roll over and let nature take its course but his concern for her held him in check. When he rolled over onto his side, he found himself looking into two smoky, green eyes. Eyes that were trying desperately to understand his hesitation. He propped himself up on one elbow and gently stroked her cheek with the fingers of the other hand. "I love you, Catherine. It took so long for me to find the courage to say it; now, I cannot say it enough."

"I love hearing it. I love the way you touch me. I want more."

"So do I," he confessed in a barely audible voice.

She smiled in response then guided his hand downward toward the very center of her body. Anxiously, he glanced down at the patch of dark hair his hand was extremely close to touching.

"Catherine - I want to touch you - as you touched me before - down there." He couldn't stop the sudden blush that heated his cheeks. Never in his life had he ever been so bold. Her response was to guide his hand downward.

After that first, gentle foray, Vincent began the exploration of sight and sound he had dreamed of for so long. Catherine's small body fascinated him and he explored its many secret treasures thoroughly. The pleasure he could bring her filled him with a strange sense of pride and he savored it.

When he moved up beside her, he noticed how flushed her skin was and how labored her breathing had become. Her hand found his chest and gently began to push him over onto his back. "It's my turn," she stated in a breathless voice filled with passion.

He surrendered to her needs and rolled over, waiting. She moved over him and began kissing, stroking, and caressing her way down his body. The pleasure was breathtaking. A mixture of ecstasy and agony overwhelmed his senses. But the moment she touched his already overly aroused flesh, his body convulsed and he clenched the bed covers tightly.

Catherine backed off a moment to allow him to calm down. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked.



TO BE CONTINUED...



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