"The Dark Stranger"
© VeGirl 2014

Vincent holds his hand out and with a sigh I reluctantly drop the car keys in it. "Thank you darling," he says sweet and hold the door open for me.

"You don't have to keep calling me darling, nobody's listening now," I mutter silently before sitting down in the passenger-seat. I feel grumpy and wonder why with this vibrant man in company.

Vincent walks around the car and takes the seat by the wheel, which is my seat in my car. "I will call you darling as much as I like." He gives me a crooked grin and wiggles his eyebrows. "You're my wife."

I have no comment to this prepostous comment, but feel very curious of him and I have to know more. "You're not from Phoenix are you?"

He laughs. "No I'm not, but neither are you."

"Yes I am. My parents live there still."

He takes a deep breath. "They're just your parents here."

"Come again?"

"They're just a part of the illusion."

"The illusion of what?"

"That you're just an ordinary girl, but there is nothing ordinary about you, princess."

I exhale something between a snort and laughter, but can't suppress the smile that crack's my face up. "So can you tell me some more of the non-official version of our marriage?" I beg. "I'm sure it didn't happen in Vegas."

"Vegas aren't that old."

"That's my point!"

He smiles towards me and then he takes a deep breath and start the story. "You came here before me, and I was..." He stops his storytelling. "I was sent to bring you back."

"Stop, stop; came to what?"

"To this realm."

"Realm? What is this; Harry Potter?" I yelp. By now the hysteria has taken over again and I start to laugh out loud.

He gives me a sharp look. "You're talking about enchanted realms, imaginary; that is not what I am referring to." He has his usual superior stance and that high and mighty tone of voice and I am feeling really annoyed by now.

"How would I know what you're talking about, you are always like some freaking enigma," I snap. "You're walking around here like you own me or something! You said you were sent to bring me back; back to what?"

He takes a deep breath. "It is not safe to say yet."

I nod with my lips pursed. "Safe? Safe; what is going on?" I start to feel really irritated by now.

He looks at me once again as if to evaluate how much is safe to reveal and then he takes a deep breath. "There are still people out there that don't want to see you and me together?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Because you're a nutcase?" I tease him in a way I just don't seem to help myself from. After having snickered in his glaring face for a moment, something vital hits me. "Wait a minute, is it me or you they're after?"

He doesn't answer but focus on the driving and by now were riding along our street until we come home and he turns onto my driveway. He cuts the engine off and takes another deep breath to start telling, but I beat him to it. "It is you that is putting me in danger, isn't it?"

He turn to give me another of those pained looks. "You and I together hoard too much power, which is why they want to break us off." He gets out and open the door for me to do the same. "But right now, you might be right," he admits. I keep observing him as I take a few steps out of the car, and we end up standing in the middle of the road, with our gazes locked.

"I'm doing my best to keep you safe, but here are complications."

"Which I am sure you can't talk about," I say sourly, rolling my eyes. I am getting tired of how my emotions are going back and forth between pure desire and a need to call him an idiot.

I sigh and so does he.

"I understand that you are getting tired of not knowing the whole picture, but I promise to tell you as soon as I can," he assures me and without being really aware of how, we end up on his porch.

Suddenly he is whipping his head around with a bewildered look. "Get inside," he hisses. "Damian's coming back." He opens the door to his house and practically pushes me inside.

I have to take a few double steps to keep myself from falling on my face and I stumble forward into his home. With a pounding heart I do my best to listen for any trace of conversation going on outside the house, but it is impossible. My eyes seem to adapt fast to the dimmed light inside and I'm able to look around. To my left is the doorway to the kitchen and I pad silently in there to peek through the window discreetly. Carefully I step away from the kitchen after having spotted that slick black car out front.

Towards the back I find a lounge and silently walk in there, curious of this home. To my astonishment, his house is neat and carefully renovated inside, showing nothing of the rugged outside. The furniture that I saw when they were carried inside has an old renaissance design and it feels strangely like home. How can that be?

Carefully I walk closer to a beautiful old glass cabinet filled with ancient china and memorabilia. A cold chill runs through me and I gasp as I find old black and white photos of Vincent and a dark-haired curly me.

My head is starting to spin faster and faster and I slump down in a chair by the table, forcing my head down between my legs to keep me from fainting.

I jump as I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Vincent asks softly and I look up wildly from under my furrowed brows at him towering over me. I haven't noticed him entering the house.

"Who are you?"

He smiles that crooked smile that has become so important to me during these last weeks. "I'm just the guy next door."

I press my eyebrows together and look at him and around in this room. There is something vaguely familiar with the things here, but I have never been here. On shaky legs I walk up to the glass cabinet again to look at the pictures. Another familiar face catches my eyes. "Esmeralda..."

"You've met Esme?"

I turn to look at his surprised face. "She was the one warning me about some dark stranger." I purse my lips. "I presume that's you?"

Vincent laughs. "That sounds like Esme."

I can't wait to hear more about this secret life and all these people that claim to know me, but some recent events spring to mind. "Who is the guy with the weird car?"

"The Rolls Royce is weird? That is like... supercool," he objects with a humorous face.

"Focus please; this is hard enough for me to comprehend as it is."

