by P. M. Briede
The room was beautiful; the students were going to love it. But the lights were dim with loud music blaring from the speakers. The muscles in my body tensed and I felt my heart palpitate. Olivier crooned in my ear. “Still here. Stay with me now, you’re safe.” Most of the teachers had already picked up on the change in our interactions and assumed we were dating. We’d never confirmed or denied it and Max categorically avoided addressing the issue with me. He was Wesley’s friend but he’d also heard the rumors of Wesley dating Abigail. Tonight was probably going to solidify those circling Olivier and me as truths in the minds of the rest of the staff.
“Charlotte, you look lovely this evening.” Max’s boisterous voice made me jump. Olivier squeezed my hand and ran his thumb over my fingers. “Olivier, are you accompanying Charlotte here?”
Olivier clasped Max’s proffered hand. “Strictly professional, Max. I actually ran into her right before you found us.” While Olivier’s ability to lie on the fly came in handy there were times when the ease with which he did it troubled me.
“Well, make sure you both enjoy yourselves some tonight,” Max commanded. “We want to keep an eye on the kids but it is okay for us adults to cut loose too.” I forced myself to laugh and plastered a smile on my face until Max left.
Olivier burst out laughing when he caught sight of my face. “Think more Julia Roberts and less Bride of Frankenstein.”
“Was it really that bad?” I asked, laughing.
“It was pretty bad, my dear,” Olivier admitted with a chuckle. “But the one you’re wearing now is radiant. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’ll take time before you feel comfortable again. Until then I’m here to anchor you in reality.” And he really was. I would have been washed away without his constant, caring company.
Almost an hour later, I found myself tucked tightly in the crook of Olivier’s arm at the edge of the crowded dance floor. A few of the other teachers were dancing as well. “Do you have any idea what this song is?” he queried when he noticed my introspective demeanor.
“Um, I think it’s called A Thousand Years. Why?” The beat was slow and steady and most of the kids were just swaying back and forth. Olivier was leading me in small waltz steps that no one would perceive unless they were looking directly at our feet.
“It’s just a silly premise; loved you for a thousand years. It’s not possible.” No this conversation was a silly premise, but I knew he was keeping it light to keep my mind from focusing on the people at my back.
“So are you saying when I die you won’t love me for another thousand years?” I queried, following his verbal cues as well as his hips and arms. “You’ll just forget about me.”
“Charlotte, I’ll love you for all the years that follow,” he murmured in my ear. “But this song isn’t about continuing to love someone. This woman is claiming to have already loved someone she has just met for the thousand years before. Ludicrous! Even I don’t claim feelings for you so strong that they held me captive before knowing you.”
The song ended and before I could counter a hand slapped Olivier on the shoulder and spun him out of my arms. Olivier gripped my waist so I spun with him and we came face to face with Russell and his date. Automatically, my eyes swiveled between the two men because the last time I’d seen Russell was just after Olivier had given him the memory of our Madness performance from the Valentine’s fundraiser for the school.
“Mrs. Grace. Mr. Cheval,” Russell greeted us. “Hey, I was wondering if you’d be interested in livening this party up some. For a bunch of art students, this sure doesn’t feel as hoppin’ as it should.”
A sly smile stole across Olivier’s lips and his eyebrows arched. “What’d you have in mind, son?” Olivier conspiratorially asked. This was not what I’d expected. My fear at the prospect of having Olivier leave my side must have been evident on my face because he gave my waist a reassuring squeeze.
“Oh, I think you know sir. I’ll go inform the DJ,” Russell hinted as he sauntered off. Olivier wasted no time taking my hand and pulling me through the throng of people to the center of the dance floor. Russell’s date was already there spreading students into a circle.
“Olivier?” I questioned.
He turned to me with sparkling eyes. His voice was sensually smooth. “Dare to dance with me, my dear?”
Russell appeared behind his partner just as drumsticks started clicking the countdown for Bruno Mars Locked Out Of Heaven. Olivier and I were standing to the side but it was obvious Russell and Olivier had something worked out.
