Primal Instinct-Lesson Learnt

Thanks for reading chapter one and reviewing! It actually inspired me to write chapter two would ya believe!! Infact i ended up changing a few things here and there so might actually run smoother. Those who have read chaper one,you might have to re-read it again because of the changes and all.... (Oops..) *Excellent* steeples fingers like Mr Burns. Have fun!

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“Yes- oh, yes” she breathed, arching her back towards him in a frantic show of urgency, and as if not content with her reply Preston’s mouth left hers to travel to her breasts where she gasped in pure ecstasy as he flickered each sensitive bud with his tongue. Stifling a moan of desire she ran her fingers through his hair whilst wrapping her legs tighter around him driving him deeper inside. With each aching thrust, each promoting a quivering response Preston fervently increased his rhythm until they were both completely slick with sensual sweat and her laborious cries of ecstasy brought on his own agonizing release….

Preston woke with a sudden jolt, the darkness that was his bedroom slowing coming into focus before his eyes. He managed to take a deep breath and wipe his face in his hands, but his palms like the rest of his body and sheets were drenched with sweat. It was now impossible to even attempt to go back to sleep, and without a second thought he got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. Not switching on the light he stood there in the darkness and slowly began to fill the sink with water. For the third time this week he awoke in the middle of the night plagued by dreams that were becoming more and more erotic, and each dream, nonetheless, involving her. He dunked his head in its shallow pool wishing desperately that it would drown out not only the dreams but also his thoughts. What he couldn’t understand for the life of him was why his mind chose to replay the same scenario. They’d meet, converse and then they’d make love. Deliciously slow and tantalizing at first until their passions consumed them completely and all that was left was an undignified animalistic craving. He reached down and grabbed the towel on the nearby rack.

Was it love? An absurd notion as love was as irrational as the sense offenders who believed it can possibly conquer all. No. He knew he wasn’t in love, Infatuation? It wasn’t possible. So what was possible? He asked wryly. He had been with other women since then, but it wasn’t the same. His loins tightened in memory of how it felt to possess her slender body, absorbing her fear, her pain and leading her beyond it to something he’d not only fought to forget but something that was much sweeter than he’d experience in a long time. Tucking those memories to the farthest regions of his mind he made his way to his bedroom and checked the time. In a few minutes it would have been five thirty, an hour earlier than what he awoke to but nonetheless he made his way to the bathroom to have his shower. Two hours later, after he’d made breakfast for his children; he gained the garage, slid behind the wheel of a sleek top of the range vehicle, and sent it purring down the driveway.

Fifteen minutes later he eased the car down two floors of the basement enforcement parking lot and slid into his space. With swift movements, almost machine like he shut off the ignition, caught up his gloves, opened the car door and slid to his feet.
“Cleric John Preston.”
He turned slowly to face the owner of the voice but it was shielded by the black faceplate of the owner’s helmet.
“Yes” he locked the door, pocketed the keys and began walking towards the lift bank.
“We have received the status report for today and it has indicated that there has been recent activity in sector K8941”
“That is impossible. The area has been cleansed.”
“Apparently not enough sir. There will be a cleanup to eradicate any loose ends at o’ five hundred hours tomorrow. It will be an honour, sir if you could join us.”
An electronic bleep announced the lift’s arrival, and he used his key to open the doors, then he stepped into the cubicle and inserted the key into its slot.
His expression didn’t change. “Very well.” He turned the key the doors slid closed, and he was transported swiftly to a series of desk space on the fourth floor.
He nodded briefly to the guard at the entrance and walked through to his desk space.
Then switched on his monitor, confirmed the day’s schedule, and went to work.

But something was amiss; something perpetually disturbed him, making it difficult for him to even concentrate on the files on his desk. It wasn’t as though his memory needed refreshing he knew sector K8941, in fact he knew it quite well, it was there he’d come across the old Victorian house and the woman who slowly invaded his dreams. He knew if the sweepers would be searching the vicinity they’d surely come across the house. But what he couldn’t understand was why the thought bothered him. He knew she wouldn’t know of their arrival and so she’d be unarmed. The thought didn’t settle well.

