Forgotten Ch. 01byladyofdark1981©
Author's note: This is my first time, please be gentle. @)-,-'-
Chapter 1: Fate.
Michelle always knew she was a special girl, her grades excelled her teachers' expectations and with graduating from university at the same age, everybody usually graduated high school; a long story short, she was a genius. Now, at twenty-five, she devoted her life to saving endangered species from extinction by cloning and freezing the embryos, she had no time for frivolous activities, such as socialising of finding a boyfriend, she did not care for clubbing or dinner parties with her colleagues, she cared only for the helpless organisms at her species' mercy.
Her logical mind focused on the re-sequencing of a strand of D.N.A. from a thylacine, one of the many unfortunate creatures that crossed paths with humans. Although, technically, she only worked with endangered organisms and not the extinct variety, but she indulged occasionally to help a man she had met during her time at the University, Dr. Michael Paterson, a geneticist with a passion for bringing extinct species back to life, providing they were the result of human intervention, so no dinosaurs for him. But Michael was more than a friend to Michelle, she loved him and she was sure that he loved her too, only he did not want a romance to get in the way of his research, well, that's what she kept telling herself.
For a scientist, Michael was different, his passion for extinct animals was not unusual, but his free time resembled that of a millionaire playboy, with what Michelle had learned about him, he was the eldest son of a wealthy family and holidayed in exotic locations around the world. She heard of many women who graced his bed, but that was from the grad-students who gossiped over everything, so she could not believe it. Chastising herself for letting her mind wander from the important task monitoring the gene sequencing.
"You're still here?" Michael asked as he entered with two cups of hot espresso, "Not that I'm upset about it, but, don't you have a life outside this lab?"
Michelle laughed as she examined the tissue sample she had under the microscope, "This is my life."
"What do you do when you're not here?" he asked, trying to draw her into a conversation.
"Sleep," her one syllable answer mildly annoyed him. "Oh, and occasionally I go to the supermarket."
Michael chuckled at her response, "that's it?"
"Yes," she leaned back from the microscope, "Do you know what time it is?" she asked, stretching out her sore and tired back.
Dr. Paterson checked his watch, "almost seven," he informed her. Michelle nodded and stood up, "You know we're going to be late."
"For what?" she asked, stretching again, "Is there a convention I wasn't told about?"
"No," he grinned at her, flashing his bleached teeth at her, "Our dinner reservation at Leandro's."
Michelle looked at him, cocking her head to the side in the way Michael found adorable, she was his mate and he loved her; ever since her first day on campus. "Why would we have a table booked at the most romantic restaurant in town? Anyway, it has to be booked months in advance, what could warrant such attentions to be dished out on me?"
He tried not to sigh aloud, for an intelligent and beautiful wolf; she definitely missed the more subtle things in life. "It's your birthday," he told her in disbelief.
"Is it?" she checked her digital diary, "huh, so it is, I didn't realise," she laughed, walking off to the showers. Michael took a deep breath, inhaling her scent, she was coming into heat for the first time and finally, he could claim her after twelve years of waiting, she would finally be his. When he first saw her all those years ago, she was considered a child prodigy and through the years, he watched her become a mother to all the endangered animals in the world. He watched her clone and raise a mouse in an artificial womb; his pride for her grew with each achievement.
He heard the shower begin and decided to followed suit, showering and dressing in a formal suit. He moved to the foyer to see Michelle in a pair of tight black jeans, a tour t-shirt for Rammstein and black combat boots.
"I never picked you for a metal chick," Michael observed, offering his arm to her.
She sent him an amused smirk, "You know, Chivalry died at the Battle of Agincourt," she countered, avoiding his arm smoothly, "Do I have time to change?"
Michael checked his watch, "Not really," he looked down to her; she had tied her hair back in a simple ponytail; his heart melted, "You look fine."
Slapping his arm, she chuckled, "You're just saying that." With her hands in her pockets, she followed Michael to his car (she did not know what type of car it was, nor did she care). Taking her seat next to Michael, he drove her to the five-star Leandro's Classic Italian Restaurant. "You should know, the dress code there is very strict; I probably won't be allowed in." Michelle looked more pleased with the fact rather than disappointed.