He nods. "He is not one of those who are after us. But that doesn't mean he is a cuddly bear." Vincent is very clear about that, but after that stern look, he looks apologetic. "When you look like this..." He gestures toward his black, tough guy exterior. "...you are bound to attract certain people."

I give him an annoyed look and motion with my hand for him to continue.

"He is the kind of supernatural creature you mistook me for; a vampire."

I gasp. "Vampires are real?" I think my heart stops altogether.

He puts his arms around me and secure me there. "So I want you to be very careful in his presence, because you smell delicious." He buries his face in the crook of my neck and smells me.

I widen my eyes and he just snickers. It tickles insanely which makes me sqirm in his grip, smack him on the arm and push him away. "Jerk!" I glare at his humorous face.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Vincent," he teases, making me smile again.

I just shake my head. "So have you any idea why I am turning into the spitting image of the girl in the picture?" I ask while grabbing a hand in my hair.

"That's just because we're getting back together," he informs and I can't help but to like that idea; him and me together. Just the thought of it makes my whole body tingle again.

"I need to know more about you...and me, apparently..."

Vincent laughs. "Yes, I think we should go on a date." He smiles confident. "We've been married for so long I think it is time; if you'd like that?"

"Yes, I would."

* * *

Just as he promised, he picks me up by my door that Friday, offers me his arm and we stroll over to his house. A part of me wants to roll my eyes, but the other part is flattered and charmed by this old-fashioned treatment.

He holds the door up for me. "Welcome to my home." He says solemnly with a welcoming gesture. This time it feels very ceremoniously and different to walk into his home. The hallway is dimly lit and he guides me into the kitchen close by. A white linencloth cover the table and it is voluptuously set with fine china and crystal glasses. A candelabrum is burning in the middle of the table and I feel overwhelmed. He pulls a chair out for me to sit on and I do as he asks.

"Wow." I say impressed as he puts an entree dish in front of us and sit down. "What happened to the bad boy that lived here last week?"

He smiles that crooked smile at me. "Oh, he is in here, believe me," he assures in his dark voice, making my stomach tighten and my breathing pick up.

His eyes twinkle darkly and my pulse quickens as usually. "Good," is all I say, but that small word makes him lift his eyebrows in a questioning manner. "This looks fabulous," I say to distract us both. "Who cooked for you?"

"Don't you think I can cook? I am over five hundred years old."

I lift my eyebrows and look surprised at him. "Don't you think you're a little too old for me?" I challenge, making him watch me though half closed eyes.

"You're feisty," he says appreciative with a wicked grin. "More feisty than I remember."

"Well, two hundred years and a broken marriage can do that."

"We don't have a broken marriage." Vin' has his sincere look on. "It's a very happy marriage."

I can feel my stomach flutter at that statement. "So you say..."

After fantastic pilgrim-shrimps in lime sauce for entry, Vincent puts a plate with steak and pomme Anna, he explains in front of me. It is a beautiful presentation with asparagus, arugula and almonds on the side and I can feel my mouth water.

"Wow, this is amazing!" I breathe.

Vincent smiles. "I'm glad you approve."

"Did you really cook this yourself?" I ask suspiciously and his smile turns into a frown.

"Your lack of confidence in me is... insulting."

I start to laugh. "I am sorry; I'm not used to a guy who cooks something like this." I look down on the exquisite dish in front of me. "It's amazing!"

He assesses me with a glib smile. "Good."

The older-danger-guy appearance is totally gone and in its place there is a relaxed, playful, humoristic guy that likes to tease and has a laughter that is sparkling and that I could listen to for the rest of my life.

We're laughing together as we help put the dishes away, fooling around. He takes a chocolate-dipped strawberry, dips it in the whipped cream and puts it in my mouth. A little cream is spilled on my chin; I snicker as I inoperatively try to reach it with my tongue, but can't. I take up my finger to wipe it away, but Vincent bends forward and remove it gently with his mouth. My body is a blazing pit of fire at once and the playful air between us is gone.

My eyes meet his silvery blue eyes and I notice them darken like I have seen before. I can feel desire building up in me and I want him to kiss me senseless. When his eyes flicker to my lips I can't resist anymore, but crash my lips against his with a hunger I haven't felt before. I snake my arms around his back, press him hard against me and feel him do the same with me.

Our tongues dance sensually tight together.

Suddenly there are strange words swirling in my mind, words I can't understand at first, but eventually makes sense, like a camera zooming in. He is talking about how much he has missed me in an unknown language.

Breathless I break off the kiss and stare wide-eyed at him. "How do you do that?"

He looks at me as if he has no idea what I'm talking about.

"How can you speak in my mind?"

He smiles. "You do that to me as well."

"I do?"

"Yes, we're just using our connection," he explains. "You did it the day when you were almost attacks in that alley. That's how I found you. You were yelling really loud."

I have a hard time believing him. "But I don't know how to do that."

"You're a purebred, it's easy."

"What?"

"You speak to me most nights, when you're not concentrating." He says with a smile and I gape in astonishment.

I can do that?

"What about this language?"

"You understood me?"

"Yes, how could I do that?"

A smile is spreading brightening up his features. "That is an old language, so you can't claim that I'm that much older than you now," he tease me. "It's Enochian."

"Enochian? Where do they speak that?"

"At home."

* * * * *

Please let me know what you think of this. Will he tell her? How long can he keep her in the dark?

Yours truly! VG

.