What he can’t give
1421 Words
*Briony*
Wrapped in a blanket, I huddle beside the crackling fire in my damp bodice and skirt. My drenched undergarments are stretched over a rock to dry.
Night hovers around me. A million stars twinkle overhead. I can hear the waterfalls, the occasional splash of a fish, frogs croaking, and the silence of my traveling companion as he gazes into the fire, his brow furrowed. I wonder where his thoughts travel tonight.
Based on the depths of his creases, I have a feeling he's traveling back toward a war that catapulted him into adulthood, stolen a portion of his sight, his smiles, and his laughter.
“A penny for your thoughts,” I say quietly.
He glances at me. “They’re not worth that much.”
“They are to me.” I say.
A corner of his mouth crooks up, and warmth races through me. I've given him that, small as it is, a halfhearted attempt at a smile that I hope will one day brighten his life.
“Even when you aren’t asking questions, you’re asking questions,” he says.
“You don’t like questions.” I point out.
He shrugs. “Don’t mind the questions. It’s answering them that I’m not fond of.”
I ease closer to him. He’s long ago stopped shielding me from the sight of his face. I can’t imagine him looking more perfect than he does at that moment. Nor can I imagine him asking me a question of his own free will. “Play a game with me.”
“The checkerboard is at the bottom of the river.” He points out.
“I know a game that doesn’t require a board. A simple game, really. I used to play it with my sisters. The rules are easy. You decide if you want to truthfully answer a question or take a dare. I’ll ask the questions or issue the dare,” I smile sweetly. “The question will be something you wouldn’t want to answer; the dare something that frightens you.”
Horror sweeps over his face. “You call that a game?”
I slap his shoulder. “It’s fun. We always ended up laughing. Do you want to answer a question or take a dare?”
“Neither. I’m going to sleep.” He grunts.
I place my hand on his thigh, effectively halting his movements. “Humor me. I’ll go first. Ask me a question.”
“Why are you so partial to questions?” He asks.
“Oh, that’s an easy one. It’s the best way to find out information. Now do you want to answer a question or take a dare?” I smile.
He looks as though I’ve just set his favorite horses free. “That wasn’t hardly fair.”
I fight the urge to squeal with the realization that he would indeed play. “You have to choose your questions carefully.”
He narrows his gaze. “I’ll take a question.”
“It will probably be something you don’t want to answer.” I tell him.
“I don’t want to answer any of them.” He mumbles.
“All right.” I shift my backside, plant my elbow on my thigh, my chin in my palm, and study the scowling man, wondering what I could ask that would present a challenge but not scare him off. “When you cry out in your sleep, are you dreaming about the war?”
“A dream is something you want. No, I don’t dream about the war.” He looks toward the fire. “But it’s there in my head when I sleep.” He shifts his gaze back to me. “This sure ain’t like any game I ever played.”
I tilt my head lightly. “When was the last time you played a game... not counting checkers?”
“How many questions do you get?” He huffs.
I smile. “You’re right. Your turn. I’ll take a question.”
“Anything?” He asks.
“Anything.”
*Wade*
I'm stretched out beside her, tracing a finger in the dirt. I could ask her anything, and she'd answer it. Maybe she would have all along, but asking questions is as foreign to me as giving an apology had once been. I don't want to parrot her, but I can't think of anything to ask. "Sometimes, you whimper in your sleep. What are you thinking about then?"
"My sisters... as they were the last time I saw them." She says.
I nod. "I should have figured that."
"I don't dream about them as much since the storm, since I told you about them. And more often when I do dream about them, I see them as they were before the war... when we played games like this. It still hurts to think about them, but it's a different sort of hurt. A good hurt."
"That doesn't make any sense. What exactly is a good hurt?" He asks.
She holds up a finger. "One question. Tell me the truth or take a dare."
"A dare, I reckon. I have answered enough questions." I mumble.
She eases alongside me. "Kiss me as though I had no contract binding me to another."
"You don't want that." I say.
"Afraid?" She ask.
Hell, yes, I'm afraid. Afraid I will forget she's bound to my brother. Afraid I won't find the strength to keep riding west in the morning. Afraid she'd touch the part of me that longs for softness until I can't ignore it. "Unbraid your hair," I rasp.
She sits up and drapes the long braid over one shoulder. Nimbly, her fingers work the strands free. The firelight sends its red glow over her golden tresses, each strand seeming to have a life of its own as it curls over her shoulder, circles the curve of her breast, trails down to her waist.
It's her game, her rules. I have always been afraid not to follow the rules or to stray from the path. She runs her tongue over her lips, the innocent she-wolf I know turning into a temptress. Raised on an elbow, I thread my fingers through her hair and pull her mouth down to mine.
She releases a sound, more of a mewl than a whimper, her lips parting slightly in invitation. I don't have to be asked twice.
Rolling her over, I slip my tongue into her mouth and relish the feel of heaven.
*Briony*
I ignore the hard ground below me, welcoming the firm man above me. His fevered kiss curls my toes as I rub my foot along his calf. Groaning, he slips his knee between my thighs, and I arch up against him.
He tears his mouth from mine, his breathing labored as he lays his bristly cheek against mine. “Don’t do that.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Just don’t,” he rasps as he brings his mouth back to mine.
I think his hot mouth might devour me, and I don’t care. I have embraced Chase's dreams, but now I want more. I want love; I want to feel the sunrise in a kiss, the glow of a full moon in a touch, the warmth of the fire in a caress.
His questing mouth gentles, but his fingers tighten their hold.
“Dear Goddess, I want to touch you,” he says in a husky voice as he trails his mouth along the column of my throat.
“Then do.” I mumble.
He chuckles low. “Darling, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“But I know what I need. I need you to touch me.” I tell him.
Wade surges to his feet, storms to the spring, and leans against a rock. “You don’t know anything. If I touch you the way I want, I’ll destroy every dream you came here to find.”
“We could build new dreams together.” I say.
He shakes his head, refusing to acknowledge the hope in my voice. “You came here to start a new life. Chase can give you that.”
I sit up. “You could give me that.”
“It’s not my place. Chase asked you, damn it. He built you a huge house and changed his brand. He can give you everything that I can’t, everything you deserve... everything I would want you to have. I can only give you rags, loneliness, and nightmares.”
- Writer
