Incest/Taboo Body of Water

The dream was always the same.

The tide pushing, pulsing with need and then ebbing. My body felt the tug and rolled with it, like a piece of driftwood cast away. I didn't fight the feeling. I was limp, empty of the strength to swim, or even float.

The water pulled me under and there were flashes of light, and bright color. They might have been fish, maybe the reflection of the sun off the shallows.

I didn't know, didn't care to know.

The water eased over and around me, tugging with infinite gentleness. I soared, shifting, sliding, sinking deeper into it until my senses left me.

Then, for a long time, nothing.

Like every morning, the urgent bleating of my alarm clock woke me and shook the dream from my mind. I yawned, stretched and smacked my hand down on the 'off' button.

"Shut up." I rolled over to bury my face in my pillow. I indulged myself for only a minute before throwing my covers back.

Shower first, then clothes, and after that, I hurried downstairs for breakfast. The house was quiet; usual since I'm the last one to rise every morning. My two roommates worked odd shifts - both of them nurses - and were the first ones up, or the last ones home in the morning. My job was less taxing; I worked as a designer for a new home builder. I worked Monday to Friday, had weekends and holidays off and rarely worked overtime.

As I scanned the newspaper, I munched on a piece of toast. After licking my fingers clean, I glanced at my wristwatch. The time showed half past five. I scowled and looked up at the digital clock on the stove. 7:34.

Dammit. I undid the clasp of my watch. Another one.

I have terrible luck with watches. I buy them, I wear them and they die. I used to try to replace the batteries, but that never worked. The watch would run for a few weeks and then die. No amount of battery replacing would change it. Someone once suggested that I spend a little more on a watch; her theory being that I bought crappy watches for twenty bucks, and that's why they never worked for longer than a year. I refused to spend a hundred or more dollars on something when I couldn't be guaranteed of success.

So I'm a cynic; sue me.

With a sigh, I tossed this latest bit of machinery in the garbage and scooped my purse up from the counter. I drew my jacket on and slid my feet into shoes. In minutes, I was driving through rush hour to my office in the industrial quadrant of the city I lived in. Calgary was a booming hub in the western prairie.

The company I work for, Landbourne Homes, has been a fixture in the homebuilding market for over twenty years. They're family-owned and operated but occasionally, an outsider could rise through the ranks. I didn't hold onto to such an ambition but it was a pleasant place to work. The managers were strict but fair and overall the company was run like a well-oiled machine.

I'd worked for them for five years, starting as a temporary receptionist. They'd worked around my school hours as I got my degree in interior design and offered me a job in their design center when I finished. I'd been doing that job for almost two years now and, while it didn't fill me with a complete sense of joy, it was a good job; low stress, well-paying, and it afforded me the chance to meet new people every day.

Today passed much the same as all my other days. I organized my files and started seeing customers at nine. A break at noon - lunch and a book at the picnic table out front - then back to another client meeting at one. I drove home through afternoon rush hour again at five and started making dinner.

As I was browning the chicken, my roommate, Angela, strode into the kitchen and inhaled deeply.

"Oh, thank God, you're cooking!"

I returned her smile and opened my arms for a hug. Angela was the most affectionate of the three of us, undoubtably the reason she was such a fantastic nurse. She towered over my five-foot-three frame by six inches but she was lithe and willowy instead of robust. She kept her dark blond hair short, cropped close to her head, and it liked to stick out in every direction. Her eyes were a bright blue, almost always crinkled at the corners as she smiled or laughed.

She released me from the embrace and turned to the stove. "Mmm, smells fantastic. What is it?"

I laughed and bumped her hip - or rather, the muscle below her hip - with mine. "It's chicken and garlic right now. In about a half hour, it'll be a stir fry with veggies."

"Awesome!" Angela took another deep sniff before leaving me alone in the kitchen again.

I resumed dinner preparation and was just dishing it out when my second roommate, Harlowe walked into the house. His name was Isaac Harlowe, but he refused to answer to his given name. So, Harlowe it was. He shuffled into the kitchen and one glance told me he'd just come off of a double shift. Harlowe worked as an ER nurse and he was exhausted most days.

