The Return

The Return

Chapter 4

Showdown

It had been such a long time. Night after night Reigne dreamed of this, this here, not the before with the arguing and madness that always seem to be the first thing that happened when they would meet. She loved him. She hated him. She loved him. Yeah. It was a love hate relationship. She would never admit to him though, the first always outranked the last in her heart. He was her first in everything. Her first smile, blush, laugh. She couldn't remember a time when anyone else mattered to her in her heart. Sure, there had been others. Over the centuries, just like this last, they parted. Him to his duties and her to her life. It was always a fight before he left, and a make up when he came back to her. It was intermittent calls, a card every once in a while, or a news paper clipping that seemed to come her way of him and another.

It was never easy, but she understood. She knew it was never easy for him either. Ross Point had become his home, and anything else was just home away from home. Even with her. She didn't want to think about that right now. It was her that he came back to, her that his arms were around right now. It was her hair he pulled back, her neck he was kissing. Her.

His lips burned hot on her cold skin, penetrating downward to her heart. She felt it begin to beat again, slowly at first, gaining momentum as her moans escaped her lips. If there was any hurt, it had been washed away by his tears. If there had been any doubt, it had been replaced by his hands on her body, moving slowly at first, deliberate over her clothing before pulling up her shirt from her jeans. He stopped, gathering himself, staring into those deep azure pools of emptiness. "Shall we retire to the upstairs?"

She stared at him, caught off guard by quickness of how everything escalated, the emotions that poured out without thought. She cleared her throat, dryness had suddenly set in on her. "Yes, if you're up to beating me to the top." She took off like the flash of lightening outside. He let her. Grinning, he knew that maybe all was forgiven, if not forgotten for just a little while longer. Her pace was a quick one, and he walked, just like in those slasher movies where everyone runs for their lives and the hockey masked killer seems to be on a jaunty stroll with his machete.

He took the stairs two at a time, hearing her footsteps on the cold marble while his were deliberate and thought out. One, two, one, two one foot in front of the other slowly so as not to catch up with her. This was her game. Always throwing down, and running away. Oh, she let him win every once in a while, but it was the thrill of the chase for him. The anticipation of what was to come and how it was to be. Nothing was ever the same with her when they were together. Sure, some things stay the same, but it was as if he filled her heart, and she his soul.

He heard a melody playing from her rooms. It was one of his favorites, of course.

The world turns and my heart mourns

for the touch of your gentleness

A long time comin'

The tears they keep brimmin'

My thoughts keep falling back to you

It was her way of chastising him without chastising him. She was letting him know she wasn't going to let him get by with this transgression. He grinned. All in all? It was going to be fun to make up to her.

He opened the bedroom door, to see her at her grandmothers' piano. Her skin shown in the amber light that filled the space from candles on the tables spread around the room. They flickered, dancing; a ballet of shadows caught in a musical realm of their own. He observed her, eyes closed, swaying on the walnut bench. She was lost between worlds, the one in her mind and the one he was in. He took off his socks the boots still lying in a heap in the library. He placed them near her closet in an empty basket. That probably wasn't what it was used for, but at least he would be able to find them when needed.

She still hadn't heard him, a lone figure captivated by her performance. She shifted gears with her melody, crashing into Mozart and a very biting song from Ronnie Spur

Baby it will be over soon

these feelings I have for you

Baby this time around

I'll find the voice I haven't found

Maybe my heart won't break

Atleast this time, not for your sake

For your sake

Shane sighed. Maybe it wasn't going to be easy this time. It's not like he wanted to go. It was his duty. His birthright. It wasn't like he could say no, he had other things to do. Maybe he did stay a little longer than expected this time, but his thoughts were always on Reigne. If only she knew the nights he laid in bed with mind on her and his hand somewhere else.

He walked over behind her, putting his hands lightly on her shoulders. She stopped in mid stride. "So. How is Morgana? Still the sweet little witch we all know and love?"

There. There it was. It was out. Made public by her sentence. No longer hidden in the recesses of her thoughts any longer. She didn't pussy foot around with things. She ripped the band-aid off like the professional she was.

She didn't shrug his hands off, and he took that as a sign. Maybe she was willing to talk things out before going ballistic and throwing him off the second floor balcony. He remembered with a grimace, the last time. That shit hurts, he thought, reminding himself to stay away from the french doors to the outside as well.

He removed his hands gingerly from her, stepping back. She had a mean left hook if she decided to use it.

"Morgana sends her love."

" And also her right hand man?"

He sighed again. No. This was NOT going to be like the other times. He was going to have to work harder on this. He would and she would forgive him.

Morgana. The Black Witch of the Hell Vales. Sorceress of the Shadow Forest. Queen of the Underealm. His employer. His master in many ways. Indentured servitude had gone away with the olden times, unless you were bonded for life. He was. She called and he answered. She commanded and he performed. She snapped the whip like a ringmaster, and he obediently would kneel to beg. Reigne could never understand his loyalty to Morgana. Hell. At times he was hard pressed to understand himself. Morgana. Reigne. Two women in his life that were the sun and moon to him. Dark and day, but depending on either of their moods, it was a toss up as to what he got at which times.

He walked over to the chaise and reclined himself, hands folded on his chest.

"You never answered my question. How is Morgana?"

He slid his eyes to the piano, where she nimbly touched the keys: the tinkling sound rising in the air and dissipating like a vapor. She was like a viper. Stealthy, calculating. Waiting to strike at the right moment.

"She misses you. She spoke of you often, love. She has regrets of how things were and still are. I don't know what else to say." This was all true of course, but Shane left out a huge amount that didn't need to be said.

She turned fully around, her back to the piano now. Her hands were on her legs, palms down, a sign of dominance. Her back was as straight as a die, her eyes fixed upon him. She rose, and he swallowed hard. She was unpredictable when she was in a mood such as this. She walked slowly toward him, a wild cat ready to pounce on her prey. She sat down at the chaise, her legs under her body, still with that stare in her eyes. Shane didn't dare move. This was the standoff. The contest of wills. He waited.

She ran her hand through his long hair, still damp from the rains. He wouldn't look at her. Hm, she thought. He was waiting to see if she was going to fly off the deep end like the last time. Well now, we aren't on the balcony, but it's only 15 feet away...

Her hand traveled down his arms toward his chest where he had crossed them. She commenced to his face, taking both hands now and closing her eyes, tracing each nuance of it. She did this to imprint him upon her mind. Her hands covered him, his eyes, now closed because of her hands, his nose, the highness of his cheeks and the fullness of his beard. She wanted to remember every detail of his handsomeness. Her heart was stone at this point, but it began to crack. Even marble will fall when the earth quakes she thought.

She leaned over and kissed him, taking him by surprise. His arms immediately wrapped around her body, pulling her on top of him. She kissed him deep, the sweetness of her tongue enveloped him. Her perfume, subtle as it was overwhelmed his senses. A witch she was, knowing exactly how to cast a spell upon him. It didn't take much, he knew deep down. Just a glimpse of her thigh, the twinkle of mischievousness in her eyes. The way she bit her lip when she was in thought drove a knife through his heart. It was the yin and yang with her, the dark and light. She could be as bright as a supernova, or as dark as a black hole.

He was falling, ever fast into her darkness. It washed over him, that long familiar feeling of love and being loved.