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The Moon’s Beloved, Purest Rose of Waikiki

By Isabeau Saberhagen © 11-18-2006

Chapter 6

Lucia woke up the next morning with the small stereo she had packed along blaring Peter Gabriel’s Steam and Steve dancing to it like a man that had just had the best sex any man could dream of. Not that he didn’t look like a tasty hot treat all for the taking when he danced to Steam, with no shirt on, but Lucia had no memory of any mind blowing sex or really anything from the previous night.

Steve saw her awake and started to rotate his slender hips pulling himself a little closer to her with each thrust. His wrists were crossed over his head like he was bound, and as he got the edge of the bed he spread his legs and continued moving his hips. He threw his head back and moaned as he let his body move with the heavy beat. The song ended on a deep beat and he threw his ‘bound’ hands before her in a gesture of complete submission.

Lucia could not move. Her mind was functioning completely separate from her body. Every atom of her physical being was being pulled towards this man who had just danced like she never thought a man could, and then had handed over his dominance on a sliver platter. That physical being wanted to screw him like there was no tomorrow.

Her mental presence however was still racking its droves of memory for what could have possibly caused this act. Her recollection stopped after she boarded his boat. What had happened? And why was he handing over his control of the situation, which she knew he valued dearly, to her? His heavy breathing, smoldering stare and obvious need stirred her just enough to give into her own burning desire, pull him onto the bed, climb on top of him and say, “I’m going to make you purr.”

The instant her lips hit his neck he did purr, clawing her back and tangling his fingers in her hair as she worked his most sensitive spots. He didn’t stop purring either.

*****

Later McGarrett lay in seventh heaven, only partially covered by the white sheets, his arms folded over his head, and with no intentions of letting this afterglow wear off by getting up and returning to life. He’d stay there till either the dopamine plummeted or Lucia dragged him out.

Lucia was on deck, and had taken to figuring out what prompted McGarrett’s sweet little dance when she awoke.

Lucia banged her head on the steel railing. Her flashed open at it came back she’d developed a splitting headache a few hours before Steve came to pick her up. When a nap in her holy bed away from the evil rays of the sun didn’t help, she had taken some Vicodin. A little too much, considering how loopy she remembered being before conking out completely after boarding. But if she passed out, what was McGarrett so happy about?

As if he had read her mind, McGarrett emerged with a sheet draped around his waist. He smiled and was no doubt about to say something sexy and coy but Lucia spoke first.

“Steve, yesterday I took some pain killers for a migraine.”

He looked her quizzically.

“I don’t remember much of yesterday or any of last night. Please tell me what I said.”

McGarrett’s equilibrium shattered. She was drugged?! That’s why she confessed her deepest secret to him? What if she hadn’t been drugged? Would she have even trusted him, would she have even brought it up? He stumbled back down to the lower quarters and fell down on the bed. He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate but couldn’t stop the circle of terrifying thoughts.

“Steve!” Lucia grabbed his shoulders. “Calm down! You’re going to pass out!”

“Lucia.” He turned to her. “Lucia, you…you told me about Shinju, you told me everything. I thought you…”

“I did?”

“Yes!”

Lucia just sat there for a few moments with an unreadable expression. She then tilted her head back trying to find the right words.

“Steve. I don’t normally like to discuss Shinju or what happened with anyone. In fact you’re the first man I dated that I did tell. I find that I don’t really care whether I did or not though. What I want to know is how you felt.”

McGarrett looked at her like he thought she was insane. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I have no recoll…”

“No”, he put his fingers on her lips, “Why do you feel you have to ask? The whole night you cried. I held you, comforted you, tried to give you solace. I never felt closer with you then when you told me about that gap in your life, that dark time you always run from. Now I find out you were loopy from pain medicine; I feel like that trust, that bond has been destroyed, Lucia.”

He cupped her chin. “Do you trust me at all? Are you so secretive, are you wound so tight that the only way you can open up to me is to overdose on headache meds?”

She took a deep breathe and paused to sort the jumble of emotions that were threatening to take complete control of her.

“I do trust you, and I’m sorry I made you doubt that. If there’s any man on this earth I’d willingly give my soul to, it’s you.”

McGarrett heaved a sigh of relief. He drew her into his arms and just enjoyed feeling her warmth on his skin.

“Oh by the way,” said Lucia, “Why don’t you get dressed?”