He smiled a greeting at me and slumped at the kitchen table, folding his arms under his head for support. His dark hair was messy, the normal curls flat and dull. His dark, long lashes swept his cheek as he blinked and yawned. I carried the first plateful of rice and chicken stir-fry to the table, setting it down in front of him.

"Eat."

He snapped upright, as though I'd just woken him from a deep sleep. He blinked at the food in front of him and blew his breath out. "Thanks, Nerina."

As always, his smile - weak or not - was enough to give me a few butterflies. I smiled back and started serving up a second plate. Angela blew into the kitchen, dressed now in her pajamas and bright pink fuzzy slippers. She chattered away at about a mile a minute and it was all Harlowe and I could do to keep from bursting into laughter.

We sat together around the small kitchen table and ate. We shared what happened during our days and relaxed in the living room afterward.

I sat on the couch with Harlowe stretched out beside me, his feet against my thigh. Every now and then, I glanced over at him to see his eyes drooping and his chin dropping to his chest.

He really was a very handsome man; I'd already admitted that he gave me a fluttery feeling in my stomach on occasion. Nothing so grand as full-on jitters, but I could easily admit that he was good-looking. Dark hair, dark eyes, tall, broad-shouldered, kind, a good sense of humor - when he's not fighting sleep after two twelve hour shifts.

"Jeez, Harlowe, why don't you just go to bed?" Angela's exclamation startled him so badly he kicked me.

"Oh shit. Sorry, Rina," he mumbled as he sat up and swung his long legs off the couch.

"It's all right." I lowered my eyes to the book in my lap.

"You scared me, Ang." Harlowe turned to our roommate.

"I know," she replied from her spot on the floor in front of her chair. "I meant to. You've been up for almost thirty hours. Go to bed."

"It's not even eight o'clock yet."

"You're going to sleep until morning, trust me."

Harlowe glared at her for a minute before grunting and pushing himself up from the couch. "Fine. I'm going to bed."

"Good night, Harlowe," I called as he walked away.

As he passed by Angela, he nudged her with his foot. She toppled over, distracted by the show on TV and shrieked with laughter as he hurried away.

"You'll pay for that!" she hollered.

I giggled and hid my face behind my book as Angela turned my way. I felt her weight hit the couch beside me and laughed when she tried to yank the book out of my hands. We struggled for a few minutes before she conceded, relaxing back on her end of the couch.

"I don't know how you can even focus on a book while the TV's on."

I raised my eyebrows at her and smirked. "I guess my brain hasn't been rotted as much by television as yours."

Ang snorted and rolled onto her side to watch the rest of her show. I smiled and turned my attention back to my book. It wasn't the first time her or Harlowe had mentioned my habit of reading while we all sat in front of the television. I had always been able to read and comprehend my book with all kinds of background noise.

At the moment, I wasn't focusing on the words before my eyes. I heard and felt Angela's warmth next to me and listened to the distant sounds of Harlowe getting ready for bed. My eyes grew heavy and I yawned the next time a commercial came on.

"I'm beat," I groaned around another yawn. "I think I'm going to go have a bath and then read in bed."

"You really know how to live it up, Rina."

It was a running joke in the house that I was the boring one, in spite of my less demanding job. Angela had often ordered me out of the house on a Saturday night, practically begging me to have a social life that she could be envious of. I just wasn't that type of person. At twenty-seven years old, I was done, if I had ever really lived, that is.

I chose to ignore the jibe this time and stood up. "What's your shift for the rest of the week?"

"I'm on mornings until Wednesday and then afternoons. I might even get Saturday night off." Her eyes widened and she looked up at me. "We should go out!"

"Oh God, no," I groaned and tried to move past her.

"Please, Rina." She grabbed hold of my arm before I'd moved beyond her reach. "When was the last time you had a night out?"

"Last Thursday."

"Drinks with your cousins? That doesn't count. You were home before eight!"

"I think it counts."

"You're coming out with me on Saturday. We'll go to the Firehall and pick up some hot guys."

I couldn't help but laugh at her. "Pick up some hot guys?"

"Yes! When was the last time you got some?"

The question threw me and I didn't have a ready response. I gaped at her and felt the heat creep up my neck.

"I figured it'd been a while." She gave a knowing nod and patted my hand. "Go have your bath and we'll talk tomorrow."

"Oh...OK" I hurried from the room without even saying good night.

