Mercurial Ends Ch. 04

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"I have one of those," he pointed to the painting in front of them.

"You have 'one' of those?!" Tabor guffawed. "I thought you didn't like paintings that look like a primary student painted it." She gestured to the painted with three uneven geometric shapes that from a first glance just looked like yellow and white rectangles painted on a large yellow painted canvas.

"Yeah, a gift from the artist."

"A 'gift'? What sort of gift?"

"I was in the Northwest around the area your modern teen romance readers would free-associate as vampire territory, apparently." Tabor stuck her tongue out at him and playfully hit him. "Well, I was hungry, he was suicidal; so, I drank from him on many occasions in his wooded shed. Not enough to kill him, but just to bring him to the edge so that he could live if he changed his mind. He knew what I was and promised to keep it a secret as long as I kept coming back to give him a chance to die.

Tabor leaned back, just taking in what Shy had said about the prolific painter.

"It's yours if you want it...." Tabor swallowed hard and couldn't fathom answering, let along having a painting by that artist on her wall.

"Where to next?" Shy stretched his arms up and brought Tabor back to her feet.

"You owe me big time for torturing me with the Impressionists." Tabor batted her eyes playfully.

"Did I?" He teased back.

"Yes. So, I want to see the Greeks and Romans next."

"Tabor-"

"Nope, come on. I bet you'd love to debunk more of my Ivy art education anyways."

"Fine, but when I say 'we are done,' we are done," Shy warned coldly.

Shy meandered around the entrance of the gallery of marble busts and tomb-raided sarcophagi. The skylights pooled sunlight into the room, giving it a warmth that could not touch him. Tabor happily walked ahead of him, actually showing the most enthusiasm out of all the galleries in the museum that they had visited.

She had already walked through one side of the massive marble garden before she realized Shy was still standing at the entrance. He found a pillar to lean against and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes watching the people that walked by him, trying all he could to divert his focus away from the room.

"Come on, I spent an hour in the Impressionists, we only did twenty minutes in the modern wing, you owe me forty minutes here--something I want to see."

"Tabor -" he could only sigh and begrudgingly surrendered his hand to hers to to be led into parts of his past.

They stopped in front of a twisting stone that had been fueled with so much artistic realism it came to life, like the myth was actually true. But now, only portions remained, a large boa constrictor wrapped around the lap of a torsoless being. Tabor hummed to herself; she was really taking in the curator's notes in this gallery for the first time in many visits. She gleefully rocked back and forth on her heels, waiting for Shy to dubunk the illustrious Metropolitan Art Museum's apologetics. But Shy only burrowed his hands deeper into his jean pockets and stared at the skylights.

"Well?"

"Well what, Tabor?"

"Aren't you going to tell me the truth about this statue?"

"I am not in the mood." Tabor looked at him with disappointment. "Tabor, go on and enjoy the gallery." She still looked at him sheepishly. "I insist."

Tabor kicked her foot out in front if her, "Shy I really only wanted to come down here because I wanted to learn more about you."

He chewed on his cheek, still not allowing his gaze to fall on the room. Then, without hesitation, he grabbed Tabor's hand pulling her abruptly to the middle of the room

"This is Roman, not Greek. Nothing to do with me." There was malice in his voice and then he pulled her along to another statue of Hercules. "This too is Roman, not Greek, and has nothing to do with me." He threw his finger as if it were a dagger to an adjacent statue. "That is Greek. And it has nothing to do with me."

Tabor yanked her hand out of his tight grip and stormed away. Shy smoothed his face with his hand, feeling the bitterness he was unaware had transformed his countenance.

He found Tabor in a smaller room of coins and little trinkets. She didn't look too affected by his tantrum; she just stood looking at a glass case. Her eyes rose as bit when she caught his reflection through the glass when he approached.

"Roman. I know. Nothing to do with you." She shrugged her shoulder leaning away from him and tucked her wayward curls behind her ear.

"Come," Shy tried to touch her face but she leaned away. "Come." Tabor dragged her feet to follow him to another small room off of the main gallery.

He stood in front of a small case with barrettes and old wares. "You see that? My mother had one just like that when I was a boy."