“Oh.” McGarrett realized he was still only wearing the bed sheet.

“You have the strangest talent for making me forget all about clothes.”

“Ha!”

Lucia headed back up on deck and McGarrett pulled out his suitcase.

*****

McGarrett arrived back in the office on Monday morning, long before everyone else and more than ready for today’s onslaught. McGarrett had always had a deep appreciation for the little things around the office that made it more a home than home, but today he seemed to see it all with new eyes.

The first rays of the rising sun were stronger; the drops of dew on the leaves of the palms became tiny diamonds instead of just glistening. The mockingbird’s song was extra sweet, and the new day’s winds fresher than ever. And Danny’s grimace as he swallowed McGarrett’s strong coffee was just a little funnier.

For no particular reason McGarrett glanced at his left hand. He wondered how a gold ring would look against his tanned skin in the bright light.

‘Gold ring? Steve you idiot, you know better than to think this fast.’ His chiding of himself was harsh but he smiled. He’d been thinking about hat ring since their first date, but would rather castrate himself then ask for it now. Honestly, if he did castration would really be a better life, if there was life for him without Lucia. He doubted there was.

“Hey Steve.”

“Yea, Danno.”

“No activity on the Alika case, but we did get a few leads in the others over the weekend.”

“That’s good; I didn’t really expect anything with our bird of paradise killer.”

“Neither did I. Do you really think this plan of yours is going to work? And what in the world will you do if the press finds out?”

“I already made a deal with the papers that they can do whatever they want with the story after that night. I don’t care what they say as long as they say after then.”

“And the other arrangements?”

“All taken care of.”

*****

“So Lucia.”

“What Catherine?”

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Cathy?”

“Catherine is a far more suitable name for a lady such as yourself.”

Lucia sat in a small teahouse on the outskirts of downtown Honolulu with a friend of a friend. She didn’t like to refer to Catherine as anything more, for all her designer clothes and her salon beauty treatments she was still as coarse as a gravel road.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d call you a Prince in shining armor.”

“Thank you for the compliment Catherine, but I am only Prince to one person.”

Catherine laughed and watched Lucia. Her posture was perfect, she kept her legs clamped together with one ankle tucked behind the other, and her shoulders were loose while her back was straight as an arrow. Her napkin lay elegantly draped over her knees and she looked handsome (there was no other word for it) in her brown suede double-breasted coat and knee-high suede boots. Her black silk gloves, pants and simple cravat (not ascot, cravat!) went wonderfully. Pure new age Prince.

It was a damn crying shame Lucia was female.

Lucia took a sip of the Earl Grey and winced a bit. Far too strong, this place always steeped it to long but it was the only decent teahouse in Hawaii. Why was it that England only had good tea and America only had good coffee? Couldn’t one have both for a change?

Lucia sighed inwardly, at least the candies and water crest sandwiches were well made.

“Enough of pleasantry, you brought me here to discuss something serious.” She set down her cup and stared at Catherine. “Discuss it.”

“Alright, you know your little sweetheart is singing at Sally’s Bar this Friday?”

“What of it?”

Lucia hadn’t heard but figured she would have any way. Catherine drew out her pause as long as she could, she wanted to savor this moment.

“He’s gonna be singing for the person that killed my ex-husband.”

Lucia burst out laughing. She could hardly contain herself and nearly went rolling of her poof as she gripped her ribcage trying to keep her sides together.

“I’m serious!”

Catherine screeched over Lucia’s laughter. “He’ll be there on Friday singing a song he wrote just for this murderer!”

Lucia sucked in air and wiped away a few tears and tucked some stray hairs back into place.

“Dear Catherine,” she began still chuckling a bit, “Steve McGarrett would never compliment, fraternize with, and certainly never sing for a killer or criminal of any caliber. He is perfectly capable of writing a song and performing it in public, but this notion of it being for a criminal is ludicrous.”

Catherine huffed and humphed and stared as hard as she could at a teacup on the next table. Lucia smiled and dropped the tip by the pot. 

“Pick up the check will you dear?” she said.

“He will!” Catherine screamed at her as she exited.

Lucia was deeply concerned by the notion that this song of his was dedicated as Catherine said it was, but the Prince knew better than to show it.