At the first verse, Russell and his date started moving. I needed to meet her because they moved wonderfully together. As they danced, Olivier stepped up behind me, placed his chin on my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Do you think you can still read me well enough to go in blind?” he whispered. I nodded with a rush of excitement to truly dance with him again. “Alright, we’ll be out there for the next verse and chorus. If you want to stop after that let me know.” He kissed my head just above my ear before his right hand took my left as he moved around to face me.
His hips showed me the beat he wanted to follow as his feet tapped out the steps. When he was ready, he glanced over his shoulder and caught Russell’s eyes. When his feet danced the steps full out he leaned backwards, tugging on my arm. On blind faith, I extended my right leg to tap my toe to his twice before repeating the step with the other.
By the time the chorus ended and the next verse began we were centered in the space. Never releasing my hand he fell into a jazz split, popping back up to twirl me around him before arching me back in his arms. As I straightened up his free arms snaked around my waist to rest his hand on my hip as he pulled my body flush with his. Our chests remained pressed together as he led me through some basic samba steps. The pressure from his hand at my hip swished me back and forth so the skirt of my dress whipped behind. Before the chorus kicked in again, he lifted my left arm to twirl me around two or three times. I stopped when he caught my waist and his chest pressed to my back.
In this way we continued to dance, Olivier’s body communicating excellently with mine. Some part of him always touched me, we were never separated. Through spins and twirls, arm and leg work, he led me confidently through a routine I’d never seen or danced before. It was unlike anything I’d ever done and was completely exhilarating.
At some point, Russell and his date rejoined us. At the song’s conclusion the room erupted in cheers and applause. When everything stopped spinning for me, I noticed all the girls, young and old, were positively drooling over Olivier. Actually, I should include myself in that assessment. He moved with the strength of a lion yet had the grace of Gene Kelly and it made him undeniably sexy. The blush that covered my skin had nothing to do with being overheated but everything to do with attraction.
The masses swarmed but there wasn’t a moment for panic because Olivier swiftly led us away. People reached out for a pat on the back or a slap on the shoulder so I couldn’t avoid every touch. However, the conflicted desire I felt towards Olivier kept the assault memories from penetrating reality.
I thought we were going to the refreshments table as we were both sweaty from exertion. If I was thirsty surely he had to be as well. But Olivier marched us right past it and through the ballroom doors. We paused for a split second before he turned without a word to lead me to … the elevators? With perfect timing the doors opened and he pulled me inside and hit a high number then the button to immediately close them.
“Olivi…” I began. His lips cut me off. With one hand at my shoulder and another at my hip, I was trapped in his passionate embrace. Everything about him was urgent. His sudden loss of self-control intensified the fire storm raging inside me. I knew he felt the same as his groans rumbled like thunder deep in his throat. I gripped the lapels of his coat and his fists enclosed on the fabric of my dress and jacket. The height of my heels didn’t get me close enough to him so I rose up on my tiptoes and arched into his body, feeling hi
s need pressed against mine.
But none of that was the reason for the extremities curling, muscle flexing, hunger that overtook my thoughts. No, that was driven purely off the way his tongue mated with mine. It was invasive, demanding, and aggressive as it explored my mouth. Each time I thought he was slowing to give us a moment to catch our breath, his lips would suck on my bottom lip or his tongue would outline them. He wasn’t merciful in his demands of my mouth. When I’d whimper or try to pull away, he’d become more steadfast and assertive.
When the bell dinged and the doors opened I got my mouth back. “This one’s taken, find another!” Olivier announced with a growl and a sneer that brooked no arguments. He leaned away from me, hitting the button to close the doors again. As I hungrily gulped the breaths I needed I realized I was pressed up against the wall of the elevator. His legs had widened my stance and his hands were on either side of my waist.
