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His heart rate may have shot to record heights mere minutes ago, but Cloud had no reason to be anxious about anything inside the Tonberry Suite when he pushed through the door. The insistent thrumming of his nerves had everything to do with something outside the room.
Still, anyone would have found the sight of that pint-sized, deceptively cute creature with a chef’s knife clutched in one green hand, coupled with a sound like a giant chainsaw, a bit disturbing.
Half a second later, Cloud realized it wasn’t a chainsaw at all. It was only Barret, sawing logs.
Dodging the creepy cloaked robot, he caught his breath and stumbled through the near darkness, his eyes guided by the warm red flame that hovered in the air, waving back and forth. To his relief, the bed he’d occupied a few hours earlier was still empty.
He reached back to remove his sword as quietly as he could, but the swishing clang was unavoidable. Next to him, the flame leaped.
“Oh, it’s you.” Nanaki’s yellow eye caught the light as he raised his shaggy head from the mattress.
“Yep.” Cloud stashed his sword against the wall. “Expecting someone else?”
“No. I just…” He blew out a sigh. “Forget it.”
“What’s up? Bad dream?”
“Not exactly. It’s…” Nanaki paused, sniffing the air curiously. He sprang up on his haunches. “Tifa?”
Cloud whipped his head so fast he nearly cracked a vertebra. “What?”
“Never mind. I just thought…” Standing on all four feet, he leaned toward Cloud with a calculating expression and sniffed a few more times. “Wait a minute…”
Boiling heat rushed to Cloud’s temples. “Not a word,” he grunted.
Nanaki huffed through his nose. “I don’t even wanna know.” He turned his muscular body in a graceful circle and curled up once more on the bed, facing the opposite direction.
“What’re you two yappin’ about?” growled Barret from across the room. “Tryin’ to get some sleep in here.”
“Nothing.” Cheeks on fire, Cloud stormed to his own bed and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
“It better be nothing. If I find out you and Tifa—”
“We’re not fighting,” he stated truthfully, to head off further interrogation. “’Night.”
Only after the words left his mouth did Cloud realize they implied he and Tifa had, in fact, been together earlier… doing something else.
Which also happened to be true.
As Nanaki had so shrewdly guessed.
He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, waiting for the scorching flames on his face and neck to simmer down. He sniffed the palms of his leather gloves, then grabbed a handful of his sweater and shoved it under his nostrils.
Naturally, he couldn’t smell a thing. Nothing pleasant, anyway. He could probably use a shower.
He had never envied Nanaki’s super sensitive nose until now.
The idea that her fragrance actually clung to him after spending time with her… it was having a noticeable effect on his body. He kept wanting to change his position on the bed, and his clothes were even more uncomfortable than usual. If he had his own room, he’d have his shirt off in a heartbeat. Definitely his belts. And all the armor.
If he could take one of Hojo’s foul creations on the beach half naked, surely he could handle the dangers of a hotel swarming with fake horrors.
It was so strange, the way a smell could trigger all kinds of memories. When he’d first come face to face with her on that rainy night in Sector 7, it was the second thing he had noticed, right after the unforgettable ruby-brown eyes, framed in black velvet, wide with heart-melting concern.
He couldn’t recall ever being that close to her before—practically within kissing range. At the time, tired and muddled as he was, he had thought it the most peculiar thing to enter his mind. And then he’d promptly forgotten all about it.
Until tonight, when he’d finally closed the rest of that distance.
When their lips had met for the first time, her unique aroma had surrounded him quietly, soothingly, like the embrace he still longed for. He’d had his arms around her at least three times now, but he had yet to experience hers.
He was always aware when she was near him. Back in Midgar, it embarrassed him how many times he’d found an excuse to touch her. These days, though, she was the one constantly touching him. Her hand kept finding its way to his back, his shoulder, his upper arm.
Usually, he found it calming. But now, the very thought of her touching him made him squirm… in the most unbearably pleasant way.
