Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Force of Destiny ❯ Entranced ( Chapter 7 )

Suddenly, a sickly parody of a smile warped his finely chiseled lips, and a soft chuckle of satisfaction crawled from his pale throat into the night air. Eyes alight in devilish delight, he examined his latest idea from different angles, working out the preliminary logistics, weighing the possibilities. Perhaps the witch has added uses, aside from his original intended plans to exploit her talent. Yes, the new plot forming in his mind could be just the thing to finally break Yuki's spirit and bring him to heel at his master's side.

Akito glided stealthily away, mind methodically ticking over the possibilities of his latest perversion, laying twisted plans. He needed to head off anyone who may come to investigate the commotion, as interruption of his two new toys would not be good for his plan. Not yet, anyway. His self-satisfied laugh did not reach the ears of the couple still enthralled with each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~

I'm trembling. I'm trembling in fear that this is all a fevered illusion born of insanity. I'm trembling in shock that this isn't a fevered illusion, and I am actually holding a woman close, smelling her delicate scent. A beautiful woman. I'm trembling in awe of the wild feelings raging in me; the fierce joy and absolute certainty I was made to hold this woman--that I'm able to do so without transforming.

A small part of me is trembling in triumph. Not even Kyou, that damned cat, can do this. Not even with Tohru. I feel petty and small for thinking such a thing, because I know that her inability to get close to her love hurts her, as well, but there it is. After all, I'm entitled to a little gloating, seeing as how I abandoned my freedom and happiness for their sakes--no, for her sake. I sigh imperceptibly. And I'd do it again, too.

Now, though, I have this. Hope flares through me, bright as the sun, burning away the pain and anguish of the last few months, seeking out and destroying memories of Akito's most recent taunts.

Again, I gently brush my thumbs across her delicate cheekbones, watching as a pretty blush brushes color onto them. I am mesmerized by her liquid eyes, luminous and expressive. Emotions flicker in their depths: gentle understanding and an answering awe at the connection we feel pulling us closer together. She raises her hand to my cheek, brushing her finely tapered fingers against my hair and skin. I close my eyes and briefly lean in to the touch, inhaling again her sweet fragrance. I am shocked to realize how quickly and easily she has slipped under my, if I do say so myself, quite formidable defenses. Years of harsh treatment created those barriers, and it is a little dismaying that one simple act breached them so completely. A hug.

Reluctantly, I draw my hands from her face, instead capturing her attention by placing a palm over hers, trapping her touch to my cheek. For a moment, I rub my skin against hers, and, before I am aware of what I am doing, turn into her hand to place a light kiss in the center of her palm. I feel an electric jolt travel from where my lips caress her skin to the pit of my stomach. Her eyes widen in shocked surprise, and I snap back to myself, worried I have gone too far. I don't think I would be able to explain the reasons for my actions if she should question me.

I apprehensively await her reaction, and sigh in relief when she smiles brilliantly at me. My heartbeat triples in pace, and my breath hitches. 'Now would be a very bad time for an asthma attack.' I think, licking my lips and trying desperately to slow my racing pulse.

Tasting blood on my tongue, I am immediately sidetracked when I realize the coppery taste came from my kiss to her injured hand.

'Way to go, Romeo,' taunts a cynical voice, 'Ignoring the lady's injuries is a sure way to win her heart.'

'Oh, be quiet.'

But, I immediately take her hand, pulling her up with me as I stand. She still has one small hand resting on my shoulder, helping to keep her balance as she sways uncertainly before me. The top of her head reaches my chin, and I think of how delicious it would feel to pull her against me and tuck her head beneath mine. Although the temptation to do so right then is strong, I restrain myself in favor of getting her back to my room. The light is much better there. I need to get a good look at her palm, just to make certain all the splinters are out and that no other injuries are overlooked.

'Like that's the only thing you want to get a good look at...'

I'm really getting tired of that snide little voice. Especially since it has a strong undercurrent of the truth to it.

Chuckling ruefully, I shake my head a little to clear it and gaze down into her puzzled face.

"Come on," I say by way of explanation, "I'll take you back to my room." The phrase slips carelessly past my lips, and I watch her eyes widen slightly in reaction to the implied double meaning. Surprise, humor, and something else I'm afraid to name flash in her eyes in quick succession. I feel an answering jolt of--no, I will not name it, but it's unmistakably there--sear along my nerves, from the point out hands touch to the base of my spine.

'If I don't tamp these feelings down, quickly, I could end up with a very embarrassing problem.' I think wryly.

"We need to clean out your wound, and the light is better there." I hasten to clarify my previous statement, "And we can be more comfortable there, too. Get to know each other better."

I grimace immediately after this. It appears my mouth has run off yet again without consulting my brain. Most unlike me, and yet another embarrassingly telling phrase. Freud would love it.

She merely squeezes my hand before stepping away from me slightly. My body protests even this slight separation, and I step toward to her to regain our closeness. The softness of her silk-clad chest brushes my bare skin, and fire sweeps through me. In my scramble to reach her after Akito's hit, my yukata had pulled open almost to my waist. I suck in a quick breath, which brings us into even tighter contact, so I step quickly back, struggling to control the strange fire burning in my veins.

"This way," I croak in a strangled voice. I swear I hear her stifle a chuckle. I don't know whether to be annoyed or amused at her obvious enjoyment of my discomfort. Either way, I'm embarrassed that my discomfort is so obvious. It's slightly irritating, and I'm tempted to do something about it.

Abruptly, I stop, swinging her around by our still-attached hands, and, sliding my grip to her by her upper arms, pull her flush against my body. Looking down into her wide, surprised eyes, a flash of pure animalistic triumph courses through me, as I recognize surprised desire in her expressive face.

"So," I growl in mock anger (I didn't know I could growl at anyone but that stupid cat), "you think this is funny?" Amusement tugs her lips upward, and I am immediately spellbound by the heated ideas those full lips send rocketing around in my head.

Her lips drop back into a straight line again as I stare, entranced. I am desperately fighting the urge to bend my head to hers and discover if she tastes as sweet as my suddenly vivid imagination suggests. I feel my fingers shaking with the effort I am exerting in not burying them in her thick, rich hair, not tugging her mouth to mine, not bestowing desperate and thoroughly inappropriate kisses on her waiting eyelids, cheeks, jaw, neck...

With phenomenal effort, I drag my wild thoughts back from the brink, fuzzily realizing how close I am to attacking her like an animal. Carefully, I rest my forehead against hers, feeling her smooth skin against mine. I concentrate on dragging cool air in and out of my overheated body in an effort to further bank the fires of passion she has unwittingly stoked in me.

In, out. In, out. I finally feel that I can open my eyes and look at her without doing something...frighteningly out of character. However, as soon as mt gaze focuses on hers, I am catapulted back into the battle for supremacy over my unruly emotions, for I see my desires reflected back at me, mirrored in her dark eyes.

Gritting my teeth, I manage to hold on to a thin thread of control. Just as I am congratulating myself on my hard-won, if painful, restraint, the tip of her small, pink tongue flicks out to brush over her bottom lip.

The battle is lost.