by Poppet
This? This is what love feels like?
~ Chapter 44 ~
A true photograph need not be explained,
nor can it be contained in words.
~ Ansel Adams
Shauna:
He's different. He hides his emotions so well that finding him crying in the shower, hitting the wall with dull thuds, caught me completely by surprise.
I wanted to speak to him privately about something that's been plaguing me. I'm tired of the Peter shadow. Our life has nothing to do with him, and there's something about him which unsettles me now.
He basically accused me of being a cheap harlot after Victor for his lifestyle, when I knew nothing about any of it until just recently. Vic proposed before I told him I was pregnant, and Peter's assumptions irk me. And what's with his veiled flirtation? Fucking creep.
I don't know what happened. He's not telling me. Instead he's being typically male and making it physical. I'm not sure how to react, because I fell in love with him for his commandeering control.
He knows how to play my body, there's no denying that. I've always preferred rough sex to the sickening gentleness that most women seem to pine for. I love it when he bites me, twisting my body into different positions with his forceful hands. That's a quality which captures me to him like a fly in sticky honey. The way he holds my neck when he kisses me; how he can walk into a room, lifting me up and abducting me without so much as a hello.
I'm not 'typical'. That night in his home when he kept me bent over the dishwasher, it's moments like that which sealed my attraction to him. The way he silently announces his desire by pressing himself against me, and I still get a thrill when I watch the way he reacts when I go down on him. This is why we work.
We've never needed words. Words most of the time are used for manipulation. They become meaningless when you hear them too often. But a spontaneous kiss in my neck, makes me weak and needy. The way he sneaks naughty moments, the way he did when I sat in his lap with Peter right next to him, it turns me on to the point where it's all I can think about.
And I have no idea who this Victor is who's smothering me in tender kisses. Tracing every pore with his hands and tongue. He's never been this gentle, it's alien. God, I hope he's not dying or something.
He watches me intently as he brings me back to the brink of mental clarity, staring deeply back into his eyes, they change so completely as he climaxes again, the surgeon's precision that he applies to everything makes me shudder with pleasure simultaneously.
Catching my breath, I trace his lips with my fingertip, “Is everything all right? Should I be worried?”
He has both hands gripping my head, his forearms leaning heavily on my hair, pinning me in place like a bug on a board. His expression is intent, serious, as if he's willing me to understand. Leaning in he places his forehead on mine, it's slick with heat.
With our noses touching he whispers, “There are many layers to relationships. I don't show you what you mean to me often enough.”
“Yes you do,” I whisper back.
He rolls, pulling me to lie on top of him. Sitting up I stare down at this changed man I know as Victor. “Whatever it is, please trust me enough to tell me.”
Hands cover my breasts, his eyes staring at my abdomen, “What does it feel like?”
“You inside me?”
“My baby inside you.”
“It doesn't feel like anything yet.” I am so tempted to say 'our' baby, but I know what he means. He's sending off waves of vulnerability right now and I don't want to shake his fragile emotions.
“Victor, I'm sorry.”
His dark brown eyes snap from my body to my eyes, “What for?”
“This entrapment. I didn't fall pregnant deliberately, I swear.”
His charming face morphs into a scowl, “Do you think that's what I think?”
“Peter hinted at it. I promise you it was an accident of nature.”
“It wasn't a fucking accident. It was destiny.”
Apprehension claims my lungs in constriction, worried I've upset him, I caress his chest. “I love you. Honestly I mean it. I really do. I fell in love with you not because of this secret lavish lifestyle you have. I fell for you, not the stuff you have access to.”
“Shauna, what the hell?”
“You were angry in that shower. And I know it's my fault.”
He sits up so fast, twisting me under him as he holds my chest down with an insistent hand, “Whatever he said to you, ignore it. It doesn't come from me.” His face wrestles with so many emotions that I'm concerned he's having a breakdown. Maybe it's cabin fever from being on a boat so long? “Listen angel, I'm not accustomed to caring about anyone the way I care about you. It's hard for me to express.” He pauses, and I can feel the hand on me trembling, “I proposed because I'm going to make you legally mine. You're a part of me now.” His voice drops so deeply that his words are barely audible, “I love you.”
The way he said it, the ginormous amount of emotion drenching those three words, it cuts right into me. My own emotions surge, tears spill as I grab his head, kissing him feverishly. I get it now. He's as emotional about what we're living through as I am, but he feels like a man can't show his emotions. I am so grateful for this moment of vulnerability between us.
“I love you. I love you with everything I am,” I whisper intimately. I pause, unsure of how to broach the subject on my mind.
“What? Tell me.”
“How do you know me so well?” I smile at his amazing intuition.
“You get a pensive expression when you're working up the nerve to tell me something.”
He leans back, propping himself against the velvet headboard. He must like black a lot, because so far everything he owns is monochrome and black. Black and one other colour.
Resting my chin on his hip, I trace the hairs to his navel absently with a finger. “I don't want a big wedding.” There, I said it.
“And this made you nervous, why?”
