The broken she-wolf - Healed by innocence

The deepest loneliness

*Lillian*

I light a lamp to ward off the darkness and the constant fears that surround me. I warm a bucket of water, remove my bloodstained clothes, bundle them up, and shove them into a corner of my bedroom.

Now, I stand before my dresser, stripped to the waist, wearing nothing but my linen drawers, scrubbing, scrubbing the blood from my chest, my hands, my arms. So much blood.

I lift my gaze to the mirror and catch the reflection of Blaise Moonshadow standing in my doorway, watching me with an intensity in his gaze that I think might have frightened me under ordinary circumstances.

But tonight isn’t ordinary. I have just had the last bit of love I have ever known torn from my life. I turn to face the man who has given my beloved Digger a final resting place. “I can’t get his blood off.”

I watch his throat muscles work as he swallows, see his hands clench and unclench before he quietly walks across the room in bare feet. In a distant part of my mind, I realize he must have left his soiled boots outside.

In silence, he takes the cloth from my hand, dips it into the bucket of water, wrings it out, and gently, slowly wipes the cloth over my face, his deep blue gaze touching me as sunshine greets the dawn, warming me when only moments before I had been chilled.

He wipes my throat, my shoulders, and brings the cloth lower. He touches his thumb to the scar just above my left breast. “Is this where he shot you?” he asks hoarsely.

I can do little more than nod, knowing he needs no answer as his mouth replaces his thumb.

“How could he have hurt you?” He mumbles.

Another question for which I have no answer. I feel him tremble as his knuckles skim the inside swell of my breast. He shakes his head slightly.

“There’s no more blood,” he rasps as he steps back.

I grab his hand. “There’s blood on you.”

He glances down at his shirt. Of their own accord, my fingers begin to undo his buttons. I hear his breath hitch. I have never been so bold, never bared my body to a man. The embarrassment I had anticipated is drowned out by need. A need I don’t fully understand, but know exists because it beckons to me from the farthest reaches of my heart and soul.

I remove his shirt and blood stained bandage. Taking the cloth from his hand, I wipe it across his chest even though I see no blood.

With one roughened palm, he cradles my cheek and tilts my face until our gazes meet and hold. I hear his uneven breathing. Beneath the hand I have rested on his chest, I feel the rapid, steady pounding of his heart.

I have long ago accepted the fact that I will live out the remaining days of my life alone. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the scent, sight, sounds, and touch created by another person. I thought I had effectively warded off the loneliness.

Now, I know it has only been in hiding, gathering strength, waiting until my defenses were down to attack. All the days of silence and nights alone suddenly loom before me. A lifetime’s worth. And I hate them. I hate every one of them and the man whose actions have condemned me to the loneliness.

I suddenly feel plain and poor, longing for things I will never know: a mate’s smile, the laughter of children.

Blaise’s gaze drifts to my lips, the blue of his eyes darkening until I feel the warmth of a fire, burning hot and bright, creating even as it consumes. He lowers his head slightly and my lips part.

"So sweet," he whispers, and I wonder if within the words, I hear an apology.

Then his mouth is pressed against mine, warm, soft, moist, and I have my first taste of a man. Deep inside, I smile. He tastes of strawberries.

Then he deepens the kiss, and when his tongue seeks mine, I raise up onto the tips of my toes, wrap my arms around his neck, and give to him all that he asks.

He groans deep within his throat and I feel the rumble of his chest against my breasts. His arm snakes around me, pressing me closer against his body.

I have never been wanton, but then the loneliness has never been this great, this consuming. Nor has the need to be held, to be loved been so strong. I do not delude myself. He does not love me. In his eyes, I have seen the stark loneliness that mirrors mine. We are kindred hearts with a haunting past that has stolen dreams. Still, he will leave and never look back.

And with that thought, I find comfort. I can accept what he offers, knowing that he will never discover the secrets that the killer has forced me to lock away. Blaise Moonshadow will never look upon me with revulsion. Years from now, when I bring forth the memories of this man, I will only see the desire that deepened the blue of his eyes.

His mouth trails along my throat, presses kisses against the sensitive flesh below my ear. "So sweet," he repeats in a ragged breath, like a litany that stirs his actions.

He guides me to the bed, skimming my remaining clothes from my body before laying me down. Holding my gaze, he slowly unbuttons his trousers as though giving me time to tell him that what he is offering isn’t what I want.

But I do want, more than I have ever wanted, to be without the loneliness. When he stretches his tall lean body alongside mine, I have never felt so tiny, so delicate. He cups my breast, his hand shaping and molding my flesh as his mouth teases and taunts. Desire spirals through me, strong enough to send the loneliness into oblivion. For one night, I will have what I might never have again: a man’s touch, a man’s whispered words, a man’s strength and ability to hold the loneliness at bay.

His mouth comes down on mine, hard, devouring, but his hands remain gentle, as though I were shaped from hand-blown glass. I trail my hands over the firm muscles of his shoulders, digging my fingers into his back, careful to avoid the wound that had forged a bond between us.

When his hand skims along my stomach, I shiver. When he touches me intimately, I gasp as his fingers make promises I know his body will keep.

He moves until his hips are nestled between my thighs. Then slowly, cautiously, he joins his body to mine. The pain is fleeting, the fullness of him satisfying. As he rocks against me, the past blurs into insignificance, the future that awaits me loses its importance. All that matters is this moment, this joining.

Sensations I have never known existed weave themselves around me, through me, creating beauty where I have only known ugliness. I revel in the sound of his throaty groans, the feel of his sure, swift thrusts.

And then I cry out, arching beneath him as everything spills over into ecstasy.

As he shudders above me, I hear a name whisper raggedly past his lips. Suddenly all that had passed before means nothing... and the loneliness increases tenfold.