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Lucy was standing in the living room of Portland Row, admiring the way the dust motes danced like fireflies in the golden light of early morning. The couches were pushed back against the walls, leaving her a wide open space in the centre of the room. It was going to be a beautiful day and Lucy had worn her favourite dress, blue with white flowers and a skirt that clung to her thighs as she walked.
“Good morning. Don’t you look lovely today.”
Lucy spun at the sound of the familiar, velvet baritone. Lockwood was leaning against the doorway to the library. He was wearing his dark suit, the first one she’d ever seen him in. He looked so handsome, his hair sweeping rakishly over his dark eyes. A soft smile curved his lips as he looked at her.
“Lockwood,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush with a tingle of warmth.
“You were expecting someone else?” he asked with a grin.
“No, of course not,” she laughed.
Lockwood reached behind him and flicked on the old record player. The strains of one of her favourite songs shimmered in the air. Lockwood held his hand out, his eyes glittering down at her.
“May I have this dance?”
Lucy smiled and went to him. His hand was warm, his long fingers strong and reassuring. He wrapped his other arm around her, capturing her against him as they moved to the music. He twirled her around the living room. He swayed her into a dip, surprising her, and she threw her head back and laughed. When had she ever felt so safe and so free as she did with him?
He brought her back upright, pulling her firmly against him. She could feel his warmth, even through his suit.
“I really have never seen anything more beautiful,” Lockwood said softly in her ear.
She looked up into his handsome face and felt her heart squeeze in her chest. The way he was looking at her, a mixture of awe and possessiveness sent a wave of heat coursing through her. He licked his lips, the soft pink of his tongue flickering back behind his shell white teeth as he smiled.
Lucy wanted to kiss him. She wanted to taste his mouth, to feel his lips pressed against hers. She wanted him more than she could ever say.
As though he could read her thoughts, Lockwood leaned his head toward her, the tip of his nose brushing her cheek, his breath mingling with hers. Lucy closed her eyes as their lips touched, sending electric shocks right down to her fingertips. He licked against her lips and she opened for him, letting his tongue dance with hers. He moaned into her mouth and she felt her insides melt with how much he wanted her.
His hands were suddenly everywhere, caressing her back, her hips, her waist. She pressed into him, feeling the muscles of his chest under her hands, kissing him with a desperation she hadn’t known she possessed.
“I need you,” she cried out.
“I know,” he said, kissing along her jaw to nibble at her ear. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll take care of you.”
Then he was unbuttoning her dress and she was unbuttoning his shirt and the room spun around them, time fuzzing into meaninglessness. Their clothes were crumpled on the floor, the blazing light of the setting sun slipping around the edges of the curtains.
She tangled her hands in the softness of his hair, pulling his mouth against hers greedily. He kissed her fiercely, his teeth cutting into her lip.
“Ouch!” she yelled.
“Say you’re mine,” he hissed, his hands encircling her wrists, holding her arms behind her back.
“I’m yours,” she whispered.
“Say it!” he growled. His eyes were glittering strangely as they bored into hers.
“Yours!” she cried.
“Then why did I see you with him?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
What?
“Did you think I wouldn’t see you through the window?” he said, his voice rising.
Who? Kipps?
“After everything I’ve lost, I can’t lose you, I won’t!”
But they’d talked about this, hadn't they? Why didn’t he believe her?
His hands squeezed her wrists painfully and she shouted wordlessly. He reached up and pulled on the silver necklace around her throat, the chain cutting into her skin.
“I gave you this, does it mean nothing to you?” he snarled.
Lucy tried to shake her head. This wasn’t right.
“No, please!” she shouted. “You’re hurting me!”
“Lucy!” Lockwood shouted, his voice ringing in her ears.
His hand wrapped around her throat and her vision darkened. She could see the single lit lamp in the corner, the glimmering street lights through the wine dark window.
“Stop,” she gasped, clutching at his hands. “Stop, I can’t breathe!”
“Luce, please wake up!”
Her vision went completely black as tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. She had never expected to die like this.
“LUCY!”
She sat up with a gasp, her head striking something hard.
“Ouch, fuck!”
Lucy rubbed at her forehead with a shaking hand, her vision slowly clearing. Lockwood was sitting on her bed in the dim light of the attic, dressed only in a white shirt and sweats. He was rubbing at his chin, a pained expression on his face.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“Nevermind,” Lockwood said, shaking his head. “Are you alright? You were shouting in your sleep.”
Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel a sob building in her chest, a stinging in her eyes. She ducked her head, unable to look at him.
“Lucy?” Lockwood asked softly, trying to catch her eyes.
“It was just an echo,” she whispered.
“An echo?”
“Of Annabel Ward.”
“Lucy, that was ages ago!”
“I know,” she said with a soft hiccup. “But it’s still in there.”
“I see,” he said.
They sat there for a long minute, Lucy trying not to cry, Lockwood staring down at his hands.
Lucy tried to tell herself that it was all Annabel Ward. That her brain had simply overlaid Lockwood onto the foreign memories because he’d been there when she connected with them. But the fluttering in her stomach as she stole a quick glance up at Lockwood threatened to give lie to the story she told herself. Yes, it had turned nasty at the end and that was certainly Annabel’s doing. But the rest…
Finally, Lockwood gave a kind of frustrated sigh. Lucy thought he would bid her good night so that she could cry in peace, but he surprised her.
“Isn’t there anything I can do?” he asked.
Lucy started to shake her head, but there was a hopelessness in his voice that caught at her heart. She looked up into his eyes and saw there not the handsome, confident man from her dreams, but the lonely, vulnerable boy that he so rarely showed to anyone. Before that vulnerability her defences crumbled.
