mother would go, with
regards to exposure. As for Jem, I had no idea what the knowledge
meant for her.
For us.
The idea that I
had lost her because of it tore through my heart until moisture
pricked my eyes.
I had never
shed a tear before in my life, not when my father informed me my
mother had died during childbirth—the same tale told to us all—nor
on the day of his death.
I swiped at the
wetness in irritation.
If my howled
outbreak had informed James of my location, he would surely show
up, sooner or later. A beating for my behaviour would be
forthcoming. And for what? Had it all been for nothing?
Fisting a hand
in my hair, I gave a low groan.
“Mr
Holloway?”
My head snapped
up. A glance over my shoulder found her behind me, crystals
glistening over her cheeks, highlighting the glow caused by
emotions. I did not speak—knew not what to say.
As she moved in
front of me, a small shudder wracked her body. She took not a wide
circle, as expected, but came to stand close, and when I looked up,
her eyes held a serious curiosity.
“’Tis you, Mr
Holloway.”
I frowned at
her quiet words.
“’Tis you I
hear calling at night. You are the wolf, the one Mother warns me
of. This ... this is the lesson she wanted me to learn ... is it
not?”
I did not
correct her, or explain there were more of us, but nodded.
As though
weakened by the confirmation, she dropped to her knees. Her
shoulders shook as grief shed from her eyes, and, lifting her
hands, she smothered her face.
My view of her
blurred—it took moments to understand my own eyes held
responsibility, not hers, and I wiped my forearm across my cheeks
to dry them. “Jem, I am sorry,” I said, my voice thick and
distorted.
She lowered her
hands. “For what?” Hiccups broke her words. “For allowing me to
believe you are something other than what you are? For not telling
me the truth?”
“I am forbidden
to speak of it,” I said, but regretted my words instantly.
Her expression
told me she had comprehended the implication of my response. “You
confess feelings for me ... yet, you do not trust me. You believed
I would turn my back on you, if I knew the truth, is that it? Or
maybe you did not intend the words you imparted, Mr Holloway?” Her
shoulders shook again, and her hands wrung in her lap. “Do you not
mean what you say, when you tell me—”
Unable to
witness her distress any longer, I reached out and drew her to me,
her words becoming stifled as she pressed her face into my chest.
The pounding of her heart hit me, as did the tremble of her
desolation, the dampness of her tears spilling over my flesh.
“I meant every
word I ever said to you, Jem,” I said into her hair. “I am so
sorry. Forgive me.”
Hot, erratic
breaths against my skin increased my own, as she slid a hand to the
nape of my neck. “I am unsure if I can,” she whispered.
I lifted her
chin. “Then, why did you come back?”
The pain in her
eyes lessened to reveal soft warmth. “Despite Mother’s warnings, I
trust in you.”
Relief flooded
through me in a torrent of warmth. As I smiled, she lowered her
gaze and removed her hand from my neck, as though recalling my
state of undress, but I grasped it, urging it back until she
touched me again.
Did she not see
how simply being close to her washed me with calm?
Taking her face
into my hands, I regarded her moisture-filled eyes, dipping my lips
to sample the subtle flavour of her mouth. When she sighed, I moved
to her cheeks and soothed away her tears, their salty taste
clinging to my lips.
Bringing me
back with a small tug of her hand, she pressed her lips to mine
once more and kissed me hard, tasting me as though hungered. Her
palms smoothed across my chest and shoulders, a sudden urgency to
her touch. When my arm tightened around her, she curved her body
until it moulded against mine, giving quiet gasps with each breath
throughout the kiss, and her fingers worked into my hair, holding
me to her.
Within
regards to exposure. As for Jem, I had no idea what the knowledge
meant for her.
For us.
The idea that I
had lost her because of it tore through my heart until moisture
pricked my eyes.
I had never
shed a tear before in my life, not when my father informed me my
mother had died during childbirth—the same tale told to us all—nor
on the day of his death.
I swiped at the
wetness in irritation.
If my howled
outbreak had informed James of my location, he would surely show
up, sooner or later. A beating for my behaviour would be
forthcoming. And for what? Had it all been for nothing?
Fisting a hand
in my hair, I gave a low groan.
“Mr
Holloway?”
My head snapped
up. A glance over my shoulder found her behind me, crystals
glistening over her cheeks, highlighting the glow caused by
emotions. I did not speak—knew not what to say.
As she moved in
front of me, a small shudder wracked her body. She took not a wide
circle, as expected, but came to stand close, and when I looked up,
her eyes held a serious curiosity.
“’Tis you, Mr
Holloway.”
I frowned at
her quiet words.
“’Tis you I
hear calling at night. You are the wolf, the one Mother warns me
of. This ... this is the lesson she wanted me to learn ... is it
not?”
I did not
correct her, or explain there were more of us, but nodded.
As though
weakened by the confirmation, she dropped to her knees. Her
shoulders shook as grief shed from her eyes, and, lifting her
hands, she smothered her face.
My view of her
blurred—it took moments to understand my own eyes held
responsibility, not hers, and I wiped my forearm across my cheeks
to dry them. “Jem, I am sorry,” I said, my voice thick and
distorted.
She lowered her
hands. “For what?” Hiccups broke her words. “For allowing me to
believe you are something other than what you are? For not telling
me the truth?”
“I am forbidden
to speak of it,” I said, but regretted my words instantly.
Her expression
told me she had comprehended the implication of my response. “You
confess feelings for me ... yet, you do not trust me. You believed
I would turn my back on you, if I knew the truth, is that it? Or
maybe you did not intend the words you imparted, Mr Holloway?” Her
shoulders shook again, and her hands wrung in her lap. “Do you not
mean what you say, when you tell me—”
Unable to
witness her distress any longer, I reached out and drew her to me,
her words becoming stifled as she pressed her face into my chest.
The pounding of her heart hit me, as did the tremble of her
desolation, the dampness of her tears spilling over my flesh.
“I meant every
word I ever said to you, Jem,” I said into her hair. “I am so
sorry. Forgive me.”
Hot, erratic
breaths against my skin increased my own, as she slid a hand to the
nape of my neck. “I am unsure if I can,” she whispered.
I lifted her
chin. “Then, why did you come back?”
The pain in her
eyes lessened to reveal soft warmth. “Despite Mother’s warnings, I
trust in you.”
Relief flooded
through me in a torrent of warmth. As I smiled, she lowered her
gaze and removed her hand from my neck, as though recalling my
state of undress, but I grasped it, urging it back until she
touched me again.
Did she not see
how simply being close to her washed me with calm?
Taking her face
into my hands, I regarded her moisture-filled eyes, dipping my lips
to sample the subtle flavour of her mouth. When she sighed, I moved
to her cheeks and soothed away her tears, their salty taste
clinging to my lips.
Bringing me
back with a small tug of her hand, she pressed her lips to mine
once more and kissed me hard, tasting me as though hungered. Her
palms smoothed across my chest and shoulders, a sudden urgency to
her touch. When my arm tightened around her, she curved her body
until it moulded against mine, giving quiet gasps with each breath
throughout the kiss, and her fingers worked into my hair, holding
me to her.
Within
Similar Books
