Laying in bed with him, my fingers slowly trace over the plains of his back. The alarm clock on the opposite side of the bed showed the time to be nearing 6 in the morning, I was shocked he wasn't awake yet. With the brightness illuminating the heavy black curtains and through the window, I can only assume we'd gotten more snow last night. The brightness of the fresh pack that I was quite accustomed to, brought a small trickle of excitement through me at the thought of one day wielding the ice again.
Texture under my fingers, I spot the mark keeping the beast under control. The brand seemed to be healing well, though the tattoo over top of it was a good touch, I could see the concern with the inconsistent nature of the scars. His tanned skin felt warm and taut under my fingers, the strong muscles stretched surprisingly symmetrical after the damage he had taken fighting with me. We'd been told to expect oddities with his body being the vessel of Fenrir.
Caspian had been able to come back from the dead so many times, it was a whole new level of immortality. A god, and only a god could kill a god. Verando clung to his pillow like a lifeline, so used to sleeping on his own now, it was probably odd to have me in bed, or maybe he was trying to pretend I wasn't here. With a stab of sadness, I consider my options.
Sliding my fingers down to the small of his back, I slide closer to him, wrapping my arm around him to press my lips to the point of his shoulder with a sigh at the relaxing scent. Something that belonged so uniquely to me and marked him as my own, our bodies mixed so flawlessly together in this way.
Why did I insist on tormenting myself? Yet here I was, practically attempting to get off on the glorious man. My wolf was in ecstasy, immersed in my soul mate once more, any hope of leaving dwindled with every passing moment.
Closing my eyes, I will myself to fall back asleep and keep the illusion going that we were going to be alright when he woke up. But last night was not out of forgiveness. It was out of desperation for me, the fact that he loved me beyond himself, that he couldn't bear my pain of needing him so badly.
Sliding to sit up, I run my hand through my hair as I prop myself on my elbow. I should go, I shouldn't make this any harder than it has to be. It was my fault that we were going through this, my standards, my inability, I shouldn't expect him to get over it because I was sorry.
"Don't go." He mumbles sleepily, rolling onto his side to pin me beneath him, curled into my chest with a heavy yawn. I grunt at the impact of being forced to lay beside him, much as I was a willing captive. The strength was surprising, much more firm than it had been in the past as any resistance I gave was met with insistence that I wouldn't be leaving.
"I figured you'd want me to." I manage, timid, keeping my voice hardly above a whisper.
Sighing, Verando growls low in my ear as he pulls me impossibly closer, wrapping his arms around me as I'm maneuvered to press against his chest. Tucking my head under his chin, I put my arms around him, clinging to him just as he did to that pillow. My warlord couldn't return to sleep once he'd been disturbed either, "You were never the rational one. Why change now?"
With a scoff, I trace my fingers painfully slow up and down his spine, encouraging him to return to that relaxed man who was asleep just moments ago. With a shiver, he reacts to my fingertips, his wolf must be going haywire just as mine was with how sensitive he was to my every touch. "You make me irrational, there's a difference. I hurt you. Badly. I need to atone for that."
"I like to be hurt," he mumbles, holding me tighter, possessive. It'd be so easy, I understand why he was reluctant to speak about it any longer. We could slip quietly back into place, as if it never happened, yet would that be the right thing to do? "Weren't you just telling me to hurt you?"
"You're talking out of your mind because you're exhausted," I respond gently, he's been doing everything in his power to avoid me, I knew how poorly he slept on his own because I'd gained the same trait.
With a low growl, deep in his chest, he flips me, pinning me to the bed beneath him as he hoovers over me. Those icy eyes meet my own with an intensity that takes my breath away, I reach up to brush the back of my fingers over his cheek, soothing myself as much as him. I had to erase any memory of the black-eyed Randy attempting to crush the life out of me.
If I touched him, he was real, he was here.
Verando's gaze flicks to my neck where the dried blood remains from the multiple bite marks. It's enough to give him pause, "Is it you who no longer wants me? You said you feared what I'd become, holding the apocalypse beyond my own soul is a bit of an ask. You look frightened."
With the deep roll of his tone, the depth of his voice, and the regret of seeing what he'd done to me, it was my turn to growl back, enough to make him smirk at the less-than-intimidating nature. Yet, the amusement didn't touch his eyes, I bear my neck to him in an attempt at going a more playful route.
