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The Beautiful Ones	By : TaimaMarie Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 1682 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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She didn’t know what to do. His lips were soft and warm, and the way they tasted sent a flame down her spine. This was so far from kissing Michael. She pressed back, returning the kiss.

Though the kiss lasted seconds, it felt like several eternities slid by. Before Criss could even think clearly again, Cassandra broke away. Her cheeks were darker pink, and her eyes were wide with something between fear and pleasure.

“I… I have to go.” She mumbled, turning and running as best she could in the heels.

“Cass! Cassandra, wait!” Criss shouted. But before he could go after her, he was swallowed up by the fans that were allowed backstage, by interviewers, and by his own crew. The girl in blue was gone, and only the stickiness of her lip gloss remained on his lips as proof that they had shared that kiss at all.

**

Cassandra stood under the steaming water of the shower. His shower, she reminded herself bitterly. Everything here was his. Nothing belonged to her but the clothes she had brought, nothing but Stanley.

And my car. My car is mine. The thought made her happy for a few seconds until she realized that she didn’t even now where it was. Criss had taken her keys the second morning, and she hadn’t seen them since.

“Nothing is mine, really.” She told the showerhead. “Not even the way I look. He paid for all of it, and it belongs to him.” Cassandra touched her hair, not hanging limply against her shoulders.

She didn’t have a clue when he would come back, but she was sure she didn’t want to be here when he did. Where could she go, though? What other options did she have? Wasn’t she here because there was nothing else?

Reluctantly, she turned off the water and stepped into the steamy bathroom. Without even stopping to wrap a towel around herself, she stepped over to the mirror and wiped clean a circle with her hand. She peered at her reflection, which only looked back at her, exhausted and anxious, and plainer than ever.

“Of course,” Cassandra sighed. “Back to what I always was. Back to what I can never run from. Wherever I go, I’m always there. I get so tired of it.” It sounded like babble, even to her own ears.
“I must be too tired.”

She pulled on another of his t-shirts and went back to his couch, pulling the blankets up to her chin. The polite thing, the adult thing to do would be to wait for him. To sit up and have a meaningful discussion about everything that had happened that night.

But that night, Cassandra didn’t feel very adult. She had crashed hard from the adrenaline, and her eyelids refused to stay open any longer. Every nerve was frayed, and just the thought of seeing anyone made her want to cry.

“Stanley, how do I always make such a mess of things?” she yawned. He looked at her with his wise black eyes and said nothing.

***

It was hours later when he managed to come back. He couldn’t pretend that he was scared to death that she was going to be gone. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t worried about her.

Nervously, Criss opened the door. The suite was dark. The television wasn’t even on, which made his heart drop into his stomach. She normally left it on if she’d had a bad night and couldn’t fall asleep. Oh God, why did he know that?

On cat feet, Criss crept towards the couch. He sucked in a breath when he saw her asleep, the moonlight spilling across her face. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing. Hammie was curled up with her, right across her knees.

“Oh, Cassandra. I thought you’d gone and left me.” He whispered. She stirred, whimpering in her sleep and turning her head. He stroked back her hair and watched as the peaceful expression returned to her face.
”I was terrified.” He confessed. “I don’t like the idea of you leaving. I don’t know why.”

Hammie lifted his head and stretched with a yawn. Clearly, he thought Criss had stayed out much too late. He padded into the bedroom, assuming that now his master would be going to bed as well.

She didn’t look like the woman in blue he had kissed earlier. But she didn’t look like the drenched child he had hired, either. She was somewhere in between, and he only found himself liking her even more.

“You’ve had a long day. I won’t make you sleep on the couch.” He decided. He bent and picked her up. She fussed for a moment before winding her arms around his neck and nestling into his chest.

Effortlessly, the illusionist carried the girl into his bedroom. He laid her on the bed, but when he went to pull away, she fussed again, tightening her grip on him.

“You’ve at least got to let me put on pajamas, Cass.” He chuckled, untangling her fingers from his shirt.

She rolled over on his bed, curling into a fetal position. Criss swallowed and turned to get cleaned up for bed.
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The Beautiful Ones