57. Brennen
brENNEN
Bea and I stand facing the After as the last hints of light disappear behind the ridge, the moon glowing through the fog.
Closing my eyes, I listen, activating my dàn of hearing. I notice then that Bea isnae breathing. I cannae hear the scrape of her inhales and exhales, but I can hear the racing of her heart.
“I think it’s working,” I say. Bea gives me a sharp nod, but she doesnae appear convinced. She remains by the fire long after nightfall, and so I join her, unable to fathom leaving her out here alone.
We don't speak, but my need from seeing her today doesnae ease.
Bea busies herself staring into the sky, but her gaze drifts into the After every few minutes, I think, watching for souls, making sure she doesnae hear them, but as the hours pass, her trepidation seems to lessen. Once again, I think Bea figured out a way to solve one of our many problems.
I try to focus on my carving, but every few seconds, my eyes flick to her, her soft features glowing in the light of the fire.
She's somehow almost more beautiful in the night.
Her long eyelashes leave behind shadows on her cheeks, as do her full lips, and her freckles are somehow even more noticeable on her pale skin in the moonlight.
She meets my eyes, and I expect her to look away, but she doesn't. She holds my gaze, and the pressure in both my chest and cock builds.
“You're staring,” she says, her lips quirking and her cheeks flushing, and goddess, if it doesn't send more blood straight between my legs. Some of her sorrow seems to have faded away, and I find I’m grateful she’s back to teasing me.
“I'm not,” I say, looking down at my bird.
“I wouldn’t hate it if you were,” she says, the tips of her ears turning pink.
I press my lips together, forcing my gaze from her face. It lands on her chain, and my stomach twists.
“I haven't found a way to escape, if that’s what you’re checking on,” she teases, and I grunt, because at this point, I almost wish she would.
If she disappeared, I wouldnae be able to kill her.
I could run to my family, cut their dedication dàn and hide, protect them until Ban-dia a’ Bhàis came for me.
Would that save them from death by the Cutter’s hand?
If I could only be certain, I would do it in a heartbeat.
Ban-dia a’ Bhàis can have my soul. At this point, I dinnae think I care.
She stares at the bird in my hand, tilting her head.
“If I’m a lark… what kind of bird would you be? A robin?" she asks.
“I'm not a bird,” I say, and Bea leans back, assessing me.
“What are you then?” she asks. I take another scrape of wood.
“I'm a wolf,” I say, and she laughs. Actually laughs at me. “I wouldn’t give yourself too much credit, oh, terrifying wolf. You’ve yet to hurt me.”
I freeze. “But I will.”
She makes a noncommittal noise, fidgeting with her hem. “I think you're all talk. You want me, yet you're on the other side of the fire. You're going to kill me, but you’ve done nothing to try to end my life. In fact, as you pointed out, you’ve saved it.”
“Not technically,” I grumble, and she laughs again.
“You act as if it's simple,” I say, eyes trained on my carving even though all my attention is on her.
“Isn’t it?” she asks, but I ignore her. I dinnae have an answer for that. Not when I know I havenae been trying to learn how to kill her as I should be.
She sighs at my non-answer. “I act as if it’s human,” she continues, “to want things you should not want. To be trapped between hard decisions. It doesn't make you a bad person.”
Once again, I dinnae answer her.
“You're a good man,” she says.
“I'm not,” I snap, ripping the wing off the bird beneath my blade. I grit my teeth, throwing it into the fire, and sparks flick into the sky.
She grabs another piece of wood, tossing it to me. “You are. You cannot convince me otherwise,” she says, and I nearly growl at her attempts to show me I’m not despicable for my feelings.
“You’ve helped me more times than I can count. Even when you hated me.”
And suddenly, I understand why her sorrow has faded.
She’s convinced herself she can make me see the grey.
But there is no grey here.
“You should be afraid of me,” I say, quieter now, more warning than threat. Or maybe it’s a plea, because I need her to fear me, unsure I can trust what I’ll do if she keeps speaking of my wants.
Her breaths go shallow, but she shakes her head. “Well, I’m not.”
My heart stutters, and I go still, my hand hovering over the wood. How can she not be, when I will be her undoing? When I will hurt her.
I drop the wood, stalking over to her. I grab her arm, moving her hand toward my groin, slowly enough that she could easily pull away if she wanted to.
She doesnae.
Her fingers touch me over my kilt, her lips parting in a soft O.
It is nearly my unraveling, that parting of her lips. I am hard as stone beneath her hand, pulsing with desire, but there isn’t an ounce of fear in her eyes. There’s only hunger.
She meets my gaze. “I’m still not afraid of you,” she says, breathy, and I kneel before her. Her red hair tickles my face, the scent of juniper enveloping me, and I grow impossibly, painfully, harder.
“If you knew the things I’ve thought of doing to you,” I keep my voice low, “the images that have been flashing through my mind all day, you would be.”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesnae look away, and fuck, does it burrow beneath my skin. This is a mistake, all of it. Getting so close. Allowing her to touch me, and yet I cannae pull her hand away.
“What have you thought of doing to me?” she whispers, and my cock twitches. It's a challenge, but a gentle one.
Fine. Maybe if she knows exactly what my body craves, she'll feel the fear she should. She has to, because this? Crossing this line? It would ruin us both. How can she not see it?
I lower my chin, moving to crouch before her and leaning in until my nose is only inches from hers.
“I've thought about spreading you wide, bare beneath me, and feasting on you until I’ve had my fill. And I am a verra,” my voice grows thick, almost a growl, “verra hungry man.” She squeezes her legs together, her eyes flashing with heat.
“What else?” Her breath is warm on my face, and I lean into it.
“I’ve pictured pinning you beneath me, taking you so rough, you scream.
So gently, you cry. And every way in between.
Making you forget your name. Your curse.
This tormented existence you’re living. Plunging inside you again and again until you're sweet, wet heat tightens around me. And even then, I wouldnae give you rest. I’d keep going, deeper and harder until I have marked myself inside your body for eternity. ”
Her mouth opens, and her breath goes shallow. “You think this is frightening me?” she asks.
“It should,” I say.
“It doesn’t. You don't scare me, Brennen. Not one bit.” She stands, brushing off her skirt and heading toward the tent.
She pauses just before entering. “Even if you truly want to do those things, you can’t.
I wouldn’t let you touch me again. Not when it would cost you your magic.
Not when we don't know what we're facing, and you'll likely need it. So you can forgive yourself, Brennen, for wanting a monster,” she says, and I’m certain she’s seeing into the deepest parts of me.
She smiles sadly, disappearing inside.
I almost do it right then. Pull out my cock and search for relief from this torment, if only so I can stop the insanity churning in my mind. I cannae think. Can hardly breathe. Because this is no longer a want, but a need. An overwhelming and all-consuming, relentless craving.
And yet, I dinnae allow myself to find release. It wouldn't be right. Not when I still have a duty to fulfill.