Angela meant well. We'd been friends for a long time and roommates for even longer but there were things about myself that I kept private from everyone, including her.

I didn't sleep around but it hadn't been ages since I'd been with a man.

I love the bathroom in our house. It was large for such a small house but then, it was the only bathroom. The bathtub was deep, with a sloped back, one of those fantastic soaker tubs. Whenever I have bath, which was nearly every night, I made it hot and I pulled the heavy, opaque curtain across so it felt like I was in my own little cave. It also allowed my two roommates the option of coming in to use the washroom, without having the embarrassing seeing-the-roommate-naked-in-the-tub incident.

It had only taken us three such incidents to bundle our finances and splurge on the high-quality, thick shower curtain.

As always, a bath relaxed me. Sometimes to a dangerous level; dangerous for my books, that is. I don't know how many have ended up doused in bath water because they slipped from my sleeping fingers. Suffice it to say that I need a second bookcase just for my bloated paperbacks.

Tonight, I felt the fatigue coming and tossed my book on the bathroom floor before closing my eyes. Then I just sank down, letting the water swirl through my hair and warm every part of me except my face. The heat and buoyancy of the water relaxed me even further and my lips parted on a deep sigh. A ripple went through the water as I inhaled again and I felt the blood slide through my body.

Another slow breath. Another rocking swish of water and blood.

The faint noise of the television downstairs faded and I listened to the thrum of my heartbeat instead. The water carried the steady bump of the organ to my ears.

Another breath.

In.

Out.

A heartbeat, slower this time.

The water stilled. Then my body stilled.

There was no more steady hum of blood pumping or air filtering through lungs. The water pulsed instead, pressing in and then pushing out. It met the resistance of porcelain and sighed, a painful rush of longing.

The air whooshed from my lungs and I jerked awake, sloshing water over the side of the tub. I blinked my eyes open and felt disoriented by the dimness of my cave. I sucked in another deep breath and felt a shiver run through my body. The water was cold.

Jesus. I sat up. I ran a hand up my face and through my hair, wringing some of the cool moisture from my hair. How long was I asleep?

Shivering, I reached down and unplugged the stopper. As I got to my feet, I pushed the heavy curtain aside and reached for a towel. A few minutes later, I shuffled across the hall to my room. The rest of the house was silent, dark. I sighed as I climbed naked into my bed, rubbing my forehead.

I didn't like falling asleep in the bathtub. No matter how often it happened, it made me uneasy. Not because I feared drowning myself. It was more that the dream came faster when I soaked. Maybe it was something about the water slapping the bathtub that brought it on but whatever the reason, it was unsettling.

I had only been lying in my bed for five minutes when I heard a soft tapping at my bedroom door.

"Come in, Harlowe."

My door opened and my tall, dark roommate closed it behind him and made his way over to my bed.

He leaned over me. "Can I sleep with you?"

We both knew that he wasn't asking to 'sleep.' We also both knew I wouldn't say no. I shimmied aside and made room for him.

His hands found me beneath the covers. "You're naked."

"I was in the bath." I didn't resist as he pulled me towards him.

His soft chuckle brushed my naked shoulder and I turned my head, blinking until his dark outline came into focus. "For four hours?"

I glanced over his shoulder at my clock and, sure enough, it was past midnight. I had been in the tub for roughly four hours. I wondered if Angela or Harlowe had come into the bathroom while I slept in the tub. Then Harlowe's next exhalation was warmer and I dropped my chin to look into his dark eyes.

"You're cold." His lips were so close they brushed against my cheek.

"Warm me up."

He did. His hands were sure, skilled, as they slid over my skin. I was soft and probably a little wrinkly from my long sojourn in the tub, but he didn't care. It was one of the things I loved about Harlowe; he never judged, never criticized me when I wasn't the epitome of femininity. He came to me as a man and I accepted him as a woman.

We never asked for more than a few hours in each other's arms. It was understood. We were free to date elsewhere, though he had no time for that and I had no inclination; not because I was in love with Harlowe. I just didn't feel the need to 'play the field,' as Angela would put it. Instead, Harlowe and I found comfort in each other's embrace, in each other's warm breath and honest, physical responses. Maybe if he stirred something deeper inside me, I'd feel more. I didn't. I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him.