He was thirteen when he’d discovered Tifa had a certain fragrance about her. It had first ensnared him when he’d summoned all his courage to run up and whisper in her ear. He’d gotten so close, he had almost knocked her over. She had smelled clean and sweet then, kind of like a candy apple… good enough for him to want a taste.
The source of the bewitching smell was a mystery, but he knew it had something to do with her mass of gleaming hair. It had been even stronger on top of the water tower. Every time she moved, it released another wave of deliciousness that made him giddy.
Two years later, it had been exactly the same, yet different. More mature, more earthy. He had never witnessed that appealing sheen on her skin before, the way she’d glowed with the sweat of exertion. And somehow he knew he’d been physically close to her then—much closer than any of his memories allowed. Even now, through the often inscrutable fog in his mind, he kept seeing her at different angles that made no sense, almost as if he’d been in two places at once.
In recent weeks, they’d grown closer and closer, even with all the weird mental lapses of his degradation that tried to hammer a wedge between them. No matter what he said or did, she always welcomed him back. She forgave him when he couldn’t forgive himself.
And every time he brushed up against her, that incredible fragrance she exuded, somehow both relaxing and arousing, remained constant. Different notes played on the surface, though. Something feminine and floral. Something rich and musky. Always subtle, but undeniably her.
He didn’t know how to describe it. Sometimes she hit him like a mountain breeze, fresh and fierce. Sometimes she was a sultry summer day. She was warm and sweet, like the aroma that used to fill her mother’s kitchen. She smelled like coming home.
And he could never get enough.
Sometimes he worried that his presence might put her in danger again. Even so, his consuming desire to be near her swallowed the cries of his feeble conscience.
Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her tonight. But it had been inevitable. From meeting her under the plate to jumping off the train with her, from hugging her in the garden to staring at her lips in Gongaga… everything inside him, all those irresistible forces within and without, had been urging him toward that climactic moment.
And though it felt like their very souls had made contact, only their lips had touched.
No, not just lips. Tongues had been involved, too.
And teeth.
And he’d wanted to touch even more of her, but he hadn’t dared.
On sudden heated impulse, he unclasped the bracer on his left wrist, peeled off his thick, stifling gloves. His hands itched to be free, and he needed more freedom to imagine things.
Things like the fragrant silk of her hair, running through his naked fingers like liquid glass. The yielding softness of her skin under his. The texture of her throat… the flavor of her neck…
He uttered a faint groan and tossed to his other side. He was in trouble now. If he kept indulging these kinds of thoughts, he just might need that shower tonight. And it would need to be colder than the Gunnthra River in January.
He’d already seen those complimentary toothbrushes in the bathroom, but he had no desire to use one. He didn’t care if he was being nasty. He wanted to fall asleep with her taste in his mouth.
If he could ever fall asleep tonight.
He rolled to his back and stretched out his legs, still breathing heavily. He didn’t know how he was supposed to face her in the morning. The second their eyes met, it would all come rushing back.
They were traveling together. They couldn’t avoid each other for long. But they’d be busy, as always. The upcoming fight in the colosseum might take every last ounce of their energy. And then… the Temple of the Ancients.
The Black Materia.
Cloud shuddered. He tried to shake the invasive thoughts away. He’d think about that shit when the time came.
Maybe Tifa didn’t want to talk about what had happened tonight. But her parting kiss had to mean something, and his imagination soared into overdrive, pondering what that something might be.
Goodbye… for now.
Good night… until tomorrow.
We can’t take this any further, but my feelings will never change.
I know we can’t be together right now, but I still want you.
If only they had more time. He could never find the right words to say, but he ached for the chance to show her everything she meant to him.
He couldn’t be completely sure of her feelings, of course. Not until the moment they were alone together again.
Until then, he’d savor every opportunity to be close to her. And maybe, if he managed to get close enough, he’d catch a little more of her scent.