My heart was racing, my blood was boiling, and in an instant the walls of the cab melted into those of the hallway in my house. I couldn’t close my legs as his feet were blocking mine. When he stood up his hips met mine and I could feel the tip of his erection rub the space between my legs. My hands were free so I balled them into fists, quickly stretched them out to the side, and with all my strength and speed brought them together on his temples.
He staggered back a few steps, but I watched as the faceless figure grew to his full height. I searched desperately for an exit but the walls of my hallway were closing around me. I had to get away from this wall. I couldn’t let him pin me to it again. But there was nowhere to go and he was already charging me. Dropping to the ground, I did the only thing I could to protect myself from being raped. I curled into a ball. I knew I was going to die but I wasn’t going to be used.
Nothing happened though. No one came after me. No one grabbed my arms or legs to force me to straighten out. Instead, somewhere in the distance I heard a man’s voice I recognized. “Charlotte! Charlotte! Come back to me. I’m so sorry.” I lifted my head to see Olivier against the opposite wall of my hallway prison. He was squatting down with one hand stretched out to me, palm up.
All I needed to do was reach for him, but if they hadn’t seen him yet, I didn’t want to draw their attention to him. I tried to quietly beg for help, but I had no voice. Instantly, Olivier was there on his knees with me shielded in his embrace. Tears of relief poured out of my eyes. “Shhh, my dear. Shhh,” Olivier tried to reassure me. “There now, everything is alright. They’re not here, I am. You’re not at home. We’re at the Hilton Riverside hotel and I made a colossal blunder and put you in an elevator. This was my mistake, Charlotte, and I’m so sorry. Please come back to me.”
Through the tears I watched as the hallway of my nightmares fade away to the metal walls of the elevator. How long was this going to happen? Was I forever going to be in danger of having my mind mix memories with reality? “Oh God, Olivier! I hit you!” I cried out, upset at myself for losing control. My head darted up as I tried to examine the sides of his face through blurry eyes. My fingers combed through his hair searching for bruises or swelling. I’d hit him hard and while I knew he’d heal, immortal didn’t mean immune.
Gently taking my wrists in his hands, Olivier pulled them away from his face. He almost pulled them to his chest but noticed it would bring them together much like they’d been when I was restrained. Instead he put one on each of his knees. “Charlotte, I deserved it,” he lamented. “I got caught up in your body and your smell. I could hear the thrumming of your heart. Initially I was just going to pull you out of the swarming students but your smile enchanted me and I wanted to taste you. I brought you here because it was the only place which immediately afforded us privacy. It was a mistake and I’m so sorry. Paige was right, she has been all along. I can protect you from everything but myself. I didn’t put you first and I should have. I should have been more careful.” His voice was remorseful and full of contrition.
His pained, guilt-ridden face, sent a new memory floating from the recesses of my mind and it caused a burn to ignite deep in the center of my being. His kiss had made me feel alive again. For those moments when there wasn’t time to think of anything other than him, I’d felt more like my old self than I had in months. The attack two weeks ago wasn’t the catalyst to my recent depression. It was just the rocks I collided with ending my spiraling descent. Wesley’s betrayal had pushed me over the edge.
Carefully, I pressed my lips to Olivier’s for the briefest of seconds before he cupped my face to keep it from following him as he pulled his lips away. “Charlotte,” he raggedly whispered. “What are you doing? This isn’t what you need.”
Actually, it was exactly what I needed. Closing my eyes, I prayed he wouldn’t pull away again. For the rest of the elevator ride we sat on the floor of the elevator as Olivier kissed me tenderly with all of the passion but none of the earlier aggression. When the bell rang again, he pulled me to my feet and I saw we were back in the lobby.
I could hear the prom still going on but had no interest in going back. “Are you ready to go home?” Olivier asked.
