the wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight
{drunk and driven by the devil's hunger}
The mental assault happens faster than he would have expected. He frowns as he is bombarded with her memories, the darkest secrets that she pulls from the depths of her belly. They were deeper than when he had first gleaned them from her mind—the emotions wrapping around his breast, pressing them into the flesh. It was unwanted but he couldn’t extract himself, the tangles of the darkness wrapping around him and pulling him down into the muck of it. He grit his teeth, mulberry chin clenching with tension.
Finally, it subsides, the waves of it lapping at his feet, receding back into oceanic depths.
He growls low and deep in his throat, frustration at the dregs of emotions that remain, the way his heart hurt at the sight of her, at the intricate lace that cover her curves. “It wasn’t your fault,” his voice rumbles low, echoing in his throat—the sound terrifying but contained. “He was a monster, “ he wasn’t sure why he was trying to comfort her, why he was trying to bring reason into a situation that was not his own. He had no stake in this game; she was not his flesh and blood, he had no reason to protect her.
And yet—here he stood, rooted with narrowed emerald eyes. “I didn’t come for you,” he says, honesty in his voice but not kindness. “I came for…” his voice dies off as he lifts his head to look to the horizon, to where he knows the man lives. “It doesn’t matter why I came.” Sand swirls around his legs, responding to his emotions, to hers. “I heard your thoughts while on the beach so I sought you out.”
Another frown that finds and creases his mouth, another lurking behind his eyes.
“I’m not sure why. I don’t normally care about people’s problems.”
Woolf
