Date: 97-02-17 12:02:55 EST
OK, gang, here's some more stormy weather! Comments/criticisms always welcome. N&N Packers beware! Standard disclaimers apply - Nick and company are not mine, I'm only playing with them for a while. Morgaine, however, is my creation, so ask before you use her.
Storm Surge - 1/1
Amber Murray 1997
Morgaine stepped into the shower spray, letting the steaming water sluice down her body. The blood sweat that had dried on her skin mingled with the flow to swirl down the drain in eddies of pink. The bloody streaks left on her thighs by Nick's passion didn't come away so easily, and she picked up the soap, rubbing it to a lather between her palms. The slick movement of her hands over her slippery skin made her think of hours past, and she smiled.
She hadn't been wrong about Nick; he was everything she had expected, and more. Intelligent, sensitive, strong, sexy - goddess, he was sexy! And his blood . . . that was another level entirely. All he had seen, and felt, and been, all of it was there, the very essence of who and what he was. Intoxicating wasn't even the word.
Morgaine reached for the shampoo, wrinkling her nose at the brand. She would have to do something about that if she was going to spend much time here. And she did want to spend time here . . .
<I really think I could spend the rest of eternity with him, > she mused.
Shower finished, Morgaine cut off the water and stepped out. She reached for a towel, winding it around her hair before taking another to wrap her body. Barefoot, she opened the door, watching billows of steam escape before her into the bedroom. The first twinges of the Hunger tingled at the edges of her mind. It could wait, though, until she had combed out her hair. It wouldn't do to have it dry in a snarl.
Music floated upwards as she teased the comb through her hair. Bach, she thought. Nicholas played with such passion, such emotion, as though the keys were mere extensions of his mind. She pulled jeans and a sleeveless, cropped sweater from her bag. Modern clothing lacked the romance of older garments, she thought, but the comfort was hard to beat.
She floated down the stairs, padding barefoot toward the piano. The muscles in Nick's shoulders bunched and flexed under the silk shirt as he coaxed the notes from the keyboard. Two large goblets sat on the piano; one was full to the brim, the other half-empty. Morgaine reached for the full goblet, downing a large gulp. She closed her eyes as the Hunger began to calm.
"I know. I was starving when I woke up," Nick remarked. "I'm on my third glass."
Morgaine raised an eyebrow. "You must have been hungry," she stated. "I take it it's better now?"
Nick ceased his playing and turned, draping his arms over her hips. "Much." He smiled wickedly. "Of course, it wouldn't be so bad if you weren't so greedy . . . "
Morgaine clouted him playfully on the shoulder. "ME!? You're the one who doesn't feed before we make love."
"And who distracts me every time?" Nick asked, licking the skin of her belly where the sweater left it bare.
Morgaine slipped out of his embrace, a droplet of blood sloshing over her glass to land on her hand.
"Oh, no - we're going *out* tonight!" she exclaimed, sucking the blood off of her hand. With a dramatic pout, Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Where to?"
"The Raven," she answered promptly, arms twined gracefully above her head, her hips twisting in a sinuous motion. "I feel like dancing and dinner, and that means our options are limited."
Nick closed his eyes to shut out her movements, willing himself patience. "Keep that up and the only place we're going is back upstairs. Go get your shoes." Morgaine twirled on her toes and took off for her boots. She was back in a flash, almost bouncing in her excitement. Nick wrapped her cloak around her, using the moment to steal a kiss.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered against her lips, and she smiled in pleasure.
"The sun's down - let's go!" she exclaimed as she danced out of his arms and into the lift. Nick followed with a song in his heart.
The music was pounding when they reached the club, and Morgaine's body began to sway with the beat as soon as she walked through the door. Despite her somewhat ordinary clothing, she stood out like a living flame, graceful and bright.
And deadly. She was, after all, still a vampire, capable of crushing strength and killing rage. It was part of her allure, the danger. <Even to me, > Nick thought. <She's stolen my heart in a matter of days - I think I'm defenseless against her.> Following her lithe figure onto the dance floor, moving his body in concert with hers, Nick realized that defending himself was the last thing he wanted to do.
Lacroix watched his son through the glass of the booth, pride welling in his breast. This was the Nicholas he had longed for; powerful, intense, glorying in who and what he was. This young one with him - she was a match as even Janette had not been. He watched as Morgaine's fiery head fell back, Nicholas pressing his lips to the base of her throat. She laughed with delight, lovely in her abandonment.
Natalie had not been good for Nicholas, Lacroix mused. Too much guilt, too much anger - no, they had not been good together at all. The fact that she was mortal was really of little consequence; had the relationship had a prayer of success that would have been a small obstacle indeed. Of course, none of it was an issue at all when it concerned him.
Across at the bar, another pair of eyes watched Nick and Morgaine with interest. Javier Vachon lounged on a barstool, elbows behind him on the bar. Dark eyes followed the sensual twists and turns of the pair, seemingly loathe parting with each other for even a moment.
"Well, well. Will you look at that?" a quiet voice murmured in Vachon's ear. He turned to see Urs perched next to him, pale fingers toying with the stem of her glass. She inclined her head toward the oblivious couple on the dance floor. "If they keep that up, we're really gonna get a show."
Vachon took a quick gulp from his glass. "S'about time, that's all I can say. Who is she? I've seen her around, but I never paid much attention." He sounded surprised at this last, and Urs laughed.
"That's because she didn't want you to pay attention," she purred. "Her name is Morgaine, and she only has eyes for Nick, so don't get any ideas."
"I don't have a death wish," Vachon retorted. "Doesn't look like Nick's open for competition."
Urs laughed again, hopping gracefully from the barstool. She patted Vachon's cheek gently. "It's a big ocean for the likes of us, Javier - and the fish are plentiful." With that, she glided into the darkness.
Vachon followed her bright blonde head for a moment before draining his glass. It was a large ocean indeed, and after watching Nick and Morgaine he found he felt like fishing.
Eyes dancing wickedly, Morgaine pulled Nick from the floor to a booth near the back. A bottle and two glasses waited on the table. With an impish light in her eyes, Morgaine picked up the bottle and ripped the cork out with her teeth. Nick laughed aloud when she spit the cork onto the seat.
"Have you been around me too long already?" he teased as she decanted the thick liquid into the glasses.
"I don't think that's possible, Nicholas," she replied softly, and her eyes were suddenly serious.
A thrill ran down Nick's spine, curling his toes. He took the offered glass, setting it untouched on the table. He cupped Morgaine's face in his hands.
"I'm falling in love with you, Morgaine," he whispered. "If that's not what you want, you'd better leave while I can still let you go."
Morgaine laid her hands atop his, eyes searching all the way to his soul. "I'm not going anywhere, Nick; not without you," she answered, and leaned into his kiss.