12-04-2018, 09:41 PM
The Opening Act
As her kisses passed over his jawline, she was almost positive he was going to take her away from here. And then what? She wasn't sure. Would he really do this, all of it? Would she? She hadn't ever had anyone but Kirby. She hadn't even.. been comfortable with trying. Some stupid piece of her had always held stubbornly to the useless hope that he'd change his mind someday, that he'd actually try to love her. A little. But that was impossible. For anyone.
His hand rose to her face, warm against the flush on her cheeks and coaxing her to meet his green eyes.
"Okay," he told her, his voice husky and low, "But first, you need to admit to me that you know what I actually want—from you, from this."
She tensed in instant fear at what that sounded like, her eyes widening. No! He didn't want anything, he couldn't. She was impossible to love, not good enough. Not pretty enough, not interesting enough. Never enough. The father of her kids couldn't even want her. Nobody could really want her in this way they were both pretending he wanted her. And certainly nobody but Reilly wanted to love her. But she had nothing to give. She was nothing.
He pressed her palm to his forehead, watching as she slammed her eyes shut and turned her face away with a whimper. It wasn't real. It couldn't be.
His emotions were laid bare, displayed and sorted for her because she doesn't know how to use any magic to do it herself. All his lust and desire that matched hers. Which felt crazy. Why was she so attracted to him? How did he manage to stir her into this writhing, needy girl without a damn care for anything but being in his hands?
There was something more, too. An interest that caught her eye in the confusing swirl of everything else. Just as she was trying to follow it, her hand was removed from him and she was blind to him once again. Now all she had was this mask of his indifference, shaded by something else only briefly as he kissed her palm and released it. Her mind was reeling, trying to process what he'd showed her.
She startled violently as solid metal clattered to the pavement, her grip on him tightening and heart racing. Kerberos? Woolf slid her to her feet and edged her behind him, and she moved her grasp to his hip, peering around him in uncertain confusion. Was there danger? It really was Kerberos, though. He looked... sick? When had he gotten here? She hadn't seen him inside. She hadn't realized he was coming.
A step to the side allowed her to see better beyond Woolf's flaming arms. Oh! He was talking to Kir that way! She squeezed his hip tighter, urging him to look at her, brown eyes bright in concern. "Woolf!" she murmured tightly. Why was he threatening Kirby?? Then more firmly, "Woolf. That's the father of my children."
Oh.
He remembered what she went through.
He had seen it through her that day.
Perhaps that was why he was threatening Kirby.
She dropped her hand from him, feeling the shame rise up fresh and pushing her eyes to the ground. He knew what Kerberos had done to her. He knew what she went through. He knew there was no repayment, no punishment, no retribution. Instead, she had continued to pay each day in having him there with them, seeing him with her children, watching them grow to love him more than they cared for her. He had taken everything from her. It would never be enough until her stupid heart finally gave up. But it just wouldn't let go, would it?
Woolf's jacket suddenly felt so heavy on her shoulders as she hugged herself, so she reached up and pulled it off, held it out to him. "You should leave," she whispered, avoiding his eyes and too numb to be proud of how her voice hadn't cracked. Now she definitely would never see him again. She'd never have anything like this again. She wasn't meant to feel anything but pain.
A single tear held its ground in the corner of her eye as she turned away.
She had almost believed she could be wanted.
But she knew who she really was.
She was broken and damaged and ruined.
She was nothing.