Frey by Faith Gibson

magnificent creature stood on one foot, leaning
forward with her right arm extended as she raised her left leg
behind her. Abbi held the pose before stretching her leg higher.
She lowered her leg then performed the same move with the right
one.
    Abbi was finding her rhythm. Frey knew from
his experience with martial arts, part of the warm up was finding
yourself, seeking that place where you are one with your craft. He
knew the exact moment Abbi found hers, because she let go. She
floated across the room, jumping, turning, spinning, bowing, and
stretching. Frey’s soul felt as if it had left his body and was
moving across the room in hers. He had never seen anything more
beautiful in his life. He wasn’t an expert in ballet, but he knew
what he was observing should have been shared with the world, not
stuffed in a closet in a community center to be forgotten. This
creature before him wasn’t Abbi Quinn. This exquisite woman was
Abigail Swanson.
    When the song was over, Abbi stopped dancing
and hugged her arms around her middle, her body shaking. Geoffrey
Hartley… Gargoyle, soldier, boxer, martial artist… didn’t try to
stop the tears creeping down his face. What he did want to stop
were the tears rolling down Abbi’s. Without a thought to the
consequences, he closed the distance between them. When she
realized she wasn’t alone, she gasped, crossing her arms over her
chest as if she were naked. Maybe without the large shirt covering
her she felt exposed. He stopped inches from his mate, willing her
soundlessly to look at him, see the pain in his eyes. The pain for
her. He gently lifted her chin and cupped her face in his large
hands. Her tears fell faster than his thumbs could erase them. Not
knowing what else to do, he kissed her.
    Frey expected Abbi to keep her mouth closed
tight, to back away and look up at him with disgust. Instead, she
opened to him, her tongue seeking his. Her arms snaked around his
waist, pulling their bodies closer. Frey put one hand on Abbi’s
back where the leotard dipped down. Feeling her skin underneath his
fingers had his cock coming to life. A moan escaped her mouth into
his causing a growl to rise up from somewhere deep in his chest.
When she needed to come up for air, only then did Abbi back away.
She placed her fingers on her lips. Tentatively, she reached her
other hand up and touched the corner of his eye where a lone tear
had refused to fall. She studied her wet finger as if the tear was
something she’d never seen before. Turning away, she retrieved the
too big shirt and slid it on, grasping the two sides together.
    “ I… what are you doing
here?” she asked as she sat down in a chair and began untying the
ribbons.
    “ I wanted to talk to you,
and then I saw you dancing... I’m no expert, but Abbi, that was the
most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You are so
talented.”
    “ What do you want from
me?” she sternly asked as she removed her shoes and returned them
to their place in the closet.
    “ I told you, I want to
talk.” Frey stuck his hands in his pockets, willing his claws to
stay put.
    “ I’m married, but you
already know that.” Abbi closed the closet door and gave her back
to him. She buttoned up the large shirt before turning back around.
Digging inside a tote bag on the desk, she pulled out a pair of
sweatpants. Of course, they too, were baggy.
    “ Why?” That was the
million dollar question. She could give him every excuse, but none
would be good enough.
    “ Why what?” Her brow was
etched with shallow wrinkles. His mate had frowned far too many
times.
    “ Why are you
married?”
    “ That’s what people do.
Get married, settle down…” Abbi paused. Was she going to say have kids ?
    “ Yes, they do. But they
usually get married to someone who loves them, takes care of them,
has their best interest at heart. Not someone who abuses them,
beats up their kid brother, and takes advantage of every bad
situation that comes along.” Abbi’s face