forward and held my gaze,"I promise just your hand in
mine, please let me try."
That
husky voice did things. It made me waver, it made me hesitate, it made me
wonder on possibilities I shouldn't. He took my silence as consent and slowly
reached out a rough hand, those large fingers so close to my own.
My
breath came in pants, trying to stop that snarling wolf from pushing her way to
the surface. She was circling inside, prowling back and forth, waiting for his
touch so she could pounce.
The
tip of his finger reached the back of my hand, his skin was warm and calloused,
a working man's hands, a warrior's hands. She snapped inside but I held her
down, he wasn't hurting, he wasn't pushing more than I could bare. I felt a
tiny tingle, so small I would have missed it if I wasn't so concentrated. A
little shiver on my skin, a tiny spark that lit up the hairs on the back of my
hand like twinkling fairy lights. His finger ran from my wrist to my finger
tip, so light a touch it was almost nothing. He moved to my palm, the skin more
sensitive, the tingle more pronounced.
A
rumble forced it's way out again, a little warning not to continue. Carver
didn't listen, his finger drew circles on my palm, little shivers turned to
bigger tremors. His whispered rough "Arya" was as hypnotising as his
touch.
His
hand grew more confident. One finger became two and his touch harder until his
palm rested on mine. I looked at the two of us joined and found myself confused
at the moment we shared. I looked up to his charcoal eyes and saw pleasure on
his face, he gripped my hand harder and pulled me towards him.
My
finger tips ached, a roar built in my stomach. Higher and higher until it
released in fury and pain. She forced her way up as I forced her back down, a
struggle of man and beast. A single claw pushed through my fore finger, a
searing four inches of diamond cut talon. I looked at the hand he still held,
his grip forcing me forward, his skin touching mine. And still he pushed.
That
claw lifted without thought, I stabbed forward piercing shirt and skin and
flesh. Blood trickled down my hand, a gasp from a husky voice above. I ripped
my hand back and let the blood fall freely, a dark wet stain on his dark black
shirt. He put a huge hand on the side of his stomach, covering the hole that
blemished his otherwise faultless torso. His hand left mine, finally freeing
me.
He
fell to his knees and looked up at my stone face. "Why?" that husky
voice made no difference this time.
"Now
do you understand?" My words spat from my mouth in distaste, "do you
understand me w olf? There is nothing here for you."
I
turned my back on his fallen image, walked away from the desolation on his
impeccable face. Denied the match that was made for me, lay waste to the purity
of fate.
Chapter 16.
When I returned to the house Sam was in the
kitchen, both dogs staring up at him preparing dinner with expectant eyes. He
glanced at me when I leaned on the granite counter.
"Watcha done crazy? Tha' face ain't
innocent."
I had thought my face was just as straight
as it had been when looking at Carvers pain.
I shrugged, "I may have told the
Captain a truth or two."
Sam laughed. Full on belly laugh. I peered
at his obvious madness.
"Oh girlie, ya dun half amuse
me."
I frowned, I don't think he understands
what I mean.
"Ya tell him ya not interested? Ya
tell him it ain't goin' ta happen?"
I nodded in response as his grin got wider.
"Tha's wha' they all say." He chuckled again and went back to
chopping onions, the smell starting to burn my eyes.
"No I mean it." I was adamant in
my answer.
Sam stopped his chopping and scraped the
onions into a heating pan on the stove. He turned back to look at me, putting
his knife down. "You think it goin' ta be so easy? You think fate make
mistakes? No girlie, she a wondrous thing. She put two people togetha', she
make them strong where tha otha' weak and she make them hard where tha otha' Soft."
He grabbed a couple of glasses
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