09-10-2021, 04:06 PM
with rushing thread of brazen spindles.
It is perhaps the worst thing she has ever been accused of—arrogance—and it is the first thing he says that makes her flinch.
And then he descends upon her and it is impossible to ignore the effect he has on her heart when he is this close. (She wilts, the heartbeat stuttering, and this is the only reason she takes a single step backward away from him, though it looks like retreat either way.)
But he is relentless in his pursuit and follows where she goes and she cannot escape the pressure in her chest. The edges of her vision begin to strobe as she looks steadily back at him, this furious stranger still bathed in such a heavenly halo. Even as he snaps at her, his breath hot on her cheek, his teeth only inches from her flesh. (Somewhere in the shadows the wolf snickers quietly to itself because surely it had known this would happen eventually.)
This has gone so disastrously wrong and it shows in the way she grows physically weaker, standing there in front of him, caged between him and the river’s edge. She sucks in a sharp breath but it does very little to satisfy her need for air.
“All right,” she relents finally, acutely aware that he is the reason for the weakness sweeping through her. She searches his face and exhales, “you win.”
Like it has merely been a battle of wills, something like the games she plays with the wolf watching from the shadows. She swallows another breath.
“You win,” she says again, “please call off your magic.” Because she is convinced that it is something he’s doing on purpose.
And then he descends upon her and it is impossible to ignore the effect he has on her heart when he is this close. (She wilts, the heartbeat stuttering, and this is the only reason she takes a single step backward away from him, though it looks like retreat either way.)
But he is relentless in his pursuit and follows where she goes and she cannot escape the pressure in her chest. The edges of her vision begin to strobe as she looks steadily back at him, this furious stranger still bathed in such a heavenly halo. Even as he snaps at her, his breath hot on her cheek, his teeth only inches from her flesh. (Somewhere in the shadows the wolf snickers quietly to itself because surely it had known this would happen eventually.)
This has gone so disastrously wrong and it shows in the way she grows physically weaker, standing there in front of him, caged between him and the river’s edge. She sucks in a sharp breath but it does very little to satisfy her need for air.
“All right,” she relents finally, acutely aware that he is the reason for the weakness sweeping through her. She searches his face and exhales, “you win.”
Like it has merely been a battle of wills, something like the games she plays with the wolf watching from the shadows. She swallows another breath.
“You win,” she says again, “please call off your magic.” Because she is convinced that it is something he’s doing on purpose.