Still, I'm a woman and he's a man, and his lips were very soft against mine.

I parted my lips for him, tasted the tang of several hours of sleep on his tongue as it swept into my mouth. He pressed his hot palms into my skin, pressing down as they slid over my back. I could feel the warmth of his touch even after his hand moved on. He touched my back, cradled the sides of my breasts and parted my thighs with his knee.

I was wet when he cupped me and some distant part of my mind ordered me to respond as he fondled my soft folds. My body was reacting as it was supposed to, I knew that as well. So I sighed into Harlowe's mouth and rose to his touch as he knelt between my legs.

The covers were thrown back in another moment and Harlowe kissed a path from my mouth to my stomach. I knew where he was going to end up and my body responded. I arched off the bed, pretending to stifle a moan. His tongue slid between the swollen lips below my waist and he drank my wetness. I felt the bed rocking as he moved, trying less than gracefully to remove his boxers.

Then I opened my arms as he rose back over me. I could feel the hardness of him sliding against my thigh. He was breathing hard and his body was tense where I touched him, gripping his shoulders.

"You're so beautiful." He dropped hot, moist kisses on my throat. "I love how you taste."

I smiled because he was so kind, such a considerate lover. Then he was cupping me, thrusting fingers inside of me and I jerked against him. I was unprepared for his touch that time and it gave me an unexpected jolt. I think I enjoyed it.

After that, I was ready. He fingered me, sliding thick fingers in and out, as he whispered in my ear, telling me all that he longed to do to me. I held on to his shoulders, lifting my hips off the bed and I moaned as he replaced his fingers with his rigid organ. He eased into me, always so slow, the perfect gentleman, even when caught up with passion. I felt him stretching me, felt my body shifting and sliding to accommodate him.

There was a rush of sensation as he stroked me just above our joining. I moaned and he clamped his lips over mine, taking my cry into his mouth. I made more noises as we rocked together. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, squeezed my thighs around his hips and thrust in response to his movements.

It felt nice, it always felt nice, and I wished that it felt more than nice.

I wanted fireworks.

I forced out a cry as my body rocked with an ordinary orgasm and then he released himself a minute later. For a short while, we lay entangled together. That, I didn't mind. He was warm and I had indeed been chilled after falling asleep in the bathtub.

"I hope you don't have to work early." I was always the first to break the comfortable silence between us.

I felt his chuckle and smiled at the sensation of him still softening within me. I may not react as I longed to, but I was still a woman and I could appreciate Harlowe's essential maleness.

"I don't."

He kissed me again. His tongue slid between my lips to dance around mine and I let him, enjoying the kiss for what it was. Then he eased out of me and relaxed on his back.

I snuggled against his warm body and fell asleep.

The dream came slower this time. It was as if my slumber in the tub, however brief, had somehow delayed it. Still, it came. Minutes, or hours, after I climaxed in Harlowe's arms, the dream slipped over me.

I wasn't on the water to begin with this time. I stood on a smooth, white, sandy beach. I was aware of the fine grains of sand beneath my toes and I had the fleeting thought that it felt familiar. It was impossible of course. All the beaches I'd ever been to had been rocky or rusty red.

The thought was gone as quickly as it came and I felt my body start to float. Somehow I'd gone into the water. It swished around my outstretched limbs and I sliced a hand through it. The motion tilted me on my side and I sucked in a mouthful of water. I didn't feel it filter through my system. You know that feeling; a cold swallow of water on an empty stomach, sliding down your throat and coating your insides. Instead, I absorbed the water.

That was when I noticed the waves rolling over my head. I started turning, spinning with the water.

Cold familiarity washed over me. Now the dream was the same as it always was.

My body stopped struggling as the water swirled around me. It pushed and pulled, rolled me until I didn't know where the surface was. My heartbeat slowed. My eyes closed.

Then nothing.

"God, your alarm is deadly." Harlowe's deep voice startled me awake in the morning.

For a moment, I was furious with him for invading my privacy in such a way. Then the memory of his familiar love-making washed over me and I recalled that we'd fallen asleep together. It didn't happen often; in fact, Angela and I were more likely to sleep together than me and Harlowe.

"Good morning, Nerina." He rolled over and curved his body behind mine as I reached for the 'off' button on my alarm.