Apparently, he’d gotten used to me living at his home. It amused me to realize he now thought of it as ours. The repair work in my home was going to be completed by the middle of the next week. But after the incident in the elevator I decided my hallway needed to be remodeled also. If imagining it sent me into a spiraling tailspin, then there was no way I was going to be able to walk down it during the day, much less at night, anymore. Considering what I was hoping to have done to it would include some architectural changes, I was going to remain displaced for more than the amount of time it would take to slap on a new coat of paint. Could Olivier handle me in his house with him for that long, sharing his bed? Was it fair? “Olivier, aren’t you sick of me yet? Aren’t I just one big temptation?” I inquired.
“You are but you always have been,” he admitted with a fiery twinkle in his eyes. “No, I’m not sick of you. In fact as the days fly by until you move out, I grow more and more worried about what’s going to become of me.” A wily grin turned up the corners of his lips and his voice was playful. “Would you consider letting me come live with you? I don’t know if I can bear to live alone again.”
When I emphatically answered no, his face fell. “You see,” I expounded, “I was hoping not to move out just yet. It seems my home needs a little more work. Can I stay…” Olivier’s arms captured me as his lips descended on mine. It was all the answer I got; all the answer I needed.
Chapter 12
The destruction of my hallway was underway and with the many demands I’d made to completely transform it, the work was going to take months. I’d been in the home only twice since the night of the attack. Once with Olivier to pack some of my clothes and other things I’d need for my continued stay with him. The second time was with Paige and Tristan to pack up Wesley’s things.
Olivier was overseeing the construction project, but I think he was really using it as an excuse to create delays. Anytime the contractor needed to transfer men to another higher priority client, Olivier would acquiesce saying that there was no rush to finish the work. He’d show me pictures and talk me through the work but he handled all the inspections. I knew eventually I’d have to face my house again or sell it. But I wasn’t ready to let go of the good memories still packed inside its walls or face the bad ones.
Each week saw fewer nightmares. Olivier could approach me from behind without me instantly wanting to hurt him or throw up. There were certain things though I still couldn’t stomach. He couldn’t trap me against anything, not a wall or a counter. He couldn’t place his hands around my upper arms or wrap his arms around my chest. And I still didn’t do well when startled in crowds. I suspected there were some other things I wouldn’t be able to mentally handle but given that our relationship remained on the razor sharp precipice between platonic and intimate, I didn’t know for sure.
It was now the beginning of July and the work was on
ce again halted so the contractor could take on another client. “Ah, there you are, my dear. Are you almost ready to go?” Olivier’s voice trailed off at the end when he saw me gazing longingly out the bedroom window, across our yards, and into my old bedroom. “What is it?” he whispered.
I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to hurt him. Today was Wesley’s birthday and out of habit, like I’ve done every year, I’d called him. Not surprisingly, he hadn’t answered but his voice made me miss him. Peering out Olivier’s window was like looking into the past and my mind’s eye was able to draw Wesley in the bedroom we’d shared for months. That home had started as mine but become ours. I could see Wesley walking through the room in his dress slacks, an unbuttoned shirt, and socked feet with his Bluetooth in his ear. His voice was commanding as he spoke to his aides about his expectations for the day. The vision brought forth the memory of how he smelled. It was something I’d never been able to describe, clean and masculine. I’d thought I’d known him so well but when we became lovers, he became a part of me. I wondered if he ever thought of me anymore, if he ever missed me. Would I ever be able to let him go?
Giles didn’t haunt me as bad and maybe it was because I didn’t have to face the triggers of his memory. To avoid them, I’d moved. Maybe it was because I knew he wasn’t out there somewhere and I just wasn’t trying hard enough to get to him. Giles was out of reach, Wesley wasn’t.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I lied. Hopefully Olivier wouldn’t notice since I wasn’t looking at him. “Just missing my home a bit, I guess. Let me throw on my shoes and then we can leave.” Olivier and I were jointly running the summer prep sessions for any incoming freshmen that wanted to get a head start. We only had a few weeks left and most days I was floating around the school checking in on all the sessions. Russell, who’d replaced Mrs. Picard as the school’s dance teacher when she couldn’t return, manned most of the dance classes. But once a week Olivier and I would teach a partnering class, at Max’s request after our display at the prom, and that was today.