"Nonsense," he chirped, "I happen to know the owner and I am sure he could give his old friend Mike a little leeway for his surprised date."
"Mike?" she laughed, "You hate being called that!"
"We were cub buddies when we were young," he shrugged, "And he owes me more than he cares to admit," Michael laughed as he added the last bit, remembering the many situations they ended up in and Michael would take the blame to save his friend.
"I can see you being a trouble maker," she quipped, "like not warning me of this birthday celebration, it just drips with mischief."
"Is it truly wrong to take a colleague out to celebrate their birthday?"
Michelle rolled her eyes, "I'm not your typical date, now am I?" he knew where she was going with this, "your typical prey is usually thinner, taller and fairer than I. Or have you dropped your standards?" she said this with a sarcastic tint. "I'm only kidding; I know we're friends and if you wish to celebrate my birthday in such an extravagant way, who am I to stop you?"
Michael felt hurt from her last statement, as if she were only doing it for him, as a friend. "When was the last time someone did anything nice for you?"
She paused to think, it took longer than he anticipated for him. "The Vicar of Castleton Parish, he and his wife helped me when my Dad died eleven years ago, well he wasn't my real Dad; he was a journalist in Africa and was killed by guerrillas on assignment when I was a baby. Mum married Gary, my step Dad, but she died from a bear attack whilst hiking with friends in some park when I was about ten. Gary raised me until he was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer, I don't think I need to fill in the rest." She turned to look out the window, "I've kept to myself ever since."
"Don't you get lonely?"
"Nah," she looked back with a smile, "I have the grad students to pester me and I have you to beg me for help with your never ending quest to resurrect an extinct species."
They pulled into the parking lot; Michael had a reserved slot near the entrance, much to Michelle's surprise. "A regular here, huh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know you liked Italian food that much."
"My father loves it," Michael smiled at her, "I'm just using his parking space." He dove out the car to open the door for her, only she had beaten him to it.
"I had planned this night for a couple of weeks now," he sighed, "can you please let me be a gentleman for you?"
"You don't have to, it's just me here, you don't need to pretend," she rested her hand on his shoulder, "I won't tell any of your girlfriends you are just a regular guy, I promise."
"I hate to break this to you," he said, opening a door for her, "But this is me, I like to be the gentleman. You are just difficult, Shell." They walked up to the front desk, "Reservation for Dr. Michael Paterson."
"Ah yes," the small girl behind the desk punched in the details to the computer, "Table for two, by the back window." The girl looked up, "I'm sorry, we can't let her dine here dressed like that," she spoke with distain to Dr. Michelle Achermann.
"I told you they wouldn't let me eat here," Michelle sighed, turning towards the door, "Thank you for the sentiment."
"Michelle, please don't leave," he reached for her hand, "Clearly the girl does not know who I am." He pulled her back to the desk, "Young miss, is Andrae Leandro in tonight?" she nodded slowly, "then tell him that you have thrown out the date of his friend Mike because you didn't like the way she looked. Regardless of the fact that she is a brilliant geneticist and just may save many of your favourite animals from extinction."
"Brittany, is this man bothering you?" Andrae asked as he closed his office door behind him.
"Sir," she stammered, "he says he knows you."
Andrae looked up, "You love to torment my staff don't you, you ol' bastard," his hazel eyes drifted to the woman at Michael's side, "I see you finally have developed taste." He reached over the desk and kissed Michelle's hand. Michael growled and Andrae backed away, "Ah, this is her."
"You will show us to our table," Michael stated through clenched teeth, "old friend."
Michelle thought the entire transaction between the so-called friends looked more like a mafia boss getting his way, and what was that growl about? She followed the two men, who spoke secretively in front of her. She let Michael pull the chair out for her, even though it felt strange to do so.
Andrae gave them a menu each and left to give them space. The table was far from the others, in a bay window that overlooked the elegant landscape garden out the back, the table itself had two red candles in silver holders and a single red rose in a crystal vase. "Do you like it?" Michael asked, looking over his menu.
"It's beautiful," Michelle answered with astonishment, "No offence, but it feels like this should be for someone else."
He chortled sadly, "No, Michelle, this is for you."
