"Sybil! Sybil, please! Wake up darling, wake up!"
Thomas? I'm here...Thomas...
I'm becoming more aware. The cold hard wood against my back, his arm cradling the back of my head, the familiar, musty smell of the bedroom that had become our sanctuary. My eyes fluttered open, struggling to adjust to the dim light of the room.
"Thomas..." I sighed, as his angelic face came into focus.
"Oh God!" He sighed in relief, pulling me up to his chest and resting his head on my face.
"Oh...oh my love...forgive me...forgive me..." he cried, his tears cascading down my cheeks.
My arms felt like they were made of stone as I struggled to wrap them around his neck.
"I didn't mean any of it. I just wanted you to be safe. I just wanted-"
"Shhh...." I tangled my fingers in his dark curls, and pulled him closer to me. We held one another for a while, as I slowly felt my strength try to come back.
"What happened?" I asked, still weak.
"I don't know. I tried to stop him sooner, really I did." He sighed.
I tried to piece together what little bit I remembered...the glass...August's screaming...
"Is he dead?..." I asked.
"Let us hope so." He replied, motioning his hand toward the fire place, making the flames rise higher, warmer.
"I have to go. I have to go see..." I said, attempting to stand. My head began swimming again and I stumbled to my knees. Thomas wrapped his arms around me and cradled me close.
"Absolutely not. I won't allow it. Your far to weak to face him. If he is alive, I'm not sure I could muster the power I need to fight him off again."
I couldn't wrap my head around the possibility of August's death. This is all my fault, if only I had listened, if only I'd just stayed quiet.
"Thomas...Finlay..." I choked,
"I know...." he sighed, running his fingers tenderly down my arm.
"It wasn't your fault."
"But it is...I killed him...and I drove August mad, and now he's gone too...I'm a horrible person, Thomas." I cried.
Thomas gently cupped my cheek in his hand and tilted my face up to look at him.
"Hey, Hey, Shh....none of this is your fault, ok stop thinking that, right this moment." He said, running his thumb along my cheek. He sat me down gently by the fire and stood up.
"Stay here, I'll be right back..."
He said, as he phased through the wall, between the bedroom and his workshop.
In the other room I heard the clanking of the pipes, and running of water. As soon as the water stopped, he manifested in front of me and knelt down, holding an old rag wet with warm water.
"Let's get you cleaned up." He smiled, sympathetically. He started with my face, wiping away the dried blood that caked itself within the creases of my nose and the corners of my mouth. His eyes softened as He worked his way down my neck.
"There's so much..." I whispered, horrified as the reality of being covered in another persons blood began to hit me.
"Shh...you're alright...I'm here, I'm taking care of you..." he said, softly.
He worked the damp rag around the stained lace collar of my gown, sighing as his eyes move further down, noticing the damp, blood soaked fabric sticking to my breasts.
"This is going to have to come off..you'll catch your death in this wet gown..." he said, placing the rag on the floor.
"May I?" He asked, gesturing to the hem of my dress.
His eyes were kind, hooded slightly, dreamy looking.
I nodded, as he slowly lifted the gown above my head, his fingers tickling my skin as they lightly grazed my sides and shoulders.
Chill bumps cascaded across my skin, making my nipples perk in response to the cool air around them.
I looked down at my chest, then shot my gaze to him, ready to fall apart at the horrible sight.
"Don't look, darling. Keep your eyes on me." He said softly as he began to drag the rag across my chest, gently. He started at my collarbone, and slowly worked his way down. Doing as I was instructed, I kept my eyes focused on him.
I watched as his eyes drank in my body, how gentle and focused they were. The way his messy, jet black curls fell around his beautiful sharp features. Once his hands reached my breasts, he glanced up at me, as if to ask for my permission.
I nodded in response.
His hands were skilled, tender, soft, making sure to get any trace of the tragedy off of my skin. An involuntary, pleasurable sigh slipped through my lips. As inappropriate as it was, I couldn't deny the way that his touch felt.
It had been so long since I'd felt the hands of a man in this way. So long since I'd felt a desire that burned this bright within me.
"Shall I stop?..." he asked, his own eyes mirroring the arousal that I felt.
"Please, don't stop..." I mouthed, leaning back so that he could reach my blood stained stomach.
The rag was no longer warm, as he moved it around the lower part of my stomach. He sat the rag to the side, and glided his bare hand slowly up my stomach, stopping right before his finger reached my chest. He pulled his hand away, suddenly.
"I'm so sorry..." he whispered, seeming almost embarrassed for feeling this way.
"No. Don't be sorry...Don't ever be sorry..." I replied, raising up, and pressing my lips to his.
As I pulled away, he tangled his fingers in my hair, and forced his mouth to mine, hungrily.
He had me, in every sense of the word. If time could stand still, and leave me locked in his arms forever I'd never ask for another earthly thing again. He placed his hand under my bottom and pulled me up onto his lap. With one hand clasped firmly to the back of my neck, he moved the other up my back, lightly digging his finger tips into my skin.
He pulled my hair back, and looked into my eyes, intensely.
"Say it. Say that you belong to me."
He pleaded.
His eyes were needy, desperate, full of longing and desire. He mesmerized me, consumed my every thought. I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. We belonged together. It was then I realized that we were always meant to find one another. Even through the hell and bitterness that brought us to where we are, I'd do it all again just to be where I am in this moment. I am his.
"I do. I'm yours, Thomas, use me and do with me what you will. I'm yours...I'm yours..."
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Lace: A Crimson Peak love story (Thomas Sharpe)
Fantastique*COMPLETED* Sybil McMichael was happy to accompany her husband, August, to the place his grandmother, Edith Sharpe, wrote about in her most famous Novel. Once there, she finds that her husbands intentions were fueled by more than mere childhood curi...