Lifting my gaze, gnawing my lip, I'm afraid of how this is going to sound now that he's made me aware of his wealth. “I don't want my parents to know I am pregnant before marriage. I'd rather we got married quickly and quietly, and then just spring all the news on them at once. Hiding the pregnancy from them as long as possible.”
His eyes darken as he stares at me enigmatically without saying a word.
“Victor, I don't care about your money. I'll sign a prenup. I don't want your family at my throat. Just make sure you set aside provisions 'in case' for our children. I'm not saying this because I want to land you quickly before you change your mind. I just … ”
“When? Are you saying you'll just pop into the magistrate's office with me, sign the papers, and that's our wedding?”
God he makes me sound so cold and calculating. “Something like that, yes.” Closing my eyes, unable to stand the tension of his judgement, I wait for his reply.
“Your wish is my command. We'll do it as soon as we land.”
Snapping my eyes open, I can't believe it! “Really?”
His smile tells me it's okay. “I hate crowds, this works for both of us.”
Sliding my hand, I hold what's right next to my chin, feeling lasciviously naughty, running my tongue up him slowly, keeping my eyes on his.
“Promise you'll be this good to me for the rest of your life and I'll make you my wife before this time next week.”
“I promise.”
His smile is boyishly wicked, his eyes still containing many layers of expression, none of which I recognise in him, but he closes them as his hands move into my hair. Closing my own eyes, I relish the feel of his smoothness against my tongue.
~ Chapter 45 ~
Spiritually driven work constitutes the core
of a photographer's contribution to culture.
~ William Albert Allard
Victor:
It's perfect. This way her parents won't interfere. She's so trusting that she'll sign wh
atever I put in front of her. Again I receive confirmation that God's hand is on our union. He delivered to me the one obstacle still in my path. I needed to convince her to marry me quickly, and now I look like the loving hero for agreeing to her terms, instead of casting suspicion on myself being the one having to do the convincing. It's utterly flawless in perfection.
Marriage is the last step to keeping her alive. It's the last condition for Alpha to withdraw the final judgement on her. Covertly while she sleeps, connecting via satellite, I phone Seth to organise the papers. I want them ready to sign the minute our feet hit dry land. I've already ordered Peter to return us to port, which he says will take four days. He didn't seem very happy with the news. I know he feels territorial about me. She's seen as competition, which she can never be.
The bond of Vengeance and his first disciple cannot be undone. Not by anyone. It's times like this that I'm pleased we each have a field of speciality. Matt isn't just a lawyer, he's also legally qualified to marry us. And all it takes is the five minutes to scribble signatures and dates down.
Standing in the doorway, I watch her seraphic face in deep relaxation as she sleeps. I have told her I love her so many times. I meant those words as an angel to the fallen. I love her enough as God's right hand, to try and save her from her sins. I love her as an angel loves those he's set to protect. For the first time she's allowed me to feel what a man feels. I know I'm in a human body which bleeds.
But this human body has never experienced what she has given me. She gives willingly with devotion. She kneels at the altar and prays. She drinks from the fountain of my body, and in my generosity, I allowed it, it sustains her. I knew the only way to keep her from sinning was to appeal to her lascivious nature.
I see the smile reaching her eyes when I grab her ankles and hold them next to her head. Sex is her definition of love. I've been forced to communicate with her, at her own level of understanding.
But now, I feel inside me, the emotions of a man that she has managed to awaken. It's foreign and uncomfortable. I cannot let Alpha know she's made me human. He will surely smite her then for interfering. She's made me fall in more ways than one. Except everything happens just as God planned it. There are no accidents. Those who are meant to be saved, are. Those who are meant to fall, do. This is an experience I'm not going to question. I'm going to trust it because I know it comes from Him.
Now when I tell her I love her, it's Victor the man, Vengeance the man, who says it. It's both of us who feel it. I cannot bear the feeling. It's like an acid which burns deep inside, causing one's insides to bubble and boil, desperate to spill out, but they can't. The skin contains this feeling and the only way to exorcise it is by connecting with her physically. She has managed something miraculous, which again is proof, she is my angel. She is my companion. This choice was not coincidence, it was preordained.
And I'm feeling it again. It's burning a hole right through my core. Akin to electric shock therapy, it comes without warning, jarring me, making me tremble. Slipping in behind her, pulling her against my body, she mumbles as she turns, nestling her hips against mine unconsciously. Unable to deny myself, I nudge her right knee up with my own, returning to what now I can call home. Home is comforting, welcoming, where you belong, where you are loved.
She wakes, twisting her head slightly to look over her shoulder at me, “You are worse than me.”
“Shhh, just feel.”
Her head tilts back, hair falling against my shoulder as she moves with me, giving little gasps which instead of repulsing me, now give me a sense of satisfaction. Unable to contain this welling inside myself, I tense with release, as she stops breathing, frozen, reaching back and gripping my hand so tightly; her nails cutting into my wrist.
“He's here.”
Her voice sounds strangled. Her eyes are staring up and I follow her line of sight. I'd forgotten about that mirror. Fucking bastard. Peter stands at the end of the passage between the cabins, dressed as me.
Choosing to ignore it, I tell her, “He can't be here.”