She did not know what to do, this man, the one she had fallen instantly in love with on her first day was now acting out her dream. "Wow," she finally uttered, "I have never had anything like this done for me before."
Michael reached for her hand, "Michelle," his voice dripped with honey, "I have wanted to do this for you, for a very long time."
"Dr. Paterson, I ..."
"No, do not call me Dr. Paterson ever again," he pleaded with her, "just Michael."
"Okay," she responded slowly, "Michael." Her previous protest died in her throat. It was not uncommon for colleagues to form romantic attachments, but Michelle never imagined it would happen to her, and never with Michael Paterson. The man seemed to have models hanging off his arm and a different one each week; now he chose to have a romantic dinner with her, for her birthday.
"Here," he handed her a rectangular gift, it was heavy and obviously, a book, "I hope you like it."
Michelle opened it to see a copy of the hobbit, a first edition. "Michael, this is beautiful," she gave him the first authentic smile he had ever received from her, "Thank you." They placed their orders and enjoyed their three-course meal, plus dessert. Michael was disappointed that she did not eat as much as he had hoped, an increase of appetite was a clear indication that her heat cycle was in full swing. "That was the first meal I have enjoyed for a long time," she commented, resting her hand on her full stomach.
"I am glad you liked it," he reached into his jacked pocket, pulling out a box, also gift wrapped, "I have one more present for you."
She unwrapped the small gift and opened the box, inside was a ring with a moonstone, the traditional mating gift from the male to the female. His heart leapt to his throat when she gasped, "Is that a moonstone?" she asked, breathlessly.
"Yes," he answered anxiously, "do you accept it?"
She sent him another smile, brighter than before, "they are my favourite; yes, I accept it."
As she slipped it onto her finger, Michael had risen from his seat, "Michelle, my I please have this dance?"
She laughed, "There is no music, Michael."
As if by magic, the lights dimmed and a slow, dreamy song began to play from hidden speakers, "My Love?"
Michelle felt her heart thundering in her chest, did he just call me his love? She thought, placing her hand in his and joining him in the unhurried, intimate dance. "Michael?" she called softly.
"Yes?" his breath gliding over her ear.
"Do you love me?" she asked in a fact finding way.
"Since the first moment I saw you," he sighed, pulling her closer with his warm embrace. "Why do you ask such silly questions?"
"You always preferred more," she words stalled in her throat, she cleared it and continued, "Glamorous women than I." She saw him blush; she had never seen him blush before, ever.
"I was shy," he whispered, "and a little scared you didn't feel the same way."
"Who says I do?" she asked automatically, unable to stop herself.
He pulled back, "Don't you?" he did not want to live if she said no.
It was now her turn to blush, "I am new to this dating thing, I feel a little overwhelmed."
"Do you love me, Michelle?" he asked urgently, almost desperately.
"I've never felt love before," she answered, "apart from my family; I have never been close to anyone."
Her answer deflected his question beautifully, a typical defensive move for a vulnerable person. "I have never felt as I do for you with anyone else," he explained, drawing her close again, "everyday, I would pray that you would still be there at the university, hoping that you weren't some beautiful dream." Clasping her hand, he pressed his lips to it; "come home with me tonight."
Michelle stumbled, flushing a deep crimson, "I ... I," she did not know what to do, was he asking what I think he was asking? She wondered, trying to straighten herself.
Michael hushed her, "I won't hurt you," he stroked her hair in a way she had never felt before, "But I am finding it hard to resist you."
"Michael," she whispered low, barely audible over the soft music that floated about them, "I'm scared, I've never been with a man or anyone."
"All the better," he answered in kind, lifting her lips to his, "I like the idea of being your one and only."
She quivered under his attentions, his lips covering hers in a passionate kiss that no movie could compete with. She tried to think of a way to escape this new situation she found herself in but her body demanded to stay. "What ..." she tried to speak, but her voice died in the throat.
"Sshh, just go with it," Michael lulled into her ear. He slowly pulled her away to his car, she had no idea they had moved until he buckled her into the passenger seat. She looked up at him with dazed eyes and he fell to give her another ardent kiss, one filled with intent.