Trying greatly to concentrate he continued to file some paper work, had a nutritious lunch and continued to work late into the night. Waiting till most of the staff had left for the night, he made his way back to his car and making a plausible excuse for the guard at the gates he made his way out of Libria and into the abandoned city. Driving for what seemed like an eternity through uninhabitable wastelands, he finally made his way off the road and unto a gravel pathway that led to the derelict Victorian house. With deft movements he shut off the ignition and sat in the darkness. Should he attempt to make contact with her? It was an intriguing connotation. But he’d be helping an offender, the kind his coalition fought to eradicate everyday, and he knew all to well if they found out there would be serious implications. Was she worth the taking the risk?

A few minutes later he found himself climbing those familiar porch steps his instincts on alert for the slightest of movements since the house was in utter darkness. Prying the front door open he managed to enter the ground floor of the old house, his flashlight casting the only light in the room. He began scanning the hallway which lead to the dining room, kitchen and living room. Yet, each room was dilapidated with burnt furniture. Ripped or peeling wallpaper adorned most walls and the floor squeaked with the slightest of movement. The house appeared to be unliveable, but he knew things were never as it seemed. Between the pungent smell of musty dampen earth came the unforgettable smell of burnt wood. He made his way over to the old Victorian fireplace that stood at the far end of the room and knelt down to survey the ashes. Removing his gloves his fingers examined the pile of dust; it was wet, indicating that someone had created a fire and doused it in water not to long ago.

Silently, Preston made his way upstairs slowly watching where he walked as the rain water streaming in from the gaping hole in the ceiling had eaten most of the floorboards and left them weak and unusable. What was he expecting to find? He knew she would have probably left his gut instinct told him the waves of remorse would have been far too much for her to bear. And like most times his instincts it proved correct.

The room was indeed stripped, of its timeless memorabilia. The only piece of furniture a table that was knocked to the ground. In anger? It didn’t take him long to realise it was the very one on which they had their encounter. He stood there for a few minutes his fingers gently touching the smooth water spotted oak, taking in the grains and the unfinished carving in one of its legs, when he heard it. The sound of a floorboard creaking faintly from above.

It must have been from the attic and with that he darted out the room searching the corridor for an entrance. There in a corner next to a small shrivelled potted plant was a huge moth eaten tapestry which hung a little crooked from the wall. Maybe it was the size or the way in which it was hung. Whatever it was, Preston made his way towards it and ripped it hastily off wall to only come face to face with a wooden door.

“Clever” he murmured softly, as a small barely discernible smile crept unto his lips.
He attentively placed an ear to the door listening to what appeared to be soft music? And positioning a hand on the handle; he slowly turned it only to find it was locked. He wasn’t surprised, he’d assisted in many house arrests, and many tried this very stunt. He could easily break it down, but what if she was armed? Opening his jacket he removed a small penknife to pick the lock it didn’t take long to open.

The staircase was pitch black but he could unmistakably hear music and treading softly he ascended the small winding staircase. Preston couldn’t recall its style, it was classical nonetheless, but with it came a soft voice, a voice which guided him in a sort of ambient trance into the softly lit attic. He stood there in the shadows of the staircase and waited.

Moonlight filtered in through the partly closed shutters, casting shadow across the room, a clustered bookshelf took up most of the space, a desk with more books and old victrola took up the other but it was the single candle that caught his attention for next to it on a small mattress lay the stranger who invaded his dreams.

Preston watched captivated as her delicate fingers leisurely turning the pages of the book that lay next to her side. Her voice humming, melodiously along to the orchestra on the victrola. How can one be at such peace with such a chaotic thing as emotions? He immediately remembered the moment they shared, and the intimacy, that still haunted him even weeks later. The shawl around her shoulders dropped exposing a shoulder to his impeccable gaze and Preston felt his breath hitch as his loins stirred uncomfortably against his trousers. What was wrong with him? Why was his body responding this way? Whatever the reason, he decided that the sooner he helped her, the sooner she’d be out his life and hopefully his dreams, forever.

“Well now,” Preston murmured as he made his way out of the darkness. Natalya flinched, and as she scrambled to her feet she instantly knocked the candle. The impact with the floor snuffed the flame. She stood there in the moonlight, so scared she could barely move. Preston expected anger, rage, even an attempt at attack or a well-acted bout of weeping. Instead, he saw pride in the tilt of her small feminine chin. He had to admit she had a lot of guts.

His features hardened and his gaze pierced hers, inflexible, dangerous. “Aren’t you going to re-light it?” With slow deliberation he pointed a finger at the candle.
He watched her eyes shift hesitantly to the table and back and he followed her gaze to observe the contents on the table. There amidst the dusty old books and magazines, was a small handgun but he knew he could disarm her before she moved an inch. Aware that he’d seen it she instantly made a run for it but Preston went after her.