I rubbed my eyes. "Good morning."

I liked that he was one of the few people to call me by my full name. Most everyone else I knew called me 'Rina.' Neither bothered me, but it was just one more example of what a gentleman Harlowe was.

From the way he was moving his hand up my side, I guessed that his thoughts were less than gentlemanly at the moment. I smiled and reached for him.

Fireworks or not, he was there and so was I.

It turned out that I wasn't all that late for work. Harlowe felt bad when I showered and raced from the house at half past eight. I didn't have an appointment until after nine that day and I called home later to tell him it was fine.

The rest of the week was uneventful. Although Harlowe didn't work another double, he was gone for the evenings the rest of the week and I didn't see him again. Angela was around for dinner every night and every night, she reminded me about how we were going to go out on Saturday. On Friday night I relented, just so she'd let me get back to my book.

Soon enough, it was Saturday night. Angela refused to even let me wear jeans. She forced me into a small black skirt and a silky, very tight, electric red top that revealed far too much skin. My opinion mattered little to Angela, as she ignored my protests and continued shellacking my hair into place.

As I stood in front of the mirror with her, studying my appearance, I couldn't help but be impressed. My chocolate brown hair had been tamed and styled in one of those messy-on-purpose looks; like I'd just rolled out of bed. She'd done something to my eyes, making them look even more green than their usual dull brownish-green. They looked smoky and alluring. She'd even sprinkled some kind of sparkly dust on my bare skin, making it look like I shimmered as I moved.

"You look fantastic!" Angela threw her arm around my shoulders.

I touched a fingertip to my dark red lips. "I don't even look like me." I pulled the finger away and looked at it; not a speck of lipstick on it. Whatever Angela had done, my face and hair weren't going to move all night, I bet.

"That's the idea."

"What? Looking like someone else all night?"

"Yes! Stepping outside the box. Being different, living dangerously."

I snorted and turned away from the mirror, unable to continue looking at our side-by-side reflections.

Angela was the gorgeous, dangerous-looking one, and she didn't have to put as much effort into it. She was tall to my short, willowy to my voluptuous, and devilishly witty to my dull shyness. Tonight, she'd put on black faux-leather pants that made her legs look a mile long, a rich lavender halter top that stopped just over her bellybutton, showing off her fantastic abdomen. Her hair, being as short as it was, took little effort. She'd rubbed some sculpting mousse into it, making the ends stand up all over in patches. The sparkly dust she'd sprinkled on me, she'd applied to herself, including her hair. Together, we looked like the odd couple of pixies.

"Come on."

I followed her out of my room, grabbing my small clutch purse from my dresser as I passed by. We went downstairs and picked shoes out from the overflowing closet. Of course, most of them belonged to Angela. A couple were mine, and thankfully, I had a pair of black heels that I'd worn to my last work Christmas party. It was now mid-June and I hadn't worn anything but flats since.

This is going to be an interesting night, I thought as I teetered out of the house behind Angela.

She'd called a cab earlier to pick us up, meaning she wanted to drink a boatload tonight. She chattered away at the cab driver, who smiled and nodded along while I just sat back, shaking my head. It was amazing to me how Angela was able to make friends with anyone and everyone. By the time we got downtown to the Firehall - an old fire station that had been converted to a dance club - the cabbie was going to call Angela about family dinner next week.

A slight breeze slipped over us as we left the cab and I shivered, wishing we'd brought more than just our skin to keep warm. Then Angela slid her arm through the crook in mine and we walked up to the night club doors.

The giant bouncer gave us a once-over, making me feel objectified and incredibly sexy all at once, then he nodded, letting us pass. Angela squealed with excitement and hauled me inside.

Here I go.

Inside, the club was full, but not packed. People lined the bars, filled the open areas and writhed on the dance floor. I looked around, taking in the sights and acknowledging that we were dressed no different than the rest of the women. It gave me a small measure of relief, this dissolving back into anonymity. I hadn't realized until that moment how exposed I'd felt.

"Come on." Angela tugged on my arm. "I'll buy the first round."

We made our way through the crowd to a bar along the back wall and Angela wedged herself between two scantily clad women. I stood back, my eyes scanning the people lining the bar. I fingered the metal clasp of my small purse and felt awkward as I waited behind Angela.