“He is.” It's panicked and insistent. Barely audible, her entire body is tense, it's strangling the part of me inside her.
“Relax angel, I'll go look.”
Forcing her body off my own, I turn to get out of bed when she clings to my neck, whispering, “He's an angel. He can reach me anywhere.”
“Not on my fucking boat he can't.”
Slipping my board shorts on silently, holding to the shadows like a stealth cloak, I allow fermenting anger to surge power back into my lethargic limbs. Pausing, keeping my breathing shallow and silent, I watch the shadows intently. He's gone. What the fuck is he playing at?
I should have closed the cabin door. Hunting the shadows with every instinct I own, I follow my hunches at every junction. Leading me to the deck, where I find him nursing a beer, sprawled lazily in the Jacuzzi.
Slipping behind him, I catch his throat with two fingers, pressing deeply on either side as I whisper into his ear with the anger I'm trying to control. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Keeping my voice low so that she cannot overhear. Keeping my knuckle pressed into the vertebrae of his neck, he has two choices, risk paralysis and try to throw me, or to sit quietly and explain himself.
“Who is weak, and I do not feel his weakness? Who is made to stumble and fall and have his faith hurt? 2 Corinthians 11:29.”
How dare he judge me and quote Father's words to me. “I have not fallen short one bit or proved myself at all inferior to those superlative apostles. 2 Corinthians 12:11.”
“Exercise foresight and be on the watch to look after one another, to see that no one falls back from and fails to secure God's grace. Hebrews 12:15” Turning to me unafraid, he hisses softly, “The mouth of a loose woman is a deep pit. Proverbs 22:14.”
Insane rage pumps through me as I squeeze the life out of him. Watching his face change from calm to purple. Struggling I thrust him away, releasing his throat. “Peter, you are the rock. You are stable. I appreciate your concern, but do not make the mistake of judging me.”
Wheezing, coughing quietly, he slides back to the side of the Jacuzzi where I crouch. “You've lost it V. She's changed you, instead of you changing her. Like many men who fell before you, you cannot see how insidious her poison is. She's cunning like the snake. She's greedy, like the snake. It's my duty to protect you, or give you over to God for punishment and correction.”
“You are wrong. Everything is in place now, and I won't let you fuck it up when I'm this close.”
“You can fool yourself but you can't fool God. He wants to see you.”
“I'll see him when we get back.”
“Yes you will, whether you want to or not. It's been set.”
“How long have you known about this?” I demand.
“Long enough. You forget how Father sees everything. You can't hide V. You can't hide your weakness.”
Growling into his ear as I grip his impudent throat again in rage, “A flame of sword was set in the Garden of Eden. I am that sword. Cross me again and I shall cut out the rotten fruit from the tree.”
“God would strike you down first. You have fallen from grace.”
His words hit home. How can Father know what I feel already? I've only just experienced it myself. “Don't let Vengeance appear on this trip again. We have the hypnosis and behavioural therapy in place now. Don't fuck up weeks of hard work because your fragile ego has the desire to usurp me.”
He smiles, lifting his beer and drinking, ignoring my threat to his life with fingers on pressure points.
~ Chapter 46 ~
Living photography is positive in its approach,
it sings a song of life – not death.
~Berenice Abbott
The Watcher:
I have not seen Victor in over ten years. His lack of commitment to finding the impostor in Shauna's apartment has brought me to this point. I've tracked the man, and have ordered his termination. Peter has volunte
ered, still desperate to prove himself.
Together we walk to where she sits huddled with him. Two-timing little slut. I will speak only once. Once I have spoken, the order will be absolute. The voice is the power to create and destroy.
•
Shauna:
I can't believe it takes ten minutes to get married. All you need is a lawyer and your passport or I.D. Giggling I turn to him, disbelief still circling in confusion through the maze of my emotions, “I'm your wife.” Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, he snuggles me back against his side where we sit drinking sparkling grape juice instead of champagne, junior Victor's choice; staring out at the amazing view from Signal Hill. It's a perfect day. My life has come full circle, from utter hell, to oblivious perfection. Life just does not get any better than this. “Mrs Victor Ward. Until death do us part.”
Leaning in, I inhale his uniquely clean scent that still reminds me of marjoram. “I love you. I'm going to treasure you until I'm old and cranky,” I whisper, watching his lips smile.
He has such a beautiful smile. Time has flown, he should open a theme park, because he's every trip rolled into one and I think I'm still trying to catch my breath.
A deep voice speaks from behind us. “Step away from her.”
Twisting, I stare at a tall heavy-set gentleman, dressed impeccably, with snow white thick straight hair. Very Clark Gable. My eyes narrow suspiciously as I notice who's with him. Peter the prick.
Shocking me, Victor unwinds his arm from around me, stands and steps around the bench to the man, turning and dropping to one knee, taking the man's hand and kissing it. “Father.”
The whole time Peter was so close, it was like they were a gay couple. Oh God, they can't be!
Can they?
•
Victor:
I would recognise that voice anywhere. It's as deeply ingrained into me as the veins that pump my blood. It's been ten long years since I last saw Him. I feel the barrel pressing into my back and don't want to alarm Shauna or the baby.
