Author's Note:
"Desire" by Years & Years @ Dove
Dove wants to sleep with him. That's what she decides after stripping it all down. She wants to push him down onto the nearest flat surface, cover his body with her own, and forget everything but the slide of their skin together.
She begins to think of all the ways she could convince Silas, thumbing through the possible approaches she could try to capture a man with one clear objective in her mind. He finds her attractive-- or, at the very minimum, amusing. And she can work with that. Sometimes it's best to ask straightforward, other times it's easier to just let bodies fall together with the natural sway of timing and mutual attraction. It's difficult to decide which strategy will work best.
"This is home," Silas interrupts her thoughts, rushing forward to beat Eli over the top of the hill they had been scaling for the short end of two minutes.
He turns around, hands pointed in the direction of whatever laid just out of Dove's line of sight. She gives a glance to Eli, who is only ahead of her by a couple of steps. He looks tired, but half of it comes from the time of night. According to her smartphone, it's nearly twelve in the morning.
"Woah," Eli's voice becomes full of awe as Dove follows closely behind.
The house is hardly noticeable at first, tucked deep into a grove of Oak trees, as if they were guarding the property. It's a trilogy of a home, with crimson bricks turning brown from age and an architectural aesthetic that originated from a time long before the teenagers. The surrounding fence towers over in matching brick and thick cement, another clear attempt to secure the fortress from any unwanted solicitors.
"It's a fuckin' castle," Dove whispers as Silas beams at her words. "How long has this been out here?" She asks while they begin their downward trek.
"Around two hundred years," Silas tells her as he leads them to a gravel road leading to the main gate. "My family are travelers, even back then. We own several settlements like this one across North America."
"Several? North America?" Her blue eyes widen at his words.
Silas chews on his plump bottom lip with careful thought before he continues; clearly there was enough properties across the continent that he actually needed time to count them back. "Juneau, Quebec--"
"Do you speak French?" She interrupts out of uncontrollable curiosity.
"I speak several languages, chéri," he grins deep enough for his dimples to imprint across his smooth skin. Oh God, she wants to sleep with him.
"Now," he turns his attention to the ever-nearing gate before they can further discuss his family's several properties. "Because of certain circumstances, my family and I have been brought back to Thistle. Most rooms are taken, and this home has only seen visitors in rodent form for the past half century."
"Your point?" Eli leans on the brick wall, anything but amused by the clear desire in Dove's bright eyes-- which isn't directed to her teenage companion.
"It means," Silas replies easily as he takes a step forward. "Some rooms aren't safe. The one you will be staying in is one which neither of you will leave for the duration of the night. The internal structure... is coming apart."
YOU ARE READING
Silver Lungs
Werewolf"No, you have it wrong," she whispers in a voice light enough to mistake for empty wind; her hands frame either side of his clenching jaw, tightening until they stop trembling. "I am the wolf." * Seventeen year-old Dove Ramsay is doomed, or at least...