The club was large, with a high ceiling. There was a second level, a loft that overlooked the main part of the bar and I knew pool tables filled the loft area. It was quieter up there, allowing for more conversation or game playing. There was even the old fire pole in place near the balcony; inaccessible by the public, of course. The bar we were at was the largest, stretching almost the entire length of the back wall. At the far end of the bar were the restrooms and down two steps in the center of everything was the dance floor. Around the open space were tall tables, chairs and stools lining a half bar along another wall. Lights flashed at the dance floor and around, catching me right in the eye every time I looked over, it seemed.

As I squinted and tried to blink away the spots from the latest flash of lights, I felt a tingling start at the base of my spine. I straightened, and looked around myself, certain someone was watching me. The people at the bar alongside Angela were talking, laughing and trying to get the bartenders' attention. Those behind them all waited for an opening along the bar to get their own drinks. The dance floor was a jumping, sliding mass of bodies, made eerie by the silver strobe lights.

Still, the tingling persisted and I felt sweat bead between my shoulder blades. It made me nervous, this sensation, and the sweat. I hardly ever sweated. My body temperature always seemed to run cooler than everyone else, somehow without making me feel cold. I swung my head back and forth, my eyes darting from head to head and as I started to lift my face to the second floor balcony, Angela bumped my left elbow.

"Here's your drink." She handed me a highball glass filled with electric blue liquid.

"Oh, for the love of God." I eyed the drink suspiciously, distracted from the tingling feeling. "What the hell is this?"

"It's an Electric Popsicle." Angela held up something similar in her left hand. Then she held up her right hand, clutching a bottle of Kokanee.

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Double-fisting it tonight?"

"Hey, you only live once, right?"

Do we? The thought came unbidden and I blinked, my smile slipping. Then the tingling was back and I felt more sweat gather on my back. I looked around again, still finding no one even looking in our direction.

What is that?

"You all right, Rina?"

I nodded just as we were jostled by someone trying to get to the bar. Angela sent the man a dirty look before closing her hand around my elbow. She guided me away from the cluster in front of the bar and we moved to the railing surrounding the sunken dance floor.

"Well, here's to another week won." Angela held her blue drink towards me.

"Won? Was there a victory this week?"

"Every time I make it out of the hospital with my sanity intact, it's a victory." As she said this, I noticed some of the light fade from her perpetually sunny face.

I admit, I don't often give Angela credit for her life choices. She had a difficult job, working as a nurse in the burn unit at the Foothills Hospital and I know there must be days when she just wanted to pull her hair out.

"You're a wonderful person, Ang."

Instead of returning the compliment with something more flattering, she just nodded and clinked her glass against mine. "Thanks, Rina."

I grinned and lifted the blue drink to my lips. As I threw it back, I glimpsed movement on the second level. My eyes stayed up as I swallowed the tart alcoholic drink and I watched a dark shape move through the bodies along the balcony. Then he disappeared into the crowd. Just like that, the tingling sensation was gone.

"Wow, I'd forgotten how tart those drinks are." Angela pursed her lips as I dropped my eyes.

"Yeah." I made a face. In truth, I hadn't even tasted it. I smacked my lips together and ran my tongue over my bottom lip, trying to taste the remnants but it was already gone. I must have looked disappointed because Angela laughed and lifted the glass from my hand.

"I'll get you another one!"

"No, Ang, it's fine!" I tried to stop her but she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd to the busy bar.

I watched her go and shook my head with a smile. I turned around and leaned my forearms on the railing as I watched the dancers below. The beat was infectious and I started to sway my hips in time with the music. It had been so long since I'd last been to a club that I didn't recognize the music. Dance music was always fundamentally the same; deep bass, even beats and soaring vocals or high-pitched synthesized noise.

It was nice to know that some things would never change.

Zing!

There was that tingling, back even stronger than before and my spine snapped upright.

What is that?

I scanned the blurry faces on the dance floor. I was sweating again, the moisture beading between my shoulder blades and sliding over my skin as I shifted from foot-to-foot. I licked my lips, tasting the salty tang of sweat on my upper lip. Without thinking, I lifted my clutch and started to fan my face with it.

