“Do you think I do not see you there in the shadows, voleur? I am afraid of you no more. Come rob the femme infirme! Take my wallet, écume! Is that what you want? Come rape the woman in the chair. Vermine. Take what you will, I can no longer suffer you following me! DO IT, DO IT AND END THIS GAME!!!”
”I play no game Mademoiselle,” an answer came from the figure in the shadows. “Had I intended to remain hidden from your eye, I assure you, it would be done”
”How did you enter my home?” she asked, gripping the hard rubber wheels of her chair.
”I can do many things, mon ami. Things you dream to do from the prison of your chair”
”You mock my maladie? You? A thief who slinks through the shadows and stalks the infirme? Take from me what you will and leave me in peace!”
”Mademoiselle, I desire neither your purse nor your body” the man in the shadows said.
”You are to kill me then?” she wispered.
A long sigh drifted from the shadows and then he stepped forward into the dim light of the apartment. Impeccibly dressed in an expensive black suit with a crisp white shirt beneath. His collar length black hair slicked back away from his face. He raised his eyes to meet hers. Eyes of crystal blue. Eyes of ice.
“Non ma femme, I am not here to take your life. I am here to give you life,” his words thick and smooth, wrapped themselves around her like a blanket.
“I am not your woman…” she said weakly.
“Cela est vrai, you are not. And yet even now, though you know me not, I sense a certain longing within you. A longing that has called to me for many days. The same longing I have the power to fulfill for you.”
“How long have you been following me”
“Following sounds so déplaisant. Non, I observed you. I witnessed the pain this life has given you being bound to this chair,” he indicated her wheelchair with the flick of his long elegant fingers. “I have seen the lutte that is your life”. His eyes never left hers as he moved from the corner of the room to stand before her. Slowly he lowered himself until they were face to face. “I have felt you struggle to be seen for more than these jambes inutiles”.
At the mention of her legs, he laid his hands upon them. The useless appendages that had lain limp against the footrest of her metal prison her entire life. But as his hands smoothed along the long numb flesh, her skin began to tingle beneath his caress.
“Oui, I have observed you for many days, mon amour, but your heat called to me many years ago. I had but to find you.” he said softly. “Forgive me for causing you wait so long.”
She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no sound escaped her lips. Crisp blue eyes held her silent.
“Your heart cries out for love. Your legs long to dance. Your body longs to feel passion. And I, mon coeur, I can give you these things.” As his hands continued on down her legs to her feet, they left a tingling path of ice behind them. Cold needles, the awakening of long dead nerves. Her skin prickled and began to throb. But when he suddenly removed his hands and stood, death returned to her legs like the slow ooze of syrup.
“What are you?” her voice trembled and she gripped the hand rests of her chair until her knuckles turned white.
“I am what you wish me to be, ma chère. I am everything and nothing. I am the darkness and the light. Life and death. And I have been waiting for you for so…so very long.”
“Me?”
“Oui, vous.” At this, he slid his strong hand between her back and the chair; another beneath her worthless legs. He lifted and carried her across the room with little effort. When he gently lowered her to the divan, he followed until his hard body hovered over her. A feeling of total peace crept over her. Her body hummed and grew restless. She breathed in his breath. Crystal blue eyes and gleaming white teeth swam before her.
“Will I be dead?” she asked dreamily.
“Gone from this life of pain and sorrow. Dead to the longing that tortures your heart and soul. No longer to dream of being free. Oui. Cette mort est la liberté. Cette mort est de vivre. Be with me, my love. For I suffer the same pain, the same longing, the same unquenchable desire for love.”
His warm tongue gently slid across her throat and her pulse raced in answer.
“You have but to ask, mon bijou. Ask me to take you with me…” Sharp teeth nipped the sensitive skin of her throat. A bolt of energy shot from her neck to the bottom of her feet. Her limbs tingled and pulsed in time with his breath. Warmth pooled between her legs.
“Dance with me, mon rêve. Ask me.” His hunger barely leashed.
“Oui…” she finally whispered. “Oui, take me. Prends-moi avec vous…..please….” she cried. Her body arched into him.
She heard him release a breath and felt his lips lift into a smile.
Then the sudden sharp pierce of teeth.
