Almost Clark (Chapter Two)

Chapter Two

"What's the matter, Nancy Drew? Giving up on the stake-out? It was just getting interesting."

Her back stiffened as she ground out "You knew?"

"Mmm-hmm." His hand moved down her arm slowly and over to her waist. "I was waiting to see if you'd follow me home with... them."

"What?" she said, her voice heavy with disdain. "Can't remember their names?"

"What do you care?" he whispered, a little too close to her ear. "I know yours."

She shivered as his breath caressed her ear. Shivered with a need she recognized and a sadness that was also all too familiar these days. "But I don't know yours," she said softly. Could he even hear her over the bass as she faced away from him?

"I told you my name the first time you came. It's Ka-"

She groaned, ripping his hand from her waist and turning to face him. "Your name is not Kal!" she spat. She tried to keep the tears at bay as she looked into his empty eyes. "But it's not Clark, either."

He placed his hand back on her waist, let the other roam to her hip. His empty eyes filled with a flash of red. "Kal will do for now." He backed away, letting his hand slide from her waist to grip her hand. "Come on."

She let herself be pulled behind him through the club towards a door to the left. It wasn't the entrance. "Where are we going?" she half-shouted. The music got louder as they passed under two gigantic speakers hanging from the ceiling.

"Somewhere we can talk," he shouted back in her direction, not turning around. "You want to talk, right?"

She stopped and stared dumbly as his hand left hers to push at the door. It said "Emergency Exit." She flinched and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the loud whine as he pushed at the bar, but it never came. She opened her eyes to see his hand pulling a tiny sensor off the top. It left a small hole in the woodwork. She knew he was strong but...

"Okay," he said loudly, pulling her through the doorway. He shut it with a flick of his hand. "Go on," he said softly, now that the music's cacophony was down to a dull, bass-ridden thump around them. She looked around. It was an alleyway. A grimy, dimly lit alleyway with a big smelly dumpster. As if she hadn't already spent an hour in a similar location. And he probably knew it, the jerk! She looked back at him. That wasn't much better. He looked... predatory.

"Go on what?" she asked, backing away a little at the red flash in his eyes. She thought she'd imagined it before, that it had been a trick of the lighting. But there it was again.

"Tell me all about how Ma and Pa are losing the farm and Lex is dead and Lana is a mess and..."

"How can you make fun at a time like this?" she said, glaring. "That's all true and you know it, Clark!"

"Kal," he growled. "You say that name again and I'll not only leave, I'll take your clothes with me."

She gulped and backed up again only to find the door at her back and Clar... No. It wasn't Clark. Clark had never looked at her like this. Clark didn't even look at Lana this way. Maybe Kal fit him after all. Kal was the name of a soul-less bastard who didn't care about his family or his friends or the girl he said he loved. But Kal had one thing Clark didn't.

Kal had Chloe's pulse racing in parts of her body she'd never felt it in before. It had felt like fear at first, but it wasn't. She knew what it was. And she was ashamed of it. She wanted to bring him back to his family and to Lana. Lana, who stayed at her house, who helped with the chores, who was becoming more and more like a sister. Lana, she repeated to herself. Don't get this mixed up. You're here for her.

"Fine. Kal," she said, licking lips that had gone dry with... nerves, she told herself. "Well, that oher guy has left a gargantuan mess behind and a lot of people that care about him."

"Like you," he said softly, moving closer. "You care about him, don't you, Chloe?"

"I... This has nothing to do with me."

"But it does," he whispered, moving in. "Poor, little Chloe pining after the farmboy who hardly even knows she's alive. It's kind of sweet in a pathetic way."

She didn't know if she was more angry or hurt as she turned her head away.

He took her chin, forcing her gaze back to him. "He doesn't, Chloe. He'd hardly care if you vanished off the face of the earth."

She felt tears pricking a the backs of her eyes.

"Oh, he'd be sad for a second. But we all know he only has eyes for another." He caressed her cheek softly as his words washed over her, as cruel as they were true. He pouted mockingly. "Yes. I'm not lying. You don't have a chance with him." His hand moved down to her collarbone and, even as sadness took over her mind, a soft tingling took over her body. "So why don't you forget about him? Even if he came back, he'd be lost to you. He's not yours."

"I don't care about that," she lied.

He chuckled softly as his hand moved lower, cupping her breast. "Liar," he breathed. Her heart-rate skyrocketed as his fingers searched for her nipple, which quickly poked out through her tank top. "Forget him, Chloe," he almost purred. His voice as persuasive as his hands. She couldn't believe he was doing this. She couldn't believe she was letting him. "Him, you can't have." He slid down to his knees, his hands going down with him, slipping under her skirt, then under her panties.

Move, she screamed in her mind as her eyes devoured him. Push him! Kick him! This is crazy! Run away!

She jolted with fear when she felt his fingers hook into the sides of her underwear and rip them away as if they were made of paper. She almost did run away, but then he spoke.

"Me?" he said, stuffing her torn underwear in his back pocket. "Well, I'll have you."

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Chapter Three