Crimson Lace: A Crimson Peak love story (Thomas Sharpe)

PART-7 MY THOMAS

My eyes shot up toward the mysterious voice that spoke to me.
It knew my name, and the familiar manner in which it addressed me sent prickles running up my spine.

"What are you?.." I shuddered, unable to tell if my involuntary trembles stemmed from fear, or from the cold.
"You know me." It said, warmly.

The tingly, electric sensation that I had come to crave began to creep up the side of my swollen cheek. The pain fading away by the comforting little pulses.
I leaned into the feeling. I closed my eyes, drinking in the relief it offered me. The feeling intensified, and felt almost as if it was taking shape.

I absentmindedly brought my hand up to the sensation. I expected to feel the heat of my face, but to my surprise, there was something there, something tangible, almost real. My eyes fluttered open, and what kneeled before me was none other than the very face I'd become so enamored with.

"Thomas..." I whispered.
He smiled at me, his dark eyes seemed to glisten at the sound of his name. He gently caressed my face as I let myself melt into his touch.

"I'm mad aren't I?" I sighed, unfazed by the alarming possibility of my words.

"I'm afraid not, dear Sybil." He chuckled softly.

"What are you?..." I asked, already convinced that this beautiful man was an angel of some sort, here to comfort me in this frigid hell.

Sadness filled his eyes as he stood.
In the dim moonlight that cascaded through the windows, I could see that he wasn't fully here with me.
The light passed through him as if he were made of glass, and there was a darkness to him, reminiscent of a glass chimney stained by the smoke of an old oil lamp.

"A spirit..." I mouthed, as I stood.

"Damned to exist in the very dwelling of my sins....It's almost poetic, really. " He added, solemnly.

"You mean you've been here this whole time? All alone?" I asked.
The house began to groan as if it was answering me.

"Gracious no, I couldn't hope to be so lucky." He smiled, half heartedly.
I pulled his picture from my breast pocket. He was exactly the same as he was in life, still just as handsome, still just as alluring.

Bleeding Christ, I really have gone mad, haven't I?

"What are you thinking about?" He asked.

"This can't be real...I've fantasized about what it would feel like to meet you so many times..."
I pressed my lips together, silencing myself. What am I saying?

"Forgive me, I've forgotten my manners." I chuckled nervously, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment.
His eyes moved from my face, glided down my body, and back up again.
His expression was thoughtful as if he was studying me.

"Manners..." he sighed softly, with a light chuckle gliding off the cusp of his breath.
"They don't seem to matter much when you're cut off from the rest world...Crimson Peak has a way of devaluing social pleasantries..."

I could hear August calling for me, his voice was faint, but the anger in his tone caused me to leap back away from the door.

"Sybil?"
I could feel the pulsating sensation of Tom's touch on my shoulder.
"He's never acted like this before...he's never-"
My voice trailed off as I brought my hand back to my cheek. My heart ached as the memory of his cold, furious eyes flashed through my mind.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize the loud chattering of my teeth, and the opaque wisps of my breath that lingered in the air around me.

"Come...We must get you warm."
Thomas's voice is so soft and comforting, eerily similar to how I imagined it to be.

He lead me through a door at the other end of the room that was shrouded by decaying, dry rotted curtains.

"I don't particularly enjoy coming in here when I can help it, but there's a fire place." He said, passing through the door.

The knob felt like ice as I jiggled it. Dust flew from the frame as I pushed it open.

"Thomas?..." I said, stepping into the dark. There's no windows here, no moonlight to guide me.
Suddenly, the room began to glow dimly as tiny flames manifested on each old wick of every candle in the room. I held my breath, amazed by the sight.

A crackling fire began to rise on the hearth on the far side of the room.
In the flickering warm light, I could make out how full the room was.

Curvy Mannequins with moth eaten dresses hanging from them, dust covered desks, boxes, chests, small trinket boxes, old handmade toys, and a large bed sitting in the shadows.
It was hauntingly beautiful.

Thomas placed his hand around my shoulder and lead me by the fire place. The heat felt heavenly as the numbness in my hands melted away.
Thomas sat beside me, draping a dusty old quilt over my shoulders.
"It's not very glamorous, I'm afraid." He sighed.

"It's fine..." I replied, smiling back at him. We sat in silence for a while, drinking each other in. With only the sound of my breathing and the crackling of the fire.

"I can't believe you're here..." I said softly, breaking the silence between us. He smiled as his almost transparent fingers delicately swirled a fallen lock of my hair.

"I am..." he said sadly.
"I've always been here. Always will be..." he tucked the hair he was playing with behind my ear, and trailed his fingers down my neck, leaving a trail of chilled little bumps.
He seemed to watch what his touch did to my skin, a quiet chuckle escaped his lips.

"What is it?" I asked, as I self consciously pulled the dusty blanket over my shoulder, covering the area.

"It's just..." he started, before his eyes met mine again.
"It's been a long time since I-" his voice trailed off, something came over me, and I leaned in, pressing my mouth to his. It felt warm, but so very different from the warmth of flesh.

Warm, electrifying, tingly, almost as if my mouth were being pricked by microscopic warm needles. I could feel the sensation leave my lips and work it's way down my neck. The candles all around us flickered wildly as my arousal grew deep within me.

This is madness, complete and utter insanity, but I didn't care, I just wanted him. I wanted him so badly that my body trembled at the thought of his touch, and what he could do to me.
"Thomas....My Thomas..."