My wolf was afraid of him, it wouldn't dare show its fangs.
My favorite look appears, and I brush my thumb over his dimpled cheek. "I will always want you and don't you dare think otherwise. I know that when you're alone, all of that trauma is going to come flooding back and you're not going to feel this way anymore. You're upset with me, but you love me. I'm cautious, my wolf has a healthy respect for you now."
"Then don't leave me alone." He retorts shortly, bending to pass his tongue over the bite mark on my neck, it's an odd feeling to have it knit together so quickly. The warmth of his tongue against the ache of my skin from his fangs soothed the burn. Shuddering, I think of his fangs and attempt to not make a sound of desire at the thought of them so close to my neck. Being bitten was undescribable in the way that it felt, painful, incredible, and possessive.
I practically will him to take another taste.
Cursing, he swallows back his own desire, brushing his nose against mine as he steadies his breathing. "Gods, what you do to me."
"Speak for yourself. I'm hard as a rock and you haven't even touched me yet." I murmur, searching for his lips with my own, yet he stops me and I know I've reached the rational side of his brain. Hovering his over mine, I flop back onto the bed, hands over my head with my best political face. "This is a poor place to have this discussion."
"Then stop talking." Attacking my neck, his stubble on my chest as he starts to move down, the thrill of his body pressing to mine. It'd be so easy to let go.
Don't let him. We need to talk.
I curse myself, my ridiculous need to be different, to be healthy as a good role model for our children.
"Randy, stop." I plead, sitting up, gripping his face in my hands to pull him up to me. On his hands and knees before me, he crushes his lips against mine in an attempt to turn me off this discussion. Kissing him, passing my lips against his, his tongue teasing my lower lip, I clench my fingers in silent damnation of myself.
"I love you," I tell him firmly, waiting for him to sit on his hip before me, irritated and unimpressed with my self-control. "But I need to know we are actually okay."
Setting his jaw, he glares towards the window, forming his thoughts in the serious way a brooding warlord might. As if he were planning battle tactics, or one's death, thoughtful yet menacing. "It didn't matter last night."
Defeat echoes in his tone, he felt the same way I did. We could step back into each other so simply. It would probably work, but what if he ended up hating me for it? How would I survive without him?
"I'm going to be heartbroken when we leave this room and you don't treat me the same. I know you, better than I know myself, you aren't over this. Not by a long shot. But our wolves are clouding the reality of this because they're desperate to be together." His lips parted, and I put my hand on his chest, over his heart, "We are desperate to be together. I'm ready to jump back into that. But are you?"
Stilling, Verando searches me, the large hand captures my own as he threads his fingers through mine in reluctance to let me go. I didn't want to let him go either, but I also didn't want to assume this was over only to be gutted when it wasn't. "I don't know what I want." He admits. "I'm angry but time isn't helping, I'm more lonely and depressed than I am upset yet I don't even know who I'm upset with. How many times can we go in the same circle? What does it matter how I feel?"
"Don't ever think that." I snap, trying not to raise my voice.
Crossing his jaw with a snort, he shakes his head. "It feels ridiculous, unreasonable really, to be upset with you for loving another version of me. I know who I was, how persistent I was... how it would have felt to know an older, better version of me had something worth having. It's a really disgusting spiral of self-loathing and frustration with the circumstances."
Copying his accent, I nod, "The circumstances aren't favorable."
Verando doesn't find me amusing. I slide a little closer to him, pressing my lips to the point of his shoulder in quiet reassurance.
Taking my face in his palm, he holds my chin, pressing his forehead to mine. "I want you to want me, to pursue me, to make me want you so bad I can't bear it." His words make my heart skip, I stare at him, wide-eyed as he brushes my lower lip with his thumb.
"But I also don't want to be touched, I can't bear to be in my own skin, I can't stomach myself let alone unpack the death march that is what happened those few days I was gone. If it wasn't for you and the boys-" Shaking his head, he drops his hand with a heavy sigh. "Some days it bloody well doesn't feel worth it yet now, I'm trapped on this god-forsaken rock because death means the end of the world. Sweet, cruel eternity."
Clenching and unclenching his jaw, he returns to me, sliding between my legs to hover over my body as I recline. His lips catch mine, slow, desperate, needing to feel something. I kiss him back, holding the chain to keep him from attempting to escape me. I saw the pain echoing in his eyes, the discomfort with the words that came so freely when he was with me.