In an attempt to get to the gun before her or perhaps his subconscious wreaking havoc he jerked her towards him, and in consequence, for a few unnerving seconds, Natalya was brought up against the lean hard strength of his body. Panic stricken she wrenched backwards in an attempt to get away from him, but lost her balance altogether the base of her spine hit the floor with an excruciating jolt.

Natalya saw him reach out a hand, and unable to breathe easily she tried to back away as his fingers closed about the flesh of her upper arm. Wild with sheer horror she lost her reason and beating at him with her balled fists, she fought his efforts to help her, the panic she’d felt when she brushed against him combined with their past had create an emotional reaction she couldn’t rationalise.
“Don’t touch me. Let me go!” She choked, but he hauled her to her feet with half inpatient hands.
“I’m not going to hurt you” he sounded almost grim and she watched as he not only moved away from her but took the gun from off the table. Inflexible and deliberately slow he emptied the bullets unto the floor. Was it to emphasize his words?

“The sweepers would be in this vicinity...” Preston’s voice was dangerously quiet, as he watched her clung weakly to the small gold locket that hung around her neck. She had an air of fragility. Preston reflected, how deceptive. “They will arrive at approximately five am”
“Aren’t you a little early?” He could sense the nervousness in her voice, almost feel it, and he had to admit, he did admire her control. She eyed him with a look Preston can only assume was pure disgust. “Oh let me guess you wanted to take me in yourself? Am I right?”
His expression didn’t change.
“I’ve come to warn you…” He paused momentarily to throw the handgun aside. “To help you-”
“I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” Natalya snarled, as he glared at her with no apparent emotion.
“Look,” he was already beginning to lose his patience. “They’ve received word that there are some sense offenders in this vicinity. So it’s only a matter of time before they reach this location. If they catch you, there will be no escape….” He paused, to hold her gaze, “and like the others they’ll make you suffer and then, they will kill you” he wasn’t going to paint a pretty picture for her. He knew all to well what the sweepers were capable of especially if their victim was someone who was as feisty as her. Unlike men who were lucky enough to have a swift executions probably incinerated or gunned to death. She would have been made to suffer and rape would unquestionably be on their ways of breaking her. It always came down to male satisfaction and gratification, he reflected wryly.
“I said I’ll take my chances thank you” Natalya’s face was hot with anger, she turned away and moved over to the window her hands wrapped around her shoulders in an attempt to shield herself from not only the cold but from her adversary. It infuriated her to think that he could overpower her without any apparent effort on his part.
“I didn’t come here to beg.” He stipulated.
Natalya threw him a look which spoke volumes,
“No one asked you to!” she declared in a voice seething with angry frustration, “You think you can just walk in here and all of a sudden, be some knight in shining armour?” Her nostrils flaring at his downright arrogance, “I’m sorry it doesn’t work that way! I can take care of myself.”
She saw her words had struck home by the spasmodic tightening muscle in his cheek. Evidently he was unused to anyone disagreeing with him, and she had inadvertently chosen exactly the right method to put him in his place. His brown eyes flared with sudden emotion, and she knew the same swift streak of fear she had felt when they had first met. But then, with admirable constraint, he controlled whatever instinct had evoked that look and with a gesture of dismissal, he walked away.

Natalya found her own legs curiously unable to support her after he had left, and she stood there for several minutes wondering if what he had said to her was in fact the truth. If the sweepers were on their way like he’d said then what were her chances of survival? Her stomach executed a nervous somersault. She couldn’t even protect herself against him let alone a room full of sweepers. And why was he all of a sudden interested in her well-being? For all she knew he could have been handing her over to the clerics themselves on a silver platter.
She made her way to the window and looked out unto the over grown driveway the little strength she had left, draining instantly out of her as she saw his tall masculine frame standing outside the house. It was blatantly obvious, he was waiting for her. Why was he tormenting her? Wasn't there past was already a burden to bear? What if she refused to leave? Then again what if he was her only chance of survival? She knew time was running out and with no more choices she had to make a decision and fast.

Picking up her satchel she placed a few items of clothing as well as her tooth brush and some toiletries. Then made her way towards the door, but something stopped her. Retracing her footsteps she picked up the gun and a few of the bullets, loading them quickly into the barrel before hiding the gun at the bottom of her bag.....