Tabor leaned closer, not even taking a breath. Her nose practically pressed again the glass and just stared at the insignificant item, a broken-off handle in the shape of a lion. She was completely mesmerized. She just stared at it, trying to imagine Shy's mother; he as a child watching his mother open, perhaps, her jewelry box with the lean lion stretching and purring with his looping tail. A simple, everyday item that wasn't worth anything in his day. However, now he saw how special it had become in that moment, just watching Tabor taking in every detail, wishing she could only hold it in her hand for a second

"Tabor, I'll show you more," Shy massaged her shoulders to signal it was time to let this ghost rest.

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be to have his eyes lay on items from his home country; the things his friends, family and ancestors had used and left behind long after their bodies had turned to dust. He thought it would remind him that he had lost everything, and that everyone he had ever known who was not a vampire was gone.

He snorted,What a lovely life, to now only have Ilsino and Menefer as the only living people who know my past.

He pointed out how the lamps worked and why some were detailed and others were plain. He had a difficult time pulling Tabor away from the buckles, which again to him more were mere trifles.

"Now this is great." He pulled her into a small area of another side gallery. "Each province or tribe was dedicated to a god or goddess; my province worshipped Dionysus. You see how we had a lot of things in tribute to him."

Tabor was quiet as she studied each item and eagerly waited for Shy to volunteer to fill in the gaps. He didn't fully understand why she felt like this was a way to get to know him, but he realized how important it was to her; ignoring the bargain as they had already spent an hour in the Greco-Roman galleries.

They began to drift to another provenance he definitely did not want to visit.

"Shy!" Tabor ran enthusiastically to a sculpted sleeping Cupid. "He's beautiful; you're beautiful!"

"That is not me."

Tabor giggled. "Of course." She drifted around the room, looking at the various artifacts with cupid insignia on them: bowls, pendants, and dozens of figurines.

Shy's jaw flexed and tightened with each passing moment he stayed in the room filled with Cupid and Eros. He crossed his arms over his chest, but holding himself could not bring any resistance to his strong apprehension to staying in the gallery another second longer.

"It's time to go, Tabor," he grabbed her elbow to usher her away.

"No, wait." She walked over to a case in the middle of the room with two golden arm bands of the imposing furies. Their snake bodies of a curled as each held a tiny winged cupid.

"Let's go home, Tabor."

"Please, Shy." Tabor fingers glided over the glass case showing off the arm bands. "Wow, they really worshipped you, didn't they?"

"I don't want to talk about this, Tabor. I don't want to ask you again. I am ready to go home."

"What are you going to do, throw me over your shoulder like a caveman?" Tabor snorted and then squealed as she quickly maneuvered around people to a large sculpture. "This is Psyche! This is your story. Please, Shy, tell me..."

Shy suddenly understood why celebrities would get annoyed with their fans. They would ask stupid questions about things that were too sensitive in nature, and yet for the fan their tragedy was like an amusement park.

"Shy, tell me what really happened. You're so revered; I can tell by the way they captured your story, made it such beautiful and tragic true-love."

"Enough, Tabor-"

"Why can't you see how much your story-"

"Idol. Worship. It has nothing to do with me. Only what made them feel better. "

She ignored him and was already hurling herself towards more Cupid artifacts.

Shy's long fingers grasped Tabor's hands as he pulled her away from the repulsive artifacts. Her eyes met his mischievous gaze and she shivered as a rush of butterflies ran though her body. She consciously blew out air; her lips trembled into a nervous smile, yet his icy gaze did not warm.

It's time you learned your place. Shy rolled and settled his broad, strong shoulders.

Tabor remembered the statue of youthful man in alabaster marble, captured in eternal beauty. His triangular chest oozed sensuality and sex, his mop of curly hair floated in the breeze, but he couldn't hold a candle to Shy.

She had to run to catch up to Shy, who walked out of the gallery heading towards the small hallway of elevators that led to the second floor and the Impressionists. She reached for the elevator buttons but Shy held her captive hands steady. His face flickered dark threats and her confident smile wavered, yet she was relieved once he released her wrists. He cocked his head patronizingly to the side, his silver eyes flashing victory as he brushed the pad of his thumb across her dry lips. She couldn't help but self-consciously wet them.

