Chapter 18

"Lose your girlfriend, Kiriakis?" asked a face, partially obscured by a white mask. The electric blue eyes radiated hostility. "I guess, you'd better get used to that."

Recognizing the voice, Philip's muscles tensed, but his exterior remained unperturbed. "I should have known it was you, Brady."

Brady stretched back his mask to sit atop his head. His predator eyes snickered at Philip's ludicrous costume. "Fair Chloe's handiwork, I see. Suits you. The spoiled little pretty boy image. Though, for a while there you weren't looking so pretty," he smirked, scrutinizing Philip's face, "You healed up pretty nice after that beating I gave you."

Growling, Philip jolted forward, itching to wipe that repulsive, self-satisfied grin off Brady's face.

"Go ahead. Do it, pretty boy. You know, you've been dying to get a whack at me, since you found Chloe with me." When he saw Philip's eyes ignite, he practically purred. "What'd you expect, Kiriakis? That you'd be enough for a girl like Chloe? She's so out of your league. That's why she came to me." Deliberately, he dusted off his sleeves and cocked a brow, meant to infuriate.

"You're full of shit, Brady," Philip spat, fighting back the secret insecurities that had plagued him since that day. How many times had he asked himself, if he was enough for Chloe? If he was worthy of her. "In case you haven't noticed, Chloe's still mine."

Brady laughed. "For now. It's only a matter of time. She told you, didn't she, about that kiss that night and, oh yeah, the day after…" He anticipated Philip's temper to explode then.

"Yeah," answered Philip instead with some confidence, surprising Brady a bit, "In fact, she did. She told me that very day, after she came to my house to tell me how much she loved me." Now, it was Philip's turn to smirk. "Must burn like a bitch to know you did nothing for her."

"Listen, you little prick," snarled Brady, his face reddening with anger, "She was feeling so damn guilty about making your pathetic ass cry-"

"Whatever gets you through night, dude," Philip commented with amusement. "Fact is, Chloe loves me. You know it. I know it. And there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

Incensed, Brady took a calming breath. With Black and Kiriakis blood running through his veins, he too knew how to calculate and bide his time. "I don't need to do a thing. You see, knowing you, you'll fuck up all on your own. It's inevitable. And this time, Chloe won't feel sorry for you, and men will be lined up at her door to take your place, pretty boy. And guess who'll be first in line."

"Philip?" she called out across the thick of partying teenagers. Startled from the stream of skyrocketing adrenaline, Philip turned toward her voice. "Excuse me, have you seen Philip anywhere?" his angel asked a group of classmates.

Philip turned back to Brady, only to find the Phantom had vanished. Fucking bastard.

"There you are," Chloe smiled, when she reached him. Relieved to have survived navigating through the crowd, she gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek. "I think Jason passed out. The story with him and Mimi is such a soap opera. She likes him. He likes her. But they want to make it all complicated…" Her chatter quieted, when she noticed his hard expression. "Philip? Are you ok?"

He blinked and forced his lips into a smile. "Yeah, beautiful. I was just getting us those drinks." They both looked down at the contents in his hands.

"Philip," she gasped, "What happened?" He'd crushed the cup into smithereens with the shards cutting into his hand. Frantic, she snatched napkins from a passing Sultan and his harem. She slowly opened his hand, which was sticky from the drying punch, and discarded the broken clear plastic on the floor. She gently dabbed at the cuts.

"It-It's ok, Chloe. It's nothing, really." He put down the can of beer on a nearby side table, the imprint of his hand left visibly on the aluminum. He wanted to pound something, until there was nothing left. But here was Chloe, who lovingly tended his wounds.

"My God, what happened?" she asked again, unsure which part of the red was punch and which was blood.

"Uh, I don't know. Clumsy me, I guess." He was so revved that he still couldn't feel it.

"Come on," she said, pulling him with her. "We need to clean those cuts."

"Yes, ma'am." The corners of his mouth starting to curve at her authoritative tone.

Like a woman on a mission, she led them to a bathroom near the kitchen, locked the door, flipped down the lid, and sat him on the toilet bowl. After she rinsed out a small towel in lukewarm water, she meticulously cleaned his hand. She sighed in relief, when the cuts appeared shallow.