I asked, and he gave me the truth.
"I feel like every option has been taken from me. My being, my future, and my past. The world just keeps on spinning, sometimes it'd be quite nice to know I could step off if I needed to. I don't want to take meds because I'm a damned addict and yet... it'd be nice to have some silence." Speaking against my lips, my body bows to him, forever his servant. Tilting my head back, I offer my neck once more, shivering as he kisses my chest.
We'd talked so much about medicating him, yet he'd always refused to take anything for the darkness, or what we'd learned were depression and severe post-traumatic stress disorder. His obsessive compulsion for cleaning and controlling his environment, and his near-crippling anxiety contributed to endless bouts of insomnia.
"Baby." I keep my hands to myself, waiting for his eyes to meet mine. "We aren't normal. We have been through a lifetime or two worth of war and that's going to leave some horrible scars. Nothing that I did was because of you, it was my own shit and I will never forgive myself. But, I think you need to give yourself some grace. I had to be you for just a few days and I could hardly keep my eyes open."
Exhaling, I slide my thigh between his legs rolling my hips against him, my heart pounding in my chest. "You try so hard to protect us. I am strong, let me protect you, too. Share this burden with me, I don't want to go back to how it was when you turned our home into a weapon, I want to know your pain. Your fears. Your frustrations. I fought those wars right there with you."
Verando avoids me, we're tangled in each other and so deeply infatuated yet we both have our guard up. Feeding the wolves inside yet catering to our human needs. How did he do this when I was human? How did he function? He was finally treating me like a lycan, yet it seemed like maybe I was finally at peace enough with myself to act like one.
"How can I trust you?" The hesitation brings me to pause. "Would we even still be together if it weren't for this bond? I don't know." His words feel like a stab to the heart.
"I forgave you with time." I remind him. "Don't forget you also slept with Anuetta. On my wedding night."
Scoffing, he stares at me, appalled. "I did that because Mother commanded me to kill her and I wanted one less violent death on my conscience. Let me remind you, you'd just married a woman and were going to fuck her to consummate your marriage with the intent of producing an heir. There was a whole lot of shit to work through there, Nic. Do you think I wanted that?"
"I didn't have a choice!" I retort sharply. "I was the king, I had to do it."
"That's not the point!" He keeps from raising his voice, one thing I'd always loved and appreciated about him. Verando always got quieter when he was upset, calmer with the storm, so rarely did he shout. "The point is, I don't know what I want, and frankly, why does it matter? We talked about this last night and I was willing to leave it at that, why dig it back up? Why keep pushing at it when I'm right here, wanting you? Why am I not good enough? I'm broken, I can't be fixed!"
Putting my arms around his neck, I hug him tightly, feeling the tension in his body as he contemplates trying to escape. My only response is to hug him tighter, holding him, pulling him as close as he would allow until finally his body relaxed and he wrapped his arms back around me once more to bury his face into the crook of my neck. His body shook with emotion, shivering with whatever restraint or acceptance he was fighting against.
We lay there in silence, as minutes passed I wonder if he fell back asleep yet the pounding heartbeat assured me he was very much awake.
"You're not broken," I tell him, over and over again, feeling myself tearing up at the thought of the amount of internal suffering this man held inside. We were damaged people trying desperately to communicate with each other, but together we were whole. "Would you like to hear what I think?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me anyways." He mumbles against my skin.
"I am. So hush." Kissing his cheek, I consider my words, waiting for his gaze through the tangle of gray hair. "You have always been on your own, allowed to run. Now, you need me, in your own masculine, dictator sort of way. You knew that, but it was always on your terms. Now that I've hurt you, your instinct is to run, you can't because you love me and that scares you. So you're coping the only way you know how, running in place by avoiding me or using your body to make sure I'll stick around. That's how I know we would still be together, even if we weren't lycans.
You feel trapped because you can't leave me, you love me too much. But, it appears as though I could leave you when that is the furthest thing from the truth. I will never go anywhere, I will never stop loving you, I will never stop fighting to atone for this and I'm willing for it to take the rest of my life."
Brushing his hair back out of his eyes, I kiss his forehead, taking in his scent and his silence. "Let me be your submissive again. Take control of me, exercise your will until you feel I've been brought back to heel at your side, but don't think that I could ever love you any less."