As the memories got more painful he held onto me as if he were trying to keep me from falling apart.
"You are afraid to give yourself completely, because every time you do, it all falls apart. You feel alone and wounded. You have been looking for that feeling of safety … of home ever since you lost it. Every time you have almost found it, it is snatched away." He paused and pulled back with my face in his hands. "You know what else I see?" he asked. "You would not have missed it for the world," he whispered, smiling through his tears. "It is just as you told me once before. All of your love, your hate, pain, and passion has made you who you are." He paused again. "You are going to be alright. You do not hang out in crowds often, or like to attend parties. You are afraid that it will dilute some of what you are, your passion. You do not want to get involved enough with other people to let them put out your fire. Some day you will learn to use all of those powerful feelings to your advantage." He held me close again as he finished, "And it will move the world."
I opened up and let myself feel the peace, the comfort that I had been longing for in his arms. I trusted. I let myself feel complete. For a few moments I was eight years old again, and all was right with the world.
* * * *
I woke up crying. It was still before dawn, and I slipped quietly from the bed and closed the bathroom door behind me. I sagged to the floor and rested my head against the tub while I cried. I didn't make much noise, but I cried so hard I thought my insides were being torn out.
Seeing Dracula as himself would have been painful enough without seeing him as The Phantom. I have always loved The Phantom. I believe he represents the duality of human nature. We all have a face we show the world and one we keep in private. I could always relate emotionally, and later physically as well. There are several vicious slashes across the right side of my stomach, beginning level with my belly button, and extending to the front of my upper hip bone. Three diagonal cuts above my navel, and three cuts at an angle on the left side. However, I envy a part of other women that is not essential to daily interactions. How terrible would it be to look at men and envy their face? Especially to someone as beautiful as Dracula.
?
Chapter Two
I have always found The Phantom to be more ravishing with one half a face than most men are with both sides. Now the same was true of Dracula. I don't believe The Phantom was a monster. I simply believe he wore on the outside what most of us conceal within. I look at some of the most handsome men I have ever known and see monsters. I have a tendency to overanalyze. Therefore, after analysis, I believe The Phantom and Dracula both to be a product of their environments. The Phantom was in love and became jealous. Who has this not happened to? He reacted out of violence because that is what people had shown him. He wanted Christine's love, not her pity. A madman would not have been able to tell the difference. He loved her enough to let her go.
When I was just becoming a young woman, I read about The Phantom and found solace. As I grew older, Dracula began to visit me in my dreams and I found in him my own version of The Phantom and my romantic ideal. When I was about twelve or so I used to think that if The Phantom were real, he was the only one who could really understand me. This is why Dracula's choice was doubly painful to behold. It was also why I had agreed to play the part of Christine again. The Phantom and his scarred visage were very dear to my heart. I too was a ruined beauty, and found myself drawn to him even more now that I had a physical representation of his angelic presence so close at hand. I realized then he is more than my romantic ideal … he touches my soul.
Even though I had been horrified at the sight of Dracula's injury, I found that once I tried to recall it I couldn't. He had somehow blocked the image from my mind when we lost contact.
I straightened up and walked over to the built-in linen cabinet against the wall. Marco had a very large, very stylish bathroom. Even his towels matched. I smiled as I remembered the collection of bubble bath he had underneath the vanity. Who'd have ever thought an alpha werewolf would enjoy bubbles? I couldn't let him see how upset I was. I took out a bath cloth and started washing my face. As I wiped away the tears and soothed my puffy eyes with the cold water, I knew I would have to ask Mathias for a possible solution soon. This was killing me. But if his answer would somehow hurt Marco, that might finish the job.