"Philip Kiriakis, what are we going to do with you?" She wrapped the cloth around his abused hand. When his good hand cupped her cheek, she looked up. Despite the bright bathroom light, his deep blue eyes had darkened to a disturbing degree. "Philip-"

He pulled her roughly into his lap and ravaged her mouth. Shocked, her lips fell open, allowing him to invade her mouth. His hands, usually so careful because of their strength, desperately grasped every possible inch of her. He needed to know. He needed to know that she was really his.

All she could do was hold on, as the storm inside him raged. Her delicate wings fluttered with each burning breath. He broke the kiss to race his lips, tongue, and teeth down her neck over the locket to the soft bare flesh above her bodice.

Urgent knocks to the door startled them. "Hey, in there! Could you speed it up? My bud needs to puke."

Defeated, Philip rested his face on the silky skin of her chest. The heart diamond of her locket winked at him.

More concerned about him than the fool outside, she stroked his hair. "Philip. What happened?"

He closed his eyes, comforted by her tender voice and recovering heartbeat. "I love you, Chloe."

Her arms wrapped around him. Then, she lifted his face, trying to read his eyes. She ignored the angry pounding on the door and placed gentle kisses on his eyes, then his nose, and mouth. When his eyes opened to meet hers, she said softly, "And I absolutely and totally love you."

She felt some of the tension leave him, as she pulled him into her arms again.

Their brows furrowed at a peculiar sound outside, followed by an unfortunate odor.

"Thanks, Mimi." An excited Brian virtually jittered in his shoes.

"Hey, it was you talking and dancing with her. I bet you slipped in some Shakespeare from rehearsals," she smiled. A pretty dark-haired girl waved from across the room. "I think you'd better get going. Krista's waiting over there for you."

His cheeks reddened, when he and Krista exchanged shy waves and smiles. He gave his friend Mimi a big hug. "Thanks again."

"Alright, alright already," she replied with light pats to his back, "You guys have a good time, alright?"

He grinned. "See ya!" With that, he cut through the crowd to join his crush. They'd decided to leave the party for a walk, maybe to a coffee shop to sit in private and get to know each other better.

Mimi sighed. Nothing like a little romance to make the heart go pitter-patter. With a satisfied grin, she finished her third cup of punch and tossed the empty cup in a huge trash bag tied to a houseplant. Lord, it's really getting warm in here, she thought to herself. Maybe it was her costume. After more than two hours, her satin pink dress and platinum blond wig were no worse for wear.

"Hey, Marilyn." A cute construction worker flashed a disarming smile. "Do you wanna dance?"

His eyes, peeking from under the hard hat, were a pretty shade of green. "Sure," she smiled and followed him to the dance floor. The slinky dress flattered her curvaceous figure.

She loved dancing. It was even better with an attractive partner. So, with Christina Aguilera, her body moved in invitation to come on over. The guy had the easiest job, enjoying the view and copping a feel every now and then. Meanwhile, she simply closed her eyes and moved to the music. So enthralled was she that she didn't really notice, as the heat spider webbed from her belly, up her chest, to her brain. The room tilted. An involuntary giggle escaped. Her eyes opened to see him pull her closer, his hands running suggestively along her body. She giggled again. The music, the lights, the feel of a willing male. Her senses seemed to be overloading. Her mind was drifting, losing control, and swept away.

She didn't resist, when the guy clasped his hands on her rear end and slobbered against her neck. She only giggled some more and let the tidal wave of senses take her. By now, sight, sound, and touch melted together in a kaleidoscopic swirl.

"Hey!"

She blinked, but was unphased, when her partner was ripped away from her. A crash came from somewhere off to the side. Then, someone took her into his arms.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he drunkenly slurred.

Chloe guzzled down the last of her punch. This was her first drink, since she got here and was relieved to soothe her parched throat. She and Philip had roamed through the house, searching for their friends, but with all the costumes and jostling teens, looking for them was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Now, her stomach growled, since she hadn't eaten much at home. She'd spent so much time getting ready for Philip and the party.