I felt the presence of someone at my right elbow before I turned and the tingling became an almost unbearable jolt. A sound must have escaped my lips because a woman on my left side looked over. Her eyes widened as they slid past my face and I turned my head, thinking it was Angela, back with our drinks. She was the stunning one after all.

It wasn't Angela.

He was someone I'd never seen before in my life. As the tingling up and down my spine intensified, I had the oddest feeling that I'd been waiting to see him; that I already knew him, somehow.

He absolutely towered over me, probably standing six-foot three. He was broad shouldered and the hand he wrapped around the railing in front of me was large enough to circle my neck. I registered his body's dimensions without looking away from his face. His eyes were intent on mine and I looked back and forth between their shimmering golden brown irises. His hair appeared dark under the lights but I knew that he had light, reddish-brown hair. It was cut short but not short enough to hide a natural wave. A single curl tickled his forehead and I knew without touching him that it curled over the collar of his shirt as well.

"I've been waiting for you." His voice was as deep and as intense as his eyes. It crackled through me, raising the hair at the back of my neck. I was sweating there too, a trickle dripping from my nape to my shoulders.

I felt parched and felt like I could have downed a gallon of water without taking a single breath. "Have we met?"

He cocked his head to one side, his eyes at last moving away from mine. I sucked in a breath, unaware until then that I hadn't been breathing. The sensation at my spine was no longer contained. As his golden eyes slid over the contours of my face, I felt the tingling turn to trembling and I couldn't stand still. The trembling turned to a vibration that I felt to the soles of my feet.

"Calm down." He shifted closer. I felt his hot breath on my cheek and I gasped as sweat beaded on my forehead. "Please, you must calm down."

"I...I'm f-fine."

As I stared, his lips parted and I felt the hot wash of his breath against my skin again.

"You're not. You must control yourself, please. For me."

At his words, my eyes snapped back to his. He was running those golden eyes over my forehead and down my cheek where I felt a bead of sweat trickle from my hairline to my chin.

Gasping, I lifted a hand to wipe at my skin and my fingers came away covered with concealer and sparkles. "I don't...what's happening to me?"

His eyes met mine again and he looked upset. Very upset, like I'd just told him something terrible and life-altering, like he was an orphan.

"Please, Ryujin."

The strange word broke through my muddled thoughts and I frowned. "That's not my name."

He blinked, taken aback by my sharp tone. Then he smiled and I felt my knees begin to shake.

Oh, how many women have fallen prey to that smile? I wondered and tightened my grip on the railing to hold myself upright.

"Nar?"

My frown deepened, some of the vibrations in my body dimming. I shook my head, somehow knowing he was still trying to guess my name, even though it didn't sound like any name I'd ever heard before.

"Sedna? Atlana? Naunet?"

As I shook my head, he paused and pursed his lips, considering. His eyes bored into mine and I swallowed, uneasy with his perusal. His eyes moved from mine, looking up at my hair again, all along the contours of my face and down to the revealing neckline of my top. As he exhaled, he lifted a hand and his palm hovered over my shoulder.

The vibration returned full force and I knew my knees were about to give out.

I didn't fall. I did almost faint from the searing heat that coursed through my body as this man slid an arm around my waist. I could feel the sweat soaking through my top and dampening my underwear.

Oh! I gasped and met his gaze again. That's not sweat, is it?

That dangerous smile spread across his lips and I felt the pulse deep in my gut. I recognized it this time. It was the same feeling I got whenever Harlowe made love to me. Only intensified about a hundred times over.

This is how it's supposed to feel?

His smile dipped and a line appeared between his eyebrows. As is he could hear my thoughts, he nodded. His fingers moved against my body, over the silky fabric of my red top and I was terrified that he was going to touch my skin. I didn't think I could handle the contact.

"Undine?" he whispered.

I shook my head.

He blew out a soft breath and I realized then how close his face was to mine. If I were to lift onto my tiptoes and tilt my chin up, we'd be kissing. The thought made me smile. Then he smiled in response and I sucked in a sharp breath when he shifted closer. I hadn't thought there was any more space to lose between us but I was wrong.

I felt him then, long and lean from knees all the way to where our chests touched. I was very hot.

