by Sara K
Making his decision, he pressed his lips against her mouth and called her name. Her eyes opened warily her lips parting whilst he kissed her with passion.
Shocked cries filled the room as the theatre descended into darkness. Clara blinked into the darkness, grabbing Michael's shirt. "What's going on." she asked her voice filled with dread. Michael caressed her cheek gently to calm her down, whilst all around the commotion grew with people becoming frantic. "It is alright, honey. Do not be frightened." He assured her gently.
"But… the lights." She protested. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness.
"I must go, Clara He told her calmly, his eyes swept the room, the outside perimeter.
"But…"
"I have something to take care of."
Clara grabbed the front of his shirt. "Like what?"
Unsure of how much to tell her, he bent his head, lips trailing alongside her earlobe. "Vampire." He whispered before depositing her on the empty seat beside him. She glanced up at him, mouth open staring at him in the dark.
"Stay here, Clara Do not leave this building." He commanded, looming over her." It is dangerous to take you with me. Promise me you will not leave this seat." He cupped her face, lowered his head until his breath tickled her face. Clara nodded, swallowing the fear in her mouth she managed to speak out. "Ok. I'll be here."
Michael was uncertain in leaving her. He took her word. Her promise. He would not like it if she defied him by leaving. Tracing her lips with his fingertips he devoured her. His lips covering her mouth, teeth nipping, tongue invaded. He kissed her as if he would swallow her, take her inside himself. Taken aback by his sudden action, as though he didn’t expect to return to her Clara moaned against his mouth and tilted her head back against the headrest, until his chest brushed against her breasts and his knees rested on the space between her legs. Just as she drew up her arms around his neck he parted with a single kiss along her neck.
He was gone in a blink of a second. Leaving her cold and alone in the darkness. She sat up in her seat, wrapped her arms around her waist, and glanced around. People where talking loudly, cursing that they paid large amount for this film, others were rushing towards the exit to get into light. Clara licked her lips; his taste lingered in her mouth. God, at this moment she wanted more of him. Over the last several days her feelings towards him have grown tremendously, which at times frightened her. She strongly believed he had done something to her; she had never in her life experienced these intense emotions. Now that he wasn’t with her she worried about his safety. Was it possible the vampire outside was Shea. Had she finally found them? What if she gathered her army to attack Michael tonight? Don’t think like that she told herself.
Different scenarios entered her mind, making her nervous and afraid. She worried whether Michael would come back to her tonight. What if Shea managed to kill him? Destroy him. Her dread, fear and worry rested heavily in her mind. Her heart ached terribly, causing her to put her hand over her broken heart. He wasn’t dead, she reminded herself. She had faith in his ability to protect himself and destroy his opponent. But why did she feel the terrible ache in her heart. The emptiness as though her whole life had been taken away, leaving her bereft. She couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety and terror that threatened her to reach out to him. At this moment she wanted to reach out to him. To ensure that he was safe. The problem was she didn’t know how to reach out to him. If she called him, she could possibly distract him from his task and get him hurt. She didn’t want that for him. She wanted…
A terrible headache was coming on. A huge burden of grief settled in on her heart, choking her. Putting her hands over her face, she wept silently. The tears flowed freely as though they had the right over her. She couldn’t stop herself. What was happening to her? Why was she feeling this overwhelmed by emotion? She struggled for control, struggled for composure and strength but none came. She was desperate to reach out. She was desperate to run out into the dark night and find him.
Weakly she swept her hand over her face. She felt tormented. Sad. Alone. People around her cheered as the lights came back on, bringing luminosity into the room. The picture on the screen frozen as the screen flashed back on.
"Strange about the lights, it's never happened before." A voice said.
Clara glanced up at the face, it looked familiar. "Huh."
The boy grinned, sheepishly. "Sorry, I remembered you from the store. Dean, remember."
"Oh."
"You ok, you look like you've seen a ghost." He asked, taking the seat beside her.
She attempted a false smile. "Fine, just got spooked out for a moment… because of the lights, you know."