"How hard could it be to find a big red cape and blue spandex?" she wondered aloud.

Philip was quiet but kept Chloe close. He'd shaken his head, when she'd offered him something to drink. Instead, his eyes scanned the crowd with hostile intent. They began to move again, from the dining room back through the living room and bar toward the lounge.

After the scene in the bathroom, she'd suggested that they call it a night. Despite his assurances that everything was alright, her instincts were telling her that something was wrong. So, she'd hoped to let her friends know and perhaps give them rides home, if they were ready, before she spent the night over at Philip's to take care of him.

They'd originally intended to have a co-ed slumber party over at Mimi's, since her family was out of town at a convention for her father's company. Naturally, their parents were uninformed of the co-ed aspect. But Philip didn't look like he was up for spending time with so many people. To her relief and concern, he immediately agreed, when she posed the idea of staying over in the Kiriakis guesthouse, just the two of them. They tacitly understood that the idea was not a proposition, but a sweeter way to celebrate the beginning of their weekend together. And perhaps give her a chance to find out what was bothering him.

"Well, at least we know where Jason is," said Chloe, as they entered the lounge area. Maybe they could rouse their friend out of his drunken stupor and drop him off at home. But when they approached the seat, where they'd left him, it was occupied by an enthusiastic couple making out. "What…" Chloe bent down to the carpet behind the seat to pick up his forgotten Indiana Jones hat. "I swore he'd passed out, before I came looking for you. I wonder where he could've gone…"

She rose to standing, and suddenly she swayed, as the room spun.

Philip reached for her in an instant. "Chloe? Are you alright?"

"I-I guess I stood up too fast…" But she held her temples between her hands, while her head throbbed and the room heated unexpectedly. "Philip…" she managed, before her knees gave. She would've dropped to the floor, if he hadn't caught her.

"God, Chloe." His thoughts no longer preoccupied by his encounter with Brady, he dragged her with him to a seat, which Philip cleared with a fierce look. Holding her in his lap, he smoothed back the stray strands of hair from her face. Her forehead was hot and cheeks flushed. "Do you feel sick?"

"I-I'm just a little dizzy," she answered weakly, forced to close her eyes, as her vision seemed to haze.

His concern for her escalated with each passing second. Pulling her closer, he pressed her forehead to his cheek and frantically wondered what he should do.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Mimi's eyes flickered, but the image was still a blur. She didn't really care. "I'm dancing, silly." She just held on and continued to sway provocatively in rhythm. She giggled nonsensically again, when he pulled her against him. And dragged her off the dance floor. "Hey," she protested, "Where are we going? I'm not done dancing yet."

"This is crazy," he replied in an incoherent mutter, "You're drunk off your ass… letting some random dude grope you."

She giggled hysterically in response. Both wobbly on their feet, they stumbled together into something. Maybe a table. Maybe the wall. Falling against him, the functioning remainder of her brain registered the familiar scent and feel.

"Oh, I know who you are now…" she said aloud, grinning foolishly at her accomplishment. Her perfectly pink fingernails clawed up his solid chest. Her arms didn't seem long enough to wind around his neck, so she rose high on her tippy-toes to take hold of his face. She pulled, so their lips collided hungrily. His breath reeked of alcohol, but she was utterly beyond caring. She could taste him beneath it all.

Her hands tugged at his shirt, sending buttons flying. He sucked in his breath, when her nails scored along the muscles of his abdomen then blazed a path to his back, pulling him devastatingly tight against her lush body. Lost in sensation, he yanked off the thick leather jacket, as they stumbled backward, farther and farther until the music muted numbly through walls and the crowds dwindled. They tripped over changing textures of floor and carpet but never broke lustful contact. His hands flung the wig aside to dive into her silky chestnut hair beneath. Meanwhile, his lips devoured downward, until he encountered fabric. When his hands streaked down to squeeze her breasts, she moaned and fell back against the wall, which was cool and rough in stark contrast the heat and smoothness of his touch. They moved along the wall, discarding his shirt, her gloves, and their shoes along the way. Then, they stumbled through an open doorway. When she reached for his fly, they circled and fell back, slamming the door shut.