She launched herself into his arms, sobbing, and surprising them both. Luckily, Lockwood’s reflexes were excellent and he managed to catch her. He pulled her to his chest, holding her in his long arms. It wasn’t the perfect, warm embrace of the dream. Their limbs were awkward and her tears were making a mess of his shirt. But none of that mattered because this was real.
“Lockwood,” she sobbed.
“It’s alright,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
She buried her nose in his shoulder and tried to stop the tears, but the harder she tried the more forcefully they fell. Finally she gave up and just let them fall. Lockwood stroked her back, and made shushing sounds until they subsided.
“Need anything?” he asked gently.
“I need a tissue,” she said in a small voice.
“Oh? I thought that’s what my shirt was for.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“Sorry,” she said, sitting up.
“Don’t be,” he said, popping up to find her a tissue.
She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then excused herself to the bathroom to splash her face with water. Her eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, but she thought Lockwood probably wouldn’t notice in the dim light. He wasn’t exactly a shining Adonis himself at the moment, she thought as she caught sight of him still sitting on the edge of her bed. His hair was rumpled and his shirt covered in wet splotches. But for all that, there was still nothing in the world she wanted more than to be near him.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked. “I could make you a cup of tea.”
“No, it’s late, it’s… what time is it?” she asked.
“Late,” he said. “Or possibly early.”
“Right, well, in any case I think I just need to sleep.”
“Of course,” he said, leaping up from the bed as though it had burned him. “Well I’ll say goodnight then and let you...”
“Lockwood?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you stay?”
“Oh, um, sure,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “But I thought you wanted to sleep.”
“I do,” said Lucy. “But will you stay?”
“Oh,” he said, his eyes flicking to the bed. “Sure if that’s… what you want.”
Lucy nodded firmly. She crawled into the bed and pulled the blankets up as Lockwood went around the other side, but then he hesitated.
“Luce, my shirt is pretty wet. Not that I blame you, of course, but it is entirely your fault.” He smiled at her, using his charm to cover his nerves, she thought. “Do you mind if I go change real quick?”
“You usually sleep without a shirt, don’t you?” Lucy asked.
“That’s true,” he said slowly.
“Up to you,” Lucy said, shrugging. Then she laid down, pretending not to watch him through her slitted eyelids.
He stood there for a long moment, then finally stripped his shirt off and climbed into the bed next to her. She could feel him over there, the dip in the mattress, the ebb and flow of his breathing. It was nice, but Lucy wanted more. She scooched closer to him until her nose was pressed against his shoulder. She wondered if the sharp afterimages of Annabel Ward’s emotions were making her bolder.
After a moment, Lockwood lifted his arm. She snuggled into his chest and breathed in the scent of him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He seemed stiff at first, his muscles tense, but with every breath she could feel the tension leaving him and as he relaxed, so did she. The tightness ebbed from her neck and back, the anxiety calmed in her nerves.
“Good night, Luce,” he murmured.
“Good night.”
—
Lucy rolled over in the early morning light and her hand smacked against something hard.
“Ouch!”
Lucy lifted her head and peered blearily through her sleep-tangled hair at Lockwood who was rubbing his nose with an annoyed expression on his face.
“I never would have guessed that sleeping with you would be so dangerous,” he said.
He turned to look at her and the reality of the situation suddenly caught up with them. Lockwood was lying in her bed, shirtless, his face inches from hers. At the moment, that face looked like it had been poleaxed. Judging by the way her heart was suddenly beating like a bass drum in her chest and the chill tingling down her neck, Lucy expected she didn’t look any more composed.
“Well,” Lockwood said, clearing his throat and smiling, even as a pink tinge crept up his cheeks. “This is… um… I’d better…”
She could see him coiling, ready to spring away. Lucy’s hand snapped out so fast she wasn’t even aware of moving it until it landed on his chest. The warm weight of her palm stopped him instantly. She could feel his heartbeat reverberating up her arm, a sharp counterpoint to her own.
He cleared his throat again, his eyes as wide and terrified as a baby deer. “Alright, Luce?”
“I…” she began. How did she tell him the thing they’d been dancing around for so long? She was tired of making do with dreams. Last night was enough to show just how capricious and insubstantial dreams could be. How did she make it real?
“Lockwood,” she whispered. “I need you.”
She watched his eyes, trying to catch a hint as to what he would decide, but they flashed through so many emotions it was impossible for her to keep up. She was bracing for rejection, for him to run away, as he so often did.
But then he reached up and pushed her hair back from her face, cupping the back of her head. His eyes flicked nervously down to her lips and her breath caught in her throat. Shit, this was real. This was real!
Then they were kissing and for an instant nothing else mattered. But her palm started to sweat and it slipped across his chest, causing Lucy to lose her balance. She splayed awkwardly across Lockwood’s chest, their mouths mashing uncomfortably against one another.
Lucy squealed in surprise, scrambling to regain her footing… well, no, not footing, she wasn’t standing. She found purchase with her hands and pushed herself off of him, their mouths separating with a wet smack.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said hurriedly.
But Lockwood just laughed. She glared at him, which only made him laugh harder.
“What?” she asked, annoyed.
“Nothing, nothing,” he said, shaking his head.
She smacked his chest with the flat of her hand. He curled up, still giggling like a maniac.
“Feisty!” he gasped.
“Tell me what’s so funny or I’ll show you how feisty I can be,” she threatened.
“No it’s just…” he took a deep breath and looked at her. Her annoyance drained away in the face of his dancing eyes and perfect cheekbones. “It’s just, this isn’t how I ever imagined it,” he said.
“No,” she said, blushing slightly. “Me neither.”
“I think it might be better,” he said, and his smile was warm and genuine. Lucy couldn’t help smiling back.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think it might.”
Then she kissed him again.
They managed not to have any major mishaps, this time.