Follow. He commanded; even though the museum was bustling, Shy's voice hit her with frightening clarity.

Every muscle in Tabor's body became like stone and her mouth fell open as Shy unclasped the velvet rope to the private staircase of the museum. She tried to find the words that were caught in her throat, but Shy's eyebrows furrowed in warning so she surrendered any objections. He motioned for her to go through first. With a quick glance over her shoulder she covered her mouth and spoke in ancient vampire before slipping into the restricted-patron-forbidden-she-would-never-dare-in-a-million-lifetimes zone. And once Shy closed the velvet rope as if it were nothing and turned to her with his usual loving Shy demeanor; she was exhilarated.

Good girl. He grabbed her head to kiss her crown.

She followed him down the stairs that lead to more galleries that mirrored the ones open to the public, but these did not have painting on their walls. Instead, some paintings were covered with protective sheets, while others were being readied for upcoming exhibits.

She gasped and giddily laughed as she saw art that had not been exhibited in over twenty years, art that was recently acquired from the 70s that had slowly started to make its way out of the private homes of the rich. Yet Shy grabbed her hand as he strolled forward but she only watched the private museum tour she was missing.

"Shy! That's a—! Oh my God..." Tabor was exhilarated with disbelief, pulling his arm in a tug-of-war to take a closer look. And with that, Shy swooped her up into his arms and ended her chance to see the secrets below the Met with her three-second glance at stolen WWII art that would never see the light of day above that floor.

He opened the doors to a pitch-black room and set her down on her feet.

"Don't move an inch."

Shy snapped his zippo lighter, casting a shadow on Medusa, screaming in Tabor's face! Medusa's snakes struck at Tabor. Tabor's breath caught in her throat; she couldn't scream and stumbled backwards into other ancient artifacts.

Shy caught her in his quick, strong arms and righted her balance.

"I said not to move." He didn't give her a second dismissive glance.

The Zippo would snap on and off, casting shadows on various statues, tables, and vestibules on his journey across the massive dark room.

"What is this place?"

"A room of dead history."

Shy found what he was looking for, turning on two library lamps that created enough dim light in the middle of the room. He arched an eyebrow and allowed his fingers to float over the notes and books lying open on the researcher's table. He then snorted, before further investigating the room, ignoring Tabor who was pensively staying in the spot where he'd left her.

Shy cocked his head to the side and took in a measured breath in. His arms folded across his chest as he took in the large stone ruin at the edge of the room.

"It's time you learned a lesson. Come, Tabor." He was fixated on the object, and his muscles flexed against his shirt as he took his zip-up sweater off. His strength was captivating. "You want to know about Cupid. Cupid was not the angel baby in diapers on pink and red Valentine's Day cards. The Pompeiians got most of the story right, the brutality and the terror, and they reveled in it. Eros was perversity, lasciviousness, lust. He was their god and, until the volcano covered them, they enjoyed it whether it was acceptable or not."

"What is this?"

"Your next lesson."

Before Tabor could moan and stomp her foot a little to attempt to move Shy to sympathy he pulled her to him, forcing her to sit on the ruin.

"It's thousands of years old; I can't touch that."

The silver in his grey eyes was a flint igniting his acrimony.

Tabor grumbled as she carefully sat on the large stone platform. She could feel the inscriptions the historians were painstakingly trying to translate language now inscribing themselves on her thighs. The stone was cold and caused her to shiver delightfully for Shy. He loved how it peaked her nipples through her blouse. The rough stone scratched her skin when she attempted to make the slightest adjustment to feel more comfortable. What was she thinking? There was no way to feel comfortable with the knowledge that she was destroying a piece of ancient history with her butt. Making it worse was Shy, standing over her so fixedly anal to have his way. This side of him frightened her.

Tabor winced when Shy grabbed her hair, forcing her to move her head to where he wanted. And that was to take advantage of her ruddy lips that had caused her so much trouble in the last hour. His lips attacked hers, overwhelming her senses and capacity to stop him – he dared her to challenge him again. She squirmed beneath him and sucked her teeth, admonishing herself for rocking her hips, scraping them against the stone. Satisfied that he had gotten her full attention, he pushed her, forcing her to lie down fully on the stone.