"Talise?" His eyes flickering from my eyes to scan my hair and features again, as if my appearance would tell him what my name was. I had nondescript dark hair and dull eyes, made up for the night, but even under the sparkles and glaring strobe lights, my skin was slightly olive in color. Like a permanent tan, as Angela, the snow white princess, often lamented.

"No," I whispered. "My name is-"

"Nerina."

I gasped. "How did you know?"

"It's not one you've had before."

His eyes kept moving over my face. I felt his gaze like a current of electricity. Everywhere his eyes touched, I tingled.

I shook my head, confused by his words, unsettled by his nearness. I was aware of the sweat soaking through my shirt where he clutched me and I was embarrassed by the different moisture soaking through my panties.

"Don't."

I felt his cheek, bristly with whiskers, against mine and his hot breath stirred the hair hanging over my left ear.

"Don't what?" I tried to sound less confused than I was.

"Don't be embarrassed. This is how we are."

I shook my head, shuddering as his whiskers scratched my overly sensitive skin. Sweat trickled down my back and I knew that there'd be a terrible wet spot on my shirt when he released me.

"Then I won't release you."

I laughed, a weak, breathless sound. "Stop that."

"I can't help it. Neither can you."

"I can't help letting you read my mind?"

This is ridiculous! I added silently and realized I was only on my feet by the strength of his arm.

"No. Nor can I keep you from mine."

I shook my head. "I can't read your mind"

He moved then and I no longer felt his whiskers against my skin. Our eyes met and he smiled.

My lovely. It's been too long.

"How has it been too long?" I wasn't surprised that his lips hadn't moved. "We've just met."

He shook his head, never taking his eyes from mine. I became aware then of the club surrounding us, the slow pulse of bodies shifting and the low hum of music and voices. It all seemed distant and slow.

"Nerina." As he whispered my name he lowered his head. When he spoke my name again, I felt his kiss, the barest contact of our lips.

A moan escaped my throat and I sagged against him, the heat overwhelming me. I blinked my eyes, looking over his shoulder and could have sworn I saw steam rising from his back.

"I can't stay," he whispered.

"Why?" I thought I sounded upset.

His smile was brilliant, turning up the vibrations in my body to an almost painful degree. "We'll see each other again, Nerina."

God help me, but I loved how he said my name. He had some kind of accent that I couldn't place and it turned the syllables of my name into a caress. I had the distant thought that my underwear would dissolve if this kept up.

His smile turned wicked and he chuckled. Since he still held me plastered against his body, I felt that laugh everywhere. I sucked in a breath, feeling far too hot.

"Tell me I didn't say that out loud." My cheeks burned with a different kind of heat now.

"You didn't." You didn't have to.

I shuddered and squeezed my eyes shut. I felt his breath whisper over my lips and there was contact a second later. Then I felt his hold loosening and the music and noise of the club started to intrude on our bubble.

"No." I clutched his arms. "Don't."

"I have to."

His reply was gentle and his hand gone from my back. He held me at the waist, his touch still scorching.

"Promise me I'll see you again." So help me, I didn't care about begging at this point.

I promise. The words were firm and the look in his eyes hardened. I knew he meant it.

Then his hand fell from my side and the rest of the club came back into focus. In the space of a breath, he moved so that we were no longer touching anywhere. A cool breeze wafted over me and I inhaled. The sweat cooled against my skin and I was no longer overheated. I kept my eyes on his face as he took another deliberate step away from me.

I couldn't be sure, but the look on his face was almost one of pain. He smiled and it was heartbreaking.

It is painful, I heard inside my head. And my heart aches. It has been too long.

Then why do you leave me? I felt out of sorts.

He shook his head and turned away from me, hiding his face, but not before I saw the wounded expression cross his striking features.

I watched the crowd swallow him up, everyone around him hardly moving, holding an eerie tableau. Then something was yanked loose deep inside my gut and the crowd jerked into motion. The noise of the music and shouting filled my ears again. I shuddered, still feeling the inexplicable heat tingling over every inch of my skin.

"Rina!" Angela appeared at my side, making me jump. She eyed me with a smirk and handed me a fresh blue drink. "What's wrong? You look like you've just run a marathon."

I touched my forehead and cringed as my fingers came away damp. Not a marathon. More like a sprint; a sprint away from rolling, spitting magma.
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