But when Gregor was in a good mood, it was heavenly. He'd listen for hours as I spoke about my insecurities growing up. He encouraged me to show my nonhuman traits, something I'd tried to hide as much as possible around my mother. Then he bought me clothes, shoes, and jewelry, overriding my protests by saying pretty girls should have pretty things.
No guy had ever called me pretty before. In fact, no one had ever paid attention to me the way Gregor did. I'd gone from being a lonely outcast to feeling very favored and special almost overnight. Here was this attractive, suave, charismatic man spending all this time with me, and even though I knew it was stupid, I was getting more infatuated with Gregor every day.
Gregor didn't act like anything but a protector, however. Every day, I tried to talk myself out of my embarrassing crush. Not only is Gregor about a thousand years too old for you, he's probably got ten girlfriends. Cannelle couldn't be more obvious about how she wants him, but he doesn't give her the time of day even though she's a beautiful woman. So what chance do you have? None, that's what.
I'd convinced myself to stop secretly mooning over Gregor by the time he took me to see The English Patient. After a crash course, my French was good enough that I didn't need to read all the subtitles to know what was going on, and there were certain parts that required no translation.
The heroine's name was Catherine. Hearing my name moaned during the erotic parts of the movie was like a spotlight on my hidden fantasies. I was hyperaware of Gregor's knee grazing mine, his arm resting on the divider, and how very large he was in his chair. I started feeling flushed, and I bolted out of the seat with a hurried excuse about the bathroom.
I didn't make it. In the hall, I was seized and whirled around, crushed against Gregor's body. My mouth opened in surprise only to have his come down over it, shocking me with his invading tongue. He grabbed my hair and held my head as he kissed me.
It felt consuming, terrifying, and good all at once. I couldn't move with the grip he held me in, and I couldn't breathe from how deeply he was kissing me. Finally, my flapping hands must have registered, because he let me go. I almost stumbled, glad the wall was there to keep me from falling. My heartbeat must have been loud enough to make his head hurt.
"Your first kiss?" Gregor asked thickly, giving a rude glare to a couple who paused to gawk at us.
I didn't want to admit it, but he always seemed to know when I lied.
"Yes." How pathetic. I was sixteen; half my classmates had already had sex.
A smile curled on his lips. "'Twas the answer I wanted. You take to it very well." He placed each arm around me, caging me against the wall. "I wonder how well you'll take to the other enjoyments I'll show you."
I stared, thinking I must have misunderstood him. This was such a switch from how Gregor normally acted around me, I couldn't keep up. "You're saying you want to, uh, have sex with me?"
He responded to my stunned whisper by yanking me to him. "Why do you think you're here? Why do you think I took you into my home, garbed you in lovely clothes, and spent day and night with you? I've been waiting for you to adjust to your new home, and I've been very patient, oui? Yet my patience is running thin. You are mine, Catherine, and I will have you soon. Very soon."
I was at a loss for words. Sure, I'd been madly crushing on Gregor, but I hadn't been prepared to jump into bed with him.
Tentatively, I smiled. "You're joking, right?"
At once I knew I'd made a mistake. His brows drew together, stretching the scar, and his face darkened.
"You mock me? I offer you what Cannelle would kill for, yet you smirk and giggle. Perhaps I should spend my time with a woman instead of a foolish child."
Tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't need to look around to know people were staring as they hurried past us in the hall.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean - " I began.
"No, you didn't mean," he cut me off, his voice thick with scorn. "You don't mean because you don't think. Come along, Catherine. You've been out enough for tonight."
With that, he jerked me by the arm and led me out of the theater. I kept my head down, so that the new people we passed couldn't see I was crying.
Gregor didn't speak to me for two days. I called my mom, only to have her berate me for insulting such a wonderful man. Didn't I know how lucky I was he'd taken me in? Didn't I care that he had my best interests at heart? I didn't mention to her that my heart seemed a little north of what he'd expressed interest in. Maybe I really was ungrateful. After all, Gregor had done so much for me. Without him, me and my family would all be in terrible danger. And he was a grown man - a very grown man. I couldn't expect someone as old as Gregor just to want to hold hands if he was interested in me.
Properly contrite, I waited until the third day to talk to him. I had a plan; I just had no idea if it would work.
First, I put some makeup on. Gregor seemed to prefer me wearing it. Then, I fixed my hair. Next the outfit. Pants were my favorite, but Gregor hated those. I flipped through my new clothes while heaping more coals onto my head. See all these pretty things? He bought them for you. Look at this bedroom. It's almost as big as your grandparents' whole house. No one's ever treated you so well. Sure, Gregor has mood swings, but you're a half-breed freak. Who are you to throw stones?
I chose a sleeveless white dress and worked myself up into an apologetic frenzy. Then I brushed my teeth one last time and headed to his door.
Once outside his door, however, I stopped. What if he'd already decided to send me back home? God, how could I have been such an idiot?
"Come in, I can hear you," he called out.
Oh, crap. Now or never.
I entered his bedroom, and the interior almost made me forget my purpose. Wow. How barbarically antique.
The bed was about twice the size of the king in my room. Curving up on all four sides were twisted, polished tree trunks. They were carved in various shapes, forms interlapping, and they met at the top to provide a complete canopy of sculptured wood. The whole bed looked like it was from one gigantic, steroid-induced tree. I'd never seen anything like it, and I blushed when I studied some of the forms more clearly. There were figures locked in combat, and other things.
"It's over four hundred years old, modeled after Odysseus's bed, and built for me by a carpenter who grew trees to bend and entwine any way he chose," Gregor answered my silent awe. "It is magnificent, non?"
"Yes." I took my riveted gaze from the bed and switched it to him. He was at a desk on the computer. He minimized the screen and sat back with his arms folded. Waiting.