"This is a dais used for sacrifices and ceremonies. They think they can attribute it to the Greeks because they found it in Thessaly. It's a marvelous find, but this was brought over from the North Country by the barbarians centuries later, so we can't fault the museum historians too much, can we? Plus they will never be able to translate the text carved into the stone under your ass. They will never realize that the Goths brought it south, nor will they know the barbarians were most likely aided by nonhumans to carry this intact."

"What was it used for?' Tabor leaned up on her forearms.

"You are about to find out."

"Shy, I don't know about this. Someone could come in. We could ruin this."

Shy grabbed her legs, pulling them apart using the jute robe he had found on the desks to tie Tabor's legs to iron hooks on the southern cardinal corners of the dais. Tabor's protests landed on deaf ears.

"Take off your blouse."

"Shy-"

"It is not a suggestion. You can take it off or I will rip it from your body and you will leave the museum topless."

Tears leaked from Tabor's eyes; she knew something had gone wrong, and she didn't know whether to stay with this man she thought she had loved and wanted to marry. Now he only terrified her. He looked at her as if he were relishing her tears; her frustration tumbled in her stomach with her humiliation. She slowly pulled her top over her head, wringing it in her hands close to her exposed body. But Shy only yanked what little protective comfort she had from her hands. Without a word or even a breath to exhibit feeling, Shy pulled her arms above her head and expertly fastened her to the dais.

She anxiously whipped her head around, watching Shy walk back to the table and grab a piece of paper. Even though the room was not drafty her body was covered with goose bumps.

"Okay, Shy, you've had your fun now. Please let me go."

"You are not in a position to speak anymore, Tabor. I suggest you remain silent."

If she'd had hairs on her neck they would have risen with contempt, but before she could release her anger he had had completely defused it with gentle caresses across her exposed belly.

He set the piece of paper down, carefully removed her leg brace, and set it aside with her shirt.

"Please, Shy, someone could come-" Tabor tried to inch away to prevent him from unhooking her wrap skirt.

"I guess they will learn the real purpose of this dais."

"You can't be serious!" Tabor spat. "Shy, let me up now! I'm not playing any more games!"

"Neither am I." He grabbed the triangle of fabric that protected her sex from the world and ripped it apart. Again, her tears renewed with the second sound of fabric breaking apart. "Perhaps you shouldn't wear panties anymore, they're always in the way of what is mine anyway."

"Please, Shy, can we go home? Please, make love to me at home." Tabor begged, blubbering tears.

"Love, we can go home, but you are mistaken; I am not going to make love to you. This is a ceremony, a rite of passage." Shy dripped kisses along her healed leg. "Can you read this?" He held a rubbing on paper for Tabor to read. "This is inscribed all over the dais. You see it is in a language not originating from the dark ages, but from the Goths who crafted this stone for us."

Tabor shook her head nervously and more tears flowed down her face as she read the inscriptions that were embossed against her naked back and thighs. She whimpered pleas but he remained stoic, ignoring her as he walked around the room opening drawers and cupboards. What she had read made her incredibly nervous and all she could do was lay exposed -- spread eagle.

Shy glided the back of his hand down the side of her face and kissed her tearstained cheek. "Remember this going forward, Tabor: I fiercely adore you." She stopped crying and turned to him, her eyes seeing the bottomless ocean of love he had for her in his silver-grey eyes. Tabor began to speak, but Shy pressed his index finger to her lips halting her. "Shhh, not another word."

Tabor anxiously watched Shy's every move around her. He picked up her blouse and bundled it into a pillow, which he placed under her head. Then pulled his t-shirt off and Tabor couldn't help but marvel at his chiseled chest. Shy was tall and lean and he was the epitome of sexy, yet this god of a vampire was unsettling to be so close to. He was a contradiction, his tender actions by sitting on the edge of the dais to massage her numbing arms awake because he held her captive. Tabor's fearfully tried to force measured breaths.

"Now that you have read what this dais was used for, we will begin."

Shy pulled her breast out of her bra, making her feel foolish that the only remaining clothing she wore was her bra, now rendered useless with her breast hanging outside of it like a wanton whore. Shy only hummed listening to her thoughts; he didn't care how she felt, and she was his. His hands covered her breasts, moving in circles, massaging her.