If there was still some part of her that screamed in shock for her to stop, she didn't know of it. Her centers of rationality sunk into the murky depths, so that animal instincts ruled. She knew no inhibition.

So, when her dress was stripped from her and she felt the thick fibers of carpet scratching her back and him pressed intimately against her, she pulled his lips back to hers and invited him in.

Chloe gave a weak moan, as her head pulsated painfully now. The beat of the club music pounded her skull. Her skin felt so hot. She prayed she'd faint. She barely felt Philip sweep her up into his arms, whispering that everything would be alright.

"Oh my gosh, Chloe!" cried Belle from behind. She rushed to her friends with Shawn and his flowing cape in tow. "What happened?"

Philip looked down at his angel. Her eyes drooped, but her cheeks were so flush that he knew that she was in agony. "I don't know, but I need to get her out of here."

"Maybe we should get her to a doctor," suggested a worried Shawn.

"No," she moaned, "Craig and Nancy will find out."

"But, Chloe-"

"I'll be alright, Philip. Just take me home. Please." Then, she rested her feverish forehead against his neck.

Philip nodded in understanding. "I'm going to take her to my house. Maybe Henderson will know what to do."

"How much has she had to drink tonight, man?" asked Shawn.

"Nothing. Nothing, man. All she had was that freaking punch…" As soon as the words left his mouth, the light dawned. "Shit. Someone must've spiked it or something."

"Oh, poor Chloe," Belle sniffed, as she stroked her friend's hair. Belle had consumed a mild amount of alcohol but danced it off with her Super Shawn. "I don't know, Philip. We don't know what was in the punch. It could be something dangerous."

Philip looked down at Chloe again. She only shook her head against his neck. "I'll get you home, beautiful. I can call my dad's private physician from there, if I have to," he assured her with a kiss to her achy forehead.

"Look," began Shawn, "We'll find Mimi. She's supposed to leave with us to go to her house. We've got to tell her. Then, we'll all go with you."

Philip shook his head, "Shawn-"

"Philip," asserted Belle, "There's no way we're going to leave Chloe, until we know she's alright." She nodded to Shawn, as his supportive arm came around her.

Unwilling to waste more time, Philip gave in. "Alright. Find Mimi fast. I'll get our coats and get her to the car. Hurry, ok?"

His friends nodded and rushed through the crowd in search of Mimi.

Carrying his beloved in his arms, Philip started toward the coatroom. "Don't worry, beautiful. I'm gonna take care of you."

"Mimi!" Belle called out, first several times across the dance floor, then the living room, then the bar. No flashy pink dress and silvery blond wig in sight.

Shawn led the way to the kitchen, where partygoers were raiding the fridge and pantry. "Mimi! You in here?" No one even grumbled in response. "Damn it."

They knocked on the bathroom doors, only to be cursed at by the unfamiliar occupants. They looked down the rear hallways, to where obviously the party had extended. They passed the den but didn't see their friend. Then, they spotted a bright blond wig strewn carelessly on the floor. Shawn's eyes narrowed in suspicion, when several feet after that were satin pink gloves left drunkenly along the siding. Belle gulped, as she realized that a trail of boy's clothing paralleled the pink.

One of Mimi's shoes lay crookedly before a closed solid wood door. Shawn and Belle exchanged a nervous glance. He slowly raised his fist to pound on the door. "Mimi? You in there?"

A familiar giggle answered them.

"Meems, we've gotta go," shouted Belle, trying not to imagine what exactly was happening behind that door. "Chloe's really sick. Come on, Mimi."

Then, they heard an odd thump and then no response.

"Mimi?"

They waited several beats. Chloe didn't have a lot of time for this lunacy, especially if Mimi and her friend were too drunk to understand.

"Stay here, ok?" instructed Shawn, as he turned the doorknob.

"Shawn-" Belle covered her mouth, as she watched him slowly push the door open.

He pushed the door, until it bumped into something. "Ow," the boy complained.

Shawn peeked around the door and looked down. "Jason?" His nearly naked friend was on the brink of passing out. Then, Shawn looked to the completely naked girl, lying face down and unconscious on top of Jason. His mouth fell open in shock. "Mimi?"