"Yeah, like I said before. This place had got the best technology. There're saying it was a power cut. They've got it sorted."
"Oh."
Dean turned his face towards her, taking in her tear streaked face. He found her beautiful, despite the paleness in her face. There was something different about her, from other girls he went out with. "You seem like you're on a different planet." He asked.
"What." She replied dazed, rubbing her temples.
"You here alone." He asked.
"Um, no. I'm here with my…my boyfriend."
"Don't see him anywhere."
Clara fiddled with her hands. "His…his gone out."
"Do you want to go home? You don’t look so well. I can always give you a ride."
Clara faked a smile. There was such genuine concern in his voice. She liked him. "Thanks, but he'll be back." Even when she said it, she didn’t quite believe it herself.
Dean nodded. "Sure." After a moment, he added. "About what happened at the store I…?"
She threw him a false smile, trying to seem polite. "Don’t worry about it." She stood up quickly, as nauseous threatened her. Her stomach felt queasy, her chest hurt. Where the hell was the restroom?
"Are you leaving?" he asked, watching her stumble to her feet.
"I… I need to go to the restroom." She touched her forehead, as beads of sweat appeared. She wanted to get away and go somewhere quite, where people didn’t suffocate her. Following the sign, she made her way to the restroom in a haze. She didn’t bother about her promise to Michael. If he never came back to her, well he couldn’t scold at her. Could he? The thought brought her to her knees as she stumbled into the restroom and shut the door behind her.
It was deserted. She sat on the wooden bench and lowered her head in her lap. She tried to breathe slowly as the panic attack overtook her. When the worst was over, she lifted her head and felt cold air swept through the room; it filled the atmosphere with evil. She lifted her head. Glanced around the room and saw nothing. Looking outside the window into the darkness, she heard figures running, the deafening screams. She swore the wind howled nosily and something shifted through the air. Something was terribly wrong. She wanted to cry, to scream his name. Most of all she wanted to bang her head against the wall until she was physically hurt and the pain matched with her emotional state.
Michael, please I can't take this anymore she called to him, sending him a desperate plea. Please, come back to me. I'm going crazy. Please, MICHAEAL I don’t now what's happening to me. It seemed pitiful plea but she didn’t care. If she wanted to save her sanity, she needed to summon him to her. The door to the restroom crept open. Clara jumped in alarm.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Dean walked towards her, stopping inches away from her.
"Nothing, just not feeling well." Cold dread swept through her again, shaking her from inside and out. She was having panic attacks that’s what it was.
"I didn’t mean to frighten you about before."
Clara waved her hand to dismiss it. “Doesn’t matter, Dean."
"It probably doesn’t, but the thing is I like you. You're sweet; I can see something really special in you. And I know at the store your friend said you were seeing someone, but if he cared about you he would be here. Wouldn’t he?"
Clara felt as though someone had p
unched out her heart. "He'll be here. I know it." She tried not to cry, whilst her emotions and feelings spiralled out of control. "Thanks for your concern. It means a lot."
Dean refused to back off. "You don’t look well to me. You're ill." he looked down at the sad green eyes. "If you were my girlfriend, I'd take you home, not abandon you in a stupid theatre. The guy is an asshole, he doesn’t deserve you." Clara could tell Dean was angry.
She jumped in Michael's defence. "He's not what you think he is, he's…" she didn’t see it coming, neither did she expect for Dean to lean down and kiss her on the lips. Shocked at the move she tried to move away but his lips pressed against his, kissing her gently.
Dean kissed her slowly for several seconds; Clara hardly felt anything for him. Pressing a hand against his chest she shoved him at the same time as he made a chocking sound and jumped a few feet away from her. Dean's eyes flew open in fright, one hand wrapped around his throat as to ward off something. He made chocking sounds. "Helllllp… meee."