*****

Lucia had a lot to work out when she got home. Anger, frustration, suspicion, insecurity, rage, and even a little power lust. Hammering out ‘Storm’ on her Del Jesu always helped most of that. As she played she could feel the clouds gathering in the sky, blocking the Hawaiian sun and allowing the fierce northern winds to claim the island. She wanted that storm, she wanted that chaos, that fear, that absolute power. Lightning crashed down and scorched the landscape, and the thunder roared egging the wind and rain to assault the island paradise even harder. The waves pounded that shores and ripped the beaches to shreds, the palmed were up rooted and swatted away from the earth like flies. She dragged the bow across the strings even harder, and the storm grew angrier. It ripped up buildings like paper, threw houses over hills, and tore the roads from the earth. The waves broke the barriers of the shores and flooded everything they could reach. Another deep chord and the volcano simmering underneath Oahu threw of its stone prison and spewed forth molten lava from the deepest bowels of the earth. In the midst of this, Lucia stood, and played.

She commanded the wind, the water, the clouds, the thunder, the lightning, the volcano, the earth itself with every note she played. The sinister, never-ending song flew from her violin empowered her beyond Satan and even God!

“HONEY!”

Lucia jumped, nearly hitting her head on the eight foot ceiling and breaking the e-string. The bow hissed and the violin screeched at the most unwelcome interruption.

“What where you playing?”

“Did you like it?”

Lucia smiled and headed over to the case to get a new e-string.

“I didn’t know you could play, and it scared the hell out of me. What where you trying to do; open the gates to hell?”

“Well Mr. McGarrett,” Lucia tightened the new string and rosined the bow before testing the violin. “Care to listen again?”

The new song was beautiful and vibrant yet had a strange, unsettling sound hiding beneath it outer layer. McGarrett sat down and watched Lucia lose herself in her music again. This song seemed to suit her. It ended on a single note, one quick stroke of the bow and the music stopped.

“The Devil’s Trill, third movement; Tartini,” she said.

She placed the Del Jesu gently back in its red velvet throne of a case.

“Made me think of the devil disguising himself as an attractive human but still unable to hide what he is. You know like someone to see across the dance floor at a night club, outwardly sexy and perfect but when you look closer you see a dark cunning in their eyes and a frightening smile, but you still can’t help but lean in and flirt.”

Lucia threw herself into his lap and pressed her forehead against the side of his. “Met a few of those have you?”

“I’ve been in more than my fare share of nightclubs.”

“Never been. Didn’t see the point when some of the most eligible bachelors in the world always fawned over me.”

“Really?” McGarrett couldn’t hide his annoyance.

“My mother is related to the most fashionable families in Europe and my father is related to the oldest and noblest; including some royals. My début in high society was no less than a coronation. And speaking of débuts.” She walked her fingers up his face as she spoke, “What’s this I hear about you singing in Sally’s Bar this Friday?”

“Oh,” McGarrett fumbled around for an explanation, he never really devoted any thought as to what to tell her. “It is an open mic night, so I thought I would go down and unwind a bit…”

“No Steve, its not. I talked to Sally and she says you asked to perform an original song.”

McGarrett threw his head back. “Lucia, I honestly can’t tell you what’s it’s about right now. It has to do with my work okay?”

Lucia took a deep breath and smiled. “I’m just fine on two conditions. One; when its over you explain everything I couldn’t gather myself and two you let me video tape it.”

“What!”

“An original song written and preformed live by the Five-O chief? No way am I losing that memory.”

McGarrett laughed and planted a deep kiss on her. Lucia pulled away for a second.

“And I’ll be performing a song of my own before you go on.”

McGarrett nearly choked. “Why in the world would you?!”

“Steve, I’ve been booked there for the past two weeks, it was going to be a surprise.”

“Oh.”

She could tell he was still peeved.

“You’ll like it.”

McGarrett groaned.

“Forget it for now, we’ve got four days till Friday and I am not going to risk us arguing the whole time.”

“Not much of a risk taker are you?”

“Lucia, think about it. We both have a limited patience, a bit of a short fuse, and we’re stubborn as hell. Any snit is bound to be major, and neither of us needs any more stress.”

“Good point.”

She leaned in and let him have his way in the kiss. She lay against his shoulder having no problem what so ever in giving in this time and letting his mouth cover hers and his hands roam free. She was just too tired to do anything else. Apparently so was he, they didn’t even bother to leave the chair.

*****

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