Tearing himself away, he took his seat and began to drive.
Michael pulled into a large circular driveway; Michelle looked up at the large, elegant mansion, a Greco-Roman palace, complete with columns and arches. The gardens were illuminated with lights, showing off a myriad of marble statues and sculpted conifers.
Impatiently, Michael tore open the passenger door and scooped Michelle into his arms, "You have no idea how long I have waited for this," he said before another mind-blowing kiss, which sent Michelle's body into an uncontrollable need, her stomach tightened and her thighs trembled and began to sweat from the heat she produced. Michael growled with delight and raced to the room he had prepared for her.
He kicked open the door and made his way to the large bed in the centre of the room. Michael became more loving, laying her in the nest of plush pillows he assembled. Michelle felt weak, overwhelmed by her sudden change of relationship with the infamous Dr. Paterson. He kissed her softly, stoking the fire in her belly with each gentle stroke of his tongue against hers; he slid his hand under her t-shirt, relishing the softness of her skin under his touch. She whimpered in defeat, her hand nervously reaching for his face, caressing his cheek with her fingertips, her neatly manicured nails grazing lightly across his flesh.
"Shell," he whispered hotly against her ear, "Do you trust me?" She silently nodded, looking into his eyes with anticipation and fear. He gave her a warm smile and began to undress her, beginning with the black t-shirt that he found amusing. Underneath, he found a simple and innocent white cotton bra, truly an innocent; he thought as he teased the hidden taught nipples beneath their smooth canopy with his nose, eliciting a small moan of approval.
He moved to her combat boots, torturously unlacing them as she writhed, begging him to kiss her again; her feet covered in equally virginal white cotton socks. He could not resist tickling the underside of her foot, he wanted to hear her laugh again; a laugh that sent his heart racing and his soul to swell with love. He tugged away the socks to see her bare feet, like her hands, her toes neatly clipped and the skin so soft. He gave her a wolfish grin, clawing his way up to the button of her jeans, flicking the button and sliding down the zip to find another piece of white undergarments, only, as he could already smell, stained with her excitement. Savouring the scent she emitted, he removed the jeans and began to remove his own clothing. He smiled, hearing her quiet gasp at the sight of his bare chest; with a thin cover of light brown hair and not an ounce of fat, it was clear she was enraptured.
Michael leaned over her, allowing her to explore his body with her tentative hands, her fingertips tracing the out line of his pectorals, causing him to growls with desire. He snaked his hand around her back, unclasping her brassiere, freeing her soft, supple breasts for his mouth to torment. The more she moaned to more his restraint faltered; tearing his pants off with one swift motion, he was hovering naked over her, with only the fabric of her underwear separating them. "By the gods above, you are beautiful," he crushed his lips to hers in a hungered fury; Michelle reached around his expansive chest, pulling herself closer to him, Michael's entire length pressing against her furnace, pinning her beneath his large body. He broke their kiss, trailing down her neck with a series of torturous bites and nips, sucking her skin between his lips in slow and pleasurable nibbles that led to her right breast, where her nipple begged the same attention. He took his time getting there, her moans of enjoyment and disappointment interlacing in a purely primal growl from her lips.
Finally, he took the now aching nipple between his teeth, gently biting as he tickled the end with his tongue, Michelle cried out as a wave of pleasure rolled over her. Michael relished her moan like a fine wine. Slowly he moved to her other nipple, repeating his actions until she moaned again. He wanted her, needed her; he continued down over the lines of under developed beasts of her wolf, which looked like two parallel lines of tiny moles.
His fingers played with the elastic of her underwear, inching them down. "Michael?" Michelle called; her eyes on his, her face flush.
"Yes, my love?" he smiled, what was she after?
"I want to taste you," she said almost silently, "before you taste me."
"This is your night," he sat up, watching her crawl over to him, "you can do what ever you wish."
She gave him a shy smile, clasping his throbbing staff with a nervous hand. Positioning herself to rest herself in his lap, he brought the weeping head to her lips, her tongue licking at the salty droplet waiting for her. Michael groaned, stroking her hair as she gradually took him into her mouth, sucking gently so not to make him cum too soon. She wanted to tease him, in her naïve way.