Beachesand infinite stretches of sea have always terrified her. She’s a child of theforest, where you can’t look too far in any way, or your gaze will be blocked.By trees, by halla, by werewolves even – and she’s used to them all. But notthe emptiness that comes with a beach. It feels desolate. Yet people seem to beso very fond of them, and she’s been struggling to understand. She never could,not at first. There was something about the open, about the emptiness that she felt came with itthat made her want to run away.
Hereaches for her hand and she offers it immediately, glancing down at theirintertwined fingers – how they fit together, so perfectly. He’s dwarfing herfingers – dwarfing her entirely, but, for what could be the very first time,she enjoys feeling small. For a moment, she think of him as protective, and, althoughthe idea is ridiculous to a certain extent, because she’s never needed, neverwanted another’s protection, she likes to think of it. It’s her secret – that sometimes,the thought of being the weak one is so terribly wonderful that she simplywants to take her burden, place it in another’s arms and ask them to take careof it for her for a while.
Withchildish curiosity, she inches closer and closer to the waves, and he follows –and she’s wondering just how far she’s going to go this time. She’s never quitereached the water, because every time the waves crash in front of her, sherushes backwards, as though trying to defend herself from some attack. But thistime, she’s more bold, more daring (reckless,she would say), and she steps in when the wave breaks against the sand. Thefeeling of salty water filling her shoes makes her squeal, and he’s tugs at herarm, so as to guide her backwards, but she protests.
“No,just… hold me. I want to stay here.” There’s no protest from him, and she can’tbut marvel at how he indulges each and every of her little whims – perhaps not all of them, but those that aren’t quiteso insane, yes. He’s warm, almost burning against her, and she revels thecomfort that his embrace provides. It makes her feel like home, in a way inwhich she hasn’t in far too long.
Sheturns around in his embrace just moments later, head tilted backwards so thatshe can have a good look of his features. He’s still watching the sea, with thekind of gaze she’s seen from him, all too often. He’s lost in the sea, and,selfish as Seren is, she needs tointerrupt him, she needs to have his attention. She’s more surprised than hecould ever be when she reaches up on tiptoes, plush lips pressing against hisown – timid at first, not quite daring to explore as much as she would like to,too terrified of his response to dare reach for more. But he’s warm and inviting,and oh-so-gentle when he answers her, a playful admonishment in regard to howgreedy she is lost between their lips, and she laughs inwardly, just a littlemore demanding now as she bites down onto the jut of his bottom lip, as if she’dwant to punish him for the teasing.
It’sher first time kissing a shemlen, she thinks, but her mind readily completesthe fact she’s been omitting – that he’s not actually human, no matter what he likes to pass as. He’s never toldher, and she’s never ask, not wanting to prod, to intrude. But she keeps herown secrets close and she can’t ask him to do any different.
But,the Dread Wolf take her, she doesn’tcare. Not when he tastes like the sea and storms on her lips, and he cradlesher close like the bottom of the sea does with sunken ships – she’s certain she’sequally damned. She doesn’t care.