Clara jumped to her feet and rushed to help him, only to find hands at her waist holding her back. Clara stared in horror at the sight before her. Something was strangling Dean and if she didn’t help him he would die. She knew exactly what the something was. Oh God, Michael. Clara rushed forward again, only to be halted by the invisible force and tight arms around her waist drawing her back. She struggled only to find herself being worn out. Desperately she reached for him. MICHAEL, STOP IT. Let him go. PLEASE. Don’t hurt him. Please. Listen to me.
When he answered her, his voice sounded unfamiliar and sent terror through her blood. He kissed my woman. The penalty is death. His voice, lethal roared in her head. Helplessly she stared at the chocking hands on Dean's throat, the deathlike expression on his face. How long before he died.
Michael, don’t do this. He didn’t mean it. RELEASE HIM, NOW
He didn’t reply, but appeared to her side. His face was set in stone, harsh lines around his mouth. His body muscular and hard. Lethal. And his eyes glowed black with anger. She attempted to take a step back, fearing him. But he only held her in place. When his eyes fixed on her, she met his gaze equally.
For me, release him. Please.
For several long, breathless moments his eyes fixed on her face, took in her tear streaked face, the wide frightened eyes and the pounding heart. Then she felt his gaze burning bright red. Hot like fire. It slid down her body slowly until she cried out in pleasure and pain. He wasn’t touching her but she felt his hands burning over her skin, felt his fingers sliding along her skin, between her thighs, across her stomach, squeezing her nipples, caressing her breasts. She withered and cried at his touch. Then his hands were gone as quickly as they touched her. She shuddered, met his gaze and he smiled knowingly, in satisfaction.
Michael released Dean like a ragged chin doll and before he could hit the ground Michael caught him in a blur. When his hot gaze rested on her face, she flinched.
"Where are you taking him?" she asked worriedly.
"You do not know how to follow orders. It had costs this young man his life."
Clara gasped. "It wasn’t his fault. Please, Michael. Let him go. I want to go home. I'm so tired and something is wrong with me." His face softened and a worried expression appeared. Clara became hopeful. He checked her over physically and the hard, cold expression returned.
"Stay here." he ordered harshly, his cold, unrecognisable eyes flashed in her direction.
"NO!" she took a step, only to be held back. "Let me go, Michael."
"Do not struggle or you will get extremely exhausted?" He said calmly. Ignoring him, she pushed again and again, uncaring of the effects it had on her. If she can break free, she could save Dean.
"STOP!" he roared. "I cannot have you harming yourself."
Drearily she took a breath regarded him coldly. "If you don’t get this thing off me, I don’t care about my health." She paused letting her words sink in. "I swear, Michael. I don’t care how mad I make you. If you don’t let me go, I'll fight against this power you've put over me." she threatened with every ounce of strength. He disappeared with one final glance. The power slipped. And she was free to go.
She was grateful he listened to her. Now if only she would persuade him to let Dean go. Pushing open the exit door she ran out into the dark night. Majority of the people had already left. She shifted her head side to side in agitation. Where had Michael gone?
That's when she saw him. Behind the dark alleyway. He stood straight, pinning Dean against the wall, his head bent at the neck as red blood trickled down. Michael's hand snapped. Only once and the young man fell to the ground like a ragged doll.
Oh, God no. Clara froze in her tracks. Her mouth opened in a scream but nothing came out. She felt her heart pound loudly against her chest as if wanting to escape. She could almost hear the thud of her heart inside her chest. The scene replayed in slow motion, as she acknowledged the snap of Dean's head and the vivid graphic images that would haunt her nightmares, ones she would never forget.
Clara took a little step, her legs felt weak almost ready to give out. Her hands trembled at her side and her body shook violently with fear.
Dean was dead. Michael had killed him and now those dark eyes turned on her holding her captive.
Chapter 21: The FALSE PROMISE
Clara was in a trance. Her feet were glued to the ground at the same time her eyes remained on Michael's face as he climbed to his feet and stared at her. For a second she didn’t recognise him. The unfamiliarity in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. What she had witnessed traumatised her? This wasn’t Michael; he didn’t kill innocent people in cold blood.