When I walked back through the door, Marco was turned toward me, and hugging a pillow in my absence. I took a moment to just appreciate the sight of him as he stretched out his lean six foot two frame across the scarlet sheets. The crimson and gold comforter was folded back toward the foot of his massive bed. It was entirely too hot to sleep next to Marco's overheated body underneath a thick comforter. Most of the time, we ended up shedding the satin sheet as well. He was all the warmth I needed. He rolled to his back, pulling the covers further down his body and completely revealing one long leg. Every time I looked at Marco, I thanked God for my eyes. Just looking at him made me grateful to be alive. Breathing in his scent made me thankful for lungs, and touching him made me nearly weep at the fact that I had hands. Not a day went by when I didn't count the blessings in my life, and Marco was at the top of the list.
He took a deep breath and I watched in fascination as the muscles of his abs expanded, flexing beneath the skin. He was muscular without being overdone. The bronze of his skin made it always look like he had been out in the sun. But Marco just had a natural tan. He wasn't dark, but closer to a warm honeyed shade. It was the effect one might expect from a really good bronzing lotion.
His bed was massive. It was definitely larger than a king, and I was betting it had been custom made. It sat against the wall in the middle of the large bedroom on a slightly raised section of floor. As I drew closer, I took one step up and crawled across the sheets toward him. Marco had let his dark brown hair grow lately. It was shaggy, but stylish, with the longest layer reaching to just below his chin. I brushed a stray hair back from his face and sighed at the memory of how it had framed his lovely visage as he leaned over me the night before.
His breathing changed, and even though he didn't move, I knew Marco was awake. I crawled on top of him and stretched my small frame down the length of his body as if he were a pillow.
"Did you want something, Red?" he asked as he slid me up his body, closer to his face.
"Just you," I sighed, rubbing my cheek against the fresh stubble of his beard.
This was my favorite way to sleep, and as Marco began to rub my back, that's exactly what I did.
* * * *
I awoke a few hours later to the smell of coffee. Before I could take a deep breath to fully appreciate the aroma, Marco pounced on the bed and smacked my butt.
"Get up, Red."
I made a noise somewhere between a complaint and a growl as I snatched the covers over my head and rolled over.
I felt Marco slide from the bed, but knew he wouldn't give up so easily.
"Don't make me come under there," he growled as he lifted the sheet and glared at me.
The threat sounded real, but the expression on his face let me know what was really on his mind. I threw back the sheet and slid toward him on my stomach. When I reached the edge of the bed I brushed my face across his hip like a cat, carefully avoiding the parts I knew he'd rather have me touch.
"Can't we just stay in bed?" I purred seductively.
"No," he said sounding regretful. "We're going to the beach today, remember?"
I licked across his skin and he shivered.
"You haven't got the stove on have you?" I asked.
"I hadn't started breakfast yet."
"Good, then it can wait a while," I said with a growl.
Without further hesitation I rose to my knees, running my hands up and over his body. I leaned forward and flicked my tongue across his nipple. Marco gasped as I pressed the front of my body against his. His warmth burned into me as I arched my cold body against him. I wasn't nearly as cold to the touch as a vampire. But compared to Marco, I always felt like ice. He was quite literally one of the hottest men I'd ever known.
"Come back to bed, Marco. The rest of the world can wait for just a little bit longer."
Truthfully, I was loathe to give up my time with him. Although we'd been seeing more of each other, between his responsibilities with the pack and mine with The Hunters … I begrudged every moment I had to give up.
I ran my hand over his ridged abs, staring with open fascination as if I'd never seen him naked before. I had loved Marco since the first moment I laid eyes on him. Even when we were enemies, a fire for him burned inside of me. A fire that now could only be soothed by his touch.
At any moment I feared this … feared Marco would be taken from me. Why not enjoy a few more moments in bed? When I took his hands and placed them over my breasts he growled. The sound vibrated along my skin, making me shiver with excitement. I stretched upward to kiss him and just before my eyes closed I saw his turn amber.
Marco growled again as he deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into my mouth. When I pulled back, I knew that all I was feeling must have shown in my eyes.
"What's wrong, Red?"
"Nothing," I said, reaching for him. "Nothing at all."
I hungered for the touch of his hands and the passion in his kiss. As I pulled him to the bed, Marco gave up his control, letting me roll him to his back. I took his shaft in my hand and all thoughts of Mathias and Dracula were forgotten.
As I guided him inside of me, I felt the smile spreading across my face at the familiar pleasure/pain. Marco never exactly hurt me, but when we skipped the foreplay he came close. Still, I liked for it to almost hurt sometimes.
He growled as I slid further down his shaft, taking more of him each time I moved. "That's a good way to hurt yourself." His tone was playful, but the look in Marco's eyes said he wanted me to hurt him.
"I need it to hurt a little. I want you so bad I ache."
Marco put his hands on my hips, pressing deeper inside of me with a growl. I arched back, rolling my hips forward as I ground against him.
"More."
I looked down at him and saw understanding in his eyes.
"I knew it. You are worried about something."
I pressed a finger against his lips. "Make it go away. Work my body so hard that my mind can't think."
Marco rolled me to my back, bringing a startled gasp from my lips. He drove into me with a ferocity I hadn't expected, but I'd certainly asked for. Still, Marco was always careful with me. He was aware of how big he was and though he moved hard and fast, I could tell he still held back.
"More," I panted.
"More?"
He seemed to doubt my ability to take what I was asking for.
"Make me … ah!" Before I could finish the sensual command, Marco slammed into me full force, bringing me to the hardest climax I'd had in weeks.
As we lay there in the aftermath, both covered in a fine sheen of sweat, I realized we were no longer alone. Dracula had already slipped back into my thoughts.
Almost an hour later than he had planned, Marco staggered from the bed and informed me that if he didn't eat soon he might grow paws. I laughed, but my stomach thought my throat had abandoned it also. That was something werewolves and I had in common ever since my attack. I may not transform completely, but I had inherited their metabolism. I just got sick if I didn't eat regularly, but a werewolf needed regular meals to help them control the change. It was one way of keeping their strength up, and the stronger they are, the more control they have over the beast.
After brushing my teeth and freshening up a bit, I borrowed Marco's black bathrobe and followed him into the kitchen. We would worry about a shower later. Marco has a huge loft-style apartment located on the top floor of club Red. Normal people go there occasionally, but it's primarily a hangout for the pack. Most of the "normal" people who end up at club Red know at least one werewolf, so it isn't entirely a place for outsiders. However, Marco didn't make an effort to keep them out. His other club on the beach, The Dread Moon was the first commercially advertised werewolf club. It was "the place" to mingle with the animals if that's what you were into.
Marco's kitchen is open, as is the rest of his apartment. Only the bedroom is cut off from the rest, and I liked that. The kitchen was only separated from the rest of the room by a large bar. Marco looked over at me and frowned playfully at the robe I was wearing. I'm sure he would have preferred me to go naked, but the weather was heating up and the temperature in his apartment was set a bit too cool for my taste. Werewolves always ran a slight temperature, and with the full moon approaching, he was even hotter.
I sat down on the sofa near the fireplace and watched him over the back. On the other end of the sofa rested a cream colored fur blanket that I now knew to be the pelt of the former king. Beside it was a slightly golden blanket that had been made from Peter's fur. He had meant for me to have it, but I simply could not stand it in my house. Marco on the other hand didn't have a problem with it. In fact, he had taken it to the last gathering of the pack just to show the members who were not present at the fight what they had missed. He held it up to the crowd and said, "This is what remains of the last man to challenge my rule." He paused. "Now, is there any other business to be brought to my attention before we begin the hunt?"
Not surprisingly, few petitions were brought before the king that night. I know because I was standing at his left side, where the queen and his enforcer are supposed to stand. I just happened to fill both positions. Luther, my childhood friend and his second in command, stood to his right. To my right stood the new leader of his armies, his former challenger though they had never fought, and his former beta wolf, Bade Garren. Bade had shown up on the night of the challenge, pledged his loyalty, and asked to be allowed back into the pack. Marco informed him he would never be his second again; however, his armies needed a new leader. Bade now held the position of Garm and he resided once again in club Red's basement.