He kissed my woman. The penalty is death
She recoiled at the thought and a wave of guilt washed through her. It was her fault. If it wasn’t for her Dean would have been alive and…
Clara gasped as Michael strolled towards her. Move it, dammit, she thought in a panic. She did not trust to be around him, after what he did she wanted to run so fast that…
"You cannot escape me.," he said quietly. "Look what happened to the young man it is a reminder that I do not lie. My promise is my final word, Clara."
Clara shook her head. Her mouth was so dry that she could hardly form words. Weakly she took a step backwards and stumbled, her hand flew to grasp the wall and lean herself against it. He was getting so close to her now. Close enough to touch. Clara closed her eyes tightly and swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t face him. Didn’t want to face him. It was a perfect evening until he… God, he had killed Brett, Barry and now… Dean all in cold blood. All because of her.
She wanted to weep.
His presence surrounded her; his scent was all around her. She found her back pressed against the cold wall, her head rested against the cold bricks. His hand stroked along the side of her face, a gentle, feather soft stroke. She flinched at the hands on her beating pulse. She didn’t care if he heard the wildness of her heart.
Escape. That's what she needed. How could she live with a man like him? A man, who killed, lied and betrayed her. His ultimate betrayal cut her deep. Her lips parted to speak but the words were tied in her throat. She trembled against the wall as his body imprinted on hers. Big, heavy and strong. "Please, don't…" she voice came out as a strangled cry of fear. She was terrified and in distress.
"There is no need for this, Clara. You do not need to fear me?" his fingers stroked alongside her face, down her neck. She felt the trail of heat and fire that he left in his awake. She couldn’t do this? She wouldn’t surrender to his touches after all his done. The distress and misery turned into anger and with one free hand she smacked his chest and tilted her head away to avoid his touch. "Don’t… touch me" she said each word slowly, her eyes glued to his face. "Don’t you ever touch me, Michael? Because you don’t know what I'll do." She warned severely. Her body tensed under his gaze and she drew back in the wall.
"You are mine. No other can touch you physically or claim you.
" his voice was so calm that she almost screamed in annoyance.
"I don’t belong to you. Try and understand that?" she said, her voice trembled. How could she let him claim her when he murdered so many people?
A smile curved his lips. "You know that is not true"
Her eyes glowed with anger and betrayal. "You lied to me, Michael. Why?"
"I did no such thing."
She threw her hand up in annoyance. “ See, you're doing it again. You're a hypocrite," she shouted hysterically. "You make false promises of making me happy when really you make me miserable. You killed Dean when I begged you not to. Did my feelings not matter?" Hot tears slid down her cheeks, when he touched her face she smacked it away.
"He deserved death. Any mortal who touches my woman has a death wish."
She shook her head, distraught. "He only kissed me. Nothing else. It's not as if I kissed him back.” As if on cue his gaze drifted down her body making her heart contract painfully in her chest.
"Your heart beats too fast." He eyed her cautiously; one hand rested between her breasts "You are afraid."
"No" she whispered starring into his eyes. Again just as before, she felt herself falling into his spell. She must not look into his eyes. Tearing her eyes away, she pried his fingers that were almost opening the buttons of her blouse.
"Stop it." She snapped. "I told you not to touch me."
She flinched when he let out a soft laugh. "You do not understand my power. I can do anything I wish. Remember, Clara once I make I decision I do not look back. Your anger towards me is useless. Your friend obviously met you before and you have not seen what was in his mind. He liked you and to prove that he kissed you. For that he signed his own death warrant."
Clara bit her lip. "He was kind and friendly. That was no excuse to kill him. Did you want me to suffer by observing his death?"
"I did not wish to inflict you any pain."
"Well, you did I hope you're happy. A simple harmless kiss and for that the penalty was death." Clara shut her eyes to ward of the tears and the images of blood and death. God, she would never forget. What had he done to her? She felt his hands slid down her waist. "